by J M Alvey
Telesilla wasn’t convinced. ‘Surely it’s just as likely that some Corinthian who knew who Dardanis was wanted Eumelos’ will lost, in order to profit from the confusion that followed?’
‘Has there been any word of someone laying claim to his property here?’ Apollonides wasn’t challenging her, merely curious.
‘Not that I’ve heard.’ She exchanged a glance with Hyanthidas. ‘Though we have been too busy to follow the latest gossip.’
The musician pursed his lips. ‘We can ask around. See if anyone’s looking particularly sour at the news that his will has been found.’
‘The killer must have known Dardanis by sight,’ Lysicrates pointed out. ‘To be certain of killing the right man.’
I nodded. ‘Everyone says that Dardanis had been with Eumelos for longer than anyone else. Since before they came to Corinth.’
Unfortunately, that was as much as anyone knew. Perhaps he had shared something about his former life with a fellow slave. I looked across the courtyard at Kadous. He would be far better suited to making such enquiries than me.
‘There’s someone else we should talk to,’ I realised. ‘Eumelos’ favourite whore, Arete. Hermaios said she gave him the poison. We should ask who gave it to her.’
Apollonides was doubtful. ‘Whoever it was will be long gone by now.’
‘I should come with you.’ Hyanthidas had other concerns. ‘If she says that was a Corinthian, Nados and the others will need a Corinthian witness, if they ever bring him to justice.’
‘We could all go up to the Acrocorinth,’ Lysicrates said with a gleam in his eye. ‘It would be a shame to go home without sampling such famous entertainments.’
Apollonides grinned. ‘We have earned some reward after all our hard work.’
‘I would say so,’ Menekles agreed.
I could see Zosime looking at me quizzically. Hyanthidas was looking to reassure Telesilla. ‘We will go and see what this girl knows and come straight back.’
‘Take all the time you need,’ she said obligingly. ‘My poetry circle is meeting tonight, so Zosime and I will be well entertained.’
My beloved smiled sweetly. ‘Arion can escort me back here, however late that might be.’
‘Of course.’ I was tempted to insist that Kadous went with her, but I wasn’t about to insult Hyanthidas by implying I didn’t trust his slave. Besides, I wanted the Phrygian seeing what he could learn about Dardanis from Nados’ household.
Lysicrates and Apollonides were already on their feet. As they went to fetch enough silver to buy plenty of entertainment, and Zosime went upstairs to choose a shawl, I took Kadous aside to explain what I wanted from him.
He nodded. ‘Perhaps they’ll be more willing to talk with their tongues loosened by grief.’
‘Let’s hope so. Dardanis’ loyalty deserves the reward of seeing his killer brought to justice.’
The others were returning and we set out together. I still felt a qualm when we reached the agora and Zosime and Telesilla went on their own way together. Hyanthidas was clearly unconcerned so I told myself not to worry about their safety as they walked through the city without an escort.
That didn’t stop me wondering how my beloved would feel about returning to Athens where such behaviour by a citizen woman and her resident foreigner friend would draw disapproving stares.
I hadn’t come to any comfortable conclusions by the time we had made the long climb up to the Acrocorinth’s gates yet again. On the other hand, I was pleased to think this was the last time I’d be hiking up this bloody mountain if I could possibly help it.
The citadel was as busy as we had ever seen it. Finding a place to pause together without impeding passers-by wasn’t easy.
‘You’re sure you don’t want us to come with you?’ Though Menekles was already assessing the delights on offer on either side of the street.
‘Only if you want to take your pleasures at eight obols a time.’ As I suspected, that gave the three of them pause for thought, and Hyanthidas and I made our way to the House of Pearls alone.
The brothel was evidently doing good business, high prices notwithstanding. Young girls in translucent linen dresses served cups of wine to waiting customers. Two older women played a flute and a lyre and their tuneful music was accompanied by equally well-practised giggles and murmurs of delight floating through the shutters.
The slave Sekis had three well-muscled underlings to assist him today. Hyanthidas and I stood aside as two of them escorted a drunk who’d overstayed his welcome out through the gate.
