Pythax screamed, “Again!”
I thrust again with the blade in my left hand. And again I missed. It was astonishing the difference in strength between my left and right wrists. It was my first morning of training with Pythax. With my right still bandaged, Pythax was starting by teaching me what to do when my normal fighting arm was out of action.
The Scythians thought it terribly amusing that a citizen should be fighting in the dirt with them, but they took it in good part because Pythax treated me not one whit different to them. In fact, if anything he treated me more harshly. When I asked him why, he replied, his expression grim, “Because my men keep the peace and do crowd control, but you go looking for trouble.”
Antigonos and Euphrestes, the two Scythians I had been practicing with, laughed, and poked me in the ribs. The first thing I had discovered about the Scythians was that very few of them were, in fact, Scythian. The true Scythians are tribes of barbarians who live far to the north. They are tall, fair, and ride like centaurs. Their people have no towns or villages. Instead they travel from place to place and erect tents for the women and children whenever they stop at a place for more than a few days. Perhaps the original Athenian force was truly Scythian, but that was farther back than anyone remembered. Now the Scythians of Athens came from almost any of the northern hill tribes, and they were Hellenes for the most part, if primitive ones. I was even introduced to a “Scythian” from Crete!
At the end of training I stripped, poured a bucket of water over myself to clean off the dirt, and put on a fresh chitoniskos. I intended to go straight to Piraeus from the training ground.
As I rounded the path to the south, I ran into someone I knew coming the other way.
“Oh! Hello, Nicolaos. That is, I was just going for a walk,” she volunteered quickly.
“Hello, Euterpe,” I said.
She seemed to be peering around my shoulder. “Tell me, are they the Scythians over there?”
“Yes, they are. Pythax has been running early morning training. You might want to say hello if you’re passing by.”
“Yes! Yes, I might do that. Thank you,” and she stepped past me nervously, but then stopped and said, “Oh, ah. You won’t tell Diotima you saw me, will you? If she learned I was exercising, she would tease me about it.”
“My lips are sealed, Euterpe.”
I discovered quickly that Telemenes was well known in shipping circles. He owned more than one boat, which marked him as very wealthy indeed. He was a metic, of course; it is almost unheard of for well-born citizens to indulge in anything as disreputable as trade.
The man I asked was distinctly nervous when I approached him, and his hand shook as he pointed to a building by the quay, which he said was the office of Telemenes. I asked why he was so nervous and discovered that news travels fast. I had gained a certain reputation in Piraeus since the fight with Aristodicus the previous day.
The building was typical of the sort found near the docks, where everything looks like a ware house, with wide doors and cool, dark interiors. What was less typical was the emergence of Rizon as I approached. We ran into each other. He looked frightened and angry.
“Get out of my way!” He raised his arms, probably to push me out of the way, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I stepped back to draw my dagger.
He sneered, “So you’re going to attack me again, are you? You’re a violent man, I’ve warned the magistrates about you.”
“I haven’t fought anyone who didn’t attack me first.”
“Oh, is that so?” he asked, rubbing his nose.
“You don’t count. Striking you is an act of public beneficence.”
“Proof enough of what I say. Well, if you want to strike me down in public where there are plenty of witnesses, go right ahead.” He pushed past and stalked away.
“Rizon!”
He turned. “What?”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“What loss?”
“Stratonike and the nurses. They were members of your household when they died.”
Rizon laughed. “No loss at all. Whoever did that was really doing us all a favor.” He went on his way.
I entered the building Rizon had exited. There was a slave sorting through accounts. This wasn’t your average slave who did the menial jobs around the house or manual labor on a farm. This slave could read and write, and Telemenes obviously trusted him to add the numbers. Such a man would be worth a small fortune on the market.
He looked up at me and said, “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Telemenes.”
“Are you buying?”
“What?”
“Are you here to purchase cargo from the master?”
“No.”
“Selling? I warn you, we rarely export for other merchants.”
“No, I’m not selling.”
“Booking passage then. We do take occasional passengers on our ships. Where would you like to go?”
