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narrow paths.
    'I owe you my life,' he said. I patted his unshaven, olive-tinted cheek.
    'And I owe you mine. That Queen of Mycenae was going to kill me.'
    'Oh, those eyes - those hawk's eyes - yes, she would have killed us all,' he shuddered.
    I changed the subject. I was curious about our travelling companion. 'Eumides, what do they say about Argive women?'
    'That they are so lustful and uncontrollable that their husbands lock them in their houses and chain a big dog across the stairs to discourage adulterers. Seduction is punished by death. Achaean women are never allowed out, not even to go to the market, not even to fetch water if there is a slave to do it for them.'
    'That sounds more like the husband's fears than the wife's unfaithfulness,' I commented.
    'Yes, I never believed it, and the maiden Electra is proof - cold as ice. She squeals at the slightest approach. You're a living affront to her, Lady.'
    'Me? Why?'
    'You are Trojan, Lady, and Trojans are free women,' he said patiently. 'Achaean women don't even see each other, except at festivals. They never see another man, only their fathers and brothers and husbands. There was an Argive once whose friends told him that his breath was foul and bade him clean his mouth. He went home angrily to his wife and demanded to know why she hadn't told him. She said, "I thought all men smelt like that".'
    We had come up to the others, and they heard this anecdote.
    'She was a good wife,' commented Princess Electra approvingly, silencing my incredulous laughter.
    'Because she had never been near another man?' I asked.
    'Yes. I was never in the presence of a young man except my brother until I travelled with you,' she said. 'All my life I have lived with women, my family and the slaves. But I used to look out of the window into the city sometimes, though it was forbidden.'
    'Oh, Electra,' I said, filled with pity. No wonder she was narrow, prudish and uneducated. 'The Trojans believe that there is no virtue in ignorance.'
    'Chryseis was the same,' said Diomenes, then fell silent.
    'Who is Chryseis?' I asked, after we had clopped along mutely for some time.
    'My wife. Palamedes gave her to me. She is dead,' he said, and we did not talk any more until Orestes demanded first a drink and then to get down, so we stopped at a convenient stream which leapt down the cliff.
    It was snow water, chill and delicious. Chryse and I spoke, almost together.
    'Don't drink it too fast or,' we stopped and looked at each other. 'You'll get cramps,' we concluded.
    'Don't get sick on this journey, Orestes,' said Eumides. 'We have two healers, and they'll probably quarrel about the treatment.'
    'Tell me about Trojan medicine,' said Chryse. He seemed unsettled since the mention of his wife. I wondered if he had loved her, this human reward whom someone had given him, who cannot have seen him before she lay with him, and to whom 'consent' was only a word. I began to ransack my knowledge of herbs, identifying them from horseback. I saw a cluster of familiar dark leaves.
    ' Solanos ,' I said, and he said, 'Nightshade.'
    'Poisonous and to be used in the last resort,' I continued. 'Used for malignant fevers and the ague. Brings down a terminal fever.'
    'Causes a terminal fever,' he argued. 'Treatment if ingested; induce vomiting with mustard and water.'
    'Or Lychnis . Aloe is good, too.'
    'Yes,' he agreed, 'If you can get the patient to swallow it. What's Lychnis ?'
    'There's some, growing next to the Mentha near that stream.'
    'Soap-leaf, growing next to mint,' he corrected me. 'Do you use Heracles' herb?'
    'What's that?' I asked. He pointed to a tall plant with pea-shaped pink and white flowers. 'Oh, you mean wound-leaf.'
    'This will be ongoing for the whole journey,' said Eumides. 'You're going to arrive at Delphi an expert on herbs, boy.'
    'It's interesting,' responded Orestes. I looked at him properly for the first time. He was a thin child, with alert eyes, solemn and slightly frail, as though he might