Chapter 1: The Glow of Doubt

In his bed, Jack turned over, opened one eye and glanced up. There was a light shining off the top of his dresser. "Oh, no," he groaned.

It was his Library Card, and he capitalized it in his head because it referred to no Library on this Earth. It belonged to a woman he knew only as The Librarian. Ten years ago when he had been only nine, he and his sister had become Librarians for her, travelling through time and space to retrieve books for The Library's collection. After his last mission, he wasn't sure he wanted to go on another one.

The last two had frightened Jack. Their meeting with Petronius had been bad enough, but the Marquis de Sade had been so unnervingly powerful and influential that ... Jack tried not to think too hard about what had happened at de Sade's. He remembered that he had run-- and Annie with him, he noted-- back to the Treefort with the completed 120 Days of Sodom under his arm at full speed without looking back.

Did he really want to go on another mission? Once, when he was younger, he might have said yes. On many of those missions he had almost been killed, but that had never stopped him from going on another one. He had always been willing to risk his life for more knowledge. That willingness defined his life. But the current series of missions seemed to risk something other than his life. They threatened his dignity and his honor, and those of his sister. He was suddenly angry at The Librarian. She should have warned him!

He wasn't sure that would have stopped him.

Snarling, he picked up the card. He dressed, pulling on boots, and walked to the door. When he opened it, Annie was standing there. She was also dressed and holding her Library card. "Jack?" she asked.

"How long have you been standing there?" he said.

"Only a few minutes." She smiled, tiredly. "She's calling us."

"Annie..."

"Can you say no, Jack?"

Jack glanced down the hallway to the window that overlooked the woods. "I don't know."

Annie said, "Let's ... let's go read her note, Jack. We owe her that at least."

Jack nodded. They grabbed flashlights and walked out of the house. Jack glanced at his watch. It was two in the morning.

They found the treefort in the woods without a problem. It was exactly where it always was, on the tallest branch of the tallest tree. Jack looked up the length of the ladder, and then he saw the swing of Annie's flashlight on her hip as she started up.

"Hey!" he said.

"There's no point in waiting, Jack," Annie said.

Jack grumbled and took hold of the ladder. He knew it was Annie's role to leap and for him to think, but she did not have to always be so obvious about it. When he pulled himself into the treefort, Annie was already holding the folded piece of parchment. She started reading it even before he asked.

Dear Jack and Annie,

I know the last mission was very hard on the two of you. The next two will be very easy. You're going to a lovely summer island in Greece, where you will meet a sad woman who writes joyful poems.

You are simply the best people I have ever known, and have never said no to anything I have asked of you. Please do this for me,

L.

Jack sighed. "It can't be that bad. Where's the book?"

Annie laughed when she picked it up, knowing that Jack couldn't refuse. He loved knowledge, he loved knowing. It was what made him the great scholar that he was. The book had the now-common bookmark of bright green leather sticking out of it, and when Jack saw it, he smiled too. The book was entitled Sappho's Lyre: Archaic Lyric Poetry of Ancient Greece. "I guess I know who's getting laid on this trip," Jack said.

"Jack!" Annie said. "You can't mean that. Besides, I'm not attracted to girls, any more than you are to guys."

Jack had finally confessed to Annie what had happened to him at the hands of the Marquis de Sade. Annie had first tried to tell him it was rape, and Jack had scoffed it off as little more than a horrible hazing gone wrong, and he clung to that interpretation because the alternative was not acceptable to him. He didn't want to think of himself as a victim, nor the Marquis as a monster. He was alive and whole, and that past was more like a dream than anything that Jack could remember.

"Still," Annie said, her hand stroking the leathery cover of the book. "No."

"What?" Jack said.

Annie smiled. "Girls are supposed to be nice to each other."

Jack gave a lopsided grin. "Yeah, well..." He blushed. He wasn't supposed to think of his sister that way. Annie was supposed to be a nice girl. "She promised these would be easier."

Annie nodded, opened the book. A woodcut illustration showed a scene outside an old brick wall, painted white. Inside, a woman sat with a lyre, holding it but not playing it. "I wish we could go here," Annie said.

A wind arose outside the treefort. A sweet, playful sound this time, reminding Jack of the thrill they both felt when they were children. The world outside the window began to spin, and then the treefort began to spin with it. The wind picked up enough to be frightening.

And then everything was still. Utterly still.

