Thief of Corinth

by Tessa Afshar

  Aniketos preened. “You will not believe how much they cost.”

  “And the statues.” I shook my head as though lost for words. Pointing to a random sculpture toward the back of the garden, I said, “Who is that?” My three hosts turned their heads in that direction. Two snails found their way under the couch.

  “That is Psyche,” Dryops said. “Cupid’s beloved.”

  “Masterful depiction. I wish I could see your whole house. It must be a treasure trove of beautiful things.”

  “I will show you after supper, if you wish,” Dryops said.

  “Why wait? Food cannot compare with such loveliness.”

  Father cast a sharp look my way. “You need to forgive my daughter’s impatience. The glory of her surroundings has bewitched her senses. We shall wait until after supper, of course. And we will go together.”

  “You are too wise, Father.” I smiled shyly into my snails. The plates were cleared eventually, but not before I had forced three of those disgusting vermin down my throat.

  Between courses, a young slave woman brought us warm water for the purpose of rinsing our fingers. She was of similar height and build to me, with long hair the same shade of chestnut as mine. Her pink tunic was too bright for fashion, but hard to miss. Her mistress called her Galatea.

  Galatea kept her eyes lowered at all times and moved with silent grace as she cleared the table. Her hands trembled when she served Aniketos. I wondered what horrors the poor creature suffered in this household.

  She did not know it yet, but she was going to help me commit my first crime. I smiled slowly at my father.

  CHAPTER 16

  AFTER TWO EXCRUCIATING HOURS, supper came to an end, and we began our tour. I found what I had been searching for in one of the bedchambers: a box of carved mahogany resting at the foot of a wide bed.

  “Such delicate carving,” I said, drawing an admiring hand over the chest.

  “It’s not so fine as the one in our chamber. My wife keeps the spare linen in this one.”

  Aniketos’s wife must have been desperate for admiration, even from a couple of strangers, for she showed us every corner of that villa, including the coffer that held her jewels.

  Father gave a long soliloquy on a pair of matching brooches. I thought them ugly myself, and wondered at his enthusiasm. Then I noticed that while speaking, he was not looking at the brooches, but a little lower, to the base of the coffer.

  The lady of the house gave a simpering laugh, clearly delighted with my father’s eager compliments. “My husband checks every single article at night before going to bed. He is a most careful man, as well as a generous one.”

  As we continued our tour, Aniketos pointed out his many safety measures. Guards were stationed at the doors day and night. No one was authorized to leave without permission, and strangers were not allowed entry without an invitation. The villa had no windows. Instead, it relied on two openings in the ceiling for light and fresh air. Both the main door and posticum, the side door used by servants, were sturdy and would require a host of soldiers to break down. The villa was situated on a modest plot of land with few trees, offering it a singular lack of privacy.

  “You must host a banquet,” I told Dryops as we came to the end of our tour. I did not have to manufacture false enthusiasm as I made the suggestion. “My friends need to see this stunning villa. There is nothing like it in Corinth, I assure you.”

  Father’s eyes narrowed. “Let us not impose on the generous hospitality of Master Aniketos, Daughter.”

  “By no means!” Aniketos rubbed his hands together. “We should be honored. If you would provide me with a list of names, we would be happy to oblige.”

  “What were you thinking?” Father said when we were ensconced back at home. “Why did you encourage that man? Do you not realize how dangerous he is? And his son is cut from the same cloth.”

  “I have a plan.”

  “That much is obvious. It will not work.”

  “You don’t even know what it is!”

  “The house is a fortress, Ariadne. No way out. We can’t do it. We will move on to another.”

  “Will you please listen?” I told him my idea.

  His eyes bulged. “Have you gone mad? When I said you could join me, I meant as you did the other night. Waiting outside, sounding the alarm, creating a distraction in case of danger. I did not mean for you to take center stage.”

  “Well, this requires a woman. You can’t do it.”

