Theo pressed her lips together and looked down at her feet. She’d forgotten that Marlowe had spent a year at Grant’s institute and knew all his colleagues and friends up there. Like this beauteous Olivia. Julian had asked Grant about an Olivia as well, hadn’t he? A small green snake hissed ‘very interessssting’ in her mind’s ear.
“Olivia’s fine. I spoke with her a few days ago.” From the corner of her eye she saw Grant glance at her as he spoke, but she would not look up from the floor.
“Fabulous. Send her my love, won’t you? Tell her she has to come down for a visit here. It’ll be like the old times, eh?” Marlowe clapped Grant on the back, then made a grab for his sheet as it started to slide. “Whoops. I say, Theo, what’s so fascinating about that floor?”
She was still staring down at her feet, but now from interest rather than from pique. “It’s the bird I saw at the department dinner. I’ve been looking for it ever since then, but I guess there was furniture over it. Look.” She took their arms and pulled the two men back a few steps.
There indeed was the sinister bird with its glinting eye, whether an eagle or a vulture she couldn’t say, stretched in its exultant dive toward—toward—she stepped back further.
Yes, there it was, at her feet: a naked man, bound hand and foot to a stained rock on the craggy side of a mountain, the granite beneath him worn smooth by his body’s agonized thrashing. A long, jagged wound gaped across his torso, bleeding freely. It was his blood that had stained the rock below him. Looking more closely, she could see that the bird’s beak was stained rusty red as well, and a fragment of purple flesh was still caught in it. It was mesmerizing and horrible.
“It’s Prometheus. Prometheus and the vulture. I should have remembered,” she said softly, staring down at it.
“Why, so it is. Olivia wrote an interesting little monograph on Prometheus, didn’t she, Grant?” Marlowe came around to peer down at the floor next to her. “You said you’d preferred Aeschylus’s handling—”
A sudden movement silenced Marlowe and made her look up. Without a word, Grant turned on his heels and strode out the door.
Chapter Six
Some days later Theo was walking down the hall after Dr. Herman’s seminar when she saw Julian’s secretary stride toward her. She hastily stepped to one side and tentatively said, “Hello, Ms. Cadwallader.”
To her surprise, the woman stopped in front of her. “Here,” she said shortly, and handed Theo a small scroll of thick cream-colored paper, tied with a gold ribbon.
“Thank you,” Theo said, but June was already stalking back down the hallway to her office. When she got to it, she slammed the door behind her.
“You have a nice day too,” Theo said under her breath, and let her backpack slide to the ground as she untied the scroll. Unrolling it, she read:
Tua praesentia
Petitur
Ad Symposium Departmenti
Idibus Novembris
Hora octava post meridiem
Vestis idonea requiritur
So she’d been invited to the next department symposium. Marlowe had been as good as his word. Idibus Novembris —that would be the, uh—
“November fifteenth?” Grant said, looking over her shoulder.
Theo jumped but maintained her composure. “Thirteenth. This Saturday. The Ides are on the fifteenth only in certain months, remember? What are you teaching your class, anyway?” She stepped a pace or two from him.
He didn’t seem to notice. “I was saving the Roman calendar until right before Thanksgiving, when their attention span is short and we need something non-essential to learn about. I haven’t reviewed them in a while.”
“Hmmph. Vestis idonea requiritur. I wonder what ‘proper attire’ is? Maybe I’ll borrow Marlowe’s SpongeBob sheets for my toga.”
“Hey, I was going to ask him. No fair.”
“So you’re going, too?” She hoped she didn’t sound too pleased.
He waved his scroll at her. “I hadn’t opened it yet, but I assume it’s the same. Not the standard form for departmental mail, is it?”
“No, I guess not. Thank you.” She took her backpack from Grant as he picked it up and handed it to her, avoiding the touch of his hand on hers. “No RSVP, I notice,” she said as they continued down the hall.
“I don’t think attendance is optional, knowing Julian.”
Grant’s voice was heavy with irony. Theo wondered why but let it pass. “No, I guess not. I hope Mom can get my toga done by then.”
“What? You didn’t wear one teaching at your school?”
“And really wig everyone out? I don’t think so. Toga parties went out of fashion decades ago, anyway.”
“Not here.”
“No, not here. What about up at your place? Do you have department symposia as well?” Before she could stop herself, she had pictured a beautiful woman, bearing a remarkable resemblance to Renee Frothington-Forge-Smythe, wearing a floaty pale pink toga and a gold ankle bracelet with a large diamond O on it, reclining on a couch next to Grant and batting her eyelashes at him.
“No, not generally. Not unless Marlowe’s visiting. It upsets the moose too much.”
“Ah, yes, the moose.” Theo did not smile. “Well, I really need to be going, Grant. See you later.”
Grant looked at her and frowned. “It’s nearly quarter of five. Let’s go have a drink and some dinner. It seems like I’ve hardly seen you lately.”
“You see me every day. And we have our class meetings just as always,” Theo said guilelessly, but she knew what Grant was saying. She had avoided him since Halloween. Well, maybe not quite avoided him. Not really. Oh, all right. Maybe a little.
