The Pericles Commission

by Gary Corby

  I noticed one tripod so old it had fallen over, and that no passerby had stopped to put it right. I picked it up, being careful not to cut myself on the broken, corroded leg that had caused the fall, and reset it as best I could, though even when I finished it was still somewhat at a lean. I tried to read the plaque to see who had won this victory, but the words had faded to nothing. Such is fame.

  I passed the turnoff to the right that would have taken me to the Theater of Dionysos and continued to the Illisos River crossing, where there was a low stone bridge.

  The dry stone wall that marked the border of the temple sanctuary was in poor condition. I stepped over the tumbled stones and asked for Diotima of Mantinea by name and waited for her to arrive. A man was sacrificing upon the altar which stood in the sunshine at the foot of the steps to the temple. A dozen or so men and women were watching the rite. When he turned, I saw it was the Polemarch, the archon in charge of everything to do with the city’s many metics.

  “Nicolaos!” Diotima stood beside me. She wore a full-length chiton of fine, light linen that stretched all the way to her ankles, clasped at the shoulders with the decorations of a priestess, brooches in the figure of Artemis and her deer. She had tied a belt around her waist and a rope beneath her breasts and wore a silver necklace. Both sides of her dress were open and patterned down the hems with intricate design in blues and greens. Her dark hair was tied back and held with a bronze clasp, which didn’t stop the curls from escaping. All of a sudden I was very aware of my heart beating fast. She smiled warmly.

  “What’s he doing here?” I asked, to get the subject right away from what I was thinking.

  “The Polemarch? He’s the sponsor of this temple.”

  “The Polemarch, not the Basileus? I thought the Basileus is the official in charge of ceremonies and rites?”

  Diotima nodded. “You’re correct. This is an exception. They tell me the Polemarch has been in charge of this temple since time immemorial, for some important reason that happened so long ago, everyone’s forgotten what it is, but no one dares change the rule for fear Artemis might be offended. For all we know, maybe it was the Goddess herself who decreed it.”

  The Polemarch held down the sacrifice, which was a goat, while speaking the prayer. The goat must have felt her doom, for she bucked and tried to run. I thought the Polemarch had her under control, but then the animal twisted under his hand and slipped away.

  “After it!”

  The goat ran straight for the orchard beyond. Two attendants jumped in front of her. She tried to bounce around them but one dived and got an arm over her back and dragged her down. The people sighed in relief. For a sacrifice to escape would be the worst possible luck. The attendants grabbed her by the feet and hauled her upside down back to the altar, where the Polemarch stood waiting, embarrassed.

  This time there was no mistake. The attendants held the animal in place while the Polemarch pulled back her head and made a quick, practiced slash. The blood splashed into a bowl held below the throat by one of the attendants, yet still the goat kicked in a vain attempt to escape with her life.

  “The sacrifice did not go willingly,” Diotima observed. “It is a bad sign.”

  “Does that surprise you, given what is happening?”

  “No.”

  The Polemarch washed his hands in a basin. A junior priestess closed in on the carcass with two men alongside. They carried the animal to the rear of the temple, where it would be butchered and roasted. The meat of a sacrifice is never wasted, not in a city where there are too many mouths to feed and not enough food. The Polemarch was a hard-looking man with a square face, short hair, and intense blue eyes. He stopped as he passed and looked at us closely.

  “Diotima,” he said shortly. She nodded.

  “You are Nicolaos,” he stated. I agreed, puzzled how he recognized me. “Come to see me later today, for a chat.” He stalked out of the sanctuary without saying another word, heading the way I’d come, back toward the Agora.

  Diotima said, “That’s strange. An invitation to chat with the Polemarch is as good as a summons, and it’s not as if he has nothing better to do.”

  “I saw the Eponymous Archon this morning. He must have told the Polemarch, but I can’t imagine why.”

  “What did you want to see him for?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Have you visited this temple before?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then let me show you around!” Diotima said. She took my arm and led me to the fore steps.

  The outside walls were covered in plaster that had been recently applied, and painted in bright colors. Unfortunately, the paint couldn’t hide all the cracks in the underlying mud brick of which the temple was built. Straight wooden columns swept around all four sides. They held up the wooden roof, which was in the normal temple style, sloping to both sides. The building was so old it originally had had no decoration at all within the metope, the triangular forepart that the roof formed. Someone had climbed up and attached a terra-cotta plaque that displayed the Goddess hunting. The Temple of Artemis didn’t look particularly special to me, or rather, it may have been a special temple, but despite their best efforts it was in a sad state of disrepair.

  Diotima said, “This is an ancient temple. The Goddess Artemis herself hunted on this very ground when she came to Athens from Delos. The area has been a sacred hunting ground ever since. Our temple survived the Persians, I suppose because it’s so far out of town and on the south side of the river.”

  “Would you like a new one?” I asked.

  “I think it would be nice, but I don’t know what the High Priestess would say. I’ve generally found whatever I think, the women in charge think the opposite. But who wouldn’t want a new temple?” Diotima sighed. Then she looked at me strangely. “You said that as if you have a spare temple in your bag.”

