Cordelia was sitting in the atrium, lamplight glowing on her; she was a roundedness of shadow and rich highlights. She was toying with a loom, because it was fashionable still for Roman matrons to pretend they were housewives. Outside, among the white pillars of the portico, a boy-slave from Sicily was singing and playing an illegal lyre. His high clear tones were so lovely it had been decided he should always keep them. She looked up. Her teeth flashed wet and white. "Hail, my Hercules!" "Hail, Mistress," snapped Eodan, not able to smooth his words. He stood with folded arms, looking down upon her. "Well! You have a face like Jupiter's wrath, my friend." Cordelia leaned back, regarding him through narrowed dark eyes. "Did you have trouble on your journey?" "No trouble, Mistress. Here is the money I did not spend." He slipped the heavy purse from his belt and flung it on the table. The denarii crashed so loudly that she started. She rose, in one rippling motion, and the thin silk showed him how she tautened. Her lips parted. A scream would bring the Nubian, the porter and half a dozen watchdogs to bind him and do whatever she wished. Eodan felt coldness along his backbone. He had to be more careful. The knowledge that he, Boierik's son, must be careful of a woman tasted like vomit. "What is the matter with you?" she asked in anger. "I beg your pardon, Mistress." Eodan went to one knee and bowed his head stiffly. "I felt a little out of sorts." Cordelia chuckled in her throat, left the chair and came to him. She ran her hand through his tangled hair as he knelt. "And why were you so at odds with the world ... Hercules?" she murmured. He saw the answer. "I was parted from you," he got out. Then suddenly, because he must do something in his shame, he grasped her about the knees and pulled her to him. His face he buried in soft darkness. "Oh," she gasped. "Oh--not here--wait--" But her hands were pressing his head close. He forced her down to the floor. She laughed without sound and tried to roll from him. He used his strength to pull her back. The frail spidery silk ripped open in his fingers. "Beast!" she said, her lips stretched wide, her eyes closed. Outside, the boy faltered for an instant, then recollected his orders and continued the song. It dealt with a legionary in far Asia remembering his mother. Afterward Cordelia led Eodan to her sleeping chamber. A maid brought them wine and cakes. She drooped an eye at him, her mouth quivering faintly upward, and he recalled that once she had agreed to meet him after moonrise. "Hercules," said Cordelia, not heeding the girl at all. She snuggled herself against Eodan's side, as they lay on the bed, and nuzzled his cheek. "You big crazy Hercules."