‘It’s cosy,’ I said, looking around in admiration. ‘Get a few stools or cushions and it would make the perfect meeting place. You and your friends could hold secret meetings in here.’
‘We do,’ laughed Akademus. ‘There’s a whole warren of tunnels under the Acropolis. But we must go on.’
We picked our way through more dark passages, often having to bend down to avoid grazing our heads against sharp rocks. After a while we heard water gushing.
‘This brook feeds the klepsydra,’ said Akademus, ‘a spring that has been turned into a fountain. It’s in a cave almost at the foot of the Acropolis. I believe people worship a water nymph in it.’
We came to a makeshift ladder half hidden behind a curtain of ferns.
‘Is this how you and your friends get into the Acropolis?’ Thrax asked Akademus.
The boy grinned sheepishly. ‘We sometimes use it after there’s been a sacrifice to Athena. The priests leave a lot of roasted meat behind. No sense in letting the vultures have it.’
He pointed to the top of the ladder. ‘You’ll come up behind a small shrine. But don’t let anyone see you climbing out or the priests will have the hole blocked up.’
He held the ladder while we climbed up towards a bush hiding the hole. I heard the distant sound of music. There was no time to ask Thrax what we were going to do once we got out in the Akropolis, but I had a horrible feeling our lives would soon be in mortal danger.
And I was right.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Face to Face with General Pericles
I have no idea how many important citizens there are in Athens but a good many of them had been sent a coveted invitation to Pericles’s special ceremony. It was impossible to recognise anyone wearing their masks, but I knew there must be a few familiar faces behind them, including Socrates and Master Ariston. And Master’s temporary scribe, of course, although he is by no means an important person.
The temples of the Acropolis were so brightly lit by flaming torches that they gleamed like ice. The bronze statue of Athena glowed as if on fire. She looked serene despite the war helmet and spear.
The guests had brought the celebratory mood of the Anthesteria with them and many were tucking into delicious-smelling meals, carried in small baskets by their slaves. It seemed we had arrived only moments before General Pericles himself. Even as we tried brushing the dust from our himations, there was a loud fanfare at the gates and the general marched in with his entourage.
The mood in the Acropolis grew serious at once. Slaves put away uneaten food and flasks of wine. Pericles walked with a very firm step, a man confident of his power and ability. He too wore a mask and he did not take off his helmet as the chief priest of Dionysus came forward to welcome him.
Thrax, Gaia and I wormed our way through the crowd to get a better view. Pericles introduced the priest to Phidias, the famous sculptor who had carved the two statues of Athena. Next he introduced Mnesikles, who had designed the propylaea, and then Ictinus and Callicrates, the architects of the Parthenon.
‘Welcome, all,’ said the priest. ‘The gods have blessed us with a double celebration tonight. Many of Athens’ important citizens are getting their first glimpse of the Parthenon, and of course, it is the second night of the Anthesteria. We celebrate the wedding of the god Dionysus to the ritual queen of Athens, the wife of our consul. We opened last year’s wine at the temple yesterday, General. Would you and your guests care for some?’
General Pericles had no time for wine. He was eager to start the tour of the Parthenon. The priest called out and the priestess of the temple of Athena came forward. Several men came with her, lighting her way with torches. The sound of cymbals and castenets, which had fallen silent at the arrival of the general, started up again.
The priestess led Pericles and his entourage to the magnificent temple where Phidias took over to point out the unique decorations. We managed to squeeze in with them, three almost invisible shadows at the edge of the group.
The rectangular Parthenon was surrounded by Doric columns. At the top of them ran a frieze, a series of carvings showing scenes from mythology. Here were sculptures showing the epic battles. In one, the Olympian gods fought a mythical race of superhuman hoplites called the gigantes. In another, Greek soldiers did battle with a horde of giant female warriors known as the Amazons. And yet another showed the same battle between centaurs and mortals that we had seen in Zeno’s mosaics.
The sight of the beautifully carved yet gruesome centaurs reminded me of Centaur Alpha. ‘Was he here already?’ I wondered. ‘Was he mingling with the crowds, his face hidden by a mask? What did he intend to do?’