Chapter 2: Sappho

Jack opened his eyes. He always closed them during the flight although he was never sure why-- what was he afraid of seeing? Annie, if she kept her eyes opened, never told him that he had missed any particularly spectacular light shows. Sunlight streamed in through the large window of the treefort (was it a window still when it lacked any glass? he wondered) and the sounds of seagulls pealed nearby in the air. Annie laughed and clapped her hands together. "We're here!"

"Where's here?" Jack asked. He picked up the book. "Sappho's family lived on the island nation of Sicily for fifteen years, after they were banished from their home nation following a political reversal of fortune."

"Jack," Annie said. "Sicily is where the Mafia come from!"

"That was hundreds of years later, Annie. Right now Sicily is just a large island kingdom."

"Oh," Annie said. Despite all she had done with Jack and the treefort over the years, ordinary world history was still not her strongest subject. Jack had tried to explain to her that Art History was world history, only from a certain point of view. Annie understood that, but events outside of art itself still escaped her. Annie tried to look appropriately abashed, but she didn't quite make it. "Let's go, Jack."

The treefort was lodged in a palm tree swaying gently back and forth. The air was sultry and bright without a single cloud in the sky. Over the cries of the seagulls, the playing of something that sounded like a harp reached their ears. It sounded out of tune. "Come on, Jack. We'll never get anywhere if we don't leave the treefort."

Jack followed Annie down the rope ladder. The tree in which they had landed was short but strong-looking, and the drop much less than usual. The treefort had followed its backup strategy: rather than the tallest tree, it had looked for any tree on which to land. Twice, Jack recalled, it had landed on the ground because there had been no tree within walking distance of the mission: once at the North Pole, and once on the moon.

Although it hung late on the horizon, the sun was merciless to this southern stretch of beach overlooking the Mediterranean. Jack and Annie had seen this ocean before many times on their voyages, and Jack never grew tired of its beauty. He knew that part of the reason he wanted to be an archaeologist was that so many interesting digs could be found around its waters, and that was one of the many things the Librarian had taught him. The sea hovered just off the sand, its lazily breathing surface hot and flat and shining like a hammered shield of green copper. Even the seagulls refused to cry too loudly.

"Let's follow the music, Jack," Annie said gently. She started walking toward the stone-and-plaster buildings. Jack followed. The music still came, sad and haunting, from a building with a doorway that led down to the beach. "Hello?" Annie said.

A woman sat in a courtyard, her hands on a small lute. Jack recognized the instrument from the illustration. She turned her head to them. "Hello," she said. "What brings you here?"

"My brother and I are looking for the poet, Sappho."

The woman smile was a contrast to the sea-deep sadness in her eyes. "Poet, you say? I am no poet. No woman can be a poet here. It is unseemly."

"You mean, in Sicily?" Jack asked.

The woman nodded.

"But you are Sappho, right?" Annie asked.

"That is my name. But who are you, strangers?"

"I'm Annie, and this is my brother, Jack. We have come from far away to hear your poems. I would like to write them down, if I may."

"Annie," Jack hissed. "Didn't you hear what she said? You can't tell people here you can read and write." He looked up at Sappho. "Is it ... is there some penalty for a woman who can read or write?"

"Only rejection from polite society," Sappho said. "It is more troublesome for the man who taught her. Did you teach her?"

"What? Oh, no. Annie learned to read and write from our parents, first." Both of them had been exposed to many stories from their parents, who had done the right thing and read to them almost from the time they were one year old.

"You said you were from far away? Are you returning there? Then you have no need to fear from polite society, if you have come to hear me. I shall ... I shall sing tonight. Annie, you are welcome to come and hear my poems. Would you like that?"

"I would!" Annie said. "I would very much! I've heard so much about your poetry!"

"Then you are welcome in my home as is your brother. However, my song tonight is not for him or any man."

"I understand." Once, when Jack and Annie had met Aristotle, Jack had been the one privileged to wander free, and Annie had been the one given over to chaperons. Jack sighed. "What will I do?"

"My brother has returned from Etrusca. I am sure he can regale you with a thousand stories that will turn your hair white," Sappho said. "The Etruscans are at war with the Gauls. Once more."

Jack stared. The Etruscans? Nobody knew anything about the Etruscans other than a few scraps and relics left over from digs in southeastern Italy. They had been artistic and yet unlettered, and no writing from them persisted. "I think I should like very much to talk to your brother," Jack said.

