Prologue
“Ah, Greece.” Lewis, Lord Chesterton, took a deep breath of pine-scented air, glad to have left behind the cheerlessness and chill of London.
He followed his friend, Damen Savakis out of the shady forest into the sunshine.
They pushed their way through dense patches of gorse and brier and climbed the steep rocky hill toward the ruined temple.
He had first met Damen a few summers ago when he’d rescued Lewis from heat exhaustion. He’d been wandering around the Acropolis in Athens and lost track of the time. A poet, Damen had studied at Oxford, but preferred the warmth of the Greek climate and the simple life.
As they struggled up the steep incline, they left behind the grove of silver olive trees and black cypresses, and the dusky red roofs of the village where Damen lived with his wife and unruly children. Above them, the Temple of Aphrodite stood silent, outlined against an azure sky.
On reaching the temple, Lewis ran his hands over one of the remaining six sun-warmed marble pillars left standing, and imagined he breathed in the same air as the ancients.
“It’s good to be here,” he said turning to his friend.
“Naturally, I am pleased to see you,” Damen said as he perched on a stone slab. “But surprised you’ve come now. Your latest work has just been lauded, has it not? Would you not wish to remain and enjoy the accolades?”
Lewis shrugged. The ton was fickle in its praise.
They preferred to spread vicious lies about him.
He was tired after toiling over his last commission for the Duke and Duchess of Rollins.
One of his low moods threatened. The sculpture now stood in their great hall.
He’d wanted the statue of Diana the Huntress to be perfect, and she very nearly was.
Damen’s dark eyes studied him. “Might the reason you’re here be a lady?”
“Indirectly.” Lewis couldn’t blame his periods of despair on Adela. He just had to grit his teeth and wait for the mood to lift. And how much easier it was here rather than London where gray skies and low moods went hand in hand.
“Your mistress?” Damen persisted.
His friend wanted to help. But Lewis wished he wouldn’t. “Adela accused me of cheating with one of my models.”
“Not your style is it?”
Lewis swept back his dark hair and grimaced. “No, but the model was a flirt. Women are not to be trusted, Damen.”
Damen widened his eyes. “What happened?”
“While I was adjusting Marigold’s pose, she kissed me. Unfortunately, Adela walked in at that precise moment. Naturally, she was cross.”
Damen nodded, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. “Most unfortunate.”
“A naked woman in my studio for hours makes me vulnerable to scandal, so I’ve become very cautious.
I don’t sleep with my models. But I accept that Adela was justified in being angry.
” Lewis glared at his friend who was not taking the matter seriously enough.
“Adela stormed out, and I told my model, Marigold, that I no longer required her services. I then had another angry, weeping woman to deal with.”
“And one with a perfect figure, eh?” Damen shook his head in commiseration. “A terrible position to be in, my friend.”
Lewis frowned. “When I work, Damen, I think of little else. Adela found sculpting unsuitable for a lord of the realm. She considered a gentlemen’s role was to squire their ladies about to balls and such during the Season.”
“She wished for marriage?”
“Not Adela. Married at seventeen to an old man who made her life miserable, she enjoys her widowhood. She wasted no time in informing me about her new lover.”
“You did not think of marriage?”
Lewis turned his attention to the rest of the elegant Doric columns, still remarkably intact. “A man and woman’s relationship is one of mutual need, which can be satisfied outside marriage. I’m not in a hurry to fall into the parson’s mouse trap again.”
“You English call marriage a trap?” Damen shook his head. “A sorry way to view life, my friend.”
It wasn’t surprising Damen didn’t agree.
He and Evania enjoyed a tumultuous, passionate relationship which had produced a large brood of children.
Whereas, Lewis and Laura, who were passionately in love when they first married, became mistrustful of each other.
Then horror followed horror. Laura’s violent death, and his sister, Emmaline’s miscarriage.
“You Greeks are a nation of dreamers.” Lewis waved his arm to encompass the ruined temple.
“Just look around you. Mythology governs your lives. In my experience, women are mortal beings, not goddesses. And let’s face it, we men are not gods.
” Lewis pushed away from the column. “Let’s go down.
I fancy some luncheon. I’d hoped to find inspiration for my next sculpture on this trip, but that hasn’t happened. ”
Damen joined him as they slowly descended the steep hill. “Inspiration? I shall take you to see Aphrodite’s Rock at Papos in Cyprus.”
“Cyprus? That’s a long way.”
“Ah, but it is known as the birthplace of Aphrodite,” Damen said as they picked their way over rocks scattering loose dirt. “We’ll sail there in my uncle’s fishing boat. It should take less than a month there and back.”
Lewis frowned. “I planned to return to London to begin work before the heat of summer makes the studio insufferable. Are you sure the journey will be worth it?”
“In Kouklia there’s a fragment of mosaic that you must see.”
They reached level ground and made their way along the dirt road toward Damen’s house.
“According to the legend, Gaia, the Mother Earth, asked one of her sons, Cronus, to mutilate his father, Uranus, the Greek god of the sky,” Damen said. “Cronus cut off Uranus’ male parts and threw them into the sea from which, born of the sea foam, Aphrodite arose from the waves.”
Lewis grunted. “I planned to see some ancient statuary, Damen.” But he thought of the beautiful work by the artist, Sandro Botticelli, The Birth of Venus, the Roman’s name for Aphrodite, painted in the 15th century which he’d viewed in Florence.
The beautiful goddess blown to shore on a scallop shell by the wind god, Zephyr. “Although, you have me intrigued.”
“Good. Come. You will be glad you did.”
A sennight later, after viewing the extraordinary rock formation where the sea swirled and tossed up a column of sea foam, said to form into a woman’s body, they moved on to the ancient town of Kouklia where the ruins of a larger and more impressive temple of Aphrodite awaited them.
Lewis surveyed the remnants of the splendid mosaic of Leda and the Swan. “That’s the most exquisite bottom I’ve ever seen.” He turned to Damen. “Thank you. You have given me my inspiration.”
Damen laughed. “You do her great disservice. Aphrodite is a powerful goddess. She stands for love, beauty, pleasure and procreation.” He studied Lewis, his smile slipping away. “She can even mend a broken heart.”
“She can do all that?” Lewis shook his head and smiled mirthlessly. “Hogwash. But wouldn’t it be nice if it were true.”