‘At ease, gentlemen,’ said Pericles. ‘I come as a friend, to hear young Thrax speak.’ He smiled at Thrax, who was sitting on a stool in the middle of the andron. ‘Your master has told me all about you and I’m keen to learn how you came to uncover the Spartan plot.’
Master Ariston made space on the couch for the general and Hilarion went to fetch wine and bowls of honey-coated nuts.
‘I did not get to the truth on my own, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘My friend Nico the scribe was a great help, as was my friend Gaia.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Pericles, ‘she was protesting your innocence even when the rest of the crowd was still against you. A very brave girl.’
Gaia blushed to hear the great Pericles himself sing her praises. She smiled shyly.
‘But tell me how you came to discover, and ultimately foil, the Spartan plot,’ Pericles said to Thrax.
‘It started like this,’ volunteered Master Ariston. ‘I was invited to a symposium held by Menelaus the goat merchant. I took Thrax and Nico with me and there we met Zeno and Socrates. I told them how clever Thrax is and how many mysteries he and Nico have solved.’
‘Zeno was puzzling over a little mystery that had happened in his own house, sir,’ Thrax continued. ‘It seemed a pointless crime without any motive, which had left him scratching his head in bewilderment.’
‘And what was the crime?’ asked Pericles.
‘Zeno’s wife has a dog, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘A Melitan called Argos.’
‘After the hero Odysseus’s dog,’ pointed out Master Ariston. ‘He’s adorable.’
‘Their slave, Hilarion, was walking the dog one evening, sir,’ continued Thrax, ‘when he was brutally attacked and the dog was stolen.’
‘Goodness,’ said Pericles. ‘How upsetting for Hilarion and Zeno’s wife.’
‘Except the dog was returned unharmed the very next day,’ said Thrax.
‘Do you mean the dog escaped and found its way home?’ asked Pericles.
‘No, sir. Its lead was tied to the door handle. Whoever had returned the dog wanted to make sure the owner found it.’
‘How peculiar,’ said Pericles. He turned to Zeno. ‘I agree with you; it’s a pointless crime.’
‘There’s no such thing, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘No crime is pointless. There’s always a motive and this had a very important one. Melitans might look small and fluffy, but their barking is both ferocious and persistent. They make extremely good guard dogs. I was of the opinion that someone wanted Argos out of the way for the night.’
‘Do you mean someone wanted to break into Zeno’s house and steal something without Argos rousing the household?’ asked Pericles.
‘But nothing was taken from my house, of that I’m sure,’ insisted Zeno.
‘That’s where you’re wrong, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘Something was stolen from your house, but we’ll come to that in a moment. My first theory was that the thief paid or convinced someone to get rid of the dog for the night, sneaked into the house unaided, and returned the dog in the morning.’
‘But why bother returning it?’ Pericles wanted to know. ‘Why not just get rid of it?’
‘Because my first theory was wrong. The thief did not come into the house unaided. The only way in is through a chicken coop at the back of the storeroom, and I know from a handprint he left behind that he was too big to fit through the hole. No, the thief had help from inside the house. Someone let him in.’
‘You don’t mean someone from my own household?’ gasped Zeno. ‘Why would they want to help a burglar?’
‘Slaves often have to do things they do not want to do,’ said Thrax. ‘Sir, if I tell you who helped the thief will you promise not to punish them?’
‘By the might of Herakles, I give you my word,’ answered Zeno without hesitation.
‘It was Hilarion,’ said Thrax. ‘The thief blackmailed him into helping him.’
‘How?’ asked Socrates.
‘The thief knew a secret about Hilarion that he threatened to reveal unless he got the help he needed. I made enquiries with the neighbours and discovered that the slave came with the house when Master Zeno bought it. It was Hilarion who suggested to Zeno that he should buy Eirene the cook. You see, Hilarion and Eirene are secretly man and wife and still very much in love. Nico and I saw Hilarion buying jasmine-scented perfume and the next day I smelled it on Eirene. They married without their owner’s permission and had children. As you know, the children of slaves are the property of their owners, to be sold off at will. Hilarion and Eirene could not bear to see their children growing up in bondage, so they gave them up for adoption to people willing to raise them as free citizens. They even have a grandchild, who lives in the care of the priestesses of Hera. The thief threatened to reveal Hilarion’s guilty secret, a serious crime in the eyes of the law.’
