Arlene was rather impressed with their little ad-hoc expedition. She was worried that the two older men, while fit by modern standards, and well capable of walking all day, would be no good for a dash to safety. They were not mounted and would only move as fast as their slowest person. Their security included two hairy, vicious Scythian policemen dressed in dirty blue linen pants and tunics who Theophrastus had bribed to desert from their post. They were armed with light composite bows, daggers and light hand axes, not unlike a tomahawk. In classical times the Scythian police force had consisted of slaves, purchased from their chieftains and owned by the people of Athens. But their great, great-grandsons were now a force of civic mercenaries.

They look to be good in a fight against equal numbers. But I think they will run or surrender before a superior force. And what other kind of force can we expect to encounter?

Selene, with her staff provided Arlene’s personal security only. The men thought it laughable that she be considered a combatant. And Doryklus wanted her out of harm’s way for obvious reasons. He and Selene were getting pretty friendly early on this first day of the march. Arlene knew that Selene was a conflicted catholic. The young Puerto Rican police officer was by nature monogamous, and claimed, at age 25, to have never engaged in vaginal intercourse. For Arlene, that was fairly unthinkable. In any event, Selene and Doryklus, who was built like an NFL linebacker and had the simian personality to match, seemed destined for the same bedroll.

I am jealous!

Nonsense, you get to enjoy conversation with the greatest mind of antiquity.

He is still married. I wonder if he will even want to have sex with me.

Are you sure you want to be an old man’s play thing?

Well, he is not exactly Doryklus in his leather miniskirt, but it would be nice to get laid again.

Doryklus, at the head of their group, with Polos ranging out in front with his sling and the Scythians patrolling the flanks, did seem prepared for anything. With Arlene and Aristotle the core group of noncombatants included old Xenophile, Doryklus’ slave Cyno, a toothless old fellow who hauled a ridiculous amount of food and provisions, Sebastian and Polymara who skipped and smiled the entire way as if on a picnic.

I like this girl. I always wanted a little sister.

They rested at midday beneath a shoulder of a low mountain, which Polos claimed was called Earth Mother Hill, and beneath which Hades held her daughter captive. Polymara thrilled to the legend which the philosophers just tolerated as a folk tale. Polos was a wiry boy about Polymara’s age and Arlene was already hoping that cupid’s arrow would strike.

She had always wanted a boyfriend when she was a girl, but had a bad case of acne which had made it unbearable to even look a boy in the face. Thankfully her face had not scarred and men seemed to like freckles and red hair a lot more than boys had. She had not started dating until she enlisted in the Navy, and then it was just one ‘friend with benefits’ after another. She had never gotten to form a romantic relationship and somehow wanted it for this young girl who seemed to look up to her so, especially since she was such an important man’s companion.

Girl, get him to hold your hand before the day is out. You have the personality for it.

As soon as the sun began descending toward the sacred precinct of Eleusis, which they would not visit, they set off again at Doryklus’ command. He had made the trip to Delphi three times to fight in the games and had a firm grasp of the route ahead.

They passed some pilgrims headed to the Earth Mother’s shrine and some tenant farmers picking olives along the ‘road’ which was nothing more than a clearly defined footpath among the brush and pasture. Polos said that no sheep grazed here at this time of year, as they had been herded north to Boeotia, his homeland. Aristotle then confided in her that Polos had been an infant when Alexander sacked Thebes and sold the inhabitants into slavery. His housemaid had purchased Polos specifically for this purpose, to be groomed as Aristotle’s eyes and legs as he got on into old age and would require an alert messenger.

Can we take him too?

Good, then we will find a way.

By dusk they had passed Eleusis and sat on a dry grassy hillside within sight of the sacred torch-lit processions that apparently filed into this religious tourist-trap on a regular basis. When full darkness fell Doryklus came over to where she sat with Selene and took her friend’s hand, without so much as a word.

What an arrogant bastard!

Selene, like a person in a trance, stood and walked off with the man to the bedroll being made cozy for him by old Cyno. She could not help a quip, “Have fun explaining Catholicism to him girlfriend.”

Selene glanced over her shoulder with batting eyelids and snipped, “I will—hope you remembered Aristotle’s Viagra.”

Bitch!

Her man, all sixty-two years of him, was standing nervously looking out over the plain behind them, toward the shoulder of the mountain where they had previously camped. There, in the distance, flickered a campfire, and the old man looked toward it nervously. The rest of the group was huddled around the campfire tended by one Scythian, as the other one stood guard in its shadow.

Well, you are his companion. Go companion him.

Arlene approached Aristotle and whispered to him before touching him, “My Dear, I’ve laid our bedding out. Come with me. He took her hand and they made their way up the hillside. Once they were seated outside the ring of firelight he continued to stare at the distant light. Finally, she decided to intervene and gently pushed his chest. “Lie down and look up at the stars.”

He answered sleepily, as if he had just been tranquilized, “Yes, the stars…”

Just like that Aristotle, obviously more weary-of-mind than of body, was fast asleep. And so she slept under the stars, holding the gently snoring philosopher’s hand, wondering about tomorrow and trying not to focus on the negative possibilities.