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god Apollo, so it was a sacred place. Every four years, people from all over the ancient Greek world came to the festival of Artemis to worship her and marvel at her temple.
    Young men and women were usually kept apart, and such festivals were a popular way to meet. Artemis, who had sworn never to marry, was the guardian of unmarried women. Many marriages were arranged at her temple, where girls would feel they were under the protection of a goddess who would look out for them.
    One year, Akontios decided to go to the festival. Maybe he would meet a nice girl to marry, and even if he didn’t, he’d be sure to have a good time. So he borrowed a boat from a fisherman and rowed the short distance to Delos.
    When Akontios climbed out of the boat, he was astonished at what he saw. People from all over Greece and beyond were filling tiny Delos, which is only a bit larger than a square mile in your modern measurements. Countless wares were for sale, from food and drink to trinkets and clothing. From the stadium came the roar of people watching footraces, wrestling matches, and other games held in honor of the goddess. And still more boats arrived and unloaded more and more people onto the island, until it seemed like it was going to sink.
    A simple country boy, Akontios was overwhelmed, wandering and staring at all the wonders, clutching his small wallet of coins. He bought three apples from a vendor, though their price made him gasp. He ate two, and tucked the third into the folds of his tunic for later.
    He found a crowd of people exclaiming at the sight of the huge, intricate altar in front of the temple of Artemis. Some of the worshippers were making sacrifices and asking the goddess for a favor. Others were swearing solemn oaths—some to marry a certain person, others to call an end to a feud, still others to live a more honorable life. The Greeks took very seriously any promise made at a temple, especially one as holy as that of Artemis at Delos.
    “Really something, isn’t it?” asked a friendly voice behind him. Akontios turned and saw a prosperous-looking young man of about his own age.
    “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Akontios said.
    “There isn’t anything like it in the whole world.” The young man spoke with an Athenian accent. “Apollo, god of the arts, made the altar himself from the antlers and horns of animals killed by his sister Artemis.”
    Akontios approached the altar and put out a reverent hand to touch one of the antlers. As he did so, he saw a beautiful girl standing on the steps of the temple, making a sacrifice. The girl was even more spectacular than the altar. Her large eyes shone with intelligence, and her hair, tied back in a simple knot, was thick and wavy. Her face was as lovely as that of the statue of the goddess herself.
    The Athenian noticed where Akontios was looking and laughed. “No point in losing your heart over that one, my friend. That’s Kydippe. Her father is a nobleman of Athens, and he won’t give her in marriage to any suitor who isn’t well born and rich. I’m afraid a man with no money from—where did you say? Keos?—wouldn’t be good enough.” The Athenian’s eye swept over Akontios’s simple tunic, his plain sandals, his work-roughened hands.
    Akontios hardly heard him as he stared at the lovely girl. How to meet her? It would be highly improper for him to approach her. High-born Greek women were kept so strictly secluded, many of them left home only to attend festivals like this one.
    On an impulse, Akontios pulled his last apple out of his tunic. With the knife he always carried, he carved some words into its skin and tossed it at the girl’s feet.
    Kydippe’s maid picked it up, glancing around to see where it had come from. Akontios kept himself hidden behind the intertwined horns of the altar, and after a while, the woman gave up looking and handed the apple to her mistress. Kydippe was about to take a bite out of it when she saw the words that