‘But how did the thief know all this?’ asked Socrates.
‘Because the thief was Hilarion’s previous owner, the man who also owned the house before Zeno. He knew Hilarion’s secret but rather than give him away to the authorities, he used it to blackmail him.’
‘And who returned the dog?’ Pericles wanted to know.
‘The dog was never stolen, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘Hilarion’s instructions from the thief were to get rid of the dog. But he didn’t want to harm it. He knew how much it meant to his mistress and her little son. He simply took it to the priestesses who look after his granddaughter before the thief arrived, and went back for it after he left. The street attack was just a story he made up to explain the dog’s disappearance.
‘So I concluded that Argos had been removed temporarily in order that he would not bark during the burglary. Then we wanted to know what the thief had stolen.’
‘And, needless to say, you discovered that too?’ said Master Ariston.
‘It did not take me long to find out, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘Master Zeno’s house was built on the ruins of a much more ancient one. Hidden under the floor of this andron is a secret room. It was carved out of the rock when the first house was built, to act as a shelter from pirates and brigands. The man who owned this house before Zeno turned it into a vault to hide his riches. The entrance is marked with a lambda in the mosaic, the sign of the Spartans.’
Zeno looked startled. ‘I never knew I was living on top of a secret vault.’
‘There is a small altar in the vault,’ said Thrax. ‘The statue on it was smashed for some reason, but enough of it remained to reveal what it was.’
‘And the remains were?’ asked Pericles.
‘Winged sandals on a pair of feet, sir. The missing statue was Hermes, the god of messengers. And there was a miniature sarcophagus on the altar. It was shaped like a tortoise, the symbol of Hermes. I knew then that whatever had been stolen had something to do with sending a message. I guessed from the indentation left by the missing object in the box that it was a seal. A seal to prove that an important message was actually from the sender.
‘So now I knew that an important seal had been stolen. But who had taken it, and what did he need it for?
‘I guessed that whoever had helped the thief – at this time I didn’t yet know it was Hilarion, just that it was one of the three slaves who’d been in the house the night of the theft – would be rattled if he suspected the crime was going to be discovered. He didn’t want the thief to suspect that he had given him away, so he would try to make contact with him, to warn him. If I kept an eye on the three slaves, I thought the helper would lead Nico and me to the thief.
‘I was right, because Hilarion led us to a flower-picker he met in the gaming room of a tavern. He passed him a note, tied to a petteia pebble. I knew this flower-picker wasn’t the thief. He was too slight to have left the handprint in the vault and he most likely couldn’t read the note. I figured he was a go-between. The note was intended for someone else.’
‘Well I never,’ cried Socrates.
‘I started shadowing the flower-picker, who is called Zeus, and he led me to
the real thief.’ Thrax turned to Zeno. ‘Do you know who owned this house before you, sir?’
‘I bought it from the courts,’ said Zeno. ‘They did not divulge the identity of the previous owner.’
‘The house passed through several hands,’ explained Thrax. ‘But the man who owned the house before you was a Spartan who came from a long line of wine merchants. Despite his success in Athens, his heart remained loyal to Sparta. I believe he was suspected of treachery against Athens and was ostracised a few years ago. He now lives in a district in the north of Attica called the Acharnian, like the gate at the start of the road that leads to it.’
Thrax took a sip of water and continued. ‘In his new home, the Spartan’s hate towards Athens grew stronger by the day. One of his ancestors had set up a secret society dedicated to making Sparta the ruling polis in the world. It was called the Secret Society of Centaurs, because centaurs are powerful and when they are angry they can greatly damage, even destroy, their opponents.
