Demetrius arose the next day to the sounds of – he wasn't sure what – coming from the peristylium. At least it wasn't the hydraulis. He wasn't in the mood for water organs. But then, he wasn't sure he was in the mood for whatever this was, either. It was kind of flutey, but in an aggressive way. Chaotic, too. He washed his face and ran a comb through his tousled hair before heading out to face the music.

Cleopas, the band, and the kids were all grouped around Radu, who was demonstrating his proficiency on the aulos, a double flute beloved in Hellenic culture. For his demonstration, Radu had chosen that perennial favourite, the Croaking Chorus from Aristophanes' The Frogs. The children were laughing delightedly at the sounds and 'singing' along.

'Brek-kek-kek, brek-kek-kek, koax, koax!' they chortled. They did sound a bit like lovesick frogs to Demetrius.

'Kind of like rubbing your stomach and patting your head, that,' said Demetrius admiringly. Radu nodded.

If you can't fight 'em, join 'em, Demetrius thought, and chimed in. Babis the flautist was busy studying Radu's fingering while Cleopas' cousin Cleopas (therefore called Clopa) beat time on a drum. Argyros and Chryssa sang with loud delight. Argyros also pretended that his toy gladiator, from whom he had become inseparable (of course), was singing, too.

They finally quit out of exhaustion and lack of breath – and absolutely not because of the threats coming from the kitchen. Everybody migrated to the kitchen for some prandium: fresh bread from the local bakery (with butter), feta, fruit and fruit juice.

'Why is the butter so much better here than back home?' wondered Cleo. Demetrius looked at her in surprise: normally, he could not get her to say one good word about the Italian Adriatic coast. No matter how hard it tried, no other spot on Earth could equal her beloved Aegean islands. He decided that, for once, honesty had prevailed: after all, Greek butter is absolutely the worst on the planet. Even the Greeks had to admit that.

Radu pointed out the kitchen window. 'Do you see those hills?' he asked – rhetorically, everyone could see them. 'What do you notice about them that is different from Greece?'

Chryssa looked thoughtful. 'They're greener.'

'The ones in Samothraki are prettier, though,' Cleo said hastily. 'Much better shape.'

Demetrius looked at Radu. Radu looked at Demetrius. They struggled not to grin. Then they looked at Chryssa and Argyros. All four burst out laughing.

'You are impossible, all of you! You, Domine, are as bad as the children!' Cleo threw up her hands and got up to stir something mysterious she had cooking at the back of the fireplace.

'But why do greener hills make the butter better?' Argyros wanted to know.

As the Greek for 'better butter' is 'kalitero boutero', that got Radu started. 'Kalitero boutero, kalitero boutero,' he chanted, until Chryssa and Argyros joined in. This went on until Cleo uttered threats – at the kids, since she couldn't threaten citizens, at least, not directly.

When they had sobered up, Radu explained to the kids, who were the only ones really listening, 'Butter is made from cows' milk. Cows eat grass and other green things. If a country has more rain, it is greener and grows more tasty things for cows to eat. So the cows make. . .' He waited.

Kalitero boutero! they all shouted together.

Cleo chased them out of the kitchen.

Late afternoon found Gheorghenis and kids flaked out in various shady and semi-shady parts of the peristylium. Summer had set in and it was too warm for running about. Radu had just awakened from a nap and was still yawning. The kids were quietly playing in the shade of a fig tree. Demetrius lolled in a reclining chair, trying to make sense of Cicero again.

The stillness was broken by the flapping of wings and loud cawing as a murder of crows wheeled over the peristylium.

'Aha!' laughed Radu, looking up. 'Ein Posthorn im stillen Land.'

'We don't speak Celtic,' chanted Chryssa and Argyros together – apparently some obscure joke meme, or so Demetrius thought. He squinted quizzically at Radu.

'Why did you say that?' he demanded. In that moment, the reason became obvious: one of the crows swooped down, dropping a packet neatly into Demetrius' lap. The crow cawed loudly, as if to say, 'Don't bother to thank me. Just leave suet out.' The birds flew away.

A packet of parchment, that is. An oblong bundle of parchment wrapped in coated string and sealed with red wax. Demetrius studied the seal: crows flying in a circle around a star.

'You've got mail,' Radu commented.

'I'll bet it's for both of us,' Demetrius retorted as he broke the seal and opened the letter – which, like most letters, was fan-folded (or, as the practice would later come to be known, in accordion folds). Most letters, however, were delivered by messenger – some passing acquaintance, or a slave on an errand. Demetrius suspected he knew who was using avian post. The opening lines of the letter confirmed this.

