We met Pythax as we turned onto Diotima’s street. He was looking as big and as tough and as mean as ever, and he didn’t look happy.
“You!” he growled at me in greeting. “As if the city weren’t in enough uproar, do you know that kid of the bowyer’s is in the Agora, swearing you killed his dad?”
“Am I under arrest then?”
“No one’s paying any attention to the boy…yet. Think of this as a friendly warning. You better avoid the Agora until the kid’s gone. I don’t need any more trouble than I already got.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“And another thing, there’s some guy called Rizon been hassling the archons. He says you knocked him down in his own home. It seems to me you’ve been at one murder, close to another, arrived late for two more, and been in the middle of the worst riot we’ve had in years. You want to watch yourself, little boy. You don’t want to go getting a reputation for violence.” He cracked his knuckles.
“I’ll remember that.”
“See that you do.”
“Who’s Rizon?” Diotima asked me.
“No one you want to know,” I growled.
Pythax studied Diotima for the first time.
“You Ephialtes’ girl?”
“Yes.”
Pythax grunted. “Sorry about your dad.”
“Why, hello there!” a voice purred behind us. Euterpe had walked up while we were speaking with Pythax and I hadn’t noticed. A slave stood behind her holding her purse and another held an umbrella to keep her in the shade.
“Hello, Mother,” Diotima said unevenly.
“Who’s your friend?” She swept her eyes up and down Pythax and smiled.
Since I wasn’t the recipient of her undivided attention I was able to keep myself under control. Pythax was not so lucky. I find it hard to believe to this day, but Pythax actually blushed. His bulging muscles seemed to expand even more and he stood taller. He eyed Euterpe with the same level of interest she was displaying. The grizzled warrior and the smooth, sophisticated woman made an interesting contrast. In her case, I assumed it was professional interest.
I said, “May I introduce Pythax, Chief of the Scythians.”
“A barbarian! I love a he-man.” She tore her attention from the big man enough to notice me. “You brought two of them, dear? That shows ambition.”
Diotima said through gritted teeth. “We’re talking, Mother. ”
“Ah, well. You must come for a cool drink. It’s so hot and dusty in the street, don’t you think?” She took Pythax by his unresisting arm and led us into her receiving room. She sat him down and offered him wine. I watched with amusement as his eyes tracked her form when she swayed to the wine cooler.
“I can tell you’re the strong, silent type. Do you speak?” she teased him.
All too frequently, I wanted to answer, but instead I smiled inwardly as Pythax struggled to work out what one should say to a beautiful woman. Diotima leaned over to me and muttered unhappily, “This is cruel.”
Pythax said gruffly, “Yes, I do, lady, when there’s something to be said. But not to a lady who mocks me.” He put down his wine and stood. “I’ll be going now.”
Euterpe was astonished. So was I.
“What was that? What do you mean?”
“We never met before but you’re pawing me all over. I know you can’t mean that with a rough old man like me. I ain’t that pretty, so I reckon you’re mocking me on purpose. Well, Euterpe, you might be a highborn lady, and I might be a peasant ruffian, but I don’t take that from anyone.”
Euterpe was flustered. She took a step back and put her hands to her mouth as if she were genuinely upset.
“I…I’m sorry, Pythax. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just my way of dealing with men. I don’t know any other.” She put a hand lightly on his arm. “Please stay a moment.”
Diotima said quickly, “Yes, please stay, Pythax.”
He looked at Diotima with narrowed eyes, then at me. I nodded encouragement. Then he sat and picked up his wine once more. He muttered, “Sorry, I’m not used to…” and drifted into silence.
Euterpe sat on a couch apart from Pythax. Not only did she not lean back, she didn’t even cross her legs. She looked particularly uncomfortable.
I thought it was a good time to change the subject. “Euterpe, since we’re here, I have some questions about Tanagra. Did Ephialtes know anyone there?”
“We have had this conversation before. I didn’t involve myself in politics.”
“Did anyone from Tanagra come to visit?”
“He never received any visitors here.”
“Did he ever speak of enemies?”
“Constantly. How many would you like?”
“Any from Tanagra?”
“No. All conservatives.”
“And you didn’t see Ephialtes the morning he died? You didn’t come out of your rooms before he left?”
“Not during that argument! I wasn’t going down there and getting involved. I’d had enough of it the night before.”