‘Nico, Gaia and I overheard the centaurs plotting in the sacred grove of Athena to overthrow Athens. They had been waiting for permission from King Archidamus of Sparta, and on the first day of the Anthesteria the permission came.
‘Now I knew who the thief was, and why he needed the seal so badly. It was to convince King Archidamus that his letter asking for permission to strike was really from him. You see, the seal was a precious family heirloom that the thief had brought with him from Sparta. He had kept it in the vault for safekeeping and when he was ostracised, he didn’t have the opportunity to retrieve it. So he had no choice but to break into his old house and steal it back.’
‘And what was the plot against Athens?’ asked Zeno.
‘Their main intention was to assassinate General Pericles. Then Sparta would declare war and Athens would find itself without a leader to protect it,’ replied Thrax. ‘But Nico, Gaia and I were determined to foil their plot. We knew the police would not believe our fantastical story, so we had to take matters into our own hands.’
‘That’s why you wanted my help with getting into the Acropolis,’ exclaimed Socrates.
‘Exactly,’ said Thrax. ‘Unfortunately that didn’t work out, but we still found our way in. And when Pericles boasted about the gold bullion in the attic, I knew there was another string to the centaur’s bow. They wanted to steal the gold from the Parthenon, both the statue of Athena and the bullion. There were Spartans hidden in the caves and tunnels under the Acropolis, waiting for a signal to attack: a shadow of a centaur projected on to the temple by a shadow-artist. Had the plot succeeded, it would have been a double blow for the morale of Athens, which would have left it weak and unable to fight when Sparta declared war.’
‘Thanks to you, the centaurs’ plot failed. I take it the man your friends brought into custody is the leader of the gang,’ said Soctrates.
‘Centaur Alpha, he calls himself, sir,’ I said.
‘His real name is Lelex of Sparta,’ Pericles informed us. ‘One of the prison officials recognised him when he was brought in. Returning to Athens while ostracised is a crime punishable by death. We shall deal with the traitor according to the law and round up the people who helped him, including the infamous shadow-thrower.’
Thrax reached under his belt. ‘One of my friends is an expert purse-snatcher. He can remove anything from under a person’s belt or from inside his purse without the victim even knowing. He taught me the basics of his skills, and I managed to lift the seal from Lelex of Sparta while I was wrestling with him in the grass. I believe it is rightfully yours, Master Zeno. You bought the house and all the contents in it.’
Thrax held out the seal for all of us to see. It was no bigger than an obol but it flashed on the palm of his hand like a polished gemstone. Carved in it was a minute image of a centaur holding a club over his head. Such a small thing, I thought, which has caused such a lot of trouble.
‘There’s your case solved, Zeno,’ said Socrates. ‘Ariston was right. The boy is a genius. Now you must pay him.’
‘I couldn’t have done it without Nico and Gaia,’ protested Thrax.
But the adults were in no mood to listen. Zeno called for more wine and thrust a purse into Thrax’s hand. ‘Thank you, young man. You have done your master proud.’ When Hilarion appeared, Zeno took his hand in his. ‘I hold no grudge for what you did. You had no choice. I forgive you, and I relinquish all rights over your children and grandchildren.’
There were tears in Hilarion’s eyes as he bent to kiss his master’s hand. ‘The gods protect you for evermore, master.’
Pericles stood up. ‘It is time for me to be generous too.’
He turned to me. ‘I know you are a scribe. I shall organise it so that you have a lifetime supply of pens and papyrus to write on. It is Athens’ way of showing its gratitude for helping to save my life.
Then the general did something none of us in that room thought we’d ever see him do. He unbuckled the strap under his chin and took off his helmet, exposing his sloping forehead. It was shiny with sweat. ‘Come forward, young man,’ he said to Thrax. ‘And you, Gaia.’