  He slashed his arm in the air like a dagger. “Neither can you. Absolutely not. And besides, it is pointless.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Most of that poor woman’s jewelry is worthless.” He held out his thumb. Under his nail I could detect a thin layer of pastelike substance. He scraped it into the palm of his hand, where it sat twinkling in the lamplight. Gold leaf. “The rest is of little value, semiprecious stones and hollow gold.”

  I heaved a puff of air, deflated. Father wiped his hands and leaned back, looking satisfied. Too satisfied. I frowned for a moment, thinking. “You were staring at the base of that coffer.” Father jerked his head back. Immediately he expunged all expression from his face, but I had seen enough, and pounced. “That’s where he keeps the real valuables. Some secret compartment at the base. What is on show is merely a diversion.”

  “We don’t know that for certain.”

  “Is there a second box under the coffer? Tell me that much.”

  He pursed his lips. “There is.”

  I leaned back, satisfied. Aniketos kept something of value there. I knew it in my gut, and by the look of him, so did Father. The feast was to take place at the end of the month. I had three weeks to prepare. And three weeks to change Father’s mind.

  We were expecting Theo back from Ephesus in four days. He planned to stay a week before taking another ship, this time for the port of Troas. He turned the household upside down by showing up early, Justus in tow.

  “Can you feed two hungry men?” he said, his wide grin lighting up the house.

  My heart almost burst at the sight of him, and I squeezed him like a mother bear might do its cub. “You rascal! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home early?”

  He gave his characteristic shrug, one massive shoulder moving with slow deliberation, clearly pleased by my show of welcome. “No time. Where is Delia?”

  “I will fetch her for you.” She would be pleased to know Theo had asked for her before even sitting down. I lingered a moment, hoping he would mention Father. He did not. I motioned to the dining room. “Come and sit, you two. I’ll send a slave to wash your feet and bring you a plate of dried fruit and nuts.”

  Delia flew in the moment she heard the news, grabbing the bowl and towel from the slave who was washing Theo’s dusty feet. “I will do it myself. How was your journey, master?”

  “Long. It was long and arduous, Delia.”

  “My poor boy. You must be weary to the marrow.”

  “My bones creak like an old man’s.”

  Delia massaged his feet and made comforting noises.

  Justus caught my expression and we burst into laughter. Theo sniffed at our hilarity. Ignoring us, he presented Delia with a warm cloak, which she needed for the approaching winter. The woman, usually as tough as a legionary’s hobnailed boots, burst into tears.

  The next hour flew by as I arranged for Theo’s favorite dishes to be served for dinner, changed into a pretty yellow tunic, and ran a comb through my loose, tangled hair. By the time I returned to the dining room, Father had joined Justus and Theo.

  “It sounds as though you have entrusted Theodotus with greater responsibility, Justus,” he was saying.

  Justus plucked a handful of raisins and almonds from the silver plate on the table. “He is a credit to your house, Galenos. I have never known a man who learned as quickly.”

  Theo kept his head bent, wiping at a damp spot on his ankle. “Some jobs have to be done out of duty. Others, for pleasure. Fortuna
te is the man whose work overlaps both things. Thanks to Justus, I am such a man.”

  Father’s face brightened. “This house is too quiet without you, Theo. But there is no greater joy than knowing you are happy.”

  Justus cleared his throat. “I have some news of Dionysius. The Council of the Areopagus has invited him to become a member.”

  Father’s teeth snapped shut. Dionysius’s talent came as no surprise to him. But this was different.

  “How is that possible?” I asked. The Council of the Areopagus had started ruling Athens before it became a democracy nearly seven hundred years ago. They no longer had the power and prestige they once held, but they retained a mantle of honor, and were entrusted with directing the internal affairs of Athens, as well as maintaining responsibility for certain legal trials. Old men sat on the council, not young pups like my gifted brother, who was in his twenties.

  “They made an exception for him,” Justus said. “He has gained enormous respect and recognition for some of his writings in the past year.”