  “As it happens, I might.” I thought of Pericles’ promise to rebuild the Acropolis.

  We walked inside between the pillars and to the end of the room as far as we were permitted for a closer look at Artemis. It took a moment for our eyes to adjust. When they did, the cult statue of the Goddess was before us.

  “The statue is very ancient too,” Diotima said in half pride, half apology. The sculpture wasn’t up to modern standards: to start with, she was made of wood. She was stiff in her pose, standing upright like an ephebe before his commander, and archaic in style. My father could have done better with one hand, but that didn’t matter, because this statue was sacred. The spirit of the Goddess could reside within this ancient wood, and on occasion did. Someone had placed a real bow in her clenched hand. She’d been dressed in a modern chiton, with a himation of good quality draped over her shoulders.

  Hung about the inner walls were all manner of things; clothing, bronzeware, tools, some children’s toys. These were dedications to the Goddess, brought by people seeking her favor, or perhaps simply to express their devotion.

  Two older priestesses were watching us from the side and whispering to each other. “Let’s look outside.”

  At the back of the temple were the working buildings. A place such as this has many practical requirements. There are animals to be kept, both sacrificial and sacred, maintenance to be done, fields to be tended, implements to be stored, slaves to be housed. The Temple of Artemis the Huntress was nothing short of a holy farm.

  Diotima led me to the field beside the temple where goats and a horse browsed. I took out the note.

  “Do you recognize this?”

  She looked at it carefully. “I don’t recall the note, though it looks to be one of ours. The handwriting is Father’s.”

  “I thought you might say that.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “In the study of Xanthippus.”

  “What! How did you come to be rummaging in there?”

  “You’ve missed a lot of excitement out here at this peaceful temple.” I brought her up to date wit
h the latest Athenian riot.

  “That was quick thinking,” she approved.

  “Diotima, I’m going to tell you something I think you need to know.”

  Diotima smiled. “For free? No trade? That isn’t like you, Nicolaos.”

  “I know. Uh, I think we might need to be somewhere we can’t be heard.”

  “We’re somewhere we can’t be heard now.”

  “Somewhere even more can’t-be-heard.”

  She looked at me warily. “Is this a trick or a joke?” She saw that it wasn’t. “Come with me.”

  We stopped in an orchard grove that grew by the river Illisos. The trees grew tall here, the branches were thick and the leaves gave cool shade. The temple must have harvested much fruit from them. Diotima stopped beneath the spreading branches and said, “Go ahead.”

  “Congratulations, you are going to be a bride.” I told her everything the Archon and his secretary had told me. I did not tell her of my visit to her future husband. I felt this was enough bad news for one day.

  At first, Diotima simply stood there, white-faced.

  “Those bastards,” she whispered. “Those scum. Those vermin. Those…” She shouted a stream of vitriol in ever-increasing volume.

  “Don’t scream,” I said urgently, “or there’ll be people running out here.”

  “They can’t make me do this.”

  “Actually, I think they can.”

  “I won’t let them. I’ll stop it. I’ll kill myself first.”

  “Running away would be better,” I advised.

  “Do you think this is funny?” she flared in a screech.

  “No,” I said shortly, and turned away. Diotima was beating the trunk of a tree with her fists. I let her. It would help get it out of her system. I went for a walk to give her time alone, and because I was shaking.

  When I returned Diotima was sitting. Her knuckles were skinless and bleeding, her face bloated from sobbing.

  “Thank you for telling me, Nicolaos. I’d like to be alone now. You can go back without me.” She was watching the waters of the river.

  I had a terrible premonition. “I think that would be a very bad idea. Come along.” I helped her up. “You haven’t found your father’s killer yet. Isn’t that still important to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then worry about the rest of it later. If the worst occurs you can always run back to Mantinea.”

  Diotima laughed bitterly. “Didn’t you work that out? Mother was a common whore. There wasn’t a good family, there wasn’t a former husband, and she was never a priestess, virgin or otherwise.” She stood up. “Now you can escort me home.”

  9

  We met Pythax as we turned onto Diotima’s street. He was looking as big and as tough and as mean as ever, and he didn’t look happy.

  “You!” he growled at me in greeting. “As if the city weren’t in enough uproar, do you know that kid of the bowyer’s is in the Agora, swearing you killed his dad?”

  “Am I under arrest then?”

  “No one’s paying any attention to the boy…yet. Think of this as a friendly warning. You better avoid the Agora until the kid’s gone. I don’t need any more trouble than I already got.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “And another thing, there’s some guy called Rizon been hassling the archons. He says you knocked him down in his own home. It seems to me you’ve been at one murder, close to another, arrived late for two more, and been in the middle of the worst riot we’ve had in years. You want to watch yourself, little boy. You don’t want to go getting a reputation for violence.” He cracked his knuckles.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “See that you do.”

  “Who’s Rizon?” Diotima asked me.

  “No one you want to know,” I growled.

  Pythax studied Diotima for the first time.

  “You Ephialtes’ girl?”

  “Yes.”

