The courtyard filled up. The black bull was led in and paraded around the periphery. Over in front of the temple, priests had lifted the gilded image of Attis off its litter. They were tying it to the gilt pine tree with stout ropes. Other ropes served as guide wires to keep the pine tree from toppling under the weight.
A line of robed priestesses-Margo was sure, this time, that she was looking at women-appeared from inside Cybele’s temple and took up positions in a semicircle. The High Priest led the black bull onto the platform, where several attendants held it with strong ropes. A swift glance at Malcolm showed Margo a man completely lost in study. He watched the barbaric scene as though memorizing every baffling detail.
This is his specialty, Margo remembered suddenly, what he took his degrees in., Classics and Antiquities and stuff. He’s forgotten me completely. She’d seen Malcolm the teacher, Malcolm the guide, Malcolm the sparring partner, even Malcolm the perennially broke friend who made her smile when she felt like curling into a ball and hiding from the world, but she’d never seen Malcolm the scholar enthralled by his life’s passion.
The intensity of his gaze made her wish suddenly he’d look at her that way.
You want him to do that, you’re going to have to meet him on even ground, Margo. And that meant she had to become a scholar. Well, she’d already discovered a burning desire to learn and understand; what better place to start than with something Malcolm, too, found passionately interesting? So get started already!