She couldn’t help it. She had told the man, actually told him, that she loved him. And he had said he loved her too. So why had he run from her that Friday afternoon? Why hadn’t she seen him for the entire weekend after that? She’d practically lived in the Great Room, waiting for him to come, wanting to finish their interrupted talk. She’d incessantly checked email and looked for texts.
But he hadn’t called or showed up. Was he in his apartment, regretting those three words he had said to her? By Sunday afternoon she had finished her reading for her Roman Historiography class through a haze of tears.
Since then she had scraped up the remains of her pride and reassembled them into a fragile casing around her. She’d told Grant how she felt about him and he had run away. Now it was his turn. She had been cordial but distant all week. At dinner with him and Dr. Waterman just this Saturday to celebrate their midterm tie she had been as chatty and social as she knew how to be, but it was a brittle sort of conviviality, and Grant had known it. He’d watched her with a frown in his eyes all evening.
Now it seemed the time had come for their confrontation. Theo stood as straight as she could and smiled distantly at Grant as she spoke. He glowered at her.
“You know what I mean, Theo. Come on. I need to talk to you.” They were standing by the stairwell again, Theo noticed. She was beginning to hate this spot.
“Oh, about the class term papers. We do need to talk about them, don’t we? Dr. Waterman said five to eight pages, which seems reasonable for a first-yea—”
“That’s not what I meant! I—I need to tell you I’m sorry.” He looked straight at her as he spoke, and she had to admire his courage. But the ache was still too recent.
“Sorry for what?” she said, her voice too high and sincere.
“I’m sorry I ran away last weekend when it all became too much for me.”
“Oh, that. Well, it’s—it’s not a big deal. I understand if you—”
He rubbed his chin and stared at her, and she wished she weren’t standing with her back to the wall.
“You understand if I what?” There was an odd bleakness in his eyes.
“If you don’t want—you know.” She colored and looked away. “If you don’t want me to—to love you,” she whispered, and tried to pull away again. “I shouldn’t have said it
that afternoon. I didn’t mean to.”
He gripped her shoulders and pulled her close. “No. You’re not running away. You were brave enough last time to talk. Now you’ll have to be brave enough to listen, before this gets any worse.”
“Not here!” Not in front of everyone’s offices. She pushed against him.
He let go of her reluctantly. “All right, not here.” He took her arm and shoved the stairwell door open, then froze. Julian stood there looking startled, his outstretched hand still reaching for the door handle. He blinked at them, then smiled.
“Perfect! I was just looking for you, Theodora. Hello, Grant. Mind if I talk with Miss Fairchild here for a few minutes?” He looked at their faces. “Of course, if this is a bad time—”
“No, Julian, it’s not.” Theo fought to steady her pounding heart as she looked at Grant. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said quietly.
His mouth opened, then closed. With a nod, he pushed past them down the stairs.
Julian was silent as he led her to his office, for which she was grateful. There were no windows in the stairwell doors, thank heavens, and the doors were thick, so he couldn’t have seen or heard any of their conversation. That would have been too embarrassing.
“Drink, Theodora?”
“Hmm?” She snapped her attention back to Julian.
“I said, would you like a drink? Sun’s over the yardarm—what sun there is, this time of year—and I for one could do with a bracer.” He opened a cabinet behind his desk and waved a glass at her.
A bracer. That sounded like what she needed too. “Yes, I would, thank you.”
He opened another door in the cabinet, and she was amused to see a wine refrigerator behind it. “I’ll bet that’s not standard university equipment, even for department heads.”
He smiled as he pulled out a bottle and uncorked it. “No, it’s not. It’s my own addition. We classicists are a thirsty lot. Surely you’d noticed?” He poured two glasses of light golden liquid and brought them around the desk. He handed her one, then held his out in salute. She touched hers to it.
“To scholarship,” he said.
“To scholarship,” she echoed.
“And to my scholars—the best of them,” he said with a smile, then drank.
Theo felt herself flush once more and took a sip. It was similar to the wine he’d served at the department dinner, deep and fruity and potent. She breathed its bouquet through her open mouth, letting the dusty grapeyness fill her, and felt a tingle not unlike that of Dr. Waterman’s fish food permeate her head. “It’s wonderful. Where is it from?”
“Do you like it? It’s—well, I don’t like to brag. I happen to have a small property in southern Rhode Island that’s mostly given over to vines, and—”
“It’s your own wine? You grew it?”
“Well, yes.” He shrugged modestly.
“Wow. University professor and a vintner too.” The wine was having an effect already, leaching the tension caused by her encounter with Grant from her bones like magic. She breathed its bouquet once more, and drank.
Julian nodded approval. “I think you needed it too. You looked a little upset when I saw you in the hallway just now. That’s why I asked you up here, if you’ll pardon my subterfuge. Is everything all right between you and Grant Proctor? Sometimes teaching in such close tandem with another person can be difficult.” He sat back in his chair, watching her.
It was not like the afternoon in the museum. She was not getting giddy on magical, mystical fish flakes. But the wine was relaxing, and God knew she needed to relax a little right now. “Not entirely well. Things of a personal nature have been, er, cropping up.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It seemed such a good arrangement, giving Arthur a little break and you some valuable experience. Well, you know that as an enrolled student in my department, you are more important. If having Mr. Proctor here is making life distressing for you, he can be asked to leave at the semester’s end.”
