Scorpions in Corinth

by J M Alvey

  Zopyros stood up as soon as he saw us. We weren’t close enough to hear what he said, but I’d put good coin on it being obscene. He looked at his door and I could see him debating the wisdom of hiding inside, with the two of them trying to bar our entry. That would be all well and good if they succeeded, but if the five of us forced our way in, he could expect more costly breakages. Staying out here at least offered the chance of his neighbours standing as witnesses if this encounter turned violent. Who knows, someone might even come to help.

  ‘Good morning.’ Still apprehensive, he greeted us. ‘What can I do for you today?’

  His brother got to his feet, still chewing and with drops of milk clinging to his beard. I saw a bruise on his face from our last encounter. He seemed slower to recognise us, and I wondered if he had all his wits. He was certainly content to let Zopyros do the talking.

  ‘That depends.’ I halted to keep more than an arm’s length between us in case the herbalist had another knife hidden in the folds of his russet tunic. ‘Do you sell Colchis honey? The kind that causes what they call the sweet madness?’

  ‘I don’t touch that shit. It’s far too dangerous, too unpredictable. I want satisfied customers coming back, not clawing out their own eyes to stop seeing the monsters, or jumping off the citadel ramparts because they think they can fly.’

  His shudder convinced me he was telling the truth. I hated to think of the chaos this stuff could cause in the theatre, even diluted in the wine offered to the audience.

  ‘Who sells it?’ Menekles asked. ‘Here in Corinth, or maybe in one of the ports?’

  Zopyros looked at him warily, clearly wondering if this newcomer shared the talent for violence that the three of us he’d met had displayed. ‘How by Hades should I know?’

  Lysicrates took a step forward, cracking his knuckles. Slow-witted or not, the herbalist’s brother stepped forward, scowling, and with his fists clenched.

  ‘It’s all right, Kittos,’ Zopyros said hastily. He looked at me warily. ‘There’s a man I’d go to, if I had a need for Colchis honey. There may well be others,’ he warned. ‘Don’t blame me if he’s not who you’re looking for.’

  ‘Just give us a place to start,’ I told him.

  ‘What’s it worth?’ He challenged Apollonides with an unrepentant glance. ‘Since we’ve already settled accounts for the hellebore lotion.’

  ‘If your information is sound, we’ll be back with a fat purse for you.’ I had no problem promising him Perantas’ silver in return for saving our play. ‘And we’ll most likely be removing a rival in your trade. You said you were a businessman, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s true.’ Zopyros’ laugh told me I’d read the herbalist’s motives right.

  ‘I suggest you make enquiries of Hermaios Hygestratou,’ he went on after a moment. ‘He sells a whole lot of nasty things.’

  ‘Where do we find him?’ I asked.

  ‘Three doors down from a brothel called the Halcyon.’ Zopyros waved vaguely westwards. Then he paused, pursing his lips. ‘I’ll give you this titbit for free. The Sons of Heracles favour the girls at the Halcyon, so watch your step.’

  ‘We’ll bear it in mind.’ That was a two-edged blade.

  It probably meant we were on the right track, as the Sons of Heracles had already used poison on our masks. It also significantly increased the odds of passing someone on that street who knew we were the actors from Athens. Someone we had scant chance of recognising, unless they were carrying scars and bruises from the fight at the Sanctuary.

  ‘Well?’ Zopyros was impatient, now that he was confident we weren’t about to smash up his shop. ‘Can I get on with my day?’

  ‘By all means,’ I said, obliging.

  ‘Don’t forget that fat purse you’ll owe me,’ Zopyros called out as we headed back towards the citadel’s busier districts.

  Once I was confident we were out of earshot, I turned to Hyanthidas. ‘Do you know the Halcyon?’

  He nodded. ‘Are we going there now?’

  ‘We’ve got time before we need to be back at the Sanctuary.’ I saw the same thoughts on everyone’s face. ‘We may as well scout out the ground. If we come back after the rehearsal, I imagine the brothel will be open for business and that makes it far more likely we’ll run into trouble if that’s where the Sons of Heracles dip their wicks.’

  We soon reached the main street leading towards the Temple of Aphrodite.