“What argument?” I hadn’t heard this before. I looked at Diotima, taken aback, who in turn was staring at Euterpe in fury.
“Mother, must you bring that up again?”
“I didn’t, dear, your boyfriend did.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. You couldn’t wait to say it, could you, Father wanting me to marry?”
“Well, he did, dear Diotima. Really, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. It’s not as if you seem to have any objections to men.” She glanced at me slyly and winked.
“Marrying for what I can get out of it is no different than selling my body.”
Euterpe turned to Pythax and me. “Diotima has invented a philosophy of love. Apparently this means she must never have sex unless she does it from her own heart. So she refuses to take advantage of any man and instead must be taken advantage of. Both Ephialtes and I wanted her to marry. Ephialtes even began the negotiations and could have had the whole thing arranged months ago. But the ungrateful wretch refused to cooperate, and since she wasn’t his legal offspring he couldn’t force the issue like any sensible father would. Really, she was most stupid. She could have been a citizen by now.”
“And be a whore like you? I’d rather die!” Diotima shouted in fury.
“I am not a whore, and you will kindly remember the difference between a hetaera and the common pornoi,” Euterpe said between gritted teeth.
“Ah yes. Hetaerae get paid more.”
From the way Diotima had made the accusation I could tell this was a sore spot for her mother.
“I am what I am, and you will remember it is what I did to look after you, you ungrateful, pompous, righteous little ass of a child. You know nothing of what it takes to survive. Nothing! You’ve never been hungry. You’ve been pampered from the moment you were born. I gave you the best of everything. And, yes, to do it I had to lie on my back and spread my legs, but I did it for you.”
Diotima said sweetly, “I think you have that the wrong way around, Mother dear. You spread your legs, so you had me to look after. The spreading comes before the child.”
“Is that what you think? Then let me tell you something, wretched ingrate. The moment you were born your father picked you up. He was taking you away. Yes, that’s right, Ephialtes was taking you to Ceramicus. He said he had no place for a girl-child, a son might have been different, but an illegitimate girl was good for nothing but the urns. I begged him not to, begged. I offered him anything in the world, everything I had, if only he would leave me my child. And so he did, and the price I paid for you was to be bound to him for the rest of my life.”
Diotima swallowed and said nothing. There are two ways to dispose of an unwanted child, either leave them on the hillside to die of exposure, or drop them in a funeral urn in the cemetery and walk away.
“He let you live for love of me. Dropped you on the bedclothes and walked away. And when he took an interest, arranged that marriage, I thought, no one will ever be able to do to my little girl what he did to me. The wife of a citizen can keep her children, some of them anyway. She doesn’t have to watch them all be taken away to die. She has a place, some security. And then, when you refused to marry, I saw the look on his face and I remembered the day you were born and I think he was thinking he should have taken you away after all.”
Diotima was crying. “Oh, Mother!” Diotima threw herself into Euterpe’s arms and the two of them sobbed.
Pythax and I let ourselves out. We were both feeling somewhat glum and embarrassed by the women’s emotions.
“Pythax, did any of that make sense to you? I mean, the way they got so carried away?”
“No, lad.” He hesitated. “This Euterpe, she was Ephialtes’?”
“Yes.”
“But she’s a hetaera.”
“She was, years ago. I don’t know if it counts if she was only seeing Ephialtes for years.”
Pythax grunted. “You think she only saw Ephialtes, do you? I guess she’s got trouble now, her man’s gone. Or is she happy he’s dead?”
“I don’t think so.”
“She ain’t exactly dressed like a grieving widow.”
“Euterpe isn’t the sort to display emotion, or rather not that particular one. There are other emotions she does really well. She might go back to her trade.”
Pythax grunted.
We parted. I went to the Polemarch, whom I found at his office in the Epilyceum.
He bade me sit and sat himself beside me in a manner wholly alien for an important public citizen dealing with a young man of unimportant family. He looked at me with blue eyes, but nothing softened the square face or the hard lines around his mouth. He smiled, but there was something intellectual about his smile, it was the smile of a man who wanted to be seen smiling, as sincere as the priest who apologizes to his sacrifice.
“Now, Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus, I have been hearing good things about you.”
I doubted that mightily, but didn’t know how to say so without causing offense, so I kept silent. The Polemarch’s face was not naturally expressive. I had no idea what he was expecting from me. After a pause, he resumed.
