help.’ The next thing I had to say was rather delicate, but it had to be said. ‘Look, I usually have a bath before I go to bed, but it’s too late tonight, I’d have to light the furnace and it’d be ages before the water’s hot enough. But I’m going to warm a pan of water on the kitchen hearth, and I suggest that — that —’
His laughter rang out, happy and unrestricted in that sterile house that hadn’t heard the sound before. ‘That I have a good wash before I climb between clean sheets? I’d like that, I’m not this way by choice, honestly.’
I believed him. Relieved, I said, ‘I’ll find you some clean clothes. The least I can do, since it was I who tore your tunic.’
I heard him singing as he washed — I’d put a bowl and the jug of hot water in the corner of the yard, and I stayed in the house till he’d finished.
It gave me a funny turn to see him in Marcus’s clothes, for all that I thought I’d steeled myself for the sight.
‘Your room’s here, off the courtyard,’ I said, my voice horribly over-cheery. I wondered if he’d notice, if so, what he’d make of it. I was past caring — the funny turn had grown into something I could only just handle, and all I wanted was to get away to the privacy of my own room. ‘Here,’ — I opened the door — ‘just blow out the lamp when you’re ready for sleep.’
He looked quickly round the room, nodding in appreciation. ‘It’s great. Thank you.’
‘See you in the morning,’ I said, closing the door. ‘Sleep well.’
He muttered a reply, but I scarcely heard. Turning away, I ran across the courtyard and into my room, where I shuttered myself tightly away so that nobody would hear.
PART TWO
ARLES
THE PRESENT DAY
8
Beth didn’t mention the figure in the toga to Joe or Adam. Very soon she was feeling bashful about the whole thing — within minutes of the man turning and striding away, in fact: having made an embarrassing noise like a sheep being throttled, she’d run backwards for half a dozen paces, then forwards for rather more till she came to an archway that led through into the arena. There she’d stumbled across to lean against the wall, where Adam and Joe had found her.
What would they say, anyway? she asked herself as she listened to Adam describing the present-day bullfights held in the amphitheatre. Adam might have some sensible explanation — someone in fancy dress, or an actor in costume rehearsing for some pageant — and Joe would dismiss it as my imagination.
She had to admit that both explanations were entirely feasible. She wondered why they failed totally to convince her.
She fell into step beside Adam as Joe led them off round the perimeter of the arena. Predictably, he was still ranting on about Christians being martyred. When they were almost back at the entrance Adam interrupted, pointing out the towers which had been added to the top of the outermost walls in medieval times. She wondered if he was as sick of Christian martyrs as she was.
‘Let’s go up,’ she said, determinedly leading the way.
The view from the top of the tower was spectacular. Immediately below, the terracotta-tiled roofs of old Arles huddled tightly together, the narrow roads winding between them so deep in shade that they looked like black ribbons. Beyond the last houses was a thin band of greenery, and beyond that the river.
It was wide here, the Rh ô ne, and it had carved itself out such a deep bed that the huge volume of water seemed to pass slowly, as if it were weary and could only just summon the energy for the last few miles to the sea. Beth leaned against a wide window embrasure and watched a small boat chugging upstream, its laborious progress an indication of how powerful a current was sweeping down against it.
‘That way lies the Camargue,’ Adam said, coming to stand beside her. ‘Do you know it?’
She shook her head. ‘Never been there. It’s where the white horses and the black
His laughter rang out, happy and unrestricted in that sterile house that hadn’t heard the sound before. ‘That I have a good wash before I climb between clean sheets? I’d like that, I’m not this way by choice, honestly.’
I believed him. Relieved, I said, ‘I’ll find you some clean clothes. The least I can do, since it was I who tore your tunic.’
I heard him singing as he washed — I’d put a bowl and the jug of hot water in the corner of the yard, and I stayed in the house till he’d finished.
It gave me a funny turn to see him in Marcus’s clothes, for all that I thought I’d steeled myself for the sight.
‘Your room’s here, off the courtyard,’ I said, my voice horribly over-cheery. I wondered if he’d notice, if so, what he’d make of it. I was past caring — the funny turn had grown into something I could only just handle, and all I wanted was to get away to the privacy of my own room. ‘Here,’ — I opened the door — ‘just blow out the lamp when you’re ready for sleep.’
He looked quickly round the room, nodding in appreciation. ‘It’s great. Thank you.’
‘See you in the morning,’ I said, closing the door. ‘Sleep well.’
He muttered a reply, but I scarcely heard. Turning away, I ran across the courtyard and into my room, where I shuttered myself tightly away so that nobody would hear.
PART TWO
ARLES
THE PRESENT DAY
8
Beth didn’t mention the figure in the toga to Joe or Adam. Very soon she was feeling bashful about the whole thing — within minutes of the man turning and striding away, in fact: having made an embarrassing noise like a sheep being throttled, she’d run backwards for half a dozen paces, then forwards for rather more till she came to an archway that led through into the arena. There she’d stumbled across to lean against the wall, where Adam and Joe had found her.
What would they say, anyway? she asked herself as she listened to Adam describing the present-day bullfights held in the amphitheatre. Adam might have some sensible explanation — someone in fancy dress, or an actor in costume rehearsing for some pageant — and Joe would dismiss it as my imagination.
She had to admit that both explanations were entirely feasible. She wondered why they failed totally to convince her.
She fell into step beside Adam as Joe led them off round the perimeter of the arena. Predictably, he was still ranting on about Christians being martyred. When they were almost back at the entrance Adam interrupted, pointing out the towers which had been added to the top of the outermost walls in medieval times. She wondered if he was as sick of Christian martyrs as she was.
‘Let’s go up,’ she said, determinedly leading the way.
The view from the top of the tower was spectacular. Immediately below, the terracotta-tiled roofs of old Arles huddled tightly together, the narrow roads winding between them so deep in shade that they looked like black ribbons. Beyond the last houses was a thin band of greenery, and beyond that the river.
It was wide here, the Rh ô ne, and it had carved itself out such a deep bed that the huge volume of water seemed to pass slowly, as if it were weary and could only just summon the energy for the last few miles to the sea. Beth leaned against a wide window embrasure and watched a small boat chugging upstream, its laborious progress an indication of how powerful a current was sweeping down against it.
‘That way lies the Camargue,’ Adam said, coming to stand beside her. ‘Do you know it?’
She shook her head. ‘Never been there. It’s where the white horses and the black
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