“Nowhere, I just want to speak with Telemenes.”
“Then I’m afraid he’s not here and won’t be until you go away.”
“Oh no, that won’t be necessary at all!”
A fat man stood in a doorway beyond the slave. He beckoned me inside. I stepped around the slave as ostentatiously as I could manage.
“Do excuse my slave. It’s his job to keep me from being interrupted by unimportant personages, but that certainly doesn’t apply to you.” He beamed at me like I was his favorite nephew. His face and body were enormous. Telemenes didn’t walk-he waddled from side to side. I wondered how any man could find enough food to get himself into that condition. In body-conscious Athens, which prized physical beauty above all things, Telemenes was unique. If he’d been a citizen, he would have been shunned by his fellows. As a metic he probably didn’t care, especially since he was apparently rich enough to buy any number of citizens. Besides which, Telemenes gave the impression of being almost terminally jolly.
“You…you know me?” I stammered, suddenly unsure of myself.
“But of course! You are Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus. It would be a poor merchant who didn’t keep up with the latest developments in politics.”
“I’m not a politician.”
Telemenes raised an eyebrow. “Not too many days past, you formed an arrangement with Pericles, a man who, if I read the signs right, will soon be a powerful presence in Athens. You are acquainted with his father Xanthippus, a powerful member of the Areopagus. Indeed, I’m given to understand you helped save his property when the mob became violent. It’s always pleasant to have favors due from the powerful, don’t you think? You were seen to speak convivially with Archestratus at the funeral of Ephialtes. You visited the Polemarch-lovely man-at the time one of his secretaries was forced to retire due to illness. The rumor is you turned down his offer of a post, which bespeaks a man of enormous confidence of greater positions on the horizon. My dear boy, let’s not be unduly modest in this room. I understand it is seemly before the mob, but between men such as us we can dispense with pretense. So, what can a fat old merchant do to assist you?”
And all this time I’d thought I’d been investigating a murder. Was this how other people saw me? Or was this slimy dealer trying to flatter me for his own unspeakable purposes?
“First of all, you can tell me what Rizon wanted.”
“The gentleman who was here a moment ago? Surely that is his business. You should ask him.”
“He’s most unlikely to tell me. You, however, are likely to assist a rising politician. Do you trust your own judgment? Let’s reflect on your words about the joy of having favors owed you.”
“I see.” Telemenes reflected for a moment. “The gentleman in question has occasion to make business trips. Most of our passengers are traveling on business. There is nothing unusual in that.”
“It depends on the destination. Where does he go?”
“Ephesus.”
“Anywhere else?”
“Always Ephesus, there and return. Three trips.”
“So Rizon was here arranging another business trip.”
“Indeed.”
“Why in Hades would a sandal maker need to travel?”
Telemenes raised his eyebrows. “Now it truly would be necessary to ask the gentleman. I don’t inquire of my passengers what they intend when they disembark my boat.”
“I’m sure you don’t. You had an arrangement with Aristodicus of Tanagra. I want to know about it.”
“Who?” He looked bemused. I maintained a steady silence, determined to wait him out. Telemenes finally acquiesced and clapped his hands, and the slave came in. Telemenes whispered something to him and the slave departed, returning a moment later with a thick pile of parchments. He sifted through these before picking out one and handing it to Telemenes, silently departing with the remainder.
Telemenes studied the parchment. “Ah yes, Aristodicus of Tanagra. A minor matter that was taken care of directly by my slaves.”
“Your seal is on the document.”
“Ah yes, I am a busy man, Nicolaos. I have many things to attend to. Sometimes a busy man will allow a slave to affix a seal. It’s a minor peccadillo, I know, but you know how it is. In the world of business, there are many worse things a man could do.”
“Do you have many arrangements like this one?”
“Offering passage? Why, of course.”
“How about passage for three times the going rate in return for anonymity and a fast boat on a moment’s notice?”
“Does it say that here?” Telemenes made a great show of inspecting the note closely.
“I am reading between the lines.”