“Not everyone can be born to the best families, and we older men have to keep an eye out for talented youngsters and help them to rise in the service of the state. One of my secretaries is ill-I have two, you know-he’s unable to continue to the end of his term of office. The post of secretary is a public one, but unlike other public posts I can nominate my own man for the job, no need for a messy election, and as long as he passes a simple review, there should be no problem.
“That’s why I want to offer you the position.”
I could barely believe I was hearing this, let alone credit that the Polemarch meant it. The job he offered was that of a functionary, full of hard work and plenty of blame when anything went wrong, but it was also far beyond the experience of my years. It was a job you offered to a coming man to give him experience in executive government before he took on an archonship.
“I…I can’t believe you’re saying this. Thank you, sir!”
“So you accept?”
“I would love to-”
“Fine, then I’ll get the process in motion-”
“Sir!”
“Yes?”
“I was going to add, sir, I have a commission. I have to complete it before I could start with you.”
Silence fell across us like a blanket. The Polemarch sat rock still for a handful of heartbeats, I could count mine quite clearly, then said, “This commission, is it of a public nature?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you think your private interests should come before service to the state?”
“No! Of course not, sir.”
“Then I don’t see the problem. You can continue this private affair when your work for the state is done.”
“This commission is in the public interest, sir, and I don’t see how I can stop now, having said I would complete it.”
“Integrity is an excellent thing in a young man. I applaud you. Many would have accepted my excellent offer without a second thought. Have you been paid for your work?”
“Not yet.”
“So again, there is no problem. Not having been paid, and delivered nothing, the contract is easily terminated. Your employer can find someone else at no loss to either party.”
“It’s still in the public interest, sir,” I persisted.
The Polemarch let the smallest touch of irritation show in his voice. “Are you working for a public official?”
“No, for Pericles, son of Xanthippus.”
“Then no matter what you might think, you are not at this point in service to the state. Xanthippus I know well, his son less so. And let me give you some advice on that score, from a man of greater years and hence greater experience in public affairs. Nico-I can call you Nico, can’t I? — associating with the more radical democrats is not likely to get you marked by the men that count as anything other than a troublemaker. I am right, aren’t I, in reading you as an ambitious young man?”
“Yes sir, I suppose that’s true.”
“Nothing wrong with that! I remember feeling the same way as a young lad. Right now, Nico, you have a feeling that you are contributing to the state. Because you’re talented and ambitious and have dreams, you magnify the significance of what you do, and in the process you overestimate its importance. Any young man would do the same. But what, after all, are you doing? You’re not working for an elected official. You’re not fulfilling the wishes of the Government, nor the directives of the Ecclesia.”
“I am investigating the murder of Ephialtes, sir.”
“There you are then, my point exactly! That’s a matter for the man’s deme, if they want to pursue it. The Government can’t spend its time catching criminals, or we’d never get any work done. That’s why we leave it to private individuals to do the leg-work and make the accusation, and we in Government supply the courts to judge the results.”
“Surely the death of this man matters far more than the average murder!” I protested.
The Polemarch raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair with a smile. “Was Ephialtes a public officer when he died? No? A strategos or other officer of the army? No? Then are you suggesting in our democracy we should treat one man as more important than another? Surely not, that would be quite contrary to what the democracy stands for, wouldn’t it? So it is quite impossible to do anything other than treat Ephialtes’ death the same as any other citizen.”
I pleaded, “Isn’t it common sense that his death means more? What if he was killed by an official?”
“I quite agree with you. All the more reason for his deme to get on with the job. You can search high and low throughout Athens, Nico, and you will not find a single official whose job it is to investigate crime. There never has been, not if you search back to the time of Draco, not even if you go back to King Theseus.
“I can see you feel confused. I understand. I am going to give you a while to think about what I’ve said, Nicolaos, a short while. I hesitate to say it, but there are other young men of talent who perhaps are as deserving of recognition as you. I cannot leave my offer open for long: say, for another three days. If you have not accepted within that time, I will be forced to conclude with the greatest sorrow that you have turned down the chance to boost your career far beyond what you could hope to achieve on your own in the next decade. Good day to you.”
I walked onto the street almost sobbing. I was desperate because everything the Polemarch had said was true. Murder was a private affair. Pericles’ commission was a private one and nothing to do with the state, even though he and I were sure it had everything to do with the state. And the greatest truth the Pole-march had told struck me to the core: I was desperately ambitious to succeed. It seemed to me in that short conversation the Polemarch had destroyed my life, because I could do nothing other than continue Pericles’ commission, and when I did, the Polemarch would slam his door in my face.
