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doubt if Polydectes would really commit such an affront,” said the boss briskly. “But our relations with the king are not good, Kore, and he could apply pressure. We should put temptation out of his way, right now.”
    We’d reached the Enclosure, which stood at the north end of the curving waterfront, at the foot of the High Place hill, inland from the jumble of Seatown’s houses and alleys. It was an ancient holy place, not walled, just encircled by a fence. The buildings inside were wattle-and-daub, nothing permanent except for the bathing caves, and the sanctuary itself. The gates were open. Kore stopped, as if brought up short by an invisible barrier. I saw a look of
dread
in her eyes.
    “I was hoping you would be able to help us, dear girl,” said Papa Dicty, watching her. “If you know any words of their language at all?”
    She nodded, and swallowed her terror. “I’ll do what I can.”
    Moumi was with Holy Mother and the sisters. There were twenty “families” of refugees who had not yet been resettled, including an old man in the hospital who seemed to have no family or friends…. Holy Mother, who had no respect for anyone alive, was very annoyed with all of us, including the boss.
    “I have no objection to sheltering them, Dicty,” she snapped. “The victims of an earthquake are sacred. They may stay with us as long as need be, no matter what the king says. But first you send them here, then you tell me I have to make fresh plans for distressed foreigners, using nothing but sign language, in an afternoon. Not one of them speaks a word of Greek. I could have used a modicum of notice!”
    The boss apologized humbly, but he’d made up his mind. The next hours passed in a blur. Kore helped the nuns to prepare the refugees. Moumi, Dicty and Holy Mother, who knew every household in Seatown, came up with ideas, and gave us directions. Palikari and I tramped the streets, and the nearby farms. Nobody turned us down when we explained the need, except for the people on the Koutala path who had sickness in the house. I had a new respect for the decency of ordinary Serifiotes by theend of the day. But it was tough going. We were
beggars—
even if we were begging for others, not for ourselves—and as some wise person once said, there is no harder trade. Nineteen families, with their belongings and babes-in-arms, were moved to private households. The bedridden old man stayed. As Holy Mother said, with any luck he’d be safe home with Great Mother before the king could get down the hill.
    Finally, we went back to the taverna, to start the evening’s work.
    That night Kore didn’t vanish after the last chores. Papa Dicty retired to his room, after congratulating us on a job well done. The rest of us moved into the backyard, to collapse in coolness and privacy. Anthe was brooding, still scared that the boss was going to send her home in disgrace. Kore’d had a stunned, bewildered look all evening—barely concealed by a waitress’s obligatory cheerful smile. She sat on the wellhouse bench, her hands knotted in her lap.
    “I thought Serifos was safe!” she cried suddenly, almost accusingly. “I thought this was a peaceful haven! Why did you help the refugees when you have such troubles of your own!”
    “We have a king we don’t love,” sighed Pali. He was lying flat out on a clean patch of paving, with his eyes closed. “He keeps trying to pick a fight with the boss, who is his brother: a fight that would ruin us. But don’t worry, ourboss is cunning as a fox; he’s always found a way out. So far …”
    My friend opened his eyes, and looked at me. I knew what was on his mind. But I looked away.
    “It’s true, we have our troubles,” said Moumi. “Shall I tell you
my
story, Kore? Or perhaps you know it already?”
    Kore shook her head. We’d finally seen her with the refugees today, and the mystery only deepened. She didn’t know them, they didn’t know her, yet they
frightened
her. She was so