  Pythax grunted. “Sorry about your dad.”

  “Why, hello there!” a voice purred behind us. Euterpe had walked up while we were speaking with Pythax and I hadn’t noticed. A slave stood behind her holding her purse and another held an umbrella to keep her in the shade.

  “Hello, Mother,” Diotima said unevenly.

  “Who’s your friend?” She swept her eyes up and down Pythax and smiled.

  Since I wasn’t the recipient of her undivided attention I was able to keep myself under control. Pythax was not so lucky. I find it hard to believe to this day, but Pythax actually blushed. His bulging muscles seemed to expand even more and he stood taller. He eyed Euterpe with the same level of interest she was displaying. The grizzled warrior and the smooth, sophisticated woman made an interesting contrast. In her case, I assumed it was professional interest.

  I said, “May I introduce Pythax, Chief of the Scythians.”

  “A barbarian! I love a he-man.” She tore her attention from the big man enough to notice me. “You brought two of them, dear? That shows ambition.”

  Diotima said through gritted teeth. “We’re talking, Mother. ”

  “Ah, well. You must come for a cool drink. It’s so hot and dusty in the street, don’t you think?” She took Pythax by his unresisting arm and led us into her receiving room. She sat him down and offered him wine. I watched with amusement as his eyes tracked her form when she swayed to the wine cooler.

  “I can tell you’re the strong, silent type. Do you speak?” she teased him.

  All too frequently, I wanted to answer, but instead I smiled inwardly as Pythax struggled to work out what one should say to a beautiful woman. Diotima leaned over to me and muttered unhappily, “This is cruel.”

  Pythax said gruffly, “Yes, I do, lady, when there’s something to be said. But not to a lady who mocks me.” He put down his wine and stood. “I’ll be going now.”

  Euterpe was astonished. So was I.

  “What was that? What do you mean?”

  “We never met before but you’re pawing me all over. I know you can’t mean that with a rough old man like me. I ain’t that pretty, so I reckon you’re mocking me on purpose. Well, Euterpe, you might be a highborn lady, and I might be a peasant ruffian, but I don’t take that from anyone.”

  Euterpe was flustered. She took a step back and put her hands to her mouth as if she were genuinely upset.

  “I…I’m sorry, Pythax. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just my way of dealing with men. I don’t know any other.” She put a hand lightly on his arm. “Please stay a moment.”

  Diotima said quickly, “Yes, please stay, Pythax.”

  He looked at Diotima with narrowed eyes, then at me. I nodded encouragement. Then he sat and picked up his wine once more. He muttered, “Sorry, I’m not used to…” and drifted into silence.

  Euterpe sat on a couch apart from Pythax. Not only did she not lean back, she didn’t even cross her legs. She looked particularly uncomfortable.

  I thought it was a good time to change the subject. “Euterpe, since we’re here, I have some questions about Tanagra. Did Ephialtes know anyone there?”

  “We have had this conversation before. I didn’t involve myself in politics.”

  “Did anyone from Tanagra come to visit?”

  “He never received any visitors here.”

  “Did he ever speak of enemies?”

  “Constantly. How many would you like?”

  “Any from Tanagra?”

  “No. All conservatives.”

  “And you didn’t see Ephialtes the morning he died? You didn’t come out of your rooms before he left?”

  “Not during that argument! I wasn’t going down there and getting involved. I’d had enough of it the night before.”

  “What argument?” I hadn’t heard this before. I looked at Diotima, taken aback, who in turn was staring at Euterpe in fury.

  “Mother, must you bring that up again?”

  “I didn’t, dear, your boyfriend did.”

  “He’s not my boyf
riend. You couldn’t wait to say it, could you, Father wanting me to marry?”

  “Well, he did, dear Diotima. Really, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. It’s not as if you seem to have any objections to men.” She glanced at me slyly and winked.

  “Marrying for what I can get out of it is no different than selling my body.”

  Euterpe turned to Pythax and me. “Diotima has invented a philosophy of love. Apparently this means she must never have sex unless she does it from her own heart. So she refuses to take advantage of any man and instead must be taken advantage of. Both Ephialtes and I wanted her to marry. Ephialtes even began the negotiations and could have had the whole thing arranged months ago. But the ungrateful wretch refused to cooperate, and since she wasn’t his legal offspring he couldn’t force the issue like any sensible father would. Really, she was most stupid. She could have been a citizen by now.”

  “And be a whore like you? I’d rather die!” Diotima shouted in fury.

  “I am not a whore, and you will kindly remember the difference between a hetaera and the common pornoi,” Euterpe said between gritted teeth.

  “Ah yes. Hetaerae get paid more.”

  From the way Diotima had made the accusation I could tell this was a sore spot for her mother.

  “I am what I am, and you will remember it is what I did to look after you, you ungrateful, pompous, righteous little ass of a child. You know nothing of what it takes to survive. Nothing! You’ve never been hungry. You’ve been pampered from the moment you were born. I gave you the best of everything. And, yes, to do it I had to lie on my back and spread my legs, but I did it for you.”