“Does that agree with what you know?” she said.
“Yes. Yes, it does. Thank you. I should be going, I think. I have work to do.”
He stood, turned up his collar, and let himself out the door.
The Wanderer said, “He’s hiding something.”
“Of course he is,” Hera said curtly.
“He never exactly agreed to h
elp you, you know,” the Wanderer added.
“Did he really fight at Troy?” asked the Marquis.
“I believe he did.”
The nobleman continued. “There’s something else you should know. He’s the one I followed. He’s the one who led us to the Storeroom. I suspect he possesses a great deal of knowledge we could use.”
Hera tapped a finger on the rim of her wineglass. “Robin, you must keep a close watch on him.”
“Absolutely I must.”
Vita chopped vegetables while Sylvia, six years old, stirred the soup, or tried to. Vita hoped it didn’t burn too badly, but she didn’t have the heart to shoo her daughter away.
“When was the Trojan War, Mother?”
“Oh, hundreds of years ago.”
“Then how do people know what happened?”
“They tell stories. That’s why stories are so important. They help people remember.”
“Why didn’t anyone believe Cassandra? I would have believed her.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. Apollo made it so no one believed her.”
“Why?”
“Cassandra made him angry, so he cursed her.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what gods do.”
“Is that why we pray to them? So they won’t curse us?”
Oh, the blasphemy, Vita thought, biting back a smile. “Yes, my dear. That’s exactly it.”
Lucius came in then, and Sylvia screamed a welcome to him, ran, and hugged him. He snatched her up and spun her around until her brown hair tangled in front of her face, then he held her upside down while she screamed some more, and he leaned over to kiss Vita on the cheek.
“Supper soon? I’m famished,” he said. It was planting season. He’d been in the fields since dawn.
“Yes.”
“The Mouse been helping you?”
“She’s been very helpful.”