"Then it is settled," Sappho said. She clapped her hands together and a servant came out from hiding. She was shorter than Sappho, but heavier too. "Zef, fetch our guests some wine, and then fetch my brother. He has a guest."

"Yes, mistress," the woman said, bowed, and walked away. Jack and Annie exchanged glances, for they had known that the nobility of all these times kept slaves, and they had become familiar with it. Jack thought he should worry about himself if he ever become comfortable with it. The slave girl returned with two large goblets, one in each hand, and she presented them to Jack and Annie.

Chapter 3: The men around Sappho

Jack took his and sniffed it. There was an acrid smell to it, as if it had turned slightly to vinegar, but when he lifted it to his mouth the coolness of the wine washed away any doubts. It was wonderful, and he smiled up at Sappho. "Thank you," he said.

"You are welcome," she said. "Ah, here his is. This is Palmris. Palmris, this is Jack. He is the brother of my friend, Annie. If you would keep him out of trouble this evening, I would most appreciate it."

Palmris was a short man, older than Sappho. His grey, smokey eyes seemed flat and tired as if he had been going without much sleep recently, but he nodded. "You must stay in my quarters," he said, eyeing Jack with a vague sense of curiosity but nothing more. Jack was relieved. After his encounter with the Marquis de Sade he wasn't sure if even his own ironically correct sensibilities could take more tweaking, and he didn't need to be reminded that in this era of Greek history homosexuality was a potential hazard of life. The sexes thought of the other as alien and distinct, without much overlap in culture or interest.

Palmris grinned at him briefly. "Forgive me. I was up last night drinking with my men, and I have just awakened from a nap. Where are you from, stranger?"

"The city-state of Hamp," Jack said, translating as best as he could. "It is very far from here. My sister came in search of yours."

Palmris looked at Annie the same way someone might examine a horse. The he shrugged. "May she find what she came for. Come, I shall show you my quarters. Later this evening my soldiers will come by and we shall be conducting some business and then ... drink!" He laughed, but Sappho gave him a withering look. "I shall not end up a slobbering old fool, sister."

"Oh, Palmris, I know that. But when you return from a journey you are always so celebratory, and I worry that you shall become a scourge of the island. Someday, you shall fight a man who shall leave a knife between your ribs."

Palmris placed his hand on his side just under his left armpit as if feeling for the knife already. Jack watched, wide-eyed, as he pulled one out. "Someone has!"

Sappho said, "Your tricks with knives are cute, dear brother, but surely you can do better than that."

"How did you do that?" Annie asked.

Palmris showed Jack and Annie the leather sheath braced on his wrist, and how he had freed the knife from it before reaching up to feign the search. "It is a useful skill when one is a mercenary."

Mercenary. Palmris was a soldier who sold his services to a buyer and would fight on whichever side had the most gold. Jack shivered: this tired-looking little man was a soldier and a killer who carried a knife with him everywhere he went, even in the presence of his sister, one of the greatest poets the world had ever known.

"Jack, come," Palmris said. He was not one to speak quietly. Apparently his lowest volume was meant to be heard over the din of battle. It was not an order but an invitation. The only kind Palmris knew how to make. "My men will be here shortly."

Jack smiled tightly. "Thanks. I think. Annie? Be careful."

"You too, Jack."

Jack walked off with Palmris.

Chapter 4: Wives and daughters

Annie sat quietly while Sappho played her lyre, not saying a word. She watched the sun sink lower into the west, and heard the songs of the seagulls, and smelled the salt of an ocean rich with life. Other smells reached her from time to time, sweet and savory. She had often wondered if there would come a day when she would not return to Frogton but would instead choose to stay in a time and place other than the 21st century. She had had her shots, and she knew enough modern hygiene and nutrition that she could probably have stayed alive much longer than her peers in any time she settled down into. She had even managed to get smallpox and polio vaccinations back when there had been fears of a terrorist outbreak.

A woman appeared in the doorway. Sappho looked up and nodded at her. She nodded back, regarded Annie with surprised eyes, then sat down next to her. "I am Aithra."

"Annie," Annie told her. She was a small woman, clear of skin but missing a tooth. That was no surprise to Annie. Other women came in, all of whom seemed to know one another, but all wanted to be introduced to Annie. She realized after a while that it was her pale skin and especially her hair they were all looking at, the soft curls so different from the tight, wax-laden hairstyles the women of Greece wore at this time. Annie collected names: Kolette, Ouriana, Dianetris, Selini. Soon twenty or more women were collected in the courtyard even as the sun touched the sea.