“My dear Nicolaos, you should not make too much of the loose language you come across in notes such as these.”
I made a stab in the dark on a sudden inspiration. “Was there a similar note when you brought Aristodicus to Athens?”
“There you are, young man! A fine example of loose language yourself! I did not arrange for Aristodicus to come to this lovely city.”
“But he came on one of your boats, didn’t he?”
“We are predominantly an import-export fleet, but we do have numerous passengers.”
Talking with this man was like wrestling with an eel. “I suppose you must be pleased now that you won’t have to deliver on your agreement.”
“What do you mean?” He was either genuinely puzzled or an excellent actor.
“Aristodicus is dead.”
“He is? Why, the poor man! I sorrow. I do hope it was not a painful illness that carried him off.”
“Rest easy. The arrow that took him in the back was quite quick. Forgive me for mentioning it, but for a merchant who likes to keep up on political developments you seem remarkably behind the times about spectacular local deaths.”
“I was speaking of the high politics of one of the world’s most powerful cities, and you, unless I mistake your meaning, are talking about the sordid activities of a criminal underworld.”
“I’m not entirely sure there’s a great deal of difference. But even if there were, I am sure you would still know about it, Telemenes.”
“My dear Nicolaos! I am a legitimate merchant. I have five boats plying the waters between all the Hellene ports, plus Crete, Asia Minor, Phoenicia, Egypt, and sometimes all the way to Massalia if the profit is right. We export ceramics and other manufactured goods, we import corn and some luxuries. I give you my most solemn promise I make more profit from such ventures than I ever could from passengers, no matter how well they pay.”
I decided I could keep asking questions all day, and Telemenes could keep deflecting them as if he had some kind of verbal shield. “Where was Aristodicus planning to go?”
“Syracuse,” he said. “Would you care to consider taking his place? As you pointed out, it is paid for.”
“Thank you for the offer. If things continue for me as they have been, I might need a fast ship out of Athens some time soon, but I’m not that desperate yet.”
Telemenes looked at me with interest. “Ah well.”
“Now tell me where Aristodicus came from, and don’t try and tell me you don’t know.”
Telemenes made another great show of inspecting his notes. “That would be…let me see now…ah yes, Ephesus, the famed city of marble. Beautiful place, Ephesus.”
Beautiful perhaps, but on the coast of Asia Minor under Persian control and, if my memory served, the closest major port to Magnesia, where Themistocles was Governor. So Aristodicus came here from Ephesus, and Rizon travels to Ephesus. What could I make of that?
I said, “Let me take a shot in the dark and ask if Rizon traveled on the boat that brought Aristodicus.”
“For that information I will need to consult records.”
“I’ll wait.”
Telemenes clapped his hands and the slave appeared once more for another whispered conference. This resulted in a flurry of activity that terminated with a small scroll placed before Telemenes. He ran his finger down the writing, hesitated, and sat back with a chuckle.
“Indeed they did. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
I had time to make it back to Athens before lunch, which was good because I’d promised to take the box of Ephialtes’ papers to Diotima so we could search them together. I carried these to the home of Euterpe, where the house slave let me in without a whisper. I dropped the box outside her door. Diotima arrived, looking tired and unhappy. Before we began, I said, “I have news for you, the man who shot your father is dead.” I told her the story of his death. This cheered her up.
“Thank you, Nicolaos. You have given me half of the vengeance my father’s shade demands.” She didn’t have to tell me the other half: the man behind Aristodicus. But I couldn’t take credit when it wasn’t due.
“I didn’t kill him at the end. Pythax did.”
“It would never have happened if you hadn’t tracked him down, so thank you. Revenge for my father means a great deal to me.”
She leaned forward and kissed me, and I was not surprised to discover this was highly pleasant. As the kiss went on, she moved into me and I held her tight. I could feel her breasts against my chest and her tongue between my lips.
We were committing a crime. If Rizon walked into the room this minute and killed us both, a court would approve his action as justifiable homicide, as long as he had witnesses.
Diotima probably had the same thought because she broke off the kiss.
