He’d grown into manhood in the knowledge that he and Richard, against all the odds, were one. David and Jonathan, they’d called themselves, Achilles and Patroclus, and forgotten that neither of those stories had a happy ending. They’d had their own Garden of Eden, and sure enough the curse of knowledge had come upon them, with Dominic’s growing, sick awareness that what they had wasn’t enough. He had spent fifteen miserable years knowing himself to be the man who had despoiled paradise. Silas was not paradise regained or anything like it. He was rough, inarticulate, or far too articulate and
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