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tipsy. I was hastily summoned and charged with carrying the glad news to Ctimene, who by now had almost given up eating and drinking. She spent most of her time in bed, overcome by frequent fits of hysterical sobbing. Seldom have I taken a message more readily or been more rapturously thanked—or had so little confidence in its truth. Nothing seemed too good for the Hyrian merchant: my father summoned an all-Elyman Council and announced that on the following night a feast of homage to our benefactor would be held in the banqueting court. Each of the twelve tribes must send several representatives. A dozen sheep, eight boars, and two bullocks would be sacrificed, there would be no stint of wine and bread, and Demodocus, the most famous poet in Sicily, a blind Son of Blind Homer, had consented to sing of the Trojan War.
    At least a hundred men attended the feast, all wearing their ceremonial robes. Glad hymns to Zeus arose while the animals were being slaughtered, flayed and roasted in the court of sacrifice. Demodocus, who is toothless as well asblind, sat in a silver-studded chair, backed against one of the cloister pillars, his seven-stringed oryx-horn lyre hanging from a peg within easy reach. Near by, on an inlaid table, Pontonous the butler had set a cup of wine to refresh him in his pauses between fyttes, and a basket of bread. In a half circle around the old man, at a decent distance, were ranged a score of beechwood trestle tables, waxed and polished, each supporting a great dish of well-scrubbed copper, on which lay steaming joints of mutton, pork and beef. Once again it occurred to me: how disgustingly men eat, hacking off strips of meat with daggers, and cramming them into their mouths until the juice runs down wrists and chins! A few used bread to wipe themselves clean; the remainder did not trouble. Pontonous kept the wine flowing, his sharp eye noting any cup or goblet set down empty. They were our best goblets. We are always afraid that when a banquet is over someone will have thoughtlessly carried off one of them, though all are stamped or engraved with the palace sign (which is a hound rending a fawn) and therefore easy to trace. Some are of silver, some of gold, some carved out of alabaster or liparite, three or four of Egyptian ware.
    The Hyrian merchant, who claimed descent from King Minos’s brother Sarpedon, was given the portion of honour, an unbroken length of beef chine, and a draught of our best dark wine in a rock-crystal goblet. Having downed a pint or two of this superlative drink, moderately tempered with water, he beat his breast, rapped his forehead, and exclaimed that he had forgotten to deliver several messages of affection from Laodamas to his wife, parents, and brothers, and to the principal citizens of Drepanum. He delivered these amid arespectful hush, and though the phrases were uncharacteristic of Laodamas, they gave pleasure. He also told us that Laodamas meant to sail home from Sandy Pylus in Elis.
    Word now came to us women that our own feast was ready, so we trooped to the dining room downstairs. Men take pride in eating hugely on all occasions; and by way of politeness, at a dinner party, they bolt their food as though dying of hunger. We women make do with only half the food and drink, and are no less robust. Personally, I hate to see a well-born girl, however ravenous she may be, spilling wine or gravy on her dress; and if I catch one of my maids with her snout in the trough, as the saying goes, I send her to grind corn in our heaviest quern when the next mealtime is announced.
    After the men had acknowledged themselves defeated by the plenty set before them, slaves went around carrying towels, sponges, and basins of warm water, into which a little vinegar had been poured, to wash the guests’ hands; while others cleared the tables and took out the broken meats to an expectant crowd assembled in the court of sacrifice. Demodocus then struck up, and his song was