Phidias led the most important guests under the portico, the space behind the columns, and the rest of us trooped behind them round the temple, like pilgrims in a procession. There was a second frieze running along the top of them. It showed a scene from the festival of Athena, with people following a statue of the goddess from the graveyard in the outer Kerameikos and up to the Acropolis. And then we stepped inside to admire the sculptor’s masterpiece.
The towering statue of Athena welcomed us with a godly stare. She was made of gold and ivory but she looked almost real in the lamplight and I felt I was standing in the presence of the goddess herself. Her eyes seemed to pierce through to my very spirit.
‘She’s magnificent, isn’t she?’ said Pericles, who was obviously not intimidated by being in the presence of the goddess. ‘I think of her as a treasury on two legs! If we ever need funds for a war, gentlemen, all we have to do is melt down the gold and pawn the ivory. There’s even more gold stored in the loft above us.’
This revelation sent a nervous laugh rippling through the entourage. The priest of Dionysus coughed to show his disapproval and announced the second part of the programme. We trooped outside to watch a parade. The ritual queen of Athens was led through the gate on a cart covered in garlands. She was bedecked from head to toe in flowers and accompanied by a long trail of older women, assistants who walked behind her.
The queen’s real-life husband, himself a priest, appeared dressed in a leopard skin to show he was playing the part of Dionysus. He helped the queen down from the cart and led her into the temple for a secret ceremony.
Only a handful of important people were allowed to watch it but I later I heard about it from Master Ariston himself. The ceremony was really a play, with the queen of Athens and her husband re-enacting the sacred marriage between Ariadne and Dionysus. It was a ritual designed to please the god.
While we all waited outside the temple, listening to the sound of an aulos coming from inside, Thrax had been looking around, peering through his mask.
‘What’s the matter?’ I said.
He answered in an urgent whisper. ‘Stay close to me, Nico. Gaia! Something’s about to happen.’
Suddenly an enormous shadow of a centaur sprang on to the columns of the Parthenon. Thrax leaped at Pericles and pulled him to the ground. A moment later a knife whizzed past the spot where the general had been standing. It buried itself in Ictinus’s shoulder and I stared at the hilt in disbelief.
It was shaped like a lambda.
A moment later the crowd around me erupted like a volcano. Screaming rang in my ears and I saw everyone in Pericles’s entourage make a dive towards Thrax. Only one person in the crowd seemed to be standing still. He was wearing a mask showing a ghostly face. The eyes behind it were glaring at me with pure hatred. Or I should say only one eye glared. The other one stared blankly. It was made of marble.
‘Centaur Alpha,’ I gasped.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Traitors and Heroes
Centaur Alpha’s eye bore into me for a moment longer, then he leaped through the panicked crowd and disappeared among the writhing storm of masks and dark himations. I tried to run after him but someone grabbed me roughly by the shoulder and practically lifted me off my feet.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
I could s
ee from the corner of my eye that it was the first guard who had turned us away from the gate.
For a brief moment after the knife had been thrown, the crowd had succumbed to hysteria. But it regrouped with frightening efficiency. A lot of the guests in the Acropolis were high-ranking military men and they barked out orders to the people around them.
‘Calm down! Stop rushing around.’
Pericles got to his feet, setting his helmet straight. A guard had grabbed Thrax and was twisting his arm behind his back. One of the guests ripped the mask from his face.
‘Let’s see the assassin’s face.’
‘Don’t hurt him,’ begged a tremulous voice beside me. It was Gaia. She stepped forward bravely, removing her own mask. ‘He’s not the killer. You’ve got the wrong man. He was trying to SAVE General Pericles!’
The guard who had grabbed me pulled off my mask and I felt the cold breeze against my face.
‘Here’s another one of them. I noticed these three children crawling out of a bush near the temple of Pandroseion over by the walls. Been keeping an eye on them all night.’
‘They might be children,’ bellowed a man in the crowd. ‘But they’re also traitors. Throw them over the wall.’
