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tent and not come out until morning?”
    Timo laughed. “What are you, Nico, my mother?”
    A mother wouldn’t have trailed as close to Timodemus as I had that afternoon. I’d caught up with him at the gym, where he was being congratulated by friends. The friends had been strangely absent in the morning, when Timo was in trouble, but were exceedingly visible after the judges announced his rehabilitation. Man after man said that Timo was sure to win, for he must have the favor of the Gods, and all of Athens was behind him.
    I knew how uncomfortable such talk made him feel. I waved from the back of the crowd and said in a loud voice that Timo was wanted at the Bouleterion. Timo edged away, and we made our escape. When we were out of sight, we diverted to the agora, where I bought a few wineskins to celebrate, and we found a quiet spot by the river.
    We were both in a more relaxed state than we had been in the morning. We stayed there until it was well and truly dark, after which we meandered back to the campsite. An athlete needs his sleep.
    When we came to Timo’s tent, I insisted he stay there and not go wandering about. “I promised Pericles I’d keep an eye on you. I can’t do that if you go partying across Olympia in the middle of the night. What if some Spartan tries to get revenge?”
    “You are protecting me?” Timodemus was too polite to pointout that he had beaten me to a pulp that morning. Instead his eyes lingered on my bruised neck and my aching knee—Diotima had wrapped a wet rag around it to reduce the swelling—and he smiled.
    “I thought you were sticking with me to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid again.”
    “Perhaps a little of both,” I conceded. “I know you could destroy me with your little finger, Timo. But has it occurred to you that even the weakest man could knife you as you sleep? Or attack you from behind as you walk through the crowds? I can watch your back. Pericles said he spent political capital on you, and he doesn’t like his property damaged.”
    Timodemus laughed. “All right, Nico. I’ll stay in the tent.”
    “Promise?”
    “I promise.”
    “Good night, then.”
    Timodemus stepped into his tent and closed the flap.
    I settled down outside and listened to the night. All over Olympia, men partied. Bonfires lit up the night in every direction. Sweet smoke drifted in the light breeze. Men sang. Women laughed. Somewhere close by, music played, growing louder.
    A
komos
line appeared, happy shouting men and intoxicated women. Aulos players danced alongside and fingered their V-shaped flutes with both hands. The revelers kicked in time to the music and snaked their way down the street. They waved at me to join them, one a lovely redheaded woman, but I shook my head and smiled. The line passed around the corner and out of the camp, leaving me alone once more.
    I was missing the biggest party in the world, all because my best friend couldn’t be trusted not to strangle people. I hoped my sacrifice was worth it. I made a mental note to remind Timodemus of this every day for the rest of his life.
    What was Diotima doing while I sat here in the dark? She was probably stuck in her tent, reading a scroll or throwing knives, or—a sudden thought struck me, and my breathtightened—maybe she’d met some handsome man and gone off to a party. Diotima liked men’s chests. It was a particular thing for her, and this was the sort of place where she’d see plenty of them.
    I put my hands under my exomis and checked my chest. I had to admit, there were men with broader, better muscled chests, especially around here. Maybe I should ask Timo’s coach Dromeus for some exercises to make my own chest more manly.
    But that would have to wait until tomorrow. It was getting late. Even the parties in the distance had quietened as the drunks fell by the wayside.
    I yawned and lay back to relax.
    “Are you all right?” a voice said in my ear.
    I sat bolt upright. A man stood beside me. It