by J M Alvey
Demeas began speaking swiftly. ‘I saw him. I didn’t know him, but I assumed he was working for Perantas, watching your back. He’s two fingers shorter than you—’ he jerked his head at me ‘—with dark hair and eyes. His knife hand was bandaged just below the elbow and I saw a bloodstain on it once, in line with his thumb. There’s a mark on his face, just below his eye.’ He used his good hand to point to his own cheekbone. ‘Someone wearing a ring punched him hard, a long time ago.’
I had been right to come here. A man who spent his life sneaking around would pay close attention to any other spies he saw.
‘Thank you,’ I said sincerely.
Demeas bared his teeth. ‘Just keep your word.’
‘I will.’ I would, for my own sake and for Eumelos.
‘Well?’ the doctor demanded, standing in the doorway.
‘He has told us all that he can.’ I had no doubt that the attentive slave would repeat our conversation, most likely word for word, and that meant this Arkadian could attest to our visit here, should the need arise.
‘We can find our way out,’ Hyanthidas assured him.
‘Good.’ The doctor went into the room to attend to his patient as we left.
Once we were outside the Asklepion, Hyanthidas looked at me. ‘What happened to his arm?’
I rubbed a hand over my face and began to explain as we headed back to the heart of the city. Barely half my mind was on the sorry story. I was more concerned with what we had to do next.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next morning began with a succession of visitors whose news made my decisions much simpler. My first useful conversation was with Kadous as he served me a solitary breakfast.
Zosime was still sleeping upstairs. It had been her turn to come back late at night, bright-eyed and cheerful after an evening of poetry and wine. I didn’t begrudge her such fun after all her hard work. I definitely had no objection to her amorous embraces waking me as I drowsed in our bed. I made very sure to remind her of the pleasures we shared, whether that was in Corinth or Athens.
Kadous put a bowl of figs on the table. ‘Abrosyne was more willing to talk, now that she wasn’t betraying Dardanis.’
‘What did she say?’ I gestured for him to take a stool as I ate.
‘Eumelos came to Corinth seven years ago. She was the first slave that he bought here.’
That surprised me. ‘Everyone at the funeral was talking as if he’d been in business for at least a decade.’
Kadous nodded. ‘That’s what they told everyone, him and Dardanis. He let people think he’d been trading around the Corinthia for several years before he set up his premises in the city and both ports.’
I was mystified. ‘Did she know why?’
‘He’d had a serious falling out with his family, though she had no idea he was Athenian. When they first arrived, Dardanis told her they were from Boeotia, and swore her to secrecy about that, even though it was another lie. Eumelos wanted to be hard to find.’
‘If anyone came asking for Eumares Demetriou who left Athens seven years ago, no one would think of pointing them towards Eumelos the Boeotian because everyone knew he had been in Corinth for ten years or more.’
I guessed he’d adopted a name so close to his own to make sure of answering to it, at least until the new one bedded in. I’d heard no trace of an Athens accent, but I imagined he’d shed that as soon as he could. It’s not only actors who can do such things. Meantime, a slave like Abrosyne, Peloponnesian born and bred, would have little opportunity to learn how Athenians speak.
She was already an old slave, I noted, when she had been sold on seven years ago from whatever household had no more use for her. A woman with nothing, and no one to save her if she was cast out onto the streets. Abrosyne wouldn’t have asked awkward questions or done anything else to betray the kind and considerate owner who’d saved her from such a dreadful fate.
In as little as a year, most likely, Eumares would have shed his old life as smoothly and completely as a snake sheds its skin. With every passing season, the chances of him coming face to face with someone who’d known him in Athens would surely grow less and less.
I shook my head. ‘If he wanted to be hard to find, he should have gone a lot further away.’ Somewhere like Zakynthos, where I fervently hoped no one would ever find Tromes.
‘He hadn’t fallen out with all of his family,’ Kadous reminded me.
‘He wanted to be close enough to get news of his wife and son?’ I supposed that made sense.
