Recently a new rival had sprung up, a fake Parthenon, created by Homer Lukas, the one man in Greece who would have ventured to challenge either the Demetriou family or the ancient gods who protected the true temple. But Homer was in love, and naturally wished to impress his bride on their wedding day.

On that spring morning Lysandros Demetriou stood in the doorway of his villa, looking out across Athens, irritated by having to waste his time at a wedding when he had so many really important things to deal with.

A sound behind him made him turn to see the entrance of Stavros, an old friend of his late father, who lived just outside the city. He was white-haired and far too thin, the result of a lifetime of self-indulgence.

‘I’m on my way to the wedding,’ he said. ‘I called in to see if you fancied a lift.’

‘Thank you, that would be useful,’ Lysandros said coolly. ‘If I arrive early it won’t give too much offence if I leave early.’

Stavros gave a crack of laughter. ‘You’re not sentimental about weddings.’

‘It’s not a wedding, it’s an exhibition,’ he said sardonically. ‘Homer Lukas has acquired a film star wife and is flaunting her to the world. The world will offer him good wishes and call him names behind his back. My own wish for him is that Estelle Radnor will make a fool of him. With any luck, she will.

‘Why did she have to come to Athens to get married, anyway? Why not make do with a false Greek setting, like that other time?’

‘Because the name of Homer Lukas is synonymous with Greek shipbuilding,’ Stavros said, adding quickly, ‘after yourself, of course.’

For years the companies of Demetriou and Lukas had stood head and shoulders above all others in Greece, or even in the world, some reverently claimed.