Lion Head Mesa Peína

A woman’s voice called out to him, beckoning him in the tongue of his people. Arsenio turned sharply, the cold blue of his eyes falling on a rather dark figure.

Chairetísmata, the misthofóros returned to her in a graveled voice, rough as it left his lips. He had not believed that he’d met this woman before, but she did seem familiar to him – someone he had seen hanging around the lady Satsu. The Greek man was unbothered by her presence and the queen had not seemed perturbed, so she hadn’t been of much concern to him.

Eíste polý makriá apó ta nerá tis Elládas. Arsenio smiled, somewhere between the daft fool’s grin that he had shown to the Pharaoh and the careful smirk that he had revealed to Tamar.