‘Good afternoon. I wonder if we might have a few moments’ conversation with Arete?’
Sekis shook his head, so I reached into my tunic for my purse, about to assure the slave we would pay.
His next words surprised me. ‘Madame Eirene will want to speak to you first.’
‘By all means.’ I guessed the slave had been told to keep an eye out for us. A memory for faces must be essential for him as he kept troublemakers and reluctant payers out.
‘Take a seat.’ He gestured to a bench where visitors sat in varying states of inebriation and anticipation.
We did so as Sekis went into the house. I barely had time to wonder how long we’d be kept waiting before Eirene appeared in the doorway to summon us with a peremptory hand.
She led us up the stairs to the house’s upper storey. These white-plastered walls were as plain as the furnishings in her sitting room. There was no sign of a water clock, so I hoped we were going to be spared a request for payment.
‘May we speak to Arete? Briefly,’ I added as Hyanthidas and I found ourselves stools, ‘when she’s not otherwise engaged.’
‘She has precious few clients at the moment.’ Eirene clicked her tongue with exasperation, taking her seat in a cushioned, high-backed chair as befitted a matriarch. ‘Some men find consoling a weeping woman arousing, but most come here to escape tears and such inconveniences. But I must thank you for your warning,’ she continued. ‘We have kept her safe.’
We heard footsteps in the corridor and Arete appeared in the doorway. Sekis must have summoned her. She wore a plain wool dress and her hair was simply braided. Her doleful expression was as far from seductive as I could imagine.
Arete looked at Eirene and at the older woman’s nod, she took a stool beside the high-backed chair, her shoulders hunched and both hands folded in her lap.
I chose my words carefully. ‘We believe you may be able to help us find Eumelos’ killer.’
Arete’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘But I—’
‘We are pursuing the man who gave you that vial to give to him,’ I said firmly. ‘Who lied to you about its purpose, knowing full well that it was poison. Who deliberately procured it, intending to use your love for Eumelos to deceive him. He is the murderer here. You bear no guilt in the eyes of gods or men.’
‘As I have told you,’ Eirene agreed.
Though I could see that her sympathy for the girl was finely balanced with exasperation that Arete could have been so gullible.
Hyanthidas chimed in. ‘What can you tell us about this villain?’
‘He was an Athenian.’ A tear spilled from Arete’s lashes, but thankfully she didn’t start sobbing.
‘Was there anything noteworthy about him?’ I had to ask.
Arete shook her head, bemused. ‘He was ordinary, like any other man. He said he was Eumelos’ friend, an old friend from years ago.’
‘He was very clear as to what he wanted,’ Eirene added. ‘He asked to be introduced to Eumelos’ favourite companion.’
‘He told me he wanted to see him married and happy.’ Arete’s chin quivered.
‘Eumelos wasn’t free to marry you, even if he had wished to,’ Hyanthidas said gently. ‘He had a wife in Attica.’
Arete stared at him, aghast, and choked on a wail of protest. Eirene leaned for
ward and laid a quelling hand on her shoulder.
‘No different to half the men who visit us, then.’ She had been more observant than the girl though. ‘When this liar came back, his forearm was bandaged. Perhaps that will help you find him.’
‘You saw him again?’ That caught my attention more than mention of his injury. ‘After he tricked Arete into supplying the poison?’
‘Of course.’ Eirene looked at me, puzzled. ‘As you feared. We didn’t let him through the gate, as you warned.’
‘Of course.’ I’d sent that note when I still thought some unknown Athenians were conspiring with the Sons of Heracles. ‘When exactly did you see him?’
Eirene took a moment to think. ‘He first returned three days ago, and then yesterday evening, very late.’
‘When was he injured?’ Hyanthidas asked.
Eirene shrugged. ‘His arm was bandaged when we first saw him again, but I have no way of knowing when he was hurt between the day before Eumelos died and then.’