“Mmm,” she murmured, feeling downward. “So that part works for me as well as Mother!”
The part she referred to instantly deflated. “Did you have to mention her?”
“I thought it would work faster than a bucket of cold water.”
“You were right,” I complained.
“Oh, but I’m forgetting, you were hurt in the fight. Are you in pain?”
“Not now.” I remembered she had had her own trauma recently. “How are you feeling now, Diotima?”
“Very happy.” She smiled.
“I was actually referring to the brutal murder of three women in your household. You might recall the event.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Now that the shock is over I’m relieved in a dreadful sort of way. I would have had to live with her, you know.”
“I would not go about saying that too often if I were you. Stratonike’s killer might be relying on exactly that to shift the blame to you. Tell me about Rizon.”
“I did my best, believe me, but I couldn’t smell any seawater on him.”
“Curse it.”
“It doesn’t mean anything, Nicolaos. Rizon could easily have washed off the sea smell.”
“But a positive result would at least have told us we were heading in the right direction, even if it couldn’t be used in a court case. What about his slaves?”
“His slaves are too frightened to say much, but the doorman confirmed Rizon came home late that night. That isn’t necessarily suspicious though. He could have been at a symposium.”
“I don’t suppose the doorman noticed anything?”
“Rizon had red wine spilled down his clothing and he was drunk.”
“Red wine would mask the smell. He could have been acting the drunk.”
“I had exactly the same thought. Nicolaos, you don’t think Rizon is behind Father’s death, do you?”
“If you’d asked me yesterday I would have said it was unlikely. Now I’m not so sure.” I told Diotima what I’d discovered from Telemenes. “Rizon certainly has a decent motive. Look at the wealth he inherits.”
“But why would he have to travel to Ephesus several times to find an assassin? Surely once is enough.”
“I don’t know, Diotima. Their arrival on the same boat might be a coincidence.”
“And a husband and wife murdered within days of each other for different reasons by different people? It beggars belief.”
We turned to sifting through papyri containing notes, drafts of laws, more notes, and letters. We were looking for any evidence that Conon and the Polemarch had been stealing or misusing the public finds in their trust. We didn’t find a thing. There was plenty about past cases Ephialtes had prosecuted, and if we’d wanted a fast course in Athenian politics we’d come to the right place, but there was nothing about the misdeeds of our current archons.
“Here, what’s this?” I held up a sheet with a list of names. We put our heads together as we studied it, and the pleasant smell of her hair was distracting. Theagenides Lysistratos Lysitheos Archedemides Tlepolemos Conon
“I recognize some of these names,” Diotima said. “Father prosecuted them for corruption.”
“What! All of them?”
“Not Conon, of course, but the others…” She chewed her thumbnail. “Yes, I’m sure. These men are all members of the Areopagus, except for Conon, and he’ll be a member too by the end of the year. In fact, every one of these men was Eponymous Archon.”
“Did Ephialtes win all the prosecutions?”
“No, but he had evidence against every one of them.”
I sat back, shocked. “Is the democracy so corrupt that every single man who holds office cheats the state?”
“How should I know? But surely this can’t be everyone.”
“Isn’t it? Who’s missing?”
“I’m not sure.” It took us a moment to recall the past archons.
Diotima said, “Lysanias is the only one missing from the last six years.” Lysanias was the man I’d seen at the mourning for Ephialtes.
“Five out of six abused their power. Dear Gods, Diotima, why am I trying to serve the state if this is what happens?”
“Father didn’t win every case, you know! The courts decided some of them were innocent.”
“Oh, sure they were!”
She ignored my sarcasm. “Conon’s on that list. Nico, there has to be something against Conon, somewhere!”
Alongside each name was a short note. We studied them. Against Theagenides it said box in corner, beside Tlepolemos, scrolls on third shelf, and so forth. Ephialtes had drawn a line through each, all except for the last line bearing Conon’s name. Conon’s note said wax tablet.
