Gelon and I sit on a rock and wait. I think of what it would be like to see the real thing in Athens, and I feel an ache, for I know I never will, but then I look around me: the quarry walls circling and the sky pressing down, thick with stars, or gods, and below equally thick with Athenians. Sure, isn’t this quarry itself an amphitheatre? A huge Athenian amphitheatre with two little Syracusans watching. They begin.
