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Quite soon, we reached a simple portico leading to a reception area for the dwellings. There were pools with running water, decorative bushes and flowers, and climbing plants and exotic trees giving shade to the low benches. A slave greeted us.
‘My lord, young lady, you are welcome. My master bids me to offer you refreshments a while here after your climb, or, if you wish, you may go straight away into his presence.’ I felt that these options might put us at a tactical disadvantage. ‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘we could just sit over there, and meet your master at the table under that oak tree, if he is willing.’
Euanthē too smiled at the slave in assent to my suggestion, though I sensed that she, like me, would have been interested to go into the building. We walked over to the table and sat down. Almost immediately our host emerged.
‘Welcome,’ he said, ‘feel at ease and among your own’, using a traditional Samian greeting. His chiton was simple but finely made from linen with an embroidered saffron border of geometrical design, and he carried his head high. Despite his measured smile and gesture of greeting, his grey eyes were cool. He did not introduce himself, but sat in a chair opposite us. I knew that his name was Nicodemus. We too resumed our seats.
A slave began to pour cold spring water into beakers placed at our sides.
‘My Lord,’ began Euanthē ... I started, knowing that this man would not approve of a young woman taking the initiative in our meeting. Especially so abruptly, before our beakers were even full, before we had all sipped from them, before we could even exchange appropriate words of politeness.
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