'It's Alex,' he said. 'Nice handwriting.'

Radu laughed. 'Who else? What does he say?'

Demetrius unfolded the letter and smoothed it out on a side table.

'He's mixing his centuries again,' began Demetrius. That was as far as he got before Cleopas rushed in, panting from the exertion.

'Domine, you've had a LETTER!' he began. Mail, if you weren't a Roman official, was the stuff of high drama. Greeks loved drama – and Cleopas was going to make the most of it.

Demetrius held up the letter. 'Yes, Cleopa, I'm aware,' he said drily. 'I'm just reading it now.'

Cleopas ran to where Demetrius was sitting, barely restraining himself from snatching the parchment from Demetrius' fingers. He regarded the object with almost romantic longing. Radu pushed down a laugh.

'But Domine! You can't just read a letter like that. Oh, no. There's a right way to read a letter, and a wrong way.'

Demetrius was beginning to enjoy this. Also, he could see the rest of the household peering around various corners into the peristylium. Obviously, this was going to become a Thing.

'And the right way to read a letter is. . . ?' he raised an eyebrow.

Cleopas was practically hopping up and down. 'The right way, Domine, is to have it read aloud in the proper manner by a trained lector. One who has studied rhetoric and can use the proper cadence, intonation, and gestures,' he explained, gesturing for all he was worth. More suppressed laughter from Radu, who had sat down with the children. This kept all of them quiet for now.

Demetrius looked serious, as if weighing this proposition. He hesitated, frowning in thought.

Cleopas looked as if he were about to burst out crying.

Finally, Demetrius nodded. 'Go ahead and read it to us properly.' He handed the letter to the would-be lector with a magnanimous gesture.

Radu had a thought. 'But, Demetri. . . what if. . . ?' What if he's written something they shouldn't hear? was what he was going to say, but then saw his cousin wink. Obviously, Demetrius had scanned the letter's contents. Demetrius was a fast reader, when it wasn't Cicero. And Alex wasn't Cicero.

Cleopas studied the letter. Everyone could tell he was reading because his lips moved silently. When he was ready, he stood in an archway of the peristylium, his feet firmly planted, his back straight, his chest out – just as he had been taught. He cleared his throat. Radu fought hard not to laugh, as Demetrius shot him a warning look. Then, with appropriate gesticulation, Cleopas read aloud.

Alexander to the Gheorghenis in Potentia, greetings. Daily I grow impatient.

'No surprise there,' said Radu. Demetrius waved to the reader to go on.

He said. . .

'I don't know who is meant by 'he' here,' admitted Cleopas.

'That is fine,' said Demetrius. 'Read on.' He looked pointedly at Radu, and Radu said nothing.

Cleopas cleared his throat again and continued.

He who hears my words and practises them is like a wise man who built his house on a rock. And the rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against the house, and it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.

But he who hears my words and does not practise them is like a fool, who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and the crash was enormous.

Cleopas paused because Radu had let out a gasp of astonishment. The lector looked around to see what effect this text had had on the others. The peanut gallery in the wings murmured in confusion, having heard nothing they found remotely controversial. Who wouldn't know that it was better to build a house on a rock than on sand? What kind of letter writer was this who uttered such platitudes? Maybe it was code for something.

Argyros and Chryssa listened happily, thinking, This is a nice story. Serves that guy right, building on sand like that. To them, it was like the stories teachers told. Like those stories, there was no doubt another, more grownup lesson to be learned – one they would understand when they were older and knew more.

Demetrius' expression was unreadable. 'Read,' he commanded.

Make haste to come to me. I'm getting impatient.

Cleopas stopped gesturing, and shrugged. 'That's all of it, Domine. Alexandros said that bit about 'getting impatient' twice, I don't know why.'

'Because he's getting very impatient,' said Demetrius, reclaiming his missive. 'Thank you, Cleopa, that was an excellent reading. We enjoyed it very much.' He stood up, folding the letter. 'And now, everybody, I think Radu and I will go for a walk before dinner. Show's over.' The letter disappeared into Demetrius' pocket, and the cousins vanished down the garden path toward the sea.

As soon as they were out of earshot from the villa, Radu let out a low whistle. 'O.M.G., as somebody will say in about two millennia. So that's what's going on.'

'Indeed,' said Demetrius. 'No wonder Alex is getting impatient.' He chuckled. 'But he'll just have to wait awhile. We have things to do, people to see. And, quite possibly, books to read.'

They went for a stroll by the sea to let the salt breeze cool them off. On the beach a child was building a sand castle and humming happily to itself. Demetrius and Radu looked thoughtful.

DG

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