Shadows of Athens

by J M Alvey

  Kadous grunted his agreement, walking a few paces behind us just as a biddable slave should, and carrying my scrivener’s bag.

  As we approached our gate, I turned and held out my hand. Kadous gave me the portrait of Nikandros. Then he and Zosime went to stand on our threshold while I crossed the lane to knock on Mikos’s doorpost.

  The little slave Alke opened up. She was so surprised to see me that she just stood there, gaping.

  ‘Is your master at home?’ I asked formally. ‘Please tell him Philocles Hestaiou has urgent business to discuss.’

  ‘Of course.’ Her voice rose in a startled squeak as she closed the gate in my face.

  I wondered how long I’d have to wait. I glanced at the Hermes pillar and prayed to the god of messengers that Mikos wouldn’t just ignore my request and punish Alke for relaying it.

  A few moments later, the gate opened and I saw that Mikos’s curiosity had got the better of him.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘To talk to your wife, in your presence naturally,’ I said with measured politeness.

  Now Mikos was really puzzled. ‘What about?’

  ‘You must recall the dead man left at my gate.’ I unrolled the papyrus in my hand. ‘We believe this may be one of his killers. I wish to ask your wife if she saw anything that night. Perhaps she can identify this man.’

  ‘I don’t want her involved. We don’t know who that is.’ Mikos didn’t even look at the picture I held up. ‘I don’t want to get mixed up in any trouble.’

  That was true enough and I could hardly say it came as any surprise. It was a safe bet that the next time Mikos heard some disturbance out in the lane he’d head for his house’s innermost room. He’d be shutting his eyes and sticking his fingers in his ears, while better men than him had their throats cut. I wanted to beat the sweaty coward’s face into a bloody ruin.

  Instead I took a deep breath, to make certain I could continue speaking in a calm and even tone. ‘Then everyone at the next district council meeting will learn how Mikos Theocritou Alopekethen is too craven to play his part in securing justice for a murdered visitor, an honoured ally. That you choose not to serve grey-eyed Athena by seeing this vile insult to our city answered. That you spurn your obligations to the Furies, as they turn their gaze this way, summoned by the dead man’s blood. Unless you would rather I told all our neighbours how crucial your help has been to restoring their peace of mind, helping to make sure there are no more local commotions?’

  I don’t think I quite managed to emulate Aristarchos’s cold poise but I reckoned Lysicrates would say I’d performed well enough.

  Mikos’s lip curled, grudging. As I’d hoped, if honour couldn’t make him do the right thing, fear of disgrace among all his friends and associates made him reconsider.

  ‘Give that here.’ He stretched out his hand for the papyrus.

  ‘No.’ I twitched it out of his reach. ‘I need to speak to your wife myself.’

  I didn’t trust him not to come back and swear that Onesime didn’t recognise Nikandros, whatever she might actually say. I also wanted two citizen witnesses to whatever she said. I was sure I could find some threat or reward to compel Mikos to give evidence in court.

  ‘What do you want?’ Onesime appeared behind him. Alke must have fetched her mistress. The little slave cowered a few paces away.

  Taken by surprise, Mikos stood there dithering. I seized the initiative and raised the portrait so that Onesime could see it.

  ‘Do you recognise this man?’

  She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘He was one of those who brought the dead man here. One of the gang who painted your wall.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Mikos interrupted with a weak man’s belligerence. ‘Be off with you then. You’ve got what you wanted. Don’t bother me about this again.’

  I bowed low, mostly to hide my contempt. When I stood up, my face was an expressionless mask. ‘You are to be commended, citizen, that your wife understands her duty to Athens so clearly, and that she has taught her slave the same. I trust you will show them your approval.’

  I looked Mikos in the eye, unblinking, and hoped that he understood that I’d find some way to make him regret it if we heard Alke’s wails as she was beaten this evening, or if Zosime saw Onesime with bruises at the fountain tomorrow.

  He muttered something wordless and slammed his gate shut.

  I turned to Kadous and Zosime, still standing silently by our own doorposts. ‘So now we know for certain.’

