Chapter TwelveThe isles of Greece, the isles of Greece
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of War and Peace
Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung;
Eternal Summer gilds them yet
But all, except their Sun, is set. – Lord Byron
“She's been expecting you. She consulted the oracles just this morning,” Helene said to Judi as she closed the door. She escorted Judi past the wooden inner porticoes, across a floor composed of small colored stones laid in cement, into a hallway lined with shuttered window openings hung with richly-dyed curtains. From there they passed groups of students talking together, playing musical instruments or writing, to a small room which overlooked the central courtyard, where stood an altar to Aphrodite and Athena.
A small, dark-haired woman with
