The Circle of Sappho

PRAISE FOR
THE REGENCY DETECTIVE

The prequel to
The Circle of Sappho

The Regency Detective
is a perfectly composed period page-turner …
not to be missed'

James Strong, Director of Broadchurch

‘Swann will do for Bath what Morse did for Oxford'

Bath Chronicle

‘Swann is the Darcy of Detectives'

Western Daily Press

‘Looking forward to more books … very enjoyable'

D. Sanford (Amazon, 5-Star Review)

‘Great Bath-based mystery'

Jubey (Amazon, 5-Star Review)

‘I was totally absorbed in the characters and storyline'

Christine Pegg, BAFTA award-winning costume designer

For
Sophie and Rory

‘Tell me about Sappho and Atthis again.'

‘You really love that story, don't you?'

The young girl nodded. ‘I love hearing you tell it, as well. The sound of your voice makes me feel happy inside.'

The older woman smiled and momentarily held the girl's gaze with her own. She positioned herself crossed-legged on a weaved mat she had brought to place on the stone floor and let her adolescent companion lay her head upon her lap; the girl's long auburn hair, free of its restrictive school cap, flowing out over the woman's thighs. A slight chill penetrated the enclosed space, bringing a biting air to the late morning, but its inhabitants were too engaged in the moment to feel it.

‘In ancient times there was a beautiful poetess called Sappho. She lived in a place called Mytilene, on the Greek island of Lesbos. She was tutor to many girls whose parents had sent them to her from not only other parts of the island but, as her reputation grew, from throughout Greece. Her school became known as “the home of the servants of the muses”. One day, a girl arrived from an island far away. Her name was Atthis. Like the rest of the pupils she was instructed in dancing, poetry and the other disciplines the muses are said to have inspired. Sappho loved all her girls equally, but Atthis became special.'

‘Like me to you?' said the girl, grinning.

‘Yes, like you to me,' said the older woman, leaning forward and kissing the girl's forehead.

‘And then what happened?'

‘Eventually Atthis finished her studies and had to leave the island.'

‘I do not want to leave, I …'

The girl raised herself up onto one elbow.

‘What is it?' asked the woman.

‘I thought I heard someone outside.'

‘Do not worry, there is no one. I am the only teacher on duty; the others are with the girls at church, in the village. As for Tom, he's probably asleep in his flowerbeds by now.'

‘I do not want anyone to find us and make me leave. I want to be alone with you in this place, forever.'

‘That is why I brought you here. Now, drink this, it is a special drink I have made to mark the occasion. It will keep you warm.'

The girl accepted the small wooden cup and drank the liquid. The woman then refilled the cup and drank it herself. The girl relaxed back into the older woman's lap, gazing up contentedly as her hair began to be stroked.

‘Tell me about the poem Sappho wrote for Atthis.'

‘Well, the poem she wrote was a unique one. When the girls at her school left her tutelage it was usually to marry and so Sappho would compose for them a marriage song. For Atthis, however, she wrote one especially for her alone.'

‘I love it when you recite it.'

The older woman did not smile this time.

‘Beyond all hope,' she began, ‘I prayed those timeless days we spent might be made twice as long. I prayed one word: I
want
. Someone, I tell you, will remember us, even in another time.'

In the four years the older woman had been at the school, and the numerous pupils that had passed through it under her guardianship, she had never before come across a student so befitting her vision of Atthis and what she believed Sappho must have felt for her. On a number of occasions she thought she had found it, but she had been wrong. Those had been infatuations, imitations, illusions. This time it was different. This time it was real. This time it hurt at the thought of losing her. She wanted to kiss the rest of the girl's head, her face, her neck, her body. She knew only too well though that however far her passion was allowed to go unbridled, even this would not be enough to quell the all-consuming feeling of sheer terror she felt, knowing of her imminent loss. But she knew she would never let her go from her heart. An eternal place had been carved there. She had spent every waking moment since learning the girl's news hoping for some kind of reprieve. Hoping beyond all hope that her parents would change their mind and decide they did not want their daughter to accompany them, after all, on her father's foreign posting.

That hope now looked in vain and so she knew what had to be done. She had planned it to the last detail. Now was the time. As Sappho could not live without Atthis, so she could not live without her own ‘special' love by her side.

‘Do you think Sappho killed herself for Atthis?' the girl asked, her voice a little slurred from the drink.

The woman nodded.

‘Yes. Even though it is said that Sappho killed herself over Phaon, a boatman she is supposed to have fallen in love with, I believe this version to have been invented by men who could not endure the thought of one woman loving another so completely and passionately. If she did take her own life by throwing herself off the cliffs at Lefaka, I like to think it was because of Atthis. In my mind, Sappho heard Atthis had died and, unable to bear the grief of her passing, or the thought of being alone forever, ended her own life. In that way, they were reunited in another place to enjoy their love eternally.'

‘Will you still love me after I go away?'

‘You'll never leave my side or my heart, I promise you.'

The girl started abruptly and looked again in the direction of the entrance.

‘I am sure I heard something, did you not hear it that time?'

The older woman took the younger one by the arms and held them gently but firmly. ‘I told you my love, we're quite alone here. I have prepared it that way.'