"I have heard somewhat of the Cimbri. Indeed, one of my neighbors sent them an embassy a few years ago. Surely this will be a night's entertainment, though you humble my pride by making me hear it in Latin. Chamberlain! See to it that these three are given a suite, changes of raiment and whatever else they require." Mithradates said it in the Roman tongue, doubtless for Eodan's benefit, since he must repeat it in Greek. "Go, I will see you at the evening meal. And now, Arpad, about those monies." "Great King of All the World," wailed Arpad, flat on his belly, "may your children people the earth! It was but that I, your most unworthy subject, thought to offer you--" As he went to the guest chambers, Eodan asked the slave who led him--an Italian, he saw with glee--what the king had meant, that he was ashamed to hear the tale in Latin. "Know, Master," said the boy, "that our puissant lord keeps no interpreters on his own staff, for he himself speaks no fewer than two and twenty languages. You must indeed have come from far away." The suite was as luxurious as one might have expected. Phryne said doubtfully, "We build our hopes on Vesuvius. The soil there is surpassingly rich, but sometimes the mountain buries it in fire. I will be happy if we can get from here unscathed." "Why," said Eodan, surprised, "I would have thought you could dwell here more gladly than any place else in the world. They are a mannered folk, it seems." "They are more alien to me, a Greek, than the Romans--or the Sarmatians--or the Cimbri." She looked out the window, down to gardens where paths twisted so a man could lose his way. "If we stay long enough, you will understand." "It may be. Nonetheless, I have a feeling no few arts could be learned here that might take root in the North." Eodan went over to her. "Though one of the greatest could be taught me by yourself." She turned about with an eagerness that astonished him. "What do you mean?" Her face flushed, and she lifted her hands like a small girl. "I mean this craft of writing. Not that we would have much use for it in the North ... and yet, who knows?" "Oh." She looked away again. "Writing. Indeed. I will teach you when the chance comes. It is not hard." Near sundown, an obsequious eunuch informed them they would soon dine. They left Phryne to a solitary meal--women did not eat before the king--and followed him to a lesser feasting hall. Music sounded from a twilight peristyle--flute, lyre, drum, gong, sistrum, and other instruments Eodan had not heard, yowling like cats. The diners, arrayed in their silks and fine linens, gold and silver and jewels, lay about a long table on couches, in somewhat the Grecian manner. Mithradates came last, to trumpets, and all but Eodan prostrated themselves.