I tossed and turned all night thinking about what the Pole-march had said. The temptation to abandon Pericles and throw in my lot with the Polemarch was almost overwhelming. At some point in the darkness I decided to do so, and composed several speeches I might use to tell Pericles. I discarded every one of them when I imagined the disdain on Pericles’ face as I told him what I was doing. I realized with some shame, I hadn’t the courage to tell Pericles I was leaving him, but nor did I have the strength to turn away the Polemarch.
I temporized with the dawn. If I completed my commission quickly, then all my problems would disappear. I could have both Pericles’ reward and the Polemarch’s job by finding this hidden Tanagran within the next three days, and wringing the truth from him. I hoped to Hades he hadn’t already left town.
It may have been a fantasy, and it was certainly driven by moral cowardice, but it was the decision I made, and, of course, it was no decision at all. I rose immediately to perform that urgent task.
But where do you go to find a man in a city as big as Athens? There must be tens of thousands of men.
I rose to the predawn naked from my bed, and reached for my chitoniskos hanging on its peg. What a pleasure to be wearing civilian clothes again. I’d had to buy new clothes after my army time, and I preferred the smaller chitoniskos because it gave me room to move quickly; besides which, it was the fashion among all the young men. Mine was made of two rectangular sheets of light linen, sewn together down the right side and open down the left. I wrapped it around me, pinned the front and back sheets together over my shoulders, and stuck in an extra pin along the left to hold it all in place. I belted with a piece of rope and pulled the material up so that it bloused a little and brought the hem above my knees. I wrapped a short chlamys cloak across my shoulders and then added one more item many Athenians don’t carry-a dagger, which I lodged under my belt and within the material where it would not be obvious.
I had risen early, but my twelve-year-old brother had risen earlier still. He found me in the courtyard as I nibbled on a bowl of yesterday’s bread dipped in wine and pondered how to find one particular grain of sand on a beach.
“Nico, I was thinking. I suppose you’re going to look for that killer this morning?”
“Yes, but don’t even think about asking to come along. Our mother would kill me.”
“Of course, there aren’t many places you need search.”
“What! There are countless men in Athens.”
“But most have work, or live outside the walls on their farms, or will be in their homes. An outsider has none of those things. Where would they go? There’re the Agora, the streets of the tradesmen, the public buildings, the inns, and Piraeus. I know it’s a lot of area to cover, Nico, but surely if you ask for any man from Tanagra in those places, you must find him quickly.”
I said confidently, “Exactly what I was about to do. But you did well to think it for yourself.”
“Thanks, Nico!”
I wasn’t yet ready to admit my irritating younger brother was smarter than me.
It was harder than it seemed. I eliminated the Agora quickly-visitors are noticed, often questioned, and it’s a small area to cover-then began a trek through the inns. There are many of these. The temptation to stop at each for a cooling drink was strong, but I controlled myself. I had to be sober if I found the man.
The good-quality inns close to the Agora had never heard of him. There were men from Tanagra all right, but they had either come as a group, or were merchants known to their innkeepers for years as regular customers. I assumed an assassin brought in to kill a man would be on his own, and wouldn’t be a regular visitor. So I started on the low dives. These are to be found in the narrow, muddy backstreets close to the main gates. I commenced with the ones by the Dipylon Gates that led to the west and north, thinking my quarry was more likely to have arrived by foot if he came from Tanagra. This drew a complete blank. It was only when I finished at the end of the day that I realized my foolishness. If the man wasn’t acting for Tanagra then he probably didn’t come directly from there. So I hurried to the inns closest to the two gates that lead to Piraeus, the port town of Athens. If he didn’t walk here, then the Tanagran must have come by boat. That was going to make it harder. A lot of boats come to Athens.
“Do you have anyone from Tanagra staying here?” I asked of yet another innkeeper, a beaten-down looking fellow with crooked legs. It was early in the evening and the local custom was just starting to arrive.
“The man has more visitors than a whore,” the innkeeper muttered.
My jaw dropped. “You mean you do?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Did have, though. Gone now.”
My heart fell. For a moment there I thought I’d found my man. “When did he leave?” I asked.
“Expensive business, running an inn.”
“I’m sure.”
“Takes a lot of time too.”