We’d already checked the tablet, but Diotima picked it up again and read everything on it once more. Nothing. She held it so close that the wax was almost rubbing her nose, and peered at the tiniest scratches. Still nothing.
She put down the tablet and sighed. “This is so frustrating.”
“Was this everything?” I asked.
“No, it wasn’t,” she said, and I knew from her tone that she’d found something that worried her. “I also found this, Nicolaos.” She handed me a parchment. “I wasn’t sure whether to show you or not, but I suppose I should.”
The material was new, or almost new, the writing on it was small and careful. I read it through, my uneasiness growing with every word. When I was finished I put it down and said, “You found this in his room?”
Diotima nodded unhappily. “In his private papers.”
“Zeus!”…the problem of the leadership…while I am strong I must see to the succession, before a successor is forced upon me, or worst of all, there’s a faction war after my death…Archestratus and Pericles…Archestratus intelligent…understands the system…worked hard for his chance…lacks the leadership qualities…Pericles…natural leader…family…arrogant…cannot be trusted…
“Cannot be trusted…” I echoed Ephialtes’ words. “Pericles can’t be trusted-”
“With the leadership, and to continue supporting the democracy,” Diotima finished for me. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Look at his father.”
“Zeus!” I said again. “Do you think anyone else has seen this?”
Diotima snorted. “What do you think?”
Not a hope in Hades. If they had, they’d be standing in the Agora this instant, shouting it out to the world.
“But Nico, what if Pericles knows what Ephialtes wrote? What if he so much as suspects?”
It was enough for a motive, it was more than enough.
“You still have to get around the fact Pericles held no bow. I saw him! I know…oh…”
Diotima nodded grimly. “Right. He didn’t need to, because he hired a mercenary to do the actual killing. Pericles was only there to make sure it went according to plan.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know, Diotima.”
“I knew you’d say that,” she said in disgust. “I suppose now you’re going to tell him.”
“Pericles? No, I’m not going to tell him.” If I did, he would order me to destroy the evidence, which I would refuse to do, and then we would have a major and final falling-out. For Pericles, this was all about politics. He didn’t really care who killed his friend, as long as it was someone convenient for his plans.
“Thank the Gods for that,” Diotima said, plainly relieved. “I was worried you were becoming a politician.” She paused for a moment, then said, in a gentle tone, “Nicolaos, what would you do? If we find Pericles killed Father?”
“Then it would be back to sculpting for me, wouldn’t it?” I said with an attempt at a laugh. “Do you think he did it, Diotima?”
She chewed on her thumbnail. “I don’t know, but I think he might.”
“We’d never prove it, not in a court, not even if we had solid evidence, which we don’t.”
“And if Pericles is the killer, it wouldn’t save me anyway. I need it to be the Eponymous Archon if I’m to escape my fate. I’m to be married next month.”
That shook me. “So soon?”
“It’s an arranged marriage for inheritance, not family alliance. It has to take place as soon as possible, and there’s no dowry to negotiate.” She laughed humorlessly. “Did I tell you what’s happened at the temple? I’m scrubbing floors, just like a common girl. I complained to the high priestess, who told me the Pole-march has taken a great dislike to me-he says he doesn’t think I’m priestess material-and I’m to be given all the worst jobs until I get sick of it and leave. The high priestess isn’t cruel, even if she does look like a withered prune. She advised me to leave now and avoid the hardship.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her I would scrub floors for the rest of my life if that’s what it took. The Polemarch can’t persecute me forever. But he doesn’t have to, you know. He only has to persecute me until the Archon has me married to Rizon, then Rizon can forbid me to leave the house.”
“Run away,” I told her.
“We’ve had this conversation before, in the orchard, remember? I can’t go back to Mantinea.”
“Then run to another temple. What about the temple of Artemis in Brauron?”
“It’s within Attica. They could easily drag me back.”
I thought for a moment. “I have it then! The Temple of Artemis at Ephesus! Father tells me it’s the most beautiful building he’s ever seen.”
“You don’t give up, do you? Has it occurred to you temples like that aren’t in need of destitute volunteers of doubtful origin? The girls from the best families fight tooth and nail to be accepted. Their fathers pay bribes to get them in.”
