“I don’t suppose you’d care to wrestle a bout in the palaestra?” Father asked, the essence of politeness. People were still holding on to his arms, but he wasn’t struggling at all.

“No, I really wouldn’t,” Kebes said. “But I’ll tell you what. The music competitions are over. But we could have another, just the two of us, tomorrow. Extend the festival a little. Compete in a different sphere. That way there will be no damage done.”

Father was smiling one of his most terrifying smiles now. “But what if I want to do damage?”

“Do it with your lyre,” Kebes said.

Father had won every musical competition he had entered in my lifetime, and probably before it as well. If Kebes knew how good he was in the palaestra, Kebes must also have also known how good he was at music. I didn’t understand why he would even make such a suggestion, unless he was hoping to deflect Father’s anger by giving him a victory that wouldn’t hurt.

“I know what you did to her,” Father said, intent on Kebes, ignoring the people still holding his arms and the large circle of people gathered around us listening.

“I didn’t do anything to her you didn’t do too,” Kebes said, deliberately glancing at me. “Did I give her a child?”

I stepped between them before Father could throttle Kebes in broad daylight in the agora before half of Lucia and half the crew of Excellence. “You are talking about my mother,” I said. “And she’s dead.”

“Nothing against you, little one. And I’m very sorry she’s dead,” Kebes said, looking down at me. “I loved her. And she loved me.” He meant what he was saying. But that didn’t mean it was true, only that he believed it.

Father put a hand on my shoulder, and I realized they must have let him go and that he was ready to thrust me aside to get to Kebes. “This music contest,” I said, quickly. “What’s the prize?”

“A heifer,” somebody in the crowd said. I hadn’t asked because I wanted to know. I didn’t take my eyes off Kebes. Now that he was looking at me, I could see by his eyes that he hadn’t offered it thinking it was an easy way to lose. He was sincerely confident of winning. But I was just as confident that nobody could beat Father at music. (He is the god Apollo. He invented music.)

“No,” Kebes said, looking at Father over my head. “Not a heifer. How about if, instead, the winner gets to do what they want to the loser? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? We’ve always hated each other. This way we both have a fair chance.”