  I nodded. It was like an arrow to the heart, this good news. News that Dionysius himself had not bothered to share with us. We did not exist for him anymore. The good, the bad, the mundane of his existence was withheld from us. I rejoiced for him. Dionysius was meant to go far—achieve greatness.

  For Father and me, I grieved. Henceforth, my brother’s every success would be another reminder of what we had lost.

  “My son, an Areopagite!” Father said. He wiped the moisture from his eyes. “A true man of Athens.” He said the words without bitterness.

  Before dinner arrived, Claudia the Younger was announced. “I beg your pardon,” she said when she saw our gathering, her hands gesticulating wildly. Claudia liked to use her hands when she spoke. “I did not realize you had a feast, or I would not have intruded.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “We are all family. Please join us for dinner.”

  “I don’t wish to impose. Only, I have such news to share.”

  “You must stay and tell us,” I insisted, curious.

  Claudia and I reclined on the same couch, while Theo sat next to Justus, and Father was given the position of honor at the head. Dinner started with a green salad of crushed savory, mint, rue, coriander, and parsley.

  “What is your news?” I said when we had been served.

  “The most fortunate of events. I had lost hope that it would ever happen. But some deity in the heavens had mercy on our household. Claudia the Elder is getting married.”

  “No!” I dropped my napkin in astonishment. Claudia the Elder must be at least twenty-six now, a little long in the tooth for a Roman maiden.

  “Congratulations!” Justus said.

  “Thank you.” Claudia threw Justus a censorious glance. “Although you gave no help in the matter.”

  “What did I do?”

  “She was determined to have you for husband, and you would not oblige.”

  “There is no accounting for taste,” I drawled.

  Claudia ignored my interruption. “Not that I can blame you, mind. I wouldn’t have her for wife if you gave me the grain of Egypt.”

  Justus smiled. “I’m glad we are in agreement.”

  “Who won her heart?” Father asked.

  “She lacks that organ, sir. Her purse, however, will be filled by a man named Spurius Felonius, who recently moved here from Rome. He used to live in Corinth many years ago, and has returned to retire here.” Claudia clasped her hands and looked into the heavens in an attitude of deep veneration. “I will forever be indebted to whichever god is responsible for that mercy. Father has forbidden me from buying a new tunic for the wedding.” Claudia took a deep breath, looking tragic. “Weddings and dowries cost a fortune, and my parents have five of us to consider. As the youngest, I do not merit the expense of a new wardrobe. Once again, I shall have to be content with fading in the background. Not that it matters. I would wear sackcloth and ashes so long as I see my dear sister married off.”

  “Nonsense,” I said. “You must borrow one of my tunics. Choose whichever pleases you. And Delia will help with your hair and cosmetics. She will make you ravishing, won’t you, Delia?”

  Delia, who was standing quietly in one corner, waiting to help with the next course, said, “Of course, mistress. Nothing to it.”

  Her subdued manner and soft voice caught my attention. “Do you have one of your headaches, Delia?”

  Theo glanced up sharply. “To bed with you, now. You ought not to be serving when you are sick.”

  “I will take her.” Putting a comforting hand around Delia’s waist, I helped her out of the room, refuting her feeble objections. With each step I took, I had a strange sense that someone was watching me. Turning, I caught Justus staring with an odd expression. His face shuttered when he caught me looking at him. Frowning, I turned my attention back to Delia and walked with her to her cubicle.

  “You are not to rise until tomorrow, Delia. Theo would be upset if you showed your face before lunch. You know how worried he gets for you when you are sick.” I pulled the curtain that separated her cubicle from the atrium and returned to the dining room.

  “How is she?” Theo said.

  “She will be well by tomorrow. She suffers from blinding headaches,” I explained to our guests. “They pound into her with such force, she is immobilized. A gift from the slave master who had her.”

  “I wish I could tear into that man with my bare hands. The stories Delia has told me about the way he treats his slaves would make your hair rise.”