“Oh, no! I mean, it’s not like that. Not that bad,” she amended. “I’m sure we’ll work it out. Dr. Waterman says he’s quite happy with our work.”
“So am I. But I’m also concerned for the well-being and happiness of my students. Please let me know if you need my help with Mr. Proctor, and I shall be more than happy to give it to you, my dear.”
“Thank you,” Theo almost whispered, a lump rising in her throat. She had been wrong about Julian. It was comforting to know that he was looking out for her, ready to protect her if she needed it. The turquoise eyes regarded her steadily. She looked into them and said again, “Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome, Theodora. Now, onto to happier topics.” He leaned over to refill her glass. “You received your invitation to the symposium?”
“Yes, just now. Thank you very much. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Excelle—just now? You just got it today?” He frowned.
“Um, yes. Ms. Cadwallader just gave it to me.” Theo did not add that the secretary had looked as if she would rather have stuffed it up Theo’s nose than hand it to her.
“I see.” He was still frowning. “You should have received it days ago. We try to give firstcomers plenty of notice to get ready. June sometimes—but never mind that. This doesn’t give you much time to prepare appropriate garb. It’s all quite silly, but we do like to ‘do it proper’, as it were. Morale-building for the department, I suppose.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure my mother can help me with something. She’s made my father several costumes for his Classical Club events.”
“Has she? I’m sure you’ll outshine us all, then. Tell me about your father. Ancient languages are an unusual hobby in this day and age.”
He kept her talking, quietly refilling her glass, nodding and asking more questions about her family. One part of her watched this with misgiving. Why all this interest in her personal life? Was he going to start acting creepy, the way he had back in September? But the rest of her was flattered by his interest.
She didn’t know how much later it was when he glanced at his watch and said, “Oh, no. I’m keeping you from your dinner. Well, we must do this again, Theodora. I haven’t had such pleasant conversation in a long time.”
Theo rose. The wine seemed to surge into her head like a fountain, sparkling yet enervating, making her sway slightly. She remembered the glass in her hand and held it out to him. “Thank you very much,” she managed to say.
He leaned forward, hand extended to take the glass from her. He seemed taller and broader all of a sudden, making her feel small and vulnerable. An image streaked across her mind, of a corona-ed figure reaching out to a reclining woman. That lapis seal in the museum—but then her head cleared. Julian was standing where he had been, looking like his usual self, setting her glass down. He came around the desk, smiling his usual charming smile.
“Good night, Theodora,” he said at the door.
“Good night, Julian,” she replied, and left.
…
As she walked carefully down the stairs, Theo avoided looking at Octavian’s bust when she came to the landing. Julian had been right; she had needed to step away from Grant for a minute. She felt better now. Far better than she had when she had entered Julian’s office, if a little sleepy.
At the entrance to the Great Room she halted. Only a few lamps in the sitting areas had been lit, and most of the room was in shadow. But she didn’t need their feeble glow to see the expression on Grant’s face as he paused mid-stride not ten feet away. He had obviously been waiting for her, pacing the length of the room. Any thoughts of sleep fled. She suppressed a mad impulse to see if he had worn a path in the mosaics. “Are you still here?” she said instead as he walked up to her. She saw his nostrils flare.
“Am I still here? I wait over two hours in this room to abase myself at your feet while Julian tries to get you drunk, and all you can say is that?”
Theo’s chin went up. “Don’t be silly, Grant. I’
m not drunk and Julian had no intention of doing any such thing. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. But I couldn’t just run out on him. And I didn’t think you’d be waiting, either.”
“What else could I do? Leave you again and let Julian pursue his fancy unchallenged? I don’t think so.”
“Stop that!” she snapped. “You’re being ridiculous. He’s the head of an important department at a prestigious university, and oh by the way I am an adult and quite capable of taking care of myself. What’s your problem with him all of a sudden?”
“All of a sudden?” Grant laughed. “Oh, Theo. If you only knew.”
“Well, I won’t, unless you tell me. Look, it’s getting late. Why don’t we have this discussion tomorrow?” She started to walk past him, but he grasped her arm and pulled her around to face him.
“No. Now. You don’t see his eyes on you as you walk down the hallway. Don’t trust him, Theo. I know him.”
She shook her head in denial, but he gripped her arm more tightly. Then, to her shock, he dropped to his knees in front of her.
“Grant, stop that. You’re being ridiculous.”
“I have to be. How else can I get you to see that I’m serious?” He took her hand and gazed up at her imploringly.
“By acting serious.” She tried to squirm from his grasp.
“Theo, I’m sorry. None of this is easy for me. There are things you don’t know about me that make it harder for me to—to show you that I love you properly. Oh, I wish I could just take you back to Eleusinian with me. Maybe I could explain it better there.”
Theo snatched her hand back. “Oh, yes, Eleusinian. Don’t you think it would be little rough if we were there, trying to explain me to your girlfriend?”
By Jove Page 7
