The Pericles Commission (20 page)

I tried entering a nearby tavern for a drink to calm my nerves, and to read the scroll. They wouldn’t let me in. One look down the front of my chitoniskos was enough to tell me why. I was covered in mud, feces, and blood, and my hand was still bleeding freely.

I walked—staggered—back to Athens and slipped in the back entrance of our home, hoping to wash myself and burn the clothing quietly, but a house slave screamed when she saw me, bringing Phaenarete running. Mother didn’t panic, being a midwife, but her voluble description of my numerous intellectual defects was quite vivid as she personally stripped, washed, and bandaged me. All the while my little brother was watching, wide-eyed. This excitement brought Sophroniscus from his workshop, covered in dust. He took one look at me, ordered Phaenarete away, and led me into his private room. He ordered a slave to bring wine and had me down two cups unwatered as I told him everything that had happened.

His only comment was, “Have you accepted the Polemarch’s offer yet?”

“No, Father. I turned him down this morning.”

Sophroniscus gripped his own cup tightly. His face paled.

“I knew you were young, and rash as all young men are, but I had not thought you foolhardy.” He sighed. “Son, I hope you know what you’re getting into. You have now aligned yourself irrevocably with Pericles. Politics in Athens is rough, the mob is fickle, and there’s no mercy for losers.”

“I’m not doing politics,” I said.

Sophroniscus raised an eyebrow. “No? You have a commission from Pericles, the victim is Ephialtes, Xanthippus and the whole Council of the Areopagus is suspect, the killer is a mercenary foreigner, and you don’t think this is politics?” He shook his head. “You might not be standing before the people making speeches, but you’ve become a politician all the same. One working behind the scenes, like some men do during a play, so everything works for the actors out front. Do one thing for this old man, Nico: make sure your play is a comedy, not a tragedy.”

“I’ll have to discuss that with the author, if I can find him.”

Sophroniscus smiled. “Use this room whenever you need privacy.” And with that he returned to his work.

I sipped at the wine and inspected the things I’d taken from Aristodicus. I was sure he had killed Ephialtes, but was none the wiser who had instructed the assassin.

The door opened slightly, and a little head poked its way in. “Can I help?”

“No.”

“Can I watch?”

“No.”

“I promise I’ll be quiet!”

“You can come in if you stop interrupting me,” I grated, thinking this conversation could go on forever otherwise.

I opened the two notes and began to read. Instantly two little eyes were reading over my shoulder.

The first seemed straightforward to me. It gave the time and place of the murder. Obviously someone had told Aristodicus.

The handwriting wasn’t familiar to me. I pulled out the papers I’d taken from Xanthippus’ study and laid them out flat beside the one from Aristodicus. None of these bills and notes had anything to do with the murder, but I didn’t care. I picked through them to find one that had certainly been written by Xanthippus. I compared the handwriting of Xanthippus to that on the note. I was hugely disappointed. They didn’t look the same to me, and I’d been so sure I’d been about to solve the killing. I took out the note Ephialtes had sent to Xanthippus, setting the meeting at the Areopagus. Ephialtes’ writing didn’t match the note from Aristodicus either, but then, I’d never expected that it would.

Next I examined the shipping note. It was an agreement with a merchant to give Aristodicus a place as passenger on one of his boats leaving Athens. It was marked with what I guessed to be the seal of the boat owner. Aristodicus had paid in advance. This was so unusual, I frowned. No one ever paid a captain for passage in advance. The chances were the captain would take the money and leave early.

“Nico, what does this mean?” my little brother asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe he thought he wouldn’t have time to negotiate passage when he wanted to leave.”

“Like people were chasing him?”

“That’s right.”

“But Nico, how would you know days ahead that someone was going to be chasing you?”

I read the note again. “It doesn’t give a departure date. It only says, ‘When Aristodicus says to Telemenes he wishes to sail from Athens, Telemenes will give Aristodicus space on his first departing boat. If Telemenes has no boat within the two days then Telemenes will buy immediate passage for Aristodicus on the boat of another man.’ And for the amount he paid, I’d say Telemenes is getting a good deal. It says here Aristodicus paid three times the going rate. Even if Telemenes had to buy space from a competitor he would still make a profit.” I threw down the page. “It doesn’t make sense. Why go through this bizarre arrangement when for the same money Aristodicus could simply stand at the docks and shout out what he wanted? There’d be half a dozen captains sailing the same day who’d take him for that price.”

My little brother said, puzzled, “But Nico, isn’t that because Aristodicus doesn’t want anyone to know about him? If he did that everyone in Piraeus would know about it right away, and he wants to hide. Isn’t that why he moved to a different inn?”

I said grudgingly, “All right, that might be true. But then you have to explain why he’s still in Athens at all. If he felt he needed to hide, and he had this get-out-of-Athens agreement with Telemenes, why didn’t he use it?”

“Because he hasn’t finished what he was doing.”

I thought back to what Diotima and I had deduced long ago, after Brasidas had been shot: that there was another murder to come. But since then the slaves and the women of Ephialtes’ household had met violent deaths. Did they count in the equation? The innkeeper had proven Aristodicus had been in Asia Minor, and the evidence of the sandals suggested it had been not more than three months ago. That was very important because Cimon, the brilliant General recently ostracized by Pericles, champion of the conservative party and bitter enemy of Ephialtes, was
not
in Asia Minor. I didn’t know where Cimon was, but I was quite sure Asia Minor would not be it. The Persians controlled Asia Minor, Cimon had spent most of his life fighting them, and the Persians were none too fond of Cimon either.

Could Aristodicus be working for the Great King of Persia? It was certainly possible—many Hellenes did—and the Great King was rumored to have an extensive spy network. The idea of the Persians sending a Hellene to assassinate a Hellene was totally believable. If this was a Persian plot, then it meant the Persians were on their way again. That was a possibility I had to take to Pericles right away. Every political squabble, every conspiracy, every other consideration paled alongside the prospect of another Persian invasion. They had almost beaten us last time, and only the cunning of Themistocles had saved Hellas.

I paused. Themistocles was in Asia Minor. After being accused of treason, he had fled for his life and washed up at the palace of the Great King, who had made him Governor of Magnesia, Lampsacus, and Myus. Was Themistocles, the deep strategist who had preceded Ephialtes as leader of the Athenians, the man behind the death of his successor?

I picked up the bag of money. I spilled the coins across the table. What Aristodicus had hidden were tetradrