Shadow of the Centaurs

by Saviour Pirotta

  The lambda.

  I’d seen that letter before – on the mosaic in Zeno’s andron.

  As we crouched in the grass, a man arrived on horseback. Zeus, whom we hadn’t noticed before but who must have been waiting under a tree, ran forward to help him down from the saddle. Unlike the other men, the newcomer’s head was bare. He had the scariest face I’d ever seen and I was chilled to the bone just looking at it. The skin was shiny and wrinkled like old parchment. One of his eyes seemed to stare blankly and I realised it was made of marble.

  The man took an empty stool in the circle. He cleared his throat. ‘Gentlemen, a lot of you have communicated with me many times but none of you have met me face to face until now. I have a good old-fashioned Spartan name in real life, but you can call me Centaur Alpha. For years my family has been dedicated to overthrowing Athens and establishing Sparta as the dominant force in the world. One of my ancestors set up the Secret Society of Centaurs, of which you are all members, right here in Attica under our enemies’ noses.

  ‘And why do we call ourselves centaurs? Because centaurs are noble and powerful, quick to anger and fearless. Our society was established to harness the power of all your wealth, your power, and your will to overthrow Athens.

  ‘Well, the time to act is upon us. I sent word to Sparta and now the answer has come. Our forces are waiting, our people are prepared, our ships are poised to set sail. We have permission to strike. Tonight is the first night of that most beloved of Athenian festivals: the Anthesteria. For three days chaos and disorder will reign over the city. It’s the perfect time to deal the first deadly blow. Are you ready?’

  A loud cheer echoed from the men on the stools.

  ‘Aye, we are ready.’

  Centaur Alpha stood up. He seemed to be looking through the trees at something in the distance. I turned and realised what it was at once. The colossal bronze statue of Athena in the Acropolis. The tip of her helmet flashed like the morning star in the cold light of dawn.

  ‘Offer your sacrifices to the dark gods,’ bellowed Centaur Alpha. ‘Call for help in our noble mission and wait for my instructions. Tomorrow night, we strike.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A Cunning Plan

  Choes, the second night of the Anthesteria

  ‘I think I shall hide in here until we work out what to do next,’ said Thrax, sinking on to one of the stools in the secret meeting place.

  Thrax, Gaia and I had hurried back home at dawn, wading through mounds of rubbish from the first night of the Anthesteria. Gaia had been collared to help clear up in the courtyard, but I was free to join Thrax. The temporary scribe was not due to leave till the day after the festival.

  ‘I wonder what the centaurs meant when they swore to destroy Athens,’ I said. ‘There’s been rumours about going to war with Sparta, of course, but they’ve never come to anything. And what do these men have to do with it? If they’re all the same age as the one with the glass eye, they’re too old for open combat. They’re even too old to be generals.’

  Thrax was about to reply when we heard footsteps outside the meeting place. I looked through a crack in the hollow tree trunk to see Master Ariston sauntering along with the temporary scribe. They stopped to take a rest on a stone bench very close to our tree.

  ‘Are you looking forward to the second night of the Anthesteria?’ asked Master Ariston.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the scribe. ‘We don’t have grand festivals like this back home.’

  ‘Tonight will be even wilder, at least for the common people,’ said Master Ariston. ‘Most of them will spend the evening dressed up as the ghoulish servants of Dionysus. They will go round the city playing tricks on their friends. But a select few like us will attend a grand and secret event to which only the rich and powerful are invited. There will be a play where the chosen queen of the festival marries Dionysus himself.’ He chuckled. ‘A marriage made in Hades, if you like. You are very lucky to be invited.’

  ‘It was my uncle who managed to get me an invitation, sir,’ replied the scribe. ‘He is well connected, even in Athens.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Master Ariston. ‘He is a famous stonemason after all. You’ll enjoy the evening.’

  I felt a pang of jealousy at the way our master spoke to the new scribe. He talked to him as an equal rather than a servant like me. No doubt it was because he came from a rich family.