As the man’s words echoed around the Acropolis, the elite crowd seemed to change into a baying mob of common people. We were dragged towards the wall behind the Chalcothece, the great storehouse where all bronze offerings to Athena are kept.
‘Hurl them right over,’ screamed someone. ‘Send them straight to the underworld.’
‘Wait! Stop this madness, I implore you.’ A voice I recognised startled the crowd into silence. ‘Call yourself the elite? You’re behaving like mad barbarians at a bull run.’ The man removed his mask. It was Socrates. He approached Pericles. ‘The girl is right, General. That young man is not the would-be assassin, nor is the other his accomplice. I know these children well. They are honest citizens and would never try to harm you. If they say they saved your life, I for one believe them. In my eyes, they are heroes.’ He turned to Thrax. ‘Did you see the real assassin?’
‘Yes.’
Socrates spoke to Pericles again. ‘While your men are trying to outperform Euripides’ theatre company in drama and hysterics, General, I should imagine the real culprit is making good his escape, so he can try to kill you again another day.’
The philosopher put his hand on Thrax’s shoulder. ‘You are the only one who can bring the criminal to justice. If Pericles gives you permission, will you go after him?’ He handed Thrax a jewelled dagger.
Thrax wiped the dust from his face. ‘If I can borrow a horse, sir.’
‘Take my own,’ said the general. ‘Socrates is a close friend of mine and I have no reason to doubt him. But bring him back unharmed, and bring me the assassin too. May Athena go with you.’
The sea of himations parted to let Thrax through and he sprinted down the marble steps of the propylaea.
Beside me, a tall man removed his mask. Tears were running down his face. It was Master Ariston.
‘It’s my precious Thrax,’ he sobbed. ‘He has come back from the dead. Long live Athena!’
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The Chase, the Capture
Thrax told me later what happened next so that my story would be complete. Even as the mob was trying to hurl us over the walls of the Acropolis, he had already spotted the assassin scrambling down the steep hill. Thrax guessed Centaur Alpha had someone waiting for him with a horse, and he knew where he would be heading too. The Dipylon Gate. It would not have been closed that night, so as to allow the citizens of Athens to pay their respects to the dead in the Kerameikos graveyard.
Thrax thundered after Centaur Alpha on Pericles’s horse, catching up with him near Market Hill outside the agora. Centaur Alpha heard the hoof beats and turned round in the saddle. He yanked the reins on his own horse so hard, the poor creature neighed painfully and reared up on its hind legs.
The assassion shot Thrax a malevolent glare with his one eye, then cracked his whip to urge his horse on. The poor creature moved like Pegasus escaping from the Chimera’s deadly breath. Thrax followed, and the two horses plunged along the narrow streets of the Kerameikos and through the city gates, scattering people in their wake.
This was the road that led to Athena’s sacred grove, and Thrax assumed Centaur Alpha was heading there. But, passing some fields beyond the cemetery, the Spartan pulled on the reins and his horse dropped to a trot. He turned up a country lane with vineyards on both sides. It was now dawn and the countryside was bathed in a roseate glow.
Thrax slowed down his horse too. His well-honed instinct for survival told him he was being led into a trap, but he followed Centaur Alpha along the country lane. He passed through a grove of weeping willows, whose branches blocked his view. When he came out of it, there was no sign of Centaur Alpha. His horse was drinking at a slow-moving river.
Thrax stopped at once, his whole body taut with tension. Suddenly he heard a loud grunt and Centaur Alpha dropped down from the branches overhead. Thrax felt the cold tip of a dagger press into his throat.
‘We meet once again, boy.’
‘Get that knife away from my throat.’ As he squirmed in the Spartan’s grasp, Thrax dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. The horse reared up, throwing both Thrax and Centaur Alpha to the ground. They rolled in the grass.
‘Why do you vex me so, boy?’ growled Centaur Alpha, the tip of his dagger still pricking Thrax’s neck.
‘I believe you stole a precious object from a house on the Street of the Four Winds. I’ve been instructed to bring you to justice.’