Thrax stood up right away and Gaia came forward only a moment later, her chin jutting out to show she was being brave. Perciles placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
‘In the name of the city and polis of Athens and by the powers invested in me by the Athenian assembly, I grant you, Thrax from Thrace and you, Gaia from Corinth, freedom from slavery and the power to live your lives according to your own wishes and ambitions, and in honour of the gods. The city treasury will recompense your masters for their loss. Let this be done in recognition of your brave actions that have saved Athens from its enemies. Let those here present and Athena, protector of the city, be my witnesses. So I have said, so let it be done.’
I saw a look come into Thrax’s eyes that I had never seen before. A look of pure joy and sheer relief. I guess Gaia was too young to fully understand what had just happened to her. She merely smiled and shyly slipped her hand in mine. Thrax nodded for me to come forward.
‘General, sir, I thank you with all my heart. Like all slaves I have always dreamed of freedom. That it should come so early in my life is a blessing indeed. I shall go to Thrace in search of my mother, whom I last saw the night I was taken from her. Before I depart, I have one request. My friend Nico is a truly gifted writer. Might you do him the honour of listening to one of his stories before I go?’
‘Of course,’ said Pericles. ‘I shall listen with pleasure.’
Socrates rose to his feet. ‘We shall do better than a private reading. I promised this boy that he could come to my house and I would listen to his stories. Well, tonight is the last night of the Anthesteria and I have some guests coming to celebrate the closing of the festival. No theatrical performances are allowed on the day of Chytroi but we must have entertainment, and there is no reason why it should not be a reading. Why don’t you all join me and watch Nico perform his professional debut?’
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The Good Ship Calliope
Chytroi, the third and last day of the Anthesteria
I stood alone behind a flimsy curtain with a key pattern round the edge, my heart beating in my chest like a festival drum. I could see through it into Socrates’ andron. All the couches were full and I knew that many famous people had come to see me perform my first public reading. Pericles was there, his helmet firmly back on his head. So was Euripides the playwright, whom Thrax and I had got to know in Corinth. He’d brought another playwright with him, Sophocles, and the historian Herodotus, my favourite writer even if he had only written one book. Most importantly my friends were there: Thrax and Gaia and Fotini.
The evening had started with the closing ceremony of the Anthesteria. Socrates’ cooks had prepared bowls of stewed fruit and lentils. They were not for the guests to eat. They carried them to Hermes at a makeshift altar where they begged the god to keep us safe from the dead and to send them back to the underworld.
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Socrates then opened his front door where the patch of tar had dried. ‘The Anthesteria is over,’ he called out, hurling the stewed fruit and pulses into the street. ‘I implore you, souls of the dead, have one last meal and be gone. Return to the underworld and let the living live.’
The ceremony over, it was time for the entertainment. I heard the guests’ footsteps returning to the andron. To tell the truth I was really scared as I stood in the shadows, waiting to go on, and I would have loved nothing better than to slip out through the back door and head to the agora for a giant snack. My head swirled with doubts. What if the audience thought my writing second-rate? What if people failed to laugh at the jokes or to thrill to the exciting passages? Cowardly, I thought of feigning a sore throat or a headache. But then Pericles’s shadow fell across the curtain and it was too late to back out.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced. ‘You all know that two young men and a girl saved my life yesterday. They also saved Athens’ reputation and its war chest. They are brave heroes indeed.’
The audience cheered and wine cups were raised. ‘Hear! Hear!’
‘Two of those heroes turned out to be slaves and I have granted them their freedom. The other is a writer, a very gifted one I’m assured by none other than Socrates the philosopher, and he is the entertainment at our symposium tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Nico the scribe.’
The slaves parted the curtain and I stepped through into the light of a hundred lamps, and towards the smiling faces of my first audience.
It was difficult to recite at first. Tension made my throat dry and the scroll trembled in my hands. But then I looked at Fotini’s smiling face, at Gaia beside her and Thrax nodding encouragingly from a couch. Gaia was dressed in a fabulous chiton, a present from Fotini, with a glittering pin at the shoulder. It was the first time I’d seen Thrax sitting down at a symposium, a free man, and I knew everything was going to be fine.
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