“I can imagine. Now about that man from Tanagra-”
“Can’t afford to spend time talking when I got work to do.” He moved to the next table, where a drunk was already slumped over. The innkeeper pushed him aside, wiped the dribble where the man had been lying, then pushed him back into place.
“Isn’t it a little early for him to be drunk?” I asked.
“Ephron? Nah, that’s just his hangover from lunch. He’ll be better when he’s had something to drink.”
I pulled out a few drachmae, having worked out the hint. “These for what I want to know.”
The innkeeper glanced at my offering and snorted. “Hope yer don’t want to know much.”
“This Tanagran, when did he leave?”
“Two days ago.” He reached for the coins. I pulled my hand back.
“Not yet. When did he arrive?”
The innkeeper thought. “Last month? Maybe a bit before or after.”
“What was his name?”
“He said he was Aristodicus.”
“You doubt it?”
The man shrugged. “He seemed the type to have a few names, yer know what I mean? He said his name was Aristodicus. I got no reason to think otherwise.”
Better and better. “Had you seen him before?”
“Nah.”
“Had he been in Athens before?”
“How in Hades should I know? He never been at my inn before, I can tell yer that.”
“Who are these men who came to visit him?”
The innkeeper held out his hand. “Yer got your money’s worth. Yer want more, yer pay more.”
I dropped the coins in his hand and pulled out another handful. I wondered if I could bill Pericles for this, and decided I wasn’t brave enough to try.
“I dunno who the guys were that came to see him.”
I put the coins back in my bag.
“Wait! I can tell you they were Athenians from the way they talked. And they were rich.”
To this man, almost anyone would look rich. “How many visits?”
He shrugged. “Four, five, six. Maybe three times for each of them?”
“Them?”
“Two guys with their slaves. It’s hard to tell a slave from a citizen in Athens, you know? Everyone dresses the same. But definitely two men came here, and they both had slaves. And always they asked for Aristodicus. That’s unusual for some out of town drifter, yer know? And I don’t think they knew about each other. At least, they came at different times.”
I had no idea who the two visitors were, but I was sure I’d found my man.
“Describe Aristodicus.”
“Drifter, like I said. Tough man, kinda grizzled-looking. He’s been a mercenary some time or I’ll eat my own bar food. Scar down his face, left side, like can happen if a spear catches yer in the helmet.”
That agreed with what Brasidas had told me.
“Okay, catch.” I tossed him the coins and turned to get out of this cesspit.
“Funny thing though, this guy never left.”
“What was that?” I asked, startled.
“He never left. I mean, he left the inn, said he was leaving town, but I saw him in Piraeus yesterday when I went to get more wine.”
“Maybe he didn’t like the bedbugs here.”
“Then he made a bad deal. Compared to the inns in Piraeus, my place is a king’s palace.” He spat into the mud of his floor.
I think I danced all the way home. Aristodicus of Tanagra was still in Athens, or at least he had been until yesterday. But he’d changed inns, and I was sure I knew why.
Aristodicus wasn’t planning to leave town. If he had been, he would have left from where he was already staying. Why shift inns for just a night?
No, Aristodicus had moved because he didn’t want at least one of his two visitors to find him. And he’d moved after the murder. How interesting.
There was a man waiting for me when I returned home. The house slave ushered me into the public room, where a rather pale, ill-looking fellow sat drinking our wine. Sophroniscus had met the fellow, as is proper, discerned that he was a citizen wanting to see me on business, and had left him to it. This meant whoever he was, my father didn’t like him. Otherwise, Sophroniscus would have been drinking wine with him and boring the man with talk of sculpture.
“You want me?” I said as I entered.
He looked me up and down and said coolly, “Not I. The Pole-march, who happens to be a friend of mine.”
“Oh.” I sat before him. “You’ve come about the secretary position.”
“Indeed. My name is Tellis. When the Polemarch was allotted his office he asked me, his old friend, to be one of his two lieutenants. I am ill, as I have no doubt you’ve already observed, and whether I shall survive to next year lies with the Gods. The Polemarch asked me to see you, to convince you his offer is genuine. He thinks, you see, that you might not have believed him when he offered you the position I now hold.”
“I confess the thought occurred to me later that perhaps the Polemarch would be quite happy if I had to abandon my investigation.”