‘Look at you,’ growled the Spartan. ‘A downtrodden slave who must walk the streets with a shaved head. What do you owe the rich of Athens?’
‘I owe them nothing, sir.’
‘A capable, intelligent young man like you.’ Centaur Alpha purred like a deadly tiger. ‘You are wasted in Athens. What is there for you to do in a city obsessed with theatre and sculpture? Come with me to Sparta. I shall let you grow into a real hero, a man with no limits of endurance. A demi-god.’
‘I am not free to roam yet, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘I belong to Master Ariston the poet.’
‘The power of Athens is finished,’ continued Centaur Alpha. ‘Even as your foolish Pericles wastes the city’s time and money on public buildings and grand festivals, your fighting forces grow weak and your coffers run empty.’
‘Pericles must not be so useless if you are out to kill him, sir.’
‘I admit the general has the gift of the gab. He can speak like a god and while he is in power he can get the Athenians to do anything he wants. But without him, Athens is like a ship without a rudder, a doomed oracle without the pythia. There is going to be a war. Sparta will win and it will come to dominate the Hellenic world. Athens will be forgotten.’
‘Athens’ coffers are not so empty,’ said Thrax. ‘Isn’t that what your men were after? The bullion hidden in the attic of the Parthenon, and the gold on the statue of Athena? I scouted round the hill under the Acropolis while trying to find a way in. Your men had left all sorts of clues as to your intentions. Ropes hanging from the rocks here and there. Footprints in the soil. The murmur of men hidden in caves, waiting for your signal to attack. The shadow of the centaur projected on the wall of the Parthenon. An audacious and cunning plan, sir, I have to say. Rob Athens so it will not be able to afford ships and weapons to defend itself for a war with Sparta.’
Centaur Alpha smiled. ‘You are wasted on these Athenians. Come with me to Sparta. I shall treat you as my son, my own flesh and blood. I shall make you a free man. You will inherit all my wealth.’
‘I have all the wealth I need already, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘I have my friends and my health and perhaps my mother waiting at home for me when I’m free. I have my dignity.’
‘Pah,’ snorted Centaur Alpha, and the tip of his dagger dug deeper into Thrax’s neck, drawing blood. ‘You are not so clever after all.
’
Thrax laughed. ‘I am as clever as you, sir. You think you lured me into a trap but I have laid one of my own.’
Centaur Alpha looked up from his dagger to see a freckled face with spiky hair grinning down at him.
‘This is my friend Akademus,’ said Thrax. ‘He followed us all the way from Athens and I’ve been killing time with you while he caught up with us. Where did you borrow the horse, Akademus?’
Akademus giggled. ‘A farm outside the walls. I’ll take him back as soon as I can.’
‘Akademus is only a street child,’ Thrax said to Centaur Alpha, ‘but I assure you he’s lethal with a slingshot.’
Centaur Alpha barely had time to growl before he heard a whooshing sound and a pebble from Akademus’s slingshot knocked him out cold.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Thrax Explains It All
Chytroi, the third night of the Anthesteria
It was late in the afternoon, the same day that Akademus had knocked Centaur Alpha out cold with his infamous slingshot. The rest of Thrax’s ragamuffin friends from the agora had secretly followed their leader on a donkey cart. They had trussed up the Spartan and delivered him to the police in Athens. Now the would-be assassin was in custody, awaiting trial. We were gathered in Zeno’s andron, waiting to hear Thrax explain how he’d solved the mystery.
Zeno was there, of course, and Master Ariston, who had brought Gaia and his replacement scribe. Socrates had arrived with yet another bruise on his forehead. ‘Fell down the stairs this morning,’ he said. ‘Xanthippe and I have made a deal. She stops throwing pots and I stay out of the house less.’
‘I have invited General Pericles too,’ said Zeno. ‘And Phidias the sculptor.’
‘General Pericles will never show up…’ began Master Ariston.
But just then we heard a murmur in the courtyard and Hilarion showed in both the general and the sculptor. We all leaped to our feet.
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