“They’d do it anyway. Lovers are idiots!” Ficino said. I felt my cheeks heat again. “It would be better to warn Priam about the wooden horse.”

“I wonder if they’re discussing helping the village in the council now?” Phaedrus mused.

“I wonder what Father’s saying,” Kallikles said.

“Why aren’t you on the council?” Ficino asked Maia.

“It’s only six people, so they can make decisions quickly,” she said. “But why aren’t you?”

“They’re all Children,” Ficino said. “There aren’t many Masters on this expedition, and while there are plenty of Young Ones, you wouldn’t expect them to have positions of responsibility yet.” He turned to Kallikles. “You should tell your father what you’ve been saying to us, about wanting to help. It’s a question for the whole Chamber back home, but it’s a question we shouldn’t forget.”

“And we should debate whether what we do can change history,” Maia said. “It’s another thing we should have asked Athene while we had the chance.”

“I’ll definitely tell Father,” Kallikles said. “But if we can change things, it wouldn’t necessarily make them worse. We could make them better.”

“But it’s all connected. We can’t change anything without changing everything. If Priam knew about the wooden horse, there would be no Rome,” Maia said.

I resolved to ask Father about history as soon as I could safely get him alone.

The ship stayed at anchor that night. I didn’t go down to my hammock beside Erinna. I wrapped myself in my cloak and slept on deck, badly. When I was awake I fretted about my inappropriate response to Erinna’s hand. She had meant friendly comfort, and my body had undoubtedly felt lust. I wrestled with the twin horses of my soul, as Plato urges. When I fell asleep, I dreamed about history as a broken rope, lashing about and pulling the sails out of trim as the ship prepared for a storm. Every time I woke the real ship was barely moving beneath me, and I fretted about my feelings for Erinna. I liked her. I respected her. She was a wonderful friend. Maybe I even loved her. She seemed to like me, but of course not in any inappropriate way. She was four years older than me. Then every time I slept again it was the same dream, the cut rope, the uncontrollable sails, the oncoming storm clouds. A light rain woke me an hour before dawn, a little early for my watch but I got up anyway, re-draping my blanket into a cloak to keep off the weather.

Only a few of the Nyx watch were awake, as the ship at anchor didn’t need much attention. We nodded to each other. One of them was my brother Neleus, who came forward to wish me joy of the morning. “Do you know where Father is?” I asked him.