After the meal they withdrew to the loggia to listen to music, played by two maidens on aulos and tortoise-shell lyre. Thick curtains had been drawn on the side facing the courtyard, to silence the echo, but on the other side the room lay open to the garden, and a soft breeze blew in, scented with lavender and rosemary that there grew by the steps. As the musicians played, Pelleus stole a private moment with Marinus to confront him about his antics at dinner.

  They wandered into the garden together – Pelleus telling their hosts that he wanted the exercise.

  "What were you playing at, just then? We never agreed to mention my father around here," he hissed, rounding on Marinus as soon as they were out of earshot.

  "I thought they might know something. Relax! They seem like kind, helpful people. Why not try catching two birds with one snare?" Marinus replied, with a pleading note in his voice.

  "Have you forgotten already what Anneus said? These people are disliked here in Arcadia, and Agon came by his fortune by some sketchy means," Pelleus said. "We don't have any idea what has paid for all this," he gestured at the opulent house and gardens.

  "Look, I only meant to help you. It seems terribly selfish of me to have you put in all this effort only to benefit me!" Marinus said.

  "That's very thoughtful of you," Pelleus said, mollified somewhat by this answer, "but we could end up in real trouble if you let something slip through a careless gesture like that. Don't forget," he looked sharply at his friend, "that I am now a prisoner of these circumstances we find ourselves in. Or did you imagine that – if I am exposed – Agon will just let me walk away, laughing at my own audacity? I don't think so."

  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just got over-confident, that's all." Marinus said. "It has been going so well today I guess I felt I could do no wrong... that was foolish."

  "Well you've done plenty wrong, and I'm more than happy to provide examples if you ever start to feel that way again..." Pelleus snapped, "anyway, we had better go back in; we can't keep them waiting and wondering too long."

  Marinus followed his friend back inside, feeling doubly guilty. He had meant to tell Pelleus about his pact with Agatha, but had baulked in the face of those rebukes. Pelleus still had no idea that Marinus was being blackmailed into stealing lady Hippolyta's diamond necklace, and Marinus was running out of chances to break the news to him.

  We really have our work cut out, don't we? he thought, as they joined the Hermenides family for a nightcap. Still, Marinus smiled as Agon toasted him with a kylix of wine, and felt that, perhaps, winning over the approval of Chrysanthe's relations was already in the bag.

  An hour later, he and Onesimus made their way back on foot, both feeling a little tipsy and glad of the cool night air that refreshed them.

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  "What charming people!" Marinus exclaimed, while he guided Onesimus over a rough patch of the lane.

  "Charming? Oh, yes," the old man repeated absently.

  "Which makes me wonder..." Marinus said, "Anneus told us that master Agon is rather isolated from Arcadian society... I cannot think why, he strikes me as a perfect gentleman and a generous host. But then, country people can be funny, can't they? Spiteful, even. I imagine it is simple snobbery that stops the nobles – other than yourself – from keeping company with him. What say you, Onesimus? You know him, and Arcadian society, far better than I!"

  The wine had made Marinus more garrulous than usual, and he let his tongue run on, spilling all his half-baked suppositions – it was politeness, more than curiosity, that prompted him to ask his host's opinion. He was too content to be curious, and hated to have his comfortable illusions shattered by a stark, discomforting reality.

  For his part, Onesimus was of no mind to discomfort his young guest, and he too spoke out of politeness rather than any wish to enlighten.

  "I suspect you are right, in a sense," he said. "People have long memories, and where they hold onto past grievances, perhaps they would do better to forgive and forget."

  But just what actions of Agon might have required forgiveness Marinus did not care to know at this moment. His mind was already off on a tangent, thinking of how prettily Chrysanthe had batted her eyelashes at him across the table, and how warmly she had laughed at his jokes. These happy thoughts carried him all the way back to Onesimus's house.

  The old man slipped in quietly so as not to wake anyone, but they heard rustling on the landing.

  "What! Still up, Agatha? And sweeping again?" he called out.

  True enough, the housekeeper stood at the top of the stairs with a broom in hand, though her eyes were on Marinus and they glittered in the dark.

  "You're not waiting up for me, I hope," Onesimus went on, teasing her, "or for master Marinus, perhaps?"

  "Nothing of the sort, what a ridiculous notion... don't be absurd..." the woman blathered.

  "Well I forbid you to carry on working at this hour. Go on, get some rest," Onesimus ordered, and she reluctantly skulked off.

  "Always got a broom in her hand, that Agatha," he said to Marinus when she had gone out of earshot. "I think she must ride it, when she isn't sweeping."

  Marinus let out a shaky laugh, he was so relieved. Whatever else he thought about his host, he now stood in awe of his powers to ward off witches.

  "She would have cornered me, asking about that damned necklace, no doubt of it!" he muttered, as he locked himself in his room and laid down to a fretful sleep.