Kadous nodded. ‘Abrosyne said that Dardanis made a lengthy trip every year, though she swears she has no idea where he went or why.’
‘I’d say it’s a fair bet that he was taking caskets of silver coin to the Temple of Poseidon at Isthmia.’
That had been a smart move. Since that temple is a Pan-Hellenic sanctuary, the priests wouldn’t yield jurisdiction over this bequest to either Athens or Corinth. Since the whole Isthmia complex was in the final stages of rebuilding after fires ravaged it a generation ago, I’d also wager that Eumelos had made generous donations to ensure that his wishes would be honoured. I’d bet there was another signed and sealed letter safeguarded there, identifying his son and heir.
A knock on the gate turned our heads. Kadous opened it and Nados entered. He looked surprised to see me sitting alone. I grinned and pressed a finger to my lips.
‘Everyone else went up to the Acrocorinth yesterday, and I have no idea when they got back last night.’
‘I hope they had a good time.’ Nados’ thoughts were elsewhere. He reached into the neck of his tunic and pulled out a gold ring with a garnet seal stone secure on a leather thong.
‘Who dealt with the purse?’ I asked.
‘Aithon.’ He handed me the ring with a grin. ‘We rolled dice and he lost.’
‘I hope he got to keep the coin.’ I studied the olive wreath and lyre insignia.
It was expert, expensive workmanship, a piece made to order, or a family heirloom. This wasn’t some briskly incised eagle or owl picked up from a Piraeus jewellery workman’s tray, bought for show and hard to tell apart from a handful of others.
‘I never saw him wear it,’ Nados said, mystified.
‘It’s from a life he left behind.’ I ran a finger around the stone and wondered if this had left the mark that Demeas had seen on the killer.
‘Have you made up your mind?’ Nados looked at me anxiously. ‘To take the letter back to Athens?’
I hesitated. ‘We still have to decide.’
Strictly speaking, that was true, if I was prepared to slice my words as finely as Perantas Bacchiad. Realistically, I was sure the others were assuming that’s what we’d be doing. If not, one of them could tell Zosime we were abandoning a deserted wife to whatever uncertain fate awaited her in widowhood without proof of her orphaned son’s claim to family and citizenship.
I wasn’t any more eager to face whatever retribution Athena would deem fitting, nor Demeter’s wrath, or Hera’s, or any other outraged goddess with an interest in matters of hearth and home.
‘You have it safe?’ I saw Nados didn’t have a scroll case with him.
As he nodded, there was another knock at the gate. My morning was starting to look like the opening act of a play.
Kadous opened up and I glimpsed Wetka on the threshold. I scooped up the seal ring and dropped it down the neck of my tunic, leather thong and all.
The Nubian entered, followed by a slave carrying a promising-looking coffer, its hasps secured with lead seals. Another slave walked a few paces behind, armed with a warning scowl and an olive wood club.
‘Good day to you.’ Wetka smiled as the slave put the coffer down on the table with an encouraging thud and the muffled chink of coins. ‘Perantas Bacchiad sends his sincere regards, and this tangible expression of his appreciation. I have ar
ranged passage back to Athens for you all on a ship that sails at midday tomorrow. I will call here in good time to see you and your belongings carried to Kenchreai by cart. Meantime, Perantas invites you all to dine privately at his house this evening.’
‘Thank you.’ I hoped the actors would be sufficiently recovered from last night’s debauches by then.
‘Excuse me.’ Nados raised a hand. ‘Could you carry a message to your master for me, and for my business partners.’ He was clearly still getting used to saying that. ‘We have discovered that Dardanis, Eumelos’ missing slave, was carrying our master’s will—’
‘I take it these young men can rely on Perantas’ support?’ I interrupted before Nados could mention the letter and Eumelos’ former life and name. I had no idea what use Perantas might make of that information, but I had no doubt he would try. ‘In getting their rights to his property recognised by the Council of Corinth?’
‘The will bears his signature and his seal,’ the lad said earnestly, ‘as a Brother of Bellerophon.’
‘I gave that ring to Perantas myself,’ I added.
