Page 22 of The House of the Red Balconies

Mistress Aula came out into the garden from Zo’s room, startling him and Hylas with her sudden appearance.

“Oh, hello, madam,” said Hylas, straightening up and brushing a lock of hair off his forehead with his wrist.

“I did knock,” Aula began tartly, “but there was no answer.”

She was dressed in undyed wool for mourning, although she had still put up her hair and wore jewellery, which Zo didn’t think Pseuchaians in mourning were supposed to do. At least he knew their men weren’t supposed to shave.

“I’m sorry,” he said, struggling up from his seat on the grass. “We didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” said Hylas, and to Zo it sounded genuine. Of course—he wouldn’t have said it if it hadn’t been.

Mistress Aula sniffed. “I suppose you’ve heard that I am your landlady now.”

“I had, yes,” said Hylas.

“Well, your rent will be going up. I daresay you know you’ve been paying less than your lodgings are worth. And you”—she turned on Zo—“are going to begin pulling your weight around here, or you’ll have to leave. Straton wanted me to get rid of you, you know, but I argued with him. ‘He’s sick,’ I said—as if I ever believed that. But you need to make up your mind—either you’re an invalid or you’re not, you can’t be fine one day and then too ill to get up the next, people will notice and think we’re all a bunch of frauds.”

“I barely leave my room as it is!” Zo snapped back at her. “I let Ahmos carry me everywhere. What else do you want me to do?”

She drew a breath and then closed her mouth as if realizing whatever she’d been about to say wouldn’t answer him properly. Maybe she’d been expecting him to protest—again—that he wasn’t pretending to be ill, but he’d given up on that.

“I want you to start entertaining in your room,” she said. “Make the place respectable so you can have guests in there—and out here, too. It’s absurd that the two of you have this courtyard all to yourselves. Get a garland from a respectable patron. Talk to Chrestos if you need instructions. Some men may think you’re prettier than he is, but I don’t see it myself.”

She cast one more unfriendly look on Hylas, then swept out of the garden, back through Zo’s room, and he could hear his door slamming behind her. He stood rooted, feeling tears gathering shamefully in his eyes and not daring to look at Hylas. Why had Hylas had to witness that scene? Couldn’t Zo have been spared that?

He heard the rustling of leaves as Hylas came down from the slope where he had been digging. Maybe he would go in, discreetly leaving Zo alone. Zo couldn’t tell whether he wanted that or not.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Hylas asked. He wasn’t leaving.

“What could you do?” The words came out snappishly, to Zo’s shame.

“I don’t know,” said Hylas. “That’s why I asked. I—I don’t know whether I should pretend not to have heard what she said to you, but I don’t think you’re malingering the way she suggested.”

“No?”

“I don’t know what’s hard to understand about it. Some days you’re steady on your feet and some days you’re not. Illnesses can be like that.”

Zo drew a long breath and let it out. It was so simple, but it helped more than he could have imagined to hear Hylas say this.

“I’m sure she’d have no trouble understanding if she didn’t dislike me to begin with.” He ran a hand over his eyes, which had remained dry, and turned to smile at Hylas.

“I—I would help, if there was anything … ”

Zo laughed wryly. “Go looking through town for men who might like me and bring them to the house, I suppose. After checking to see whether they’re rich, of course.”

“Of course. Did she, er, say something about tidying your room? Perhaps I could help with that.”

“What? No, it’s not tidying it needs, it’s … I don’t know, redecorating? I’ll show you.”

Hylas followed him inside and stood looking around the room.

“This is clever, what you’ve done here,” he said, pointing at the hooks along the wall. He walked up and inspected one. “How did you anchor them in the wall? I see, that looks solid. Nice work.”

“Thanks.”

“Something else you might think of doing—I did something similar for my mother, when she had arthritis in her knees. If you can raise the bed up a little, it makes it easier to get in and out. I don’t know if it’s your knees that give you trouble, or … And you can put a rail on the wall, to hold onto. Well, you have that chair there. Smart.” He frowned, looking around again. “So what’s the problem?”

“I think all the things you’ve just pointed out are the problem. It looks too much like an invalid’s room and not enough like a companion’s.”