  ‘Finding their honey seller won’t tell us where they’re keeping the tainted wine,’ Menekles observed.

  ‘Maybe this Hermaios knows who Demeas is.’ I wondered what we might have to do, to persuade an unprincipled narcotic seller to tell us what we wanted. I didn’t imagine he would be as obliging as Zopyros.

  Hyanthidas took us to a district of this lofty city within a city which lay to the south of the great gleaming marble temple. He turned down a lane that ran close by the citadel walls topping those fearsome sheer cliffs. The gates to courtyards and houses on either side were still closed, with little to distinguish them from each other. At the far end of the lane a tavern stood on the corner of a street cutting back towards the heart of the citadel. A nondescript workshop faced it.

  The musician halted, counting off the gates on the same side as the workshop. He pointed. ‘That’s the Halcyon.’

  ‘So that’s the honey seller’s place on the corner.’ This was a far less salubrious street than the route to the House of Pearls. There was filth in the gutters, and I could see chips and stains on the walls. Some rusty brown smudges looked ominously like dried blood.

  ‘Are we all going in?’ Menekles asked.

  ‘Strength in numbers,’ Lysicrates observed.

  ‘Not everyone’s as easily intimidated as Zopyros.’ Apollonides voiced my own doubts.

  ‘Let’s see if he sells Colchis honey at all, before we ask who he sells it to.’ I pointed at the tavern on the opposite corner, and looked at Hyanthidas, Apollonides and Lysicrates. ‘You three wait there while Menekles and I go and get the measure of this Hermaios. Once we’re sure he’s our man, we can go back in with a show of force.’

  ‘Once we know who else might be in there with him,’ added Menekles.

  ‘We’ll keep watch for any Sons of Heracles.’ Hyanthidas was already alert for approaching strangers.

  ‘That sounds like a plan.’ Lysicrates approved.

  ‘Let’s not ask for sweetened wine though,’ Apollonides said in a vain attempt at humour.

  ‘Give us a sign when that street yonder is empty.’ I reckoned the fewer people who saw us visiting Hermaios in his dubious emporium, the better.

  Menekles and I waited as the others took seats outside the tavern. A few moments later, Hyanthidas got up and went inside, presumably in search of someone to serve them. Lysicrates sat upright on his stool and stretched his arms high, interlaced fingers arching backwards.

  I glanced at Menekles. ‘Do you suppose that means it’s all clear?

  He laughed briefly. ‘It did in Callias’ Ditch Diggers.’

  I couldn’t remember if that comedy had come second or third in the Dionysia five years ago. I shook off the distraction and began walking.

  Menekles fell into step with me. ‘Who’s doing the talking?’

  ‘Just follow my lead.’ We were going to have to improvise and, once again, I thanked Dionysos for an experienced actor at my side.

  I knocked on the weather-beaten door and a voice inside snapped less of an invitation and more of a command. ‘Enter!’

  I pushed the door open. ‘Hermaios Hygestratou?’

  A hard-faced man with stained hands stood behind a table, grinding something in a mortar and pestle. He looked up, his eyes suspicious. ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘Oh, come now.’ Menekles smiled, sly as a fox skulking along the Piraeus docks. ‘Isn’t what we want to buy
more important?’

  ‘As long as we can find that,’ I agreed, ‘who cares if we don’t find Hermaios?’

  Menekles hooked his thumbs in his belt. ‘Then we can’t say who we bought it from. No matter who asks.’

  ‘Any more than an honest trader could have any idea who we were or where we might have gone.’ I smiled cheerfully at the man behind the table.

  He didn’t smile back. ‘What might you be looking for?’

  ‘A friend of ours told us you were the man to give us a special something to add to a cup of wine,’ Menekles began, conspiratorially.

  ‘I told him it would do the trick.’ Unexpectedly, Hermaios grinned with all the charm of a month-old corpse. ‘As long as his stupid little whore played her part.’

  ‘Oh, she certainly did that.’ Menekles was wonderfully convincing. No onlooker would know he had no idea what this villain was talking about. ‘So what’s the going rate for a little sweet madness these days?’

