Free Tyrant by Christian Cameron Page A

listen, if I may.’ She never raised her eyes, never mentioned her own name - the very picture of a modest matron - except that surely Calchus had no children or Kineas would have seen them.
     
    Penelope had large, round eyes that darted around the room like excited animals. She would lower them when she remembered modesty, but just as suddenly they would start, rise up and seek new quarry.
     
    Kineas decided that she had probably never been out in public before, perhaps never seen men having a private dinner. He himself had often taken a meal with his sisters and told them the news of the day or the gossip from the gymnasium, but not all girls got as much.
     
    Her hair was very black and her skin fairer than most. She had a long neck, long arms, well-shaped hands. She was quite attractive, obviously the female twin to Ajax, but Kineas found her furtive curiosity disturbing - too much like a caged animal. And after Artemis, modesty no longer appealed to him as much.
     
    He felt a vague disappointment. What had he expected?
     
    She began to sing without any warm-up, and she had a clear, light voice. She sang a harvest song from the festival and she sang a love song he had heard in Athens, and then she sang three songs that were quite new to him and whose cadences sounded foreign. Her singing was good, confident, if a little quiet and breathy. She sang an ode and finished with a hymn to Demeter.
     
    They all applauded. Philokles punched his arm and smiled broadly.
     
    Isokles stood. ‘Not every father indulges his children like this - I mean, that she sings songs meant for men. But it seems to me that she has a gift, sent by Leto’s son, and that she should be allowed to polish it and even show it off, if she does so with modesty. Which, I may be excused for thinking, she has done.’ He looked at Kineas.
     
    Kineas once again fretted to be the centre of attention. He saw that Calchus’s wife was looking straight at him - she had lovely eyes, perhaps her best feature - they were all looking at him expectantly. I’ve only been here three days and you’ve cast me in the role of the suitor .
     
    ‘Nothing more suitable or modest in the eyes of the gods than for Penelope to show the talents they have given her to friends and family,’ he said. He could see from their reactions that he had not hit the right note - years of commanding men had taught him to read expressions that quickly, and these reactions were not of the best. But what was he to say? To praise her singing or her appearance would be to break the artificial constraints of this being a ‘family gathering’. Was he supposed to take that plunge, moved by a sudden passion, and declare himself her suitor?
     
    Sod that, he thought, suddenly angry.
     
    Philokles shifted on the couch next to him and rose unsteadily to his feet. ‘In Sparta, our women live in public with our men, so I’ll ask you to excuse me if I am uncouth. But surely Penelope is the very image of modest accomplishment; the muses must love a girl who plays so well.’
     
    Kineas looked up at Philokles, who swayed a little as if drunk although he had taken very little wine. His compliment was well received; Calchus’s wife, for instance, smiled and nodded. Isokles looked pleased.
     
    Well shot, Philokles . Kineas punched his arm lightly as he sank back on to the couch, and Philokles grinned at him with a look that said, You’re a slow one, I’ll explain all this later, you dolt.
     
    Isokles rose again. ‘And while I’m indulging my children, I will ask a favour of Kineas here, since he is my fellow guest and the man of the evening. Favour me and take my son with you to Olbia?’
     
    Right in public, where I can’t refuse. By contrast, Philokles’ request was the soul of courtesy . Kineas stole a glance at Calchus’s wife. She looked interested. Kineas said, ‘I am a soldier. The life I lead is dangerous, and the campaigns are long. I fear to take the responsibility for your