Tellis waved his hand as if fending off a minor irritant. “I cannot speak to the Polemarch’s motivations, and nor, I suspect, can you. What I can tell you is that the offer is genuine, and the offer expires in two days. You see me before you, so you know the Polemarch spoke truth when he told you his secretary is ill. Having told that much truth, might the rest not be true too? The Polemarch sees you as a coming man. It is better to have such men in your camp than on the other side. Therefore he offers you a position far beyond your years. I remind you that unlike the archonship-a position of infinitely greater power-the secretariat does not prevent you from holding higher office in the future.”
“I’m afraid the Polemarch overestimates the depth of my arrogance. I have never imagined myself as an archon.” I think I blushed lightly as I said this, because in my dreams I had imagined myself before the people, leading them in the Ecclesia. In the cold light of day, having observed the likes of Pericles, Xanthippus, and Archestratus in action, I knew it would be long before I had that ability, if indeed I ever would.
“Be that as it may, the position is open and the offer is made. If it will not make you a great man, and I can promise you from personal experience it will not, the job would certainly put you in the public eye, be a springboard for higher public office. What do you say?”
“The same as I said to the Polemarch: that I must think about this before giving an answer.”
Tellis rose to go, steadying himself with a shaky hand on the end of the couch. He picked up a walking stick that rested alongside, and said, “You are either remarkably cautious, which for such a young man is an admirable trait, or else you are a fool, which for such a young man would be quite normal. I wish you joy of your deliberations. Goodbye.”
Sophroniscus was jovial at dinner that evening. He had studiously ignored my activities unless I spoke of them, but tonight he said over the wine, “I notice your business is becoming more popular. You’re even starting to receive clients at home. Who was that man who came to see you today?”
“His name is Tellis. He was secretary to the Polemarch.”
“Was?”
“Yes. He fell ill and had to retire.”
“What would the Polemarch want with you?” Phaenarete asked. She ordered the slaves to clear the courtyard of dinner bowls.
“Uh, he offered me the secretary position Tellis vacated.”
“Congratulations, my boy!” Sophroniscus beamed. “I confess, I thought you were overreaching when you said you wanted to try this-well, I made myself clear at the time, I suppose-but to pick up such a position so quickly speaks of good prospects.”
“I haven’t said yes, Father.”
Silence.
“You…you turned down the Polemarch’s offer?” Sophroniscus spluttered. “Are you the same son who was so desperate to make a name in public affairs, he spurned his father’s trade?”
“Yes, but-”
“Then you go right back to the Polemarch, thank him kindly for his offer, and accept the job!”
“But-”
“There are no buts about it.”
“I haven’t said no, either!” I almost shouted.
Sophroniscus paused. “What do you mean?” He held up his cup for more wine and a slave boy immediately refilled it from the krater between us. Phaenarete ordered sweetmeats to be brought. That was a sign she thought this conversation might go on for some time.
“I mean if I take the job I would have to abandon Pericles.”
“You feel loyalty?”
“I’d feel like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.”
“I see.” Sophroniscus drummed his fingers on his dining couch. “Has it occurred to you, when the rat jumps off the ship it is acting quite rationally in its own best interest?”
“It’s still a rat, Father. And…I think perhaps what I’m doing might be important for Athens.”
“There speaks egotistic youth. Beware hubris, son. The Gods punish it.”
“I have three days to accept the offer, Father. If I can find the man who killed Ephialtes tomorrow, or the day after, then I can make Pericles happy and still have time to say yes to the Pole-march.”
“Impossible. You haven’t succeeded so far, what makes you think you can do it quickly now that you really need to?”
“I’ve made important progress. I know that the assassin is still in Athens, and I know where he was staying until a few days ago.” I basked in the glory of my own cleverness as I described my success in detail.
I boasted, “It’s only a matter of time now before I solve the entire problem. All I have to do is track down this Aristodicus and force him to tell me who he’s working for.”
My little brother hung on my every word, looking up at me in adulation. Even Phaenarete looked mildly pleased. Sophroniscus frowned and said, “Do not risk the anger of the Gods, Nicolaos. The Gods hate hubris in a man almost more than any trait. Remember the boastful words of Odysseus to Poseidon after the fall of Troy? He paid for it with ten years of his life, and the lives of all his men. Retract your boast before something bad happens!”
“You are right, Father, and if Aristodicus eludes me tomorrow I shall.”
He said urgently, “Do it now, right now.”
“But what could possibly go wrong right now?”
