While Marinus and Chrysanthe chatted in the orchard, Pelleus had been exploring the other parts of Agon's large estate. Tramping through fields and hedgerows was not a particularly ladylike activity, but a week of being confined to the house and garden had made him desperate for a change of scene. He hitched up his peplos and arranged its folds so that he could walk in the dust and dirt without sullying his clothes, and, sticking to the narrow lanes, he made a wide circuit of the land.

  The threat of discovery, brought home to him by his last conversation with Marinus, had made Pelleus more bold. If he only had a short time left while this disguise lasted, he wanted to make the most of it, and not fret away the hours doing nothing and getting no closer to finding his father. His real father, Eustathios, that is – not the fictional 'Actaeon' he and Marinus had invented. This boldness was what now drove him to question Agon's servants and tenants. He had a strong suspicion that at least some of them knew of his father. Agon's reaction to his name had been revealing – his flat-out denial combined with more than his usual shiftiness suggested he knew more than he was letting on. Pelleus was banking on this.

  He met some of the tenant farmers fairly early on his walk – a handful of sweaty Arcadian men were standing by a well, leaning on their pitchforks and hoes, enjoying a respite from their labours. They saluted Pelleus when he came by, and he took this as reason enough to go and question them.

  "Good day to you fellows," he said confidently, forgetting his role as Pusanella for a moment.

  "Good day, milady," some of them mumbled, wiping the soil off their blistered hands. They were perhaps the most shy and meek a group of rustics he had ever met – looking down bashfully and avoiding his eye.

  Of course, they see a young lady from the house coming to speak to them, what must they think? he realised.

  "I don't suppose you could tell me about a gentleman who used to live in these parts, some years ago. Eustathios of Kithera was his name..."

  He looked at each of them hopefully, but the men shook their heads.

  "Begging your pardon, but we bain't from this part of the island, milady," the oldest-looking among them said, squinting against the sun at Pelleus. "We settled here in Kithera but two summers ago, by lord Agon's permission."

  Pelleus thanked them and headed on, feeling a little deflated. He still supposed that some of Agon's staff would remember his father – they couldn't all be recent arrivals – he only hoped that those tenants would not tell tales on him to the landlord himself.

  In a little more than an hour of thankless trudging around the fields, his fears were realised. He heard the patter of horses' hoofs at a distance, and turning back to look at the way he'd come, Pelleus saw a strange sight: Agon, standing bolt upright, wreathed in a cloud of dust with two horses charging in front of him. The man was riding a chariot over the empty field, at breakneck speed; heading straight for Pelleus.

  There was no use pretending not to have seen him, still less in running away; the youth leaned back casually and did his best to look calm and quizzical as Agon drew up while he was still some yards away.

  "A lady like you should not wander the lands on her own," he said, but his face was kindly, not stern.

  "What brings you here, might I ask, sir?" Pelleus said.

  "I am overseeing my investments," Agon said with a leer. "And you, my lady?"

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  "I wanted to explore Kithera a little more," Pelleus said.

  "And enquire after missing persons?"

  Pelleus had no answer to this, and he didn't like the mocking smile Agon gave him – if, indeed, it was intended to mock.

  "Come, I will give you a lift back, if you'd like?" the lord asked.

  Pelleus felt he would be a fool to refuse his host, so he climbed up onto the chariot beside Agon, conscious of his muddy feel and sandals. Why was it that all his clothes were so ill-suited to country life? But Agon didn't seem to notice; his gaze was fixed on the path ahead as he whipped up his horses to a trot, taking them back to the house.

  "I am well informed of all arrivals on this part of the island," he said to Pelleus out of the side of his mouth. "Please rest assured that if your father sets foot in Kithera, we will be the first to know."

  Pelleus bowed his head to show his gratitude, though he was hardly reassured.

  And all your spies will tell you my exact movements too, I shouldn't wonder, he thought, clinging on for dear life to the handrail of the chariot as it rattled round a bend in the road.

  "Your lordship has read my thoughts!" he said in a loud voice, over the sound of pounding hoofs and the trundling of the chariot, I can hardly hear them myself.

  "It is only a courtesy, to bear in mind the particular needs of my guests. Come now," Agon said, changing subject, "I want to ask you something else. Will you consent to read for the family this evening, after supper? You did it so beautifully the other day I must say it gave me a hankering for more Homer. Yes, you only whet my appetite..."

  Pelleus shuddered – and luckily it went unnoticed with the rocking of the chariot. While he deplored Agon's turn of phrase, however, he had no real objection to reading poetry to the family. At least he was not being asked to sing, or to give Chrysanthe lessons, although he could easily see Agon suggesting that too.

  "As you wish," he said meekly, as they pulled up into the stable yard.

  Agon sprang from the chariot with the agility of a younger man, and Pelleus clumsily followed his example without waiting to take his hand.

  I say! Quite the spirited girl, Agon thought, as Pelleus stormed past him towards the house.

  The youth hurried to his room, passing a flustered-looking Hippolyta on the landing. The lady of the house barely acknowledged his hasty curtsey, though Pelleus didn't mind. He shut himself in his room and sat on the bed, thinking.

  That was no coincidence that brought Agon to the same corner of the estate as me, whatever he may say. He must have rushed to find me after a tip-off from someone... the tenant farmers, maybe?

  He flung off his dirty sandals and lay back on the bed, resting his head on the pillows.

  I must have been close to making some discovery, or else he would not have come in such haste, he reasoned. But how long shall it be before I get another opportunity to snoop around like that?

  There was always Marinus, of course, but Pelleus decided against asking his friend for help. He felt this was a personal matter, not something he wanted to delegate. And anyway, what if Marinus should let slip some delicate information? He didn't like to rely on the lad too much.