Wetka nodded with a reassuring smile. ‘His bequests will be respected. Perantas will make certain of that. Now, I must ask you to excuse me. I have other errands to run.’
‘By all means, and thank you.’ I smiled, equally obliging.
As Wetka and his retinue departed, I looked across the table at Nados. ‘Will you be joining the Brotherhood of Bellerophon?’
‘Not if I can help it.’ Nados grimaced. ‘Though I think Simias might.’
Before I could pursue that, a door up above opened, and Zosime appeared. She waved a cheerful hand.
Nados stood up. ‘I should go.’
‘No, wait.’ Zosime hurried down the steps. ‘How are you? All of you?’
I signalled to Kadous to fetch more food and cups as Zosime enquired after all the household, slave and free, whom she’d met as she’d assisted with Eumelos’ funeral.
By the time she was satisfied that all was as well as could be expected, and markedly better now that Eumelos’ will had been found, Menekles had appeared, shortly followed by Lysicrates and Apollonides. Where Zosime was clear-eyed and fresh-faced, the actors most assuredly weren’t.
‘What’s that?’ Menekles pointed at the coffer on the table.
‘Payment from Perantas Bacchiad.’ I lifted one end and let them hear the thud and chink of coin as I dropped it.
‘Excellent.’ Apollonides poured himself a cup of spring water, drank it down, and poured another. ‘You know they say a man should visit the Acrocorinth once in his life?’
‘Yes?’ I waited for him to empty his second cupful.
‘Once is as much as most men will be able to stand,’ he said with feeling.
Lysicrates was contemplating some cheese. Deciding against it, he greeted Nados with a nod. ‘Any more news for us to take back to Athens?’
‘Any more secrets?’ Menekles asked.
The lad’s expression brightened, as well it might. ‘We found Eu – Eumares’ seal ring.’
Lysicrates stretched out a hand. ‘Let’s see?’
‘I’ve got it.’ I fished the leather thong out of the front of my tunic.
Lysicrates studied it, before passing it to Menekles who took a close look and handed it to Apollonides.
Zosime cupped her hand to receive it next. ‘Someone should recognise this when we get home.’
‘Are we taking the news to Eumares’ family in Athens first?’ I decided this was as good a time as any for this conversation.
‘That letter is addressed to his wife and this ring belongs to his son.’ Zosime set it down on the table with a decisive click.
‘He clearly felt an enduring obligation towards his wife and child, if not much true affection,’ Menekles pointed out.
Apollonides yawned. ‘All we know about his family in Athens is there was a quarrel of such enduring bitterness that this man cut himself off from his father and discarded his name and citizenship.’
I nodded. ‘Whereas we know Eumelos of Corinth was a well-respected and prosperous merchant who was as good as a father to three young men. A man whose friends and business acquaintances sincerely mourn his death. We saw that at his funeral.’
‘There are invariably faults on both sides in any family row,’ Nados ventured, ‘but I find it hard to believe that Eumelos was most to blame.’
‘If he was the more injured party, that doesn’t augur well for his father’s character,’ Apollonides mused.
‘Unless he had done something he was so ashamed of that he fled and hid, and spent his life since atoning for it?’ countered Lysicrates.
‘Spinning yarns out of speculation will get us nowhere.’ Menekles picked up the ring and studied it again.
‘If we take the letter and the ring to his wife first of all, we can get her side of the story,’ I suggested. ‘Then we can see what Eumares’ family in Athens have to say.’
‘The truth will lie somewhere in the middle,’ prophesied Lysicrates.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ I agreed, ‘but he must have had some reason to send Dardanis to his wife and her father with this news, instead of trusting his own family.’
‘Some good reason.’ Apollonides was sure of that.
‘So as soon as we get home, we set out for sheep-shagging country.’ Menekles wasn’t thrilled at the prospect.
‘All of us?’ Apollonides looked keener.
Lysicrates shrugged. ‘We may as well. The more witnesses the better.’
