By Jove by Marissa Doyle

by candles. Only candles. All the usual lamps in the room had been banished, and the chandeliers were off. The linenfold paneling on the walls reflected the candlelight with a soft apricot glow that made the mosaics of the floor look subtly three-dimensional, as if the figures were straining to rise. The usual squashy chairs and couches had vanished as well, and in the center of the room was a great circle of cushion-covered divans, each with a small table by it. So they would eat reclining, just as the Greeks and Romans had. Larger tables outside the circle were set up as serving tables and a bar. On the tables, small covered braziers emitted thin streams of smoke. Theo guessed they were incense burners, and sniffed the air. A faint scent, flowery but pungent, made her nose tingle slightly, and she was reminded of Dr. Waterman’s fish flakes.
    Undergraduates clad in tunics passed plates of hors d’oeuvres and wine. As she accepted a cup of wine Theo recognized Allie, whose little brother had lent his sheets to Marlowe for the Halloween party. Savory smells trailed behind another server holding a tray of puffy little meatballs; she caught hints of bay leaf and cumin as the boy passed by. Paul Harriman sat in a corner, quietly playing one of his lyres, watched by Dr. Herman and a green-eyed girl from historiography class.
    “I hope I can manage to eat dinner lying down. It doesn’t seem like the best position in which to digest anything,” she said to Grant.
    “It’s all in what you’re used to,” he replied absently, watching Paul. “In the old days we—they ate more slowly than do people today, so it evens out, I think. Besides,” he turned back to her and grinned— “eating in that position is much friendlier, if you happen to have a congenial dinner companion.” He squeezed her arm.
    “Theodora, my dear! You were right. I am pleased with your costume. The toga becomes you.”
    Julian had appeared at her side, his eyes warm and glittering as an Aegean bay. Instead of a toga he wore a Greek chiton and himation , less bulky than the Latin costume. Its graceful sportiness suited him, and she couldn’t help once more admiring his trim, muscular figure. He held out a hand to her, and she was forced to release Grant’s arm.
    “But where is your garland? Here.” He reached up and took off his own crown of oak leaves, placed it on her head, and surveyed her with satisfaction. “There. Much better. Don’t you think, Proctor?”
    “Myrtle would be more becoming,” Grant said pleasantly, but Theo caught an edge in his voice.
    “But Theodora requested oak. Didn’t you, my dear?” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Enjoy yourselves. That’s why we’re here.” He glided away, still smiling.
    Di came in then, looking like an ancient Greek field hockey player in a short tunic kilted up around her knees, followed by Dr. Forge-Smythe and his wife. A toga suited the professor, covering his wasted legs and somehow making his crutches less obvious. Renee was so beautiful in a lavender tunica and stola edged in gold and a crown of real violets that Theo could hardly, to her surprise, find it in her heart to hate her. At least Renee couldn’t find fault with her appearance tonight.
    “Good evening, Theo, Grant.” Perched on the edge of one of the dining couches, Dr. Waterman greeted them with a cheerful wave as they approached. Ms. Cadwallader, wearing Greek dress and a veil on her head, sat with him. She surveyed Theo coolly.
    “You managed to find something to wear,” she observed.
    “I did, thank you,” Theo said, squeezing Grant’s arm to keep from laughing.
    “At least I’m decently covered,” she said to Grant as they moved past the pair. “Check her out.” She nodded toward another graduate student, in short attire similar to Di’s, that seemed in imminent danger of complete disarray. Marlowe had finished his cloakroom duties and now stood with her, looking up to no good. As they