‘Which arm was injured? What more can you tell us?’ Belatedly, I realised a whore used by countless men would find their faces indistinguishable after a while, but I had higher hopes of Eirene, who needed to keep undesirables out of her house.
‘His knife arm was hurt. He was nothing out of the ordinary to look at; dark of hair and eye, stocky and broad-shouldered.’ She looked at me. ‘He was insisting on seeing Arete. Sekis had to threaten to call the citadel guards to make him leave last night. How long must we stay watchful?’
‘I don’t know.’ Though if my growing suspicions were correct, the little whore should be safe enough now. I rose to my feet. ‘Thank you. With Aphrodite’s blessing, and Athena’s, we will see this man pay for his crimes.’
I’ve no idea why, but that did make Arete burst into tears. As Eirene sought to console her with bracing words and a gentle embrace, Hyanthidas and I made good our escape. Sekis was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, but with no shouts of alarm from Eirene, he allowed us to pass. The younger man guarding the gate wasn’t interested in anyone trying to leave, more concerned with those overeager to enter this house of delights without proving they could pay for their pleasure.
By the time Hyanthidas and I had reached the end of the street, I had come to some conclusions. ‘Dardanis was in a knife fight before he was killed. That much was obvious from his body.’
‘With luck, he left his own mark on his killer.’ Hyanthidas clearly hoped so.
‘More than likely,’ I agreed. ‘Surely, this unknown Athenian must have killed him. That may not be the only blood on his hands, if he was here in the citadel on the same day Hermaios died.’
Hyanthidas was startled. ‘Do you think he killed the poisoner?’
‘If he saw us visit that shop. If he thought we were on his trail. That would make sense, as well as killing Arete if he could.’ I spared a moment’s thanks for whatever deity had used my mistaken message to protect the unfortunate girl. Aphrodite most likely.
‘But why would he still be here?’ Hyanthidas wondered. ‘If Eirene saw him yesterday?’
‘He didn’t know that Dardanis was dead. As long as there was some possibility that the slave might reappear, my guess is he hung on in the hope of getting another chance to kill him. Look how many times he tried to get at Arete.’ I cursed under my breath. ‘I bet he was on the first ship out of Kenchreai after word spread that Dardanis had been found to get back to Athens ahead of the news.’
Hyanthidas looked towards the citadel gates, and then at Aphrodite’s temple. ‘So what are we going to do now?’
‘I have to see Demeas.’ The realisation startled me nearly as much as it surprised the musician. ‘If I’m making a tally of this Athenian’s crimes, I want to know everything that’s owed to his account. Add to that,’ I went on, ‘Demeas may be able to tell us something to help us identify him.’
Hyanthidas snorted. ‘He could hardly be less use than Arete.’
We made our way down the mountainside. As we passed by the busy Sanctuary of Demeter and Persephone I guessed that no trace of our presence remained, any more than it did at the theatre.
I wondered how long memory of our play’s performance would linger. That joyous entertainment was what I wanted Corinthians to remember, not some garbled gossip that my play had somehow got Eumelos killed. If we could track down this murdering Athenian, Nados and the others could spread that news. If the true sorry tale didn’t reflect well on Athens, at least our determination to see no Corinthian was unjustly accused should count for something.
As we reached level ground, I picked up the pace. We soon reached the Temple of Apollo, and found an elderly priest sweeping the day’s dust out of the pillared porch.
‘Excuse me,’ I said politely. ‘A man was given into the keeping of the priests earlier today, by order of the Council—’
‘He was taken to the Asklepion.’ The greybeard didn’t even look up, intent on his work.
‘Thank you.’ I looked at Hyanthidas as the old man went on his way, his broom whispering on the stones.
‘I’m coming with you,’ the piper assured me. ‘You’ll want a Corinthian witness to whatever he says.’
‘He may not be willing to talk.’ It wasn’t as if Demeas owed me any favours after I’d maimed him for life.
Hyanthidas shrugged. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’
We took the now familiar road to the Temple of Asklepios. I half-hoped we would find Chresimos on duty, to save endless explanations. On the other hand, I shrank from the prospect of seeing the look in the Cycladean’s eyes when he realised I had crippled his patient. No, I refused to feel guilty. It had been Demeas or me, after all.
