“Will you be sailing soon?” she asked.

“Before long, anyhow,” Menedemos said. “Sostratos wants to get to Athens as fast as he can, and I don’t blame him. We’ll put to sea as soon as Father decides the weather’s likely to hold.”

“I hope you have good fortune.” Baukis watched his face, as he watched hers-as was only polite when two people talked. If her gaze traveled the length of him, as his now and then paused at her rounded bosom or at the sweet flare of her hips… If her gaze swung so, it was only in the most casual way, a way on which, for instance, the patient slave with the hydria could not remark.

“Thanks,” Menedemos replied. His glances were every bit as circumspect. Philodemos raved because he made adultery a game. But he knew adultery with his father’s young wife would be, could be, no game. He’d realized he might want her not long after his father wed her. Only since the autumn before had he known she might want him, too.

They’d kissed only once. They’d never done more than kiss. Whatever else Baukis wanted, she also wanted to make Menedemos’ father a good wife. Lying with Menedemos might not merely cause scandal. It might cause murder.

Since she couldn’t speak of love, she spoke of travel: “Athens must be a wonderful place.”

“Sostratos knows it better than I do. It’s his second home,” Menedemos said.

The hydria gurgled dry. The slave sent Baukis a look of appeal. She tossed her head and tapped her sandaled foot on the ground. “Go fill it again, Lydos,” she said. “You can see some of the plants here still need more water. With the rains lately, the cistern’s nice and full.”

“With the rains lately, the plants shouldn’t need all that much water,” Lydos said.