The door flew open. Every head turned, startled or in fear, for there’d been no warning of a disturbance.
Our head slave stood there in shock and blurted, “Master Nicolaos, there is a young woman in the public room. She says she must speak with you immediately.”
Diotima stood in the public room, tears streaming down and a look of horror on her face.
“Wow! Where did you find her, Nico?” my little brother asked in admiration. My entire family stood behind me. I didn’t dare turn around to see the expressions of Sophroniscus or Phaenarete, for if I did I would probably die of embarrassment.
Diotima had run here in bare feet. The mud was caked on past her ankles. She was wearing a tunic which was definitely supposed to be inside wear; her hair was down. She stood wringing her hands.
“I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but…but I didn’t know who to…Nicolaos, they say I’m to bury Ephialtes!”
“You?” I was surprised. “But you’re not-” I broke off, unwilling to continue more of this highly interesting conversation before my parents.
Phaenarete said angrily, “Nicolaos, you will tell me who this girl is before I take her to the women’s quarters and have her escorted back to her home.”
Trapped. No way to get her out of the house and then explain her away as a distraught witness.
“This is Diotima of Mantinea, priestess-in-training to the Goddess Artemis.” I was not going to say the rest even if Sophroniscus ordered the slaves to beat me.
Sophroniscus demanded, “And what does she have to do with you? Have you any idea what her father is going to say when he finds out-”
“My father is dead! Murdered!” Diotima blurted.
And all the while Phaenarete was muttering, “Diotima. Mantinea. Diotima? Mantinea? Mantinea!” Phaenarete shouted in triumph, “You’re the daughter of Euterpe the hetaera!” Phaenarete looked Diotima up and down. Diotima nodded meekly.
“You know Diotima?” I asked, incredulous.
“Of course I know her! I delivered her all those years ago, didn’t I? Don’t look so shocked, son. I am a midwife, you know.”
Sophroniscus and I were banished to the dining room while Phaenarete took Diotima to be washed and given warm clothes. My brother was dragged to bed by slaves with orders to tie him down if necessary.
Sophroniscus raised an eyebrow. “I told you so,” he said.
“But she must already have been running here when I made the boast,” I protested.
“But if you hadn’t boasted, she wouldn’t have been running here.”
I decided not to argue the illogic of that, since nine out of every ten men in Athens would have agreed with Sophroniscus wholeheartedly. Phaenarete opened the door and led in Diotima, who looked somewhat more composed, though her eyes were red and bloated from crying. Phaenarete sat her down on a couch and sat beside her, as a good chaperone should.
“You will now tell us why you are here,” Sophroniscus ordered.
Diotima looked at me. I nodded. Phaenarete followed that little exchange with her eyes but said nothing.
“The secretary of the Archon came to our house tonight. I am to lead the funeral procession for Ephialtes alongside his wife Stratonike. They say I must because she is mad, and I am to be made his heir.”
Sophroniscus said, “You aren’t his daughter though, not legally that is.”
“I am now,” Diotima said through clenched teeth. “I was adopted this morning by his estate, on the orders of the Eponymous Archon.”
So that was the radical idea Conon had mentioned. A man could adopt someone in their will. But Conon had gone one step further.
“That’s rather clever,” Sophroniscus murmured. “So what does this have to do with Nicolaos?”
Diotima looked confused. “Why, who else would I tell? He’s investigating the murder.”
“That doesn’t explain why you ran through the streets at night,” Sophroniscus said. “You might not like what’s happening, but what do you expect Nicolaos to do about it? And I will point out you now have a promised husband who will not be at all happy to hear of this, not happy at all.” He looked at Phaenarete, who understood and called for slaves.
Sophroniscus said in a voice that brooked no argument. “I and two stout slaves will escort you to your door. You will walk through that doorway. You will stay there, or at least, if you must run through the streets it will not be to here.” He turned to me. “And you will stay away from Diotima from this point on.”
“But-”
Sophroniscus talked over me. “A man caught in adultery can legally be killed by the husband as long as the couple are found in the act and there are witnesses. Did you know that? And being betrothed counts.”
“But we’re not-”
“However, in the case of the wife, she can be killed by her husband if he so much as suspects. It might not be perfectly legal, but I’ve never known any man be charged for it where the woman’s reputation was dubious. Did you know that? Nicolaos, you are risking this girl’s life. Now say goodbye to her.”