  I walked across the lane and kissed Zosime before unlocking the gate. ‘Don’t open up to anyone we don’t know.’ I handed the key to Kadous.

  ‘Watch your back.’ The big Phrygian looked troubled.

  ‘It’s broad daylight.’ I tried to reassure him. ‘The streets are busy, and don’t forget, these people have no idea that we’re out to foil their plans.’

  He glowered at me. ‘That hasn’t stopped them trying to kill you.’

  ‘True enough.’ I could hardly deny it. ‘Which is why I’ll go and see Aristarchos, and be back here as fast as I can. I swear it.’ I glanced at Zosime to include her in this promise.

  ‘Make sure you are.’ Her expression was unreadable as she turned and went into our courtyard.

  I waited until Kadous bolted the gate before heading back to the city. Passing the Hermes pillar, I asked the god’s blessing as I promised myself a day of sitting in the sunshine, going nowhere and doing nothing but reading poetry, once all this was done and dusted.

  Passing through the Itonian Gate, I followed the Panathenaic Way through the city. I didn’t take the turn that would lead me to Aristarchos’s house, continuing through the Kerameikos district and on to the Dipylon Gate. I hadn’t said I was only going to Aristarchos’ house.

  As I followed the road that led to the Academy, I quickened my pace, constantly checking the sun. I had a fair way to go and the daylight was starting to yellow. I absolutely needed to be done with this errand well before sunset.

  Reaching the Academy, I skirted the sacred grove of olive trees and ignored the athletics and wrestling grounds, heading for the sanctuary where the healers gathered.

  The first doctor who passed me assessed my bruises with an expert eye. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I’d like to speak to Spintharos, if that’s possible,’ I asked politely. ‘My name is Philocles and I’m here on business for Aristarchos Phytalid.’

  That was true enough, even if Aristarchos didn’t know it yet. When the brute Iktinos had mentioned the Academy, I’d remembered the name of the doctor whom Lydis had summoned to tend young Tur’s broken nose and bruises. Athena willing, he’d have a few more of the answers we needed. Then we might finally have enough pieces to fit together to show everyone the whole picture on this amphora.

  ‘I imagine he’ll be able to see you. Wait here.’ The doctor waved me towards a modest colonnade where a handful of patients sat morosely on benches.

  I took a seat as far away as possible from anyone who looked remotely contagious and hoped that Spintharos would arrive quickly. As soon as a tall, lean-faced man in a blue tunic appeared and started scanning the glum-faced gathering, I stood up.

  ‘Excuse me, I’m Philocles—’

  ‘I know who you are.’ An unexpected smile lightened his severe features. ‘I enjoyed your play very much.’

  ‘Thank you, I appreciate that.’ I allowed myself a moment to bask in that compliment. Then I led him a short distance from the colonnade, far enough not to be overheard. ‘Can you tell me anything about a man called Iktinos? Does he train here? Though, please, keep this to yourself. He’s—’

  ‘You don’t need to warn me about him,’ Spintharos said tersely. ‘I’ve treated enough injuries he’s caused.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘A wrestler by trade, supposedl
y in training for the next Nemean Games. I believe Megakles Kerykes pays his expenses.’ The doctor didn’t hide his scepticism.

  ‘You don’t seem convinced,’ I prompted.

  ‘He doesn’t train like any athlete I’ve known. He’s gone for days at a time and there’s rumour he breaks heads and legs for the Kerykeds. Oh, he wrestles here often enough,’ the doctor assured me, ‘but out of lust for fighting, not to improve his skills for the sport.’

  ‘Is he any good?’

  Spintharos snorted. ‘He wins, more often than not. He never gives up and he’s not satisfied with just winning. He likes to make sure his opponent knows he’s beaten. If he can’t get the better of his victim with skill, then he’ll hurt him. I’ve seen him force an elbow joint too far, to deliberately tear a muscle, treading on someone’s foot before a throw to wrench their ankle into a sprain. Of course, he always claims it was an accident.’

  The brute would get thrown out of any pan-Hellenic games with that attitude. ‘Is he ever beaten?’