  ‘Of course, I shan’t enjoy the event much myself,’ said Master Ariston. ‘I just can’t stop thinking about Thrax. The sight of that himation ripped to shreds has given me nightmares. A himation I bought him with my own money! And of course I won’t have him attending me tonight. I shall be slave-less. Oh, the shame of it.’

  He sniffed dramatically. ‘Usually the secret event is performed in the grounds of the bouleuterion, the famous assembly house in the agora, but tonight it’s going to be held outside the Parthenon in the Acropolis. The painters have just finished the decorations on the frieze and General Pericles wants to show them off.’

  ‘Is the great man himself going to be there?’ asked the scribe. ‘I heard he never attends public festivals on account that he is worried about his looks.’

  ‘He does turn down a lot of invitations,’ agreed Master Ariston. ‘He has a big, sloping forehead and I have it on good authority that he wears a helmet made especially to hide it. Not a successful experiment, I would think. It only draws attention to it.’

  ‘Quite,’ said the scribe.

  ‘All these famous people who lack breeding are so concerned about their looks and reputations,’ continued Master Ariston. ‘But I’d be willing to gamble my precious lyre that Pericles will be at the Acropolis tonight. It’s his project, his baby. He’s been waxing lyrical about it for years. He’ll want to be there to drink in all the glory. I suppose I had better get to the barber’s as soon as possible. I don’t want to be seen at a public event with an untidy beard and hair. You should come too. Make yourself look handsome for the girls.’

  Thrax dug me in the ribs as Master Ariston and the scribe headed back towards the house.

  ‘Nico,’ he whispered, his voice echoing around the tree trunk like some ancient oracle. ‘I’ve just figured out how Centaur Alpha is going to strike the first blow at Athens. We need to find ourselves some masks.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Masks for the Festival

  They were out of masks at the market, even in the big expensive shops inside the southern stoa. Not surprising really, seeing as everyone in Athens seemed to be wearing one.

  ‘Why don’t you go home and see if Gaia is free to help you make some yourself?’ said Thrax. ‘I have to meet one of my friends.’

  ‘What’s this one teaching you?’ I laughed. ‘Escaplogy?’

  ‘Officially he’s a purse-snatcher,’ said Thrax. ‘But his talents run to more than just yanking purses off belts. He...’

  ‘That’s enough, thank you,’ I said in mock horror. ‘I don’t need to know any more. See you back at the meeting place.’

  At home I found some discarded sheets of papyrus. Gaia, who’d been given some time for an afternoon nap, helped me cut out the masks, which we soaked in ink. As we hung them out to dry on our tree, we discussed the evening ahead.

  ‘This is turning out to be quite an Anthesteria,’ I said. ‘Both a festival and a mystery rolled into one.’

  Gaia sighed. She wasn’t thinking about the festival. ‘I wish we could go to the police.’

  ‘And tell them a one-eyed Spartan who calls himself Centaur Alpha is going to start a war between Athens and Sparta? They’ll just think we’ve been drinking wine behind our masters’ backs. Besides, we have to catch Centaur Alpha doing something that will get him put away. Then he won’t be able to carry out the rest of his evil plan. The centaurs will be leaderless.’

  ‘Then I wish Fotini was coming with us,’ said Gaia. ‘She’ll be very disappointed to miss out on an adventure.’

  Thrax arrived just as we were punching t
hread holes in the masks. Even if I have to say it myself, the masks looked as good as any you would find at the agora. I was really proud of them.

  ‘How are we going to get into the Acropolis?’ I asked.

  Thrax shrugged. ‘Have you any suggestions, Nico?’

  ‘We can’t scale the walls, that’s for sure. The Acropolis is really a fort designed to keep attackers out. It’s built on a very steep hill. And we won’t be able to sneak in at the main gate. It will be heavily guarded.’ I grinned as a brilliant idea occurred to me. ‘We could ask Socrates to let us in. I’m sure he’s been invited.’

  ‘That’s a great idea. Let’s go and see him right away.’

  We hurried through the Dipylon Gate to the outer Kerameikos, a large section of the potters’ district outside the city walls. Socrates lived here, along with many artists and great thinkers who believed it was fashionable to live among ordinary workers. We heard a loud crash as we knocked on his door. Socrates answered it himself.