When we reached the Infirmary, the temple slave took us to the hatchet-faced Arkadian who sat patiently mixing his medicines. At least he was aware of Eumelos’ death. I explained that Demeas might know something to help us find his killer.
‘The Council is gravely concerned,’ Hyanthidas assured him.
The Arkadian looked at us, his expression unreadable. The silence lengthened, and I had decided this was a fool’s errand, when the doctor stood up.
‘This way,’ he said, austere.
He led us down to the lower courtyard and past the fountain, to a cluster of individual rooms with solid wooden doors secured with bolts on the outside. I didn’t like to imagine what afflictions saw patients sequestered here for their own, and others’, safety.
A burly slave sat on a stool outside a door that wasn’t bolted. With only one good arm Demeas was hardly going to fight his way out past a man that size.
The slave looked at the Arkadian. ‘Doctor?’
‘They wish to talk to our patient. Observe their conversation. I’ll be back with his sleeping draught.’ He walked away without another word.
I had no idea how long he was going to allow us. ‘If you please,’ I prompted the slave.
As he opened the door, the lamp in a niche high up in the wall showed us Demeas lying flat on his back on a bed. His face was turned away from us and his injured arm was bandaged and splinted, half-bent, and strapped across his belly.
Hyanthidas was startled. ‘What happened to him?’
Before I could answer, Demeas looked at me and spat. His face was drawn with pain, and loathing glittered in his eyes. ‘They say the best I can hope for is a stiff arm for life. If the feeling in my fingers doesn’t return, my whole hand may wither.’
I had decided on the walk here to take my cue from his attitude. ‘Do you want to live long enough to find out?’ I demanded, as merciless as any tyrant. ‘Eumelos’ slave has been found dead, so someone must answer for two murders.’
‘No!’ That startled Demeas into an incautious move that jolted his ruined arm. ‘Perantas swore—’ He gasped as the pain was too much for him to continue.
It didn’t matter. I cou
ld guess the deal that had ensured his cooperation in front of Corinth’s Council. ‘Perantas Bacchiad promised you wouldn’t be accused of killing Eumelos. I’m sure he’s a man of his word. But can you trust Alypos Temenid, now that you’ve betrayed him? He’ll want to scrub any stain of suspicion from his noble name. You don’t think he’ll be busy finding witnesses willing to say you killed both men, while you’re in here, helpless and friendless?’
Demeas drew a long shuddering breath. Now the burning hatred in his eyes encompassed men far beyond this room.
‘I believe an Athenian killed Eumelos as well as his slave,’ I said bluntly. ‘He may also have killed Hermaios, unless that was you?’
‘Why would I?’ Demeas forced out the scornful question. ‘I valued him—’
He broke off, though I couldn’t tell if that was due to his anguish or belated discretion before he confessed to some other crime. He drew another breath, and managed to continue through gritted teeth.
‘That day, when we followed you, after you got the better of us, we went back to the Halcyon. Hermaios wasn’t in his shop. No one saw him again until his body was found at the foot of the cliffs.’
That wasn’t how I would have described that murderous pursuit through the Acrocorinth, but I guessed Demeas was mindful of the listening slave by the door. I let the evasion stand.
‘When you were following me around Corinth, did you see another man dogging my steps? A man with a bandaged arm?’
Demeas lay very still. ‘What’s it worth?’
I was suddenly tired of this feinting and parrying. ‘We have reason to believe Eumelos had old enemies in Athens. We think that one of them killed him. We have names that might lead us to answers, but if we can’t recognise the guilty man, we can’t see him brought to justice. If you help us do that, I swear by Athena and Apollo that we will stand witness before Corinth’s Council and lay out the proof to clear your name.’
‘On my oath to Apollo and Athena,’ Hyanthidas said firmly, ‘as a citizen of Corinth.’
I heard footsteps and turned to see the hatchet-faced Arkadian crossing the courtyard with a cup in one hand.