  ‘Occasionally,’ Spintharos said judiciously, ‘and he hates it. Anyone who does get the better of him on the wrestling ground needs to spend the next month watching his back and to avoid walking alone after dark. More than one of his opponents has been jumped on some deserted street and left there beaten bloody.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ I checked the sky again. I definitely didn’t want to be on the road late enough to risk meeting Iktinos or Nikandros on their way to their sunset meeting. ‘Do you know his father’s name, his voting tribe or the district where his family live?’

  The doctor frowned. ‘I don’t believe I do.’

  ‘If you can find out discreetly, please send word to Aristarchos Phytalid. Iktinos may come here to consult you or one of your colleagues. I believe he has a broken arm.’

  This time Spintharos’s smile was far less charming. ‘Quite a few people will be happy to see that.’

  ‘Don’t let him see you have any particular interest in him,’ I warned.

  ‘Of course not. Now, is there anything else?’ He looked me up and down.

  ‘Not today, thanks all the same. I really need to get back to the city.’

  ‘I’ll wish you good afternoon.’ Spintharos headed back to his patients without further ado.

  I hurried back to the Dipylon Gate. Thanks to Athena, Hermes and every other deity from Olympian Zeus down, I didn’t see Iktinos or Nikandros.

  When I arrived at Aristarchos’s house, he and Lydis were still besieged by scrolls. The stacks of papyrus were now reinforced with the first replies to the queries sent out this morning. I pulled up a stool and began to explain what I’d learned. They both set down their pens and listened intently.

  I kept my promise to Zosime and went home as soon as we finished discussing the day’s news. It wasn’t my fault that it was well after dark by the time we’d decided what to do next. At least I arrived safely home with both Mus and Ambrakis escorting me. That went some way to placating her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I headed for the city at first light. Once I was there, I made a few essential preparations. Then I made my way to Megakles’s house in the Diomea district, where he’d held that treacherous symposium. Finding a convenient alley to lurk in, I watched and waited until the first visitors of the day arrived. Megakles had a steady stream of callers. I recognised some faces. Others were unknown to me.

  There was no sign of his treasonous bastard of a son. By midmorning I was snatching glances at the Acropolis and wondering if Athena had turned her face against our plan. I tried to swallow my bitter frustration. If the gods willed it, I must accept their judgement. But I’d give them to the end of the day to change their divine minds.

  Sometime after noon, Nikandros emerged, scowling. ‘Get out of my way, you oaf!’

  He shoved the big gate slave aside, which is to say the Kerykes doorkeeper let him pass. The man wasn’t as tall as Mus but his shoulders were so wide that he risked getting wedged between those gateposts if he didn’t turn sideways to go in and out. That might make a good joke for a play. The right actor would get a big laugh from that doorkeeper’s eloquent shrug of contempt once the young master’s back was turned.

  I followed Nikandros to a nearby tavern, where he paid for a large measure of barely watered wine. He sat at a corner table, moodily searching the street for faces he knew, glowering at the oblivious passers-by.

  I could guess why he was in such a foul mood: he had none of his friends to drink with. Hipparchos had been sent to the Phytalid estate in Steiria, escorted by his brother Xenokrates, who knew exactly what the young fool had done. Aristarchos had informed me that provided Hipparchos applied himself to study and prayer they would come back at the start of Thargelion. The Thargelia is a festival of purification and expiation, after all.

  If Hipparchos felt hard done by, sent away from Athens for a full two months, I was sure his older brother would remind him how much worse his fate could have been. My own brothers would have rubbed my nose good and hard in such disgrace. For the moment, I was just relieved to know I wouldn’t trip over the idiot as I pursued our quarry today.

  Seeing Nikandros was getting restless, I walked into the tavern and sat at his table. ‘Good day to you.’ I waved the wine seller away. There was no chance this side of Hades that I’d share a drink with this shit.

  Unsurprisingly, he was outraged. ‘What the fuck do you want?’