  ‘That was not Xanthippe,’ he said, hopping up and down on one foot. ‘I just dropped a krater on my toe. What can I do for you, boys?’

  ‘We were wondering if you were attending the Anthesteria celebrations at the Acropolis tonight, sir?’ asked Thrax.

  ‘But of course,’ replied Socrates. ‘General Pericles is unveiling the final decorations in the Parthenon frieze. And there will be free wine, my friend, rivers of it. Why do you ask?’

  ‘We need to be in the Acropolis during the festivities, sir.’

  Socrates looked from Thrax to me. ‘Is this something to do with Zeno’s little mystery?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘My word, I take it that your hunch was right, young man. The small, insignificant mystery leads to a bigger, more significant one.’

  ‘It looks like it, sir.’

  ‘I’ll arrange for a trusted guard to let you in. His name is Leon.’

  ‘How will he know you sent us, sir?’ asked Thrax.

  ‘I’ll write you a note,’ said Socrates. He scribbled something on a small piece of papyrus and handed it to me. ‘You show him this. He’ll let you in. Good luck, boys, and perhaps I’ll see you there.’

  ‘May we ask that you tell absolutely no one about our mission, sir?’ said Thrax.

  Socrates tapped the right side of his nose to show he understood. ‘Silence is the mother of surprise, boys.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A Note from Socrates

  Time passes awfully slowly when you’re waiting, but at last it got dark. A strong breeze rattled the branches of the trees. It was a fitting sound for the spooky night that lay ahead.

  Thrax, Gaia and I put on our masks, pinned on our himations and climbed out of the secret meeting place. I checked to make sure Socrates’ message was safely tucked under my belt.

  ‘We should have brought cloaks,’ I said in a last-minute panic as we came on to the main street. ‘All rich people have a chlamys. We can’t turn up at the Acropolis without them. It’ll make us look suspicious.’

  ‘Stop worrying, Nico,’ said Thrax. ‘It’ll be too dark for anyone to notice us once we’re inside the Acropolis.’

  The streets were a sea of fast-walking, elbow-pushing, loud-talking people. The whole city seemed to be on its way to visit relatives, bearing extravagant gifts of food and wine. Choes, the second night of the Anthesteria, was all about giving and sharing, about telling your loved ones how much you appreciated them.

  It was also the second night of ghosts and ghouls. No one knew which faces in the crowd belonged to the dead. Look at that old woman there, hobbling along with the help of a stick. Is she dead or alive? Don’t let her touch even the hem of your himation or you too might find yourself following Persephone to the underworld. Better make sure your mask was securely tied to your face. That way the dead might mistake you for one of them and leave you alone. It’s a good idea to chew on some hawthorn leaves too. They say the dead shy away from its smell like cats from lavender.

  We stopped to buy hawthorn from an old man. The hill of the Acropolis loomed up before us as we skirted the packed agora. I could see statues and the roofs of familiar buildings gleaming in the light of a thousand flaming torches. The highest belonged to the newly built Parthenon, said to be the most perfect temple in the world. Towering above it was the giant bronze statue of Athena I had seen from the sacred grove the night before. She held her spear at her shoulder as if preparing to throw it.

  I knew that there was a second statue of Athena inside the temple. It was even richer than this one. Its clothes were made of pure gold, its face and hands carved in ivory.

  No matter how many times you visit the Acropolis, you cannot help but feel a shiver of excitement as you walk up the marble steps towards the main entrance, the propylaea. You know that this is the most sacred temple complex in the world, beloved of Athena, the patron-goddess and protector of our city. You know that no matter where you go in the world, you will never see finer art or more perfect architecture.

  Even the gate itself, a mere entrance, looks like an extravagant temple made of both white and grey marble. It is actually not one but five gates. They help the guards control the flow of people in and out of the Acropolis.

  Thrax, Gaia and I hurried up the marble steps, taking care not to lose each other in the heaving crowd.

