Quoted By:
You take your seat alongside Palamedes, Pollux and Dorippe, the bench groaning as you come to rest upon the polished and stained timber. You are on the outmost periphery of the bench opposite Dorippe, Pollux directly across from her, and Palamedes between yourself and Pollux. Dorippe nods politely in your direction, but in the ancient custom, refrains from conversation. All now seated, Anios raises his palms in a thankfully-brief benediction to his father, Apollo, and to the other gods of Olympus. The feast itself is sumptuous, the wine exquisite, and there is meat of every variety – but after many days at sea, it is the revelation of fresh vegetables that makes the greatest impression on you. Despite the number of staff flitting about, there is no conversation – only the muffled sounds of chewing and the chiming of silver cutlery.
You take the time to observe Dorippe as surreptitiously as you may – an extremely-well preserved women of fifty summers, she is dark of eye, hair and complexion – a Phoenician, if you had to guess. She is petite, short even for a commoner woman, but her beauty is unmistakable – her flowing hair is as rich as her figure. She is the rare woman whose beauty is accentuated as she ages – fine crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes suggests wisdom as well.
Some commoners, through chance breeding, may compete with nobility in one regard or another – your mind briefly turns to the Epirot hunter you had wrestled into your service in your home estates, Pantaleon. Dorippe is clearly one such specimen – she smiles pleasingly in your direction, and your face nearly blushes in boyish embarrassment. Her dark eyes glitter in suppressed laughter, and you realize that she has noticed your reaction – a sharp mind to go along with her beauty, you deduce.
Once the initial portion of dinner is concluded, additional kylixes of well-mixed wine are served, and it is time for conversation – Pollux immediately speaks to Dorippe:
“Ah, woman – how I can be expected to leave this place without you? Perhaps I shall take Paris’ lead and steal you away to Lacedaemon?” His tone is playful, unserious. Dorippe laughs in response, in accented Greek:
“Oh, and how clever of you to announce your plans at dinner! Forethought has never been your forte, dear Pollux – why not leave the thinking to your brother?” The repartee has the feel of an old joke – well-worn but still amusing.
Palamedes interjects, speaking a tongue you presume to be Phoenician:
“ደንቆሮውን ችላ በል - ሴቶችዎ የት አሉ? ከትናንሽ ሴት ልጆች ጀምሮ አላያቸውም”
And Dorippe replies:
“በሪኔያ ላይ ለትምህርት ልኬአቸዋለሁ። እዚያም የሴትነት ጥበብን ለመማር በቂ ናቸው”.
Pollux coughs politely, gesturing to you –
>cont
