Demetrius knelt with Chryssa and Argyros on a bare patch outside the kitchen door. Argyros laid out his walnuts: three in a triangle and one on top. Demetrius hefted his walnut and prepared to flip it in the direction of the little pyramid.

'Watch and see how it's done,' he said to the children, who laughed. Demetrius was terrible at this, and they all knew it. Nobody cared: they were just enjoying each other's company.

'Why are you paidakia underfoot?' asked Kiki on her way to hang out washing. She made it plain that she meant all three children. 'Can't you find somewhere else to play castella?'

Cleopas was polishing a trumpet in a corner of the garden. He laughed. 'You know what the Romans say? To grow up is to give up your walnuts, to stop playing. Our Domine Demetrius isn't ready to grow up yet.'

Demetrius sighed inwardly. Ars brevis, vita longa, my friends, he thought, in no hurry to be a grownup all of the time.

'Come on, kids,' he said. 'Let's find someplace to play away from these grumpy people.' The kids giggled and followed him inside. But in the peristylium they found a symposium going on: Radu and Ermione were taking turns reading aloud. Ermione's voice was soft but clear:

'I fell in love with Demo of Paphos – no surprise there. And again with Demo of Samos. Well, that was not so remarkable. Third, with Demo of Naxos. This was getting beyond a joke. Fourth, with Demo of Argos. The Fates themselves seemed to have named me Philodemus – I'm always in love with somebody named Demo. . . This is the stupidest thing I've ever read!'

'Stupid, stupid!' chanted the children, deciding that listening to bad epigrams was more interesting than shooting walnuts right now. They deposited themselves at Ermione's feet, while Demetrius chose the more decorous option of pulling up a stool.

'Who in the world wrote that?' he asked.

'That Philodemus,' was Ermione's disgusted response. 'What an idiot! It's bad enough that he was an Epicurean. And that most of his epigrams are about lurve.' She rolled her eyes. 'But puns are adding insult to injury.'

'You remember Philodemus of Gadara,' said Radu, chuckling at Ermione's description. 'He lived over in Herculaneum. Left a huge collection of papyri. . . '

'. . . which, unfortunately, are mostly Epicurean,' sniffed Ermione, whose intellectual aspirations obviously reached higher than, 'if it feels good, do it.'

'Is he always like this?' mused Demetrius.

Radu started to read the next epigram: 'Philaenion is short and rather too dark, but her hair is curlier than parsley. . . '

He got no further. Chryssa and Argyros rolled on the tiled floor, laughing, while Demetrius and Ermione snorted and rolled their eyes.

'Where did you get this?' Demetrius asked Radu. 'Please tell me you didn't pay for it.'

'Manius gave it to me. It seems he picked it up in Rome and found the. . . er, subject matter appealing. His dad saw it and had a cow. It seems old Pertinax doesn't approve of Epicureans any more that our Ermione does.' Radu smiled at his star pupil and read another epigram – or tried to: 'Shine, Moon of the night, horned Moon, who love to look on revels, shine through the lattice and let your light fall on golden Callistion. . . '

The kids squealed with laughter. Ermione shouted, 'Stop, stop, no more!' Demetrius threw a walnut at the reader.

Cleo passed by with a basket of washing. 'What are you teaching the children now, Domine?' she asked.

Demetrius shrugged. 'Philosophy.'

'Με υγεια,' said Cleo, 'Enjoy it in good health,' and sailed on serenely through the kitchen.

There was quite a crowd at the docks to see the cohort off to Dalmatia. Citizens threw flowers at the soldiers, a sign of approval. Normally, the townspeople would be glad to get rid of an army camp and its rowdy denizens, but the Potentians wanted to show their appreciation for the military's assistance during the recent fire emergency. Even the workmen, otherwise busy rebuilding, downed tools to see the VII Claudia off.

Demetrius handed Manius a letter. 'Thank you for taking this, Mani. If you leave it with Spiros at the taverna by the docks, I'm certain Alex will pick it up.' He grinned. 'My whole family is partial to Greek food.'

Manius clapped him on the back. 'A people of simple tastes. I like that. Not like those Epicureans, eh?' A nudge in the ribs helped Demetrius to keep a straight face. He managed to extricate himself from the conversation by wishing the soldier a safe journey and much success, career-wise, and then left father and son to their longer leave-taking.

Radu joined him, with Chryssa and Argyros in tow. Both children were happily munching on sticky buns from the corner bakery.

'Don't let Cleo see you,' was Demetrius' only comment.

On the way home, they stopped so that Argyros could watch the builders at work. They had a treadwheel crane, so it was quite a while before they could manage to get away again. While the kids admired the construction activity, Demetrius had a conversation with the property owner – and came away satisfied.

Yes, the kids ate too many sweets while out with Demetrius and Radu. Yes, Cleo fussed. Yes, the alleged grownups were in the doghouse. In revenge, Cleo announced that the washing-line needed to be restrung. Radu discovered that the pole leaned. Argyros got excited at this news until they told him that, no, they couldn't borrow the construction workers' treadwheel crane to put up the new pole. However, he could hold the nails, so he was happy.

Radu and Demetrius had a private argument about whether it would be appropriate to introduce either the earth auger or the posthole digger prematurely. Demetrius won the argument, and they used a shovel instead. Telly and Cleopas pitched in once Radu had displayed sufficient feigned incompetence (to the secret delight of Argyros).

Afterwards, the men headed to the baths (women and children waited until evening). Supper was a fun affair, since everyone had worked up an appetite. As they ate, Demetrius revealed his latest surprise.

'Cleopa, give the hydraulis a rest for a minute, please. I have something to tell you all.' He waited for quiet. 'You know that empty shop on Spider Street? The one in the block where the fire was?'

They nodded.

'I've rented it.' Demetrius looked pleased with himself.

Telly scratched his head. 'Are you intending to go into business, Domine?'

Demetrius winked at Radu. 'No, I'm not. But you and the band are. That's going to be your new workshop.'

Cleo and Kiki clapped their hands. 'Oraia!' exclaimed Kiki. 'Now they can go and make furniture, as the gods intended, instead of sitting around here and making noise.'

Demetrius and Radu exchanged amused glances.

The men seemed to regard this announcement as a bit of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, they would be able to get back to their trade, which was furniture-making; on the other, they would have to do more work than usual. Besides, band practice would suffer. But, as the women reminded them, the plan was to save enough money to buy property and open their own business on the island of Samos. Demetrius announced that they could keep all but 10% of their earnings – the 10% going to pay rent on the place. In the end, everybody was satisfied with the arrangement – especially Argyros, who was looking forward to spending more time on Spider Street, helping and learning.

On the whole, reflected Demetrius as he drifted off to sleep, It has been a busy day. You hear that, you people? I've been working. So let me sleep, all right?

DG

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