“I’ll pay the bribe with the reward money I get from Pericles.”
“You’re assuming you’ll win it, and anyway, I swore I would never take money from a man.”
“Then you’re going to starve. Women can’t own money.”
“Mother does.”
That stopped me. Mother did indeed, and obviously a great deal.
“That’s a good point, Diotima. How does your mother manage to own her money?”
“The same way all hetaerae do, I suppose. Men friends give them presents, pay for most of their expenses, and give them money. When a hetaera needs something done she asks a client to do it for her. She returns the favor in kind.”
“That explains the cash. Now tell me who owns this house.”
That stumped her. She looked puzzled. “I never thought about it. There must be someone’s name on the title deed.”
“I can think of an obvious answer.”
Diotima stared at me in horror. “Father kept it in his name?”
I nodded.
“Wait.”
I waited. I knew Diotima had her answer when a piercing cry cut through the air.
“What do you mean Rizon owns this house. It’s mine!”
It took Diotima some time to calm down an agitated Euterpe. I didn’t go near them, but I didn’t need to know most of it. When Euterpe was reduced to mere sobbing, Diotima returned to me.
“Well, I guess you heard that,” she said.
“I’m sorry to be the source of bad news.”
“Oh, it’s not all that bad, Nicolaos. I mean, I know we could lose almost everything, but do you realize this is the first time my mother has ever needed me?”
“That pleases you? I thought you wanted to be free of her.”
“Let’s say it’s rather pleasant to have the boot on the other foot. It is now extremely urgent to Euterpe to prevent my marriage to Rizon, to blackmail the Archon and the Polemarch, and to protect her wealth, and she can’t do any of that without me. Despite appearances my mother is not particularly a woman of business. She always left those details to Ephialtes. When I walked out of her room, she was begging me to help her.”
“Gloating is rarely pretty, Diotima.”
“You can deal with the ugliness for a little while. I’m enjoying myself. What are you doing?”
While I’d been waiting, I’d picked up the wax tablet and was examining it closely.
Diotima said, “We’ve already checked that. There’s nothing on it.”
“I might have worked out what your father meant. Do you have a stylus and a scraper?”
She handed me a stylus used to write in wax, and the scraper used to smooth the surface again when the owner wanted to start over. Smoothing was usually done after slightly melting the wax, but I didn’t want to risk holding a candle to it. I carefully scraped the wax back along one edge, letting the wax shavings fall to the floor. Diotima peered over my shoulder in interest. She exclaimed as the wax disappeared to reveal a piece of linen. I finished removing all the wax and peeled back the linen protecting-cloth to reveal parchments.
Diotima snatched. So did I. We got half each. We scanned eagerly and called out the interesting parts.
“They’ve been selling public contracts for kickbacks.” She flipped through the parchment. “From the looks of this a dozen or so building contractors are inflating their prices by about a third, and splitting the profits with the Archon and the Polemarch. That must come to a tidy sum considering they’re rebuilding the Stoa.”
“It happens all the time,” I said. “Everybody knows that.”
“But not everyone leaves evidence like this lying around. These letters are the deals they struck and records of sums paid. That’s enough to kill for.”
“Yes, but you haven’t proven anything. All you have is motive.”
“But I don’t want to prosecute them for murder, Nicolaos. All I want to do is blackmail them.”
“That’s a dangerous business, Diotima,” I warned her, suddenly worried.
“I’ll take the risk.”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to leave those with me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Diotima paused, and sat back down on the couch. “Nicolaos, do you think it’s possible Conon or the Polemarch murdered Father? I mean, they might have paid this Aristodicus.”
“It’s possible,” I conceded. “Using an agent, they wouldn’t have to be there, so there’s no point checking their alibis. But, Diotima, how would they know Ephialtes was going to be on the Rock that morning?”
“That’s always the problem, isn’t it?” She sighed. “Maybe Father mentioned it to one or the other of them the day before. But you can’t be sure, can you?”