  Theo, at least, would appreciate my plan. I hid a cold smile in my cup. Too bad I could not divulge it to him.

  “How do you like the veal?” Father asked, no doubt eager to change the subject of our conversation.

  “It’s as good as I remembered.”

  We were now eating the main course, fried veal with raisins, cumin, and celery seeds, served with hot, aromatic wheat bread and vegetables.

  “Ariadne had the cook make it especially for you, Theo.”

  “That reminds me,” Theo said, setting down his spoon. “I have a gift for you, Ariadne.”

  Although our friendship was ruptured, genuine affection still bound us together. Sometimes I caught a longing in Theo’s eyes when he looked at me, and I knew he felt as lonely for me as I did for him. But he could not bridge the gap, and I did not know how to bridge it for him. It was like him to think of me away on a trip, when at home he ignored me.

  Pushing aside my napkin, I went over to his couch, careful not to knock over the tables and dishes in my path. He reached for my hand. With an almost shy flick, he placed a bracelet on my wrist and secured the clasp. It was an enchanting design made of gold, dotted with jasper and lapis lazuli beads. I gasped and brought my wrist closer to the light in order to see it better.

  “This is beautiful, Theo! It’s not even my birthday.”

  “I was thinking of you.” His cheeks were flushed and his eyes overbright as he looked at me.

  A peace offering. He was letting me know we could go back to the way we used to be, without the tensions of the last year coming between us. He wanted to repair our friendship. I sighed with relief.

  Justus took a deep gulp of his wine before snapping his cup back on the table with a clatter. Claudia surged to her feet. “I . . . I forgot; I promised to be home for dinner. Father will skin me. Forgive me, Ariadne. I must go home before I . . . I am so sorry.” She half stumbled, half ran out of the dining room.

  I turned to Father, mouth open, wondering what I had missed. He had stopped eating and neglected to replace his spoon. It was suspended halfway between the table and his mouth, frozen.

  Had everyone gone mad?

  “Thank you, Theo,” I said, twirling the bracelet around my wrist. “That was thoughtful. I fear I cannot return the favor. I can’t afford to buy you another Delia or a chariot. You do not wear jewelry. So you will have to make do with a sponge cake and candied figs. And I might let you beat
me at a sprint one day.” I gave him a quick hug and bounded out of the room after Claudia. I caught up with her just as she was climbing into her litter.

  “Will you come down a moment, please?”

  “Well . . .”

  “I would appreciate more haste. Before the men eat the dessert and leave nothing for us.”

  Claudia expelled a long breath and stepped out of the frayed litter. Her father had used the same conveyance for over twenty years, and it looked its age.

  “Claudia.” I gave her a severe look. “You should not allow Theo to upset you. The boy is oblivious. He is my brother and I love him to distraction. But he is hopeless around women.”

  “Your brother?” Claudia shook her head. “I do not think that is how he sees himself, Ariadne.”

  “Of course he does. He is a little sensitive about the fact that it isn’t official, with legal seals and such. That makes no difference to me. We grew up together, like twins. He was there from the day I was born. I know him inside out.”

  Claudia wrinkled her nose. “You may not know him as well as you think you do.”

  “Of course I do. Now, would you like some sponge cake?”

  Her shoulders drooped. “I may as well. I am not going to get anything else.” Sometimes she made no sense, that girl.

  CHAPTER 17

  DELIA REMAINED IN BED the rest of that week, so wretched with headache and vomiting, Theo feared to leave her side. Father summoned a physician who dosed her with his potions. They made her sleep fitfully. When she awoke, she was still writhing in pain. I had never seen one of her headaches come on with such brutal force.

  By the sixth day, we all loathed Aniketos. She would not tell us what he had done to her. But sometimes, she would wake up in the night screaming his name, her eyes haunted with anguish.

  She improved enough to sit up in bed with a bowl of broth when Theo left for Troas. She kissed his cheeks, caressed his hair with the tenderness of a mother, and told him to comport himself as befit a famed charioteer.