Eirik leaned against the wall just outside Felix’s study, arms crossed and a faint smile hovering upon his lips as he gazed upwards at the pergula from where considerably hectic sounds emerged. Seeing the delight in Hylas’ eyes at the prospect of accompanying him to the farm, the Northerner could have smacked himself for not having thought of this before – for several reasons, some of them quite selfish. He’d already missed the young Greek’s presence, his ornamental way of turning a simple story into a dramatic event, his merry laughter and self-abandoned dancing that sent his silky curls flying. In truth, he’d even missed the theatrical pout.

It had been a clever move of their friends to combine their need for income into an enticing sting. In the beginning, Felix had argued that if none of the missing purses could ever be retrieved, it would leave a black stain to his reputation. Idris and Felix, who understood each other disturbingly well in these matters, had then decided that the Silure would hand his bounty over to the Sicilian every now an then, so that the latter was able to return it to its owner after an ‘in-depth investigation’ – of course only if the lady in question hired him for the job. And since Felix had been the only one to ever return a lost purse, he’d gained from this arrangement not only money-wise. But since the thief had taken his leave for a while it was business as usual again for Felix. Eirik was profoundly relieved when it became clear that Hylas had no intentions at all to see to Pompeii’s petty crime rate on his own.

Since the investigator hadn’t returned by then, and his furry namesake strongly disagreed with being confined to a wicker basket, Hylas simply left a note for the human Felix and they went to the stables. They attracted many curious stares on their way along the Decumanus Superior. At first, Hylas had attributed them to himself or maybe the tall Northerner at his side, but soon realised the attention was centred on the twitching basket in Eirik’s hands from which ferocious sounds emerged. Cariad, on the other hand, sat calmly in his basket and gazed out onto the street without blinking, almost snootily ignoring his brother’s passionate fight for release.

They adopted a leisurely pace once they were on the road to Nuceria Alfaterna, not really due to the few ox carts that wobbled along, rather because they were too focussed on each other. Somehow the Northerner felt elated and intoxicated as he looked into Hylas’ sparkling eyes and noticed the black curls bounce up and down while the young Greek related a story with fluent gestures, flamboyant enough for a stage. Either Hylas’ way of talking had changed or, Eirik mused with a hidden smile, he’d finally gotten used to it, for what he related made perfect sense to him. Hilarious sometimes, but it made sense. Eirik noticed several times that he wasn’t listening, or rather listening to Hylas’ voice as if it was a steady melody, taking in every nuance and accompanying gesture that revealed the story beneath as well.

When they finally arrived at the farm Hylas had to pause for breath – which was amazing and rare, but vital. “I’m glad he’s here”, Eirik thought with a warm smile on his face. While the Northerner went to tend to their horses, Hylas took the wicker baskets and crossed the courtyard towards the main building. Since nobody was in sight, he called out for his friends.

“Come over! Felix and Cariad are here! So am I!”

“You have to shout a little bit louder”, drifted Eirik’s amused voice from around the corner. “They’re off to Nuceria to fetch a horse.”