I was afraid the festival was going to drag out like the festival where we were all named, but they had learned something and it did not. There was music and dancing, and names were drawn ten at a time and announced in bursts, maybe every ten minutes or so. Then we’d all dance again as those ten went up the temple steps in their headdresses to have garlands bound around their wrists as they were married for the day.

Dancing is always fun, and dancing with friends to music and without set patterns is even better. I had a strange nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach and I tried to dance it down. One hundred and twenty-six male golds, any of whom I could end up married to. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to have a baby. I looked cautiously at the black stone statue of Hera, facing the great seated ivory and gold Zeus across the temple steps. “Give me the good for which I do not know to ask,” I prayed.

I avoided both Pytheas and Kebes. I didn’t want to think about either of them. Kebes was called early and matched with Euridike from Plataea. Ficino bound the wreath around their wrists and Kreusa called out the blessing. Euridike was blushing, which really showed up on her fair skin. I danced more vigorously. Pytheas hadn’t been called yet. I could see him over on the far side of the agora in another dancing circle.

When my name was called my stomach clenched so hard I almost bent double. I let go of Klymene’s hand and walked towards the steps with my friends calling after me—wishes of luck and happiness. I was paired with Aeschines, from Ithaka. I knew him only slightly. He was very dark-skinned with big lips, a Libyan like my grandmother. We stood together shyly as Ficino bound the garland around our wrists. It was not one of the ones I had made; every hall had brought a supply. This one had poppies and anemones twisted in a white ribbon. I stared at it to avoid meeting Aeschines’s eyes. We walked down the steps carefully, and off through the crowd. I kept my eyes on the ground. I did not want to see or speak to anyone, most especially not Pytheas.

We crossed the square and walked down the street of Demeter, wrists together. The crowds were thinner here, and as we went on and came away from the sound of music we found ourselves almost alone. When we came to the plaza where the street of Demeter crosses the street of Dionysos, Aeschines stopped. “There are chambers down here,” he said, gesturing with his free hand.

“All right,” I said. We turned to the left. “Did they tell you about this?”

“Ikaros, one of the masters from Ferrara, explained it to all the boys of Ithaka and Ferrara,” he said. “I expect one of your masters explained it to the Florentines.”

“I wish Maia had explained it to me,” I said.

“Why, are you nervous?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “I suppose it’s just because this is the first time and I don’t know enough about it. I saw my mother raped, and then more women were raped on the slave ship.” That had been the stuff of nightmare for years. “So I have some uncomfortable feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“Thank you.” I looked at him. He was tall and earnest and his brow was furrowed now as he looked down at me. He wasn’t flawless Pytheas, my best friend and secret beloved. But if I had hoped for that, I had also known that the odds were a hundred and twenty-five to one.

“Here,” he said. There was a low hall which I had used before. It was full of practice rooms where people learning the lyre could sit in bad weather. Some of the doors lay open and others were closed. In the open ones I could see mattresses covered with blankets. We went into one and closed the door.

“Are all the practice rooms going to be used for this?” I asked, trying not to look at the bed.

“I don’t know. Ikaros said this was where we should go.” He unwound the garland and rubbed his wrist. “That was a bit tight.”

I smiled. “This is a horribly awkward situation.”

“It would almost be better if we were complete strangers and could introduce ourselves.”

“I’m Simmea,” I said.

He laughed. “I know. And you’re a Florentine, and one of Sokrates’s pupils, and you did a painting of some girls racing. That’s all I know about you.”

“That’s more than I know about you,” I said. I sat down on the edge of the bed. “I think I’ve seen you with Septima?”

“She’s a good friend,” he said. “She knows so much.”

“I had a great conversation with her the other day about why the gods can’t change history,” I said. He took off his headdress and stood holding it awkwardly in both hands.

“There’s nowhere to put things,” he said, looking around. “I don’t want to drop this on the floor. Somebody must have spent a lot of time making it.”

“I made ones for us this morning,” I said. “They don’t take long, once you get the hang of it.” I took mine off and showed him the construction. “These big daisies make everything easy.”

Aeschines took my headdress and put them both down gently in the corner of the room. Then he came back over to the bed and sat down next to me. “Are you afraid?” he asked.

“More nervous and awkward and ignorant,” I said.

He put his arm around me and moved his face slowly towards mine. He then kissed me tentatively. “How was that?” he asked.

I laughed, because he sounded so much like somebody beginning a philosophic inquiry. “I think that was quite nice,” I said. “The problem is that there are all these things I’m trying not to think about—the slavers on the ship, and what happened to my mother. And I’m not quite sure what I am supposed to be thinking about.”

“You’re supposed to focus on sensation, Ikaros said. Like eating, when you just taste the food and you’re there in that moment, except also focusing on the other person and what they’re feeling.”

“But how can you tell?”

“Pardon?” He looked disconcerted.

“How can you tell what the other person is feeling? I have no idea what you’re feeling!”

“I’m feeling that you’re very nervous but kissing you was nice,” he said. “The other thing Ikaros said is that there’s no hurry. We’ve got all afternoon and all night. We don’t have to do it all in the first two seconds. We can be comfortable. We can try things.”

We tried various things to make ourselves comfortable. What worked best was standing naked and leaning into each other, the way we might when wrestling. That way, upright and with my legs firmly in a wrestling stance, nothing reminded me of anything horrible, and I could enjoy the feeling of Aeschines’s chest against mine. We kissed standing like that, and then he began to rub the sides of my breasts. He was so earnest and sensitive that I started to feel safe with him. I rubbed his chest, and moved my hand lower. When I touched his penis he made a movement as if electrified and, looking at his face, I saw that his eyes were shut and his head thrown back. I had often seen penises when swimming and in the palaestra, so they were no novelty, but I had never voluntarily touched one, especially not one that was awake. Aeschines’s was awake. I stroked it gently, experimentally. He twitched again. I began to understand what Ikaros had meant about paying attention to how the other person felt. I liked it. I was making him feel like that. I felt in control. This was good. Then his hands moved between my legs and I felt my breath catch.

Afterwards I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. “Did you like it?” Aeschines asked.

“Yes…” I said. “It was fun. I liked the way you liked it. I liked lots of things about it. I wish we could do it standing up.”

“We could try,” he said. “In a little bit, when I’ve rested.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Sure. We’re married until tomorrow morning. We can do it as many times as we want to before that. Ikaros was quite plain about that.”

We did it twice more. Standing up was definitely better for me, both in feeling in control and just generally comfortable. Later we slept uncomfortably together in the bed.