I reached for Zosime’s hand. ‘I’ll see you safely home, and I’m sure your father—’
‘I’m coming with you.’ She was adamant. ‘What secrets do you think a newly widowed woman will share with four strange men, and in her father’s presence?’
I looked at the others and saw I was going to get no help there. Far from it.
‘It’s a fair point,’ Menekles conceded.
Apollonides was grinning from ear to ear. ‘That’s agreed then.’
‘When are we going home?’ asked Lysicrates.
I realised I hadn’t shared the message Wetka had brought us along with our money. ‘Tomorrow.’ I explained the arrangements, and said that Perantas had invited us to a private dinner.
Zosime stood up. ‘If this is our last day, I want to go shopping.’
‘Me too.’ Apollonides joined her.
Menekles grimaced, though without real displeasure. ‘My mother will expect a present from Corinth to impress her neighbours.’
Lysicrates chuckled. ‘My sister’s kids won’t care where a new toy comes from, but she’ll want to know I remembered them.’
I thought of my own nephews and niece. ‘Then let’s visit the markets.’
‘It’ll be my pleasure to show you around,’ Nados said eagerly.
So that’s how we spent our last day in Corinth. I finally got to see the sights of the city, and Nados helped us bargain the traders down to local prices, not the usual visitors’ mark-up. I bought gifts for my own family and some of the finest Corinthian pottery for Zosime’s father.
We had gifts pressed upon us when merchants in the agora realised who we were. They assured us they’d enjoyed our play and most mentioned enough specifics to convince me this wasn’t mere flattery. We encountered several of our chorus singers on our wanderings, and it was a pleasure to thank them once again.
As evening was approaching, we bathed and dressed in the finest clothes we had left clean in our luggage. When we arrived at Perantas’ house, we were ushered into the most elegant dining room I had ever seen. We were exclaiming politely at the wall paintings of mountain vistas, and the intricate floral mosaic underfoot, when Hyanthidas and Telesilla were announced.
More dinner companions arrived; three elegant women and a clean-shaven young man with a face
to rival Ganymede, who was happy to share Apollonides’ cushions. Someone, most likely Wetka, had been paying attention to whatever the Bacchiad slaves had learned about us while we lodged in Bacchiad property.
I was apprehensive as we took our couches. I didn’t want to have to lie or evade awkward questions about the discovery of Dardanis’ body. I need not have worried. The Bacchiad was intent on relaying the praise lavished on him on our play’s account. He went on to list those among Corinth’s rich and powerful who were now far more favourably inclined towards the Thurii colony.
As I committed those names to memory, to tell Aristarchos back in Athens, I wondered if Perantas was ever going to spare Eumelos another thought. I doubted it. The Bacchiad was always going to be looking forward not back.
Not that he monopolised the conversation. He was interested in the actors’ stories of taking different plays to other theatres, within Attica and beyond. Since any actor has plenty of amusing anecdotes, there was more than enough chat and laughter to allow me to say very little.
Excellent food and superb wine was followed by music and poetry from hired entertainers. We all enjoyed being an audience applauding skilled performers for a change. An escort of torch-bearers saw us safely home and I slept deep and dreamlessly.
Wetka arrived the following morning with two carts and a contingent of burly slaves to manage the costume and mask baskets, so we were soon on the road to Kenchreai. A pleasant breeze softened the sun’s warmth, and the sea sparkled beneath a clear blue sky when we arrived at the port.
Simias met us on the dockside, ostensibly to bid us farewell. If Wetka happened to see him pass me a scroll case, it was too late for the Nubian to discover what was inside it.
As we waved farewell to the young man, I couldn’t help remembering our arrival, and our first meeting with Eumelos. I found it didn’t matter to me why he had fled Athens. I wouldn’t be able to consider this trip to Corinth over until we had seen his last wishes honoured, and, Zeus willing, seen his killer brought to justice.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
We stopped in Athens for one night; long enough to entrust our coffer of coin to the priests of Dionysos, to return our masks and costumes to Sosimenes, and for me to fail to persuade Zosime that she need not make the journey to Paionidai.