  ‘What?’ Hermaios laid down his pestle amid the clutter on the table.

  I just stood there, as frozen with shock as one of Medusa’s victims. We’d found the bastard who’d sold the dose that killed Eumelos.

  ‘Colchis honey.’ Menekles realised something was wrong but tried to brazen it out. ‘Our friend told us you could supply it.’

  I found my voice and tried to tell the actor what I’d realised. ‘We’re not looking for anything in a blue glass bottle today.’

  I saw a flicker in the herbalist’s eyes. It was as fleeting as lightning on the horizon, but it was there. It was enough to convince me that we’d found our poisoner.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Hermaios had a wickedly pointed knife in his hand and he was coming around the table. ‘Fuck off out of here. I know who you are now. Fuck off back to Athens, if any of you can reach Kenchreai without having your throats cut first.’

  Menekles took a step back towards the workshop door. ‘No problem.’

  ‘You can’t kill both of us.’ I was retreating at his side, shoulder to shoulder.

  ‘You want to bet on that?’ The gleam in Hermaios’ eye told me he fancied his chances.

  I reached behind me with one hand as I watched for any sign that the bastard was about to attack. My fingers found the rough wood of the door. Thanks to Hecate, goddess of entrances and poisons alike, I hadn’t latched it shut. I dug my fingernails into the edge of the timber and managed to drag it forward to get a firm hold.

  ‘You don’t want to be explaining two dead bodies.’ I hoped to give him pause for thought, because I was going to have to take a step forward to get the door open wide enough for us to slip through.

  His chuckle was chilling. ‘You think anyone will wonder what killed you, when you’re found broken at the foot of these cliffs?’

  ‘You think we were fool enough to come here without our friends knowing where we are?’

  Menekles’ defiance gave me the chance I needed to get the door open. I slid through the gap and braced myself, ready to wrench it closed as soon as the actor was through, or to use all my weight to slam it into Hermaios if he lunged at Menekles.

  We got out without him knifing either of us, and pulled the door closed. As we ran across the street to the tavern, the others sprang to their feet.

  ‘What happened?’ Apollonides demanded.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Lysicrates said in the next breath.

  Menekles and I spun around to see the poisoner leaving his workshop. Hermaios was running away like a rat scurrying along a gutter.

  Hyanthidas went after him, long-legged strides quickly closing the distance between them. Not quickly enough. Hermaios was only going three doors down. He hammered on the gate of the brothel. As the Halcyon’s doorman opened up, Hyanthidas skidded to a halt. For a long moment, everybody stood motionless.

  A familiar, wiry man appeared on the brothel’s threshold. As our gazes met, there was no question that he recognised me.

  ‘I’ll wager all the silver in Perantas’ strongboxes that’s Demeas.’

  The gate slammed shut before I finished speaking.

  ‘Get back here!’ I shouted at Hyanthidas. ‘We need to leave!’

  Chapter Twenty

  Hyanthidas led us away down the broader street that ran towards the heart of the citadel.

  ‘What happened?’ Apollonides asked.

  ‘He’s the honey seller.’ I had no doubt about that, even if we had nothing like proof. ‘And he sold the poison that killed Eumelos.’

  ‘What?’ Apollonides stopped dead in the middle of the road.

  ‘He thought we were there to buy another of those blue glass vials. He knew that someone somehow persuaded that little whore Arete to give the dose to Eumelos.’ I shook my head. ‘Whatever she said convinced him to put it in his wine. Why should he suspect any harm would come of it?’

  I remembered the brothel keeper Eirene saying he knew full well the girl was devoted to him. Her hysteria hadn’t been overwhelming grief. It had been guilt.

  ‘Can we discuss this somewhere else?’ Lysicrates demanded. He shouted at Menekles who was standing watching the lane where the brothel and the workshop stood. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  He sprinted towards us. ‘A dozen or more men just left the brothel. Five are coming after us. The rest headed the other way.’

  ‘The wiry man,’ I demanded. ‘Not the poisoner or the doorkeeper. Which way did he go?’

  Before Menekles could reply, our pursuers appeared by the tavern corner. I couldn’t see any weapons but that meant nothing. There are more ways to kill a man besides knifing him. Hurling him off the top of these cliffs would do nicely.