  I smiled. ‘If you’re expecting to see Euphorion and Andokides, think again. They’ve been sent to their families’ holdings in Attica and won’t be back before the Panathenaia.’ Their fathers had followed Aristarchos’s advice.

  ‘Now.’ I leaned forward. ‘Shall we discuss what you owe me for painting those false accusations on my house wall?’

  ‘What?’ He sounded exactly like his father, astonished that some commoner dared challenge his misdeeds. ‘Who says so? You’ll never prove it.’

  ‘I have witnesses.’ I laid the sheet of papyrus with his portrait on the table and tapped it. ‘Witnesses who will swear that they saw this man painting those lies and defaming me to all and sundry who might walk past and see them.’

  The arrogant youth gaped like a fish. But he could still flip himself out of this net if I wasn’t careful. I waited for him to speak.

  Predictably, he chose defiance. ‘What of it? Nothing will come of this if we go before the courts.’

  I raised a chiding finger. ‘Why should I want to drag you into court, if we can come to some other arrangement?’

  He looked at me blankly for a long moment. Then his lip curled as he thought he understood me. ‘How much?’

  I was happy to oblige, and even happier that I hadn’t had to explain what I meant. This was going to work far better if he thought he was the one with the upper hand.

  ‘One mina should be sufficient compensation for the employment I’ve lost thanks to your filthy slurs.’

  ‘One mina?’ He was startled into a laugh of contempt. ‘You greedy rogue.’

  That was good, coming from him. But I knew this demand for money would allay his suspicions. Those who reduce everything to its worth in coin rarely imagine that other men might value different things more highly.

  He shook his head. ‘I have no such funds.’

  ‘You’ve got the money to pay the highest prices for all the festival sacrifice hides,’ I pointed out. ‘Where’s all that coin coming from? Or shall I go and ask your father?’

  ‘That’s business.’ He looked me straight in the eye. ‘We raise capital like everyone else, through loans against the harvests from our land holdings. I cannot divert such silver for my personal use.’

  His tone was firm, his expression convincing. A tense quirk of his lips betrayed him. This bastard was lying through his teeth about where his money was coming from.

  I leaned back, hands on my knee
s, as if I was about to stand. ‘Then I’ll see you in court.’

  ‘Half,’ he countered quickly. ‘Thirty drachma.’ Presumably making that clear in case I was too ignorant to calculate such large sums. ‘I’ll wager that’s more than you earn in half a year.’

  As it happened it was about what I earned in a really good month, so he was right about one thing: demanding one whole mina really was more extortion than compensation, or it would be, if I really was as mercenary as he imagined.

  ‘One mina,’ I said placidly. Now he was haggling I knew I had him on the hook. ‘Or you can take your chances before a jury.’

  He stared at me, clearly infuriated and just as obviously trying to work out how to get around this.

  I rose to my feet. ‘Bring the money to my house just before sunset. Oh, and bring Iktinos,’ I added as though that was an afterthought.

  ‘Iktinos?’ Abruptly, Nikandros looked wary. ‘Why?’

  I leaned on the table, looming over him, my voice low and menacing. ‘I know he tried to knife me when you and your foolish friends beat me up. I want his oath that he’ll stay away from me and my household, and I want you there to witness it. Then if his shadow so much as crosses my path, or he goes anywhere near me or mine, I’ll call you both before the courts for attempted murder.’

  ‘All right, all right.’ Nikandros recoiled to escape my vehement spittle.

  ‘One mina.’ I jabbed a finger in his chest. ‘At sunset today.’

  I strode away, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder to see what the boy was doing. Hopefully he’d go running straight to Iktinos. That’s what we were counting on. But if either of them realised he had been followed, they’d know something was up. We just had to trust to Athena.

  Meantime, I had more preparations to make. Various tasks kept me criss-crossing the city for the rest of the day. I was weary and footsore by the time I got home but I didn’t mind. Our plan had gone well, so far.

  There’s a phrase the tragedians play with. I’d even made a note of the last variation I’d heard, thinking I might be able to turn it into a joke. When the gods wish to bring down a man, first they make him smug. I should have remembered that.