Sappho stood up. "Thank you all for coming here, for braving the night to be one with your own kind. There is little that the world of men has given to us, so let us enjoy our short time together." She picked up a basket, walked to the door. "Come, if you will."

Annie noticed that most of the other women had baskets as well. Not all of them, which made her feel better.

They walked down to the beach and Sappho led them along its sands until they reached a cave. The sun had gone down completely and now only dusk settled across the sea sent grey shards of light off a still sea into the cave's darkness. Annie saw that it was a grotto, half-full of water. "We have a few hours," Aithra said, "Before the tide brings back the sea. We mark our time carefully and well."

Annie nodded. "Thanks," she said, knowing Aithra was trying to make her feel comfortable.

Sappho led them to the back of the grotto. Annie had been afraid that it would smell of seaweed, but it had a clean, sweet smell like the ocean. Waves washed in regularly, soft rushes of noise that made Annie feel as if she were in the sea already, rhythmically swaying back and forth. She saw other women affected as she was. Sappho produced a lit oil lamp, and others shared with lamps taken from their baskets until the grotto was alight with little fires. Reed mats were also placed down on the ground, and the women sat upon them.

Sappho beckoned to Annie, and Annie joined her. "Are you familiar with Aphrodite?"

"Only ... she is one of your gods, Sappho. Not one of mine."

"But you know of her?"

"Yes."

"Good." She raised her head. "Let us sit. Aithra, you shall lead the prayer tonight."

Aithra sat cross-legged before a bowl from which smoke rose in lazy wisps. She raised the bowl to her face, inhaled deeply, held the smoke within her lungs for as long as she could, then released it with a gasp. She began a chant that Annie could not make out. The other women began to dance, gyrating around her. "Come, Annie, come!" Sappho shouted, holding out her hands.

Annie jumped into the dancing circle, her feet mysteriously falling into place as if she had always known this dance. She linked hands with Sappho and another, shorter woman with dark hair and kohl-rimmed eyes, and followed along as their dance spiralled in toward Aithra. Aithra's chant grew louder and faster, and the women spiralled in closer and closer until Annie was pressed up, chest to back with women before her and after her. Sappho was the one behind her, and Annie felt a soft kiss planted on her neck.

Chapter 5: Boys with their toys

Palmris had led Jack back to the the men's side of the building. There were two men waiting for Palmris already. "Kyrenios," Palmris said, reaching out with a hand to grasp the wrist of the shorter man. "Good to see you."

"And you, Captain," Kyrenios said. "What have you here? I thought you did not go for morsels so--"

Palmris laughed. "He is the brother of a friend of my sister's. Do not presume. I do not believe he goes for your 'morsels' either."

"Pity that," said the other man.

"Heraklesr," Palmris said. "What is the tally?"

"Excellent, Captain. Enough to keep all the men in their cups for six months if they are so inclined. And your share is respectable. Not enough to take back Lesbos, but..."

Palmris cut him off with a wave of the hand. "The tide will turn even there, Heraklesr, even there. There will come a time." Jack sat and watched as Palmris conducted business, using a small box of shallow pits and stones, as well as a wax tablet, as Heraklesr rummaged through a green cloth bag and pulled out little tokens. Palmris nodded when it was done. "It is good, Heraklesr. You are correct. It is enough to keep the men in food and drink through the winter." He grinned. "Let us go find the others. I should like to drink to this tonight."

Palmris and the other men led Jack out into the streets. The tavern they sought was not far away through the dusty narrow streets, and when they entered a cheer greeted Palmris. Two dozen men, handsome and recognizably powerful under their simple, belted tunics rose and lifted the cups to him. "Men!" Palmris shouted. Then he lowered his voice. "We have done well, and Heraklesr will distribute to you your rewards in the morning. In the meantime, drink, drink and be happy, for your captain commands you!"

The roar that greeted Jack's ears impressed him. "And who is this?" said one of the men.

"Blathyllos, this is Jack, the brother of one of my sister's friends. We are to show him the life of our town. He will be here only a while before he and his sister return to their own state."

Jack realized that he was taller than just about every man there. Most of them looked like they were stronger than Jack, and certainly all of them had much more combat experience. The past was funny that way. Thanks to the Librarian, Jack had become much more grateful to modern medicine and hygiene. They all looked at him with curiosity, one or two with something more. "Tell us of your travels, Jack!"