  ‘Keep a hold of your purse, Nico,’ warned Thrax. ‘I think there are a lot of thieves around.’

  ‘Some of your friends?’ I teased.

  We approached the middle gate, making sure our masks were in place, and Thrax spoke to one of the guards.

  ‘We’re looking for one of your colleagues, Leon. We have a message for him.’

  The guard sneered. ‘You turn around and go back home, children. No one is allowed in the Acropolis tonight unless they have a special invitation.’

  ‘But we have a message for Leon,’ said Thrax.

  ‘Leon is busy. I said move on.’

  Thrax and I backed away from the gate. ‘What do we do now?’ I asked.

  ‘We approach another gate.’

  We joined a second queue and were soon facing another guard. This one sounded a bit kinder than the first. ‘You’re looking for Leon?’ he said. ‘Hold on a moment.’ He turned to a group of guards standing at ease beyond the gates. ‘Is Leon there? There’s two young lads and a girl who want to see him.’

  A young guard with enormous feet and very hairy knees sauntered over. ‘What do you want, children?’

  ‘We have a message, sir,’ said Thrax, ‘from Socrates the philosopher.’

  ‘Well, hand it over,’ said the guard.

  Thrax turned to me. ‘Go on, Nico, give him the message.’

  I reached under my belt for the papyrus. But there was nothing there. The note from Socrates was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Way in to the Acropolis

  ‘I should have made sure it was safe,’  I groaned as the three of us pushed our way through the crowds. ‘It must have been stolen. Who’d steal a scrap of papyrus?’

  Gaia put a comforting arm around my shoulder. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Nico. It could have happened to anyone.’

  ‘But what do we do now?’ We reached the bottom of the steps and a river of Anthesteria masks flowed past us. We seemed to be the only people heading away from the Acropolis.

  Thrax surveyed the people around us. ‘I guess we’ll have to ask one of my notorious little friends for help.’ He put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and gave a piercing whistle that startled a good number of people.

  Almost immediately a boy with oily hair that stood up in tufts slipped out of the crowds. He had scabby knees and a well-used sling tied around his waist like a belt. ‘You called, Thrax?’

  ‘Hello, Akademus,’ said Thrax. ‘Been out shooting pigeons with that sling? These are my friends, Nico and Gaia. We want to get into the Acropolis. Do you know a secret way in? It’s very important.’

  Akademus’s eyes glowe
d like newly minted coins. ‘My beloved friend Thrax goes in free,’ he said. ‘But your friends? It will cost two chalkoi each. Payable in advance.’

  I paid up, feeling that at least I was doing something to correct my mistake. Maybe everything was not lost and we’d get into the Acropolis after all. Akademus led us round to the eastern side of the hill. The rocks here were jagged and pockmarked with caves. Thrax stopped to look around the dusty landscape.

  ‘Ha,’ he said. ‘I never noticed how many little caves there are under the Acropolis. And look, Nico, some of them have been turned into small shrines.’

  There were very few people on this side of the hill, away from the agora and the propylaea, but we could hear the sounds of merrymaking in the distance. The sound of tympanums, krotalas and koudounias floated down from the Acropolis.

  ‘Come on, you three. Hurry up. You’re missing the entertainment,’ Akademus urged as he scrambled up a rocky slope dotted with bushes. I could smell the sharp aroma of thyme and lavender and I felt my chest tighten. I was already out of breath.

  Akademus stopped by a gnarled tree, waved to us with both hands and promptly disappeared. A few moments later Thrax disappeared too, and then Gaia. I hurried after them to discover there was a small cave behind the tree. It was the entrance to a tunnel.

  ‘A natural storm drain, carved by streams a long time ago,’ said Thrax. ‘Come on, Nico.’

  We followed Akademus, feeling the path coiling and twisting around us. It felt like we were walking inside a giant buried serpent. After a while we saw a dim light ahead and came out into a chamber cut in the rocks. A lamp burned in a niche in the wall. A few himations were lined up neatly on the floor.

  ‘Is this where you and your friends sleep at night?’ Thrax asked Akademus.

  ‘It’s one of our many homes in the city.’