  ‘Come on!’ Hyanthidas was striding on ahead.

  We had to run to catch up with him. I heard Apollonides wheezing from the exertion.

  ‘What’s our plan?’ Lysicrates looked back at our pursuers. ‘What’s their plan, come to that? Murder in broad daylight?’

  ‘They’re going to stop us reaching the gate,’ I said grimly, ‘while those bastards cut off our retreat.’

  Our unseen foes must be cutting through alleyways and lanes to get ahead of us. Demeas doubtless knew the Acrocorinth like the back of his hand. I could only hope Hyanthidas was as familiar with these streets. The citadel was unknown territory to the rest of us.

  ‘Should we make for the temple?’ Lysicrates gestured towards Aphrodite’s gleaming marble shrine as we walked quickly along. ‘Tell the priestesses what’s going on? Enlist some temple slaves as an escort down to the city? The Sons wouldn’t dare attack us.’

  I was torn. That was a sound idea, if our only aim was getting away unharmed, but other considerations applied. ‘How long will all that take? We’d need to explain everything that’s happened, and convince whoever’s in charge that we’re not raving mad. By the time we’ve managed that, Demeas and his henchman will have told Alypos Temenid that we’ve discovered their plot. They’ll pour that tainted wine into a cess pit.’

  ‘I’ll settle for that,’ Menekles said, forthright. ‘Then our audience can enjoy a free drink with no need for us to worry.’

  ‘But we’ll have no proof.’ Hyanthidas made a swift left turn down a side street. ‘The Sons of Heracles won’t be held to account.’

  ‘What were you saying about Eumelos’ death?’ Lysicrates shot me a glance as we hurried faster. ‘Can you prove Alypos Temenid ordered that murder?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’ I realised how much depended on poor, foolish Arete. If she could be persuaded to admit her unwitting part in the plot. If the Corinthian Council would give any weight to her words.

  My blood ran cold as Hyanthidas led us through a paved yard. Arete had to stay alive long enough to explain how she’d been duped into giving Eumelos the poison. Hermaios hadn’t mentioned her by name. I wondered if De
meas and his fellow brutes knew who she was? If they did, there was every chance that a Son masquerading as a client would snap her neck before the end of the day.

  I stifled an impulse to tell Hyanthidas to take us to the House of Pearls, to warn the brothel mistress, Eirene. Such heroics make for fine drama, but reality is more complicated. That detour would take up time we couldn’t afford to lose. Besides, if the Sons of Heracles didn’t know who Arete was, going there would be as good as telling them where to look for Eumelos’ favourite whore.

  Feeling sick with apprehension, I glanced up at the glorious Temple of Aphrodite as we reached a wider road. I begged the immortal goddess to stretch out a protective hand over her handmaiden. If I was wrong, I pleaded for her divine forgiveness. I prayed that she would sharpen every instinct that Mistress Eirene had honed over the years plying her trade. Let that slave Sekis be alert as never before, scenting danger like the good guard dog he was. As soon as I got the chance, I swore fervently, I would send them a warning.

  Menekles slowed as we approached a junction. ‘Those two just left the Halcyon.’

  A couple of men appeared. They recognised us, and headed our way.

  Lysicrates had taken over the rearguard’s duty. ‘Our escort’s getting closer,’ he warned.

  These streets were getting busier, but there were nowhere near enough people out and about for us to lose ourselves in a crowd.

  ‘Hyanthidas?’ We needed a way out before we were caught like a shrimp in a crab’s claw.

  He hesitated an instant too long for my peace of mind. ‘Down there.’

  We cut down a winding lane. Our pursuers lost sight of us, though we also lost sight of them, so I wasn’t sure who got the best of that bargain. We took one turning, then another, passing back exits and storage yards.

  ‘How far to the citadel gate?’ I asked Hyanthidas. I had lost my bearings completely.

  ‘Follow me.’ He strode along a narrow street.

  I looked at Apollonides, concerned to see him increasingly short of breath. That left me and the musician to fight anyone in front of us. Menekles and Lysicrates were bringing up the rear.