Chapter 18A tear leaked from the corner of Julos’s eye—no doubt it was just the chill of the wind. He pulled his purple cloak tighter.
He stood upon the podium so he could address the people for the funeral oration. Mnestheos had been kind enough to fetch him a box for a little extra height, otherwise nobody would even be able to see him behind the pyre.
Sergestos’s body lay atop a wickerwork bier, golden trinkets heaped at his feet. At Julos’s order, the corpse had been washed and perfumed, a coin lodged in the mouth. Sergestos’s hair was tied back with a leather cord. Julos winced at the sight of the grave goods, for they were not Sergestos’s real treasures. Sending the man to the Underworld with gold and gems seemed almost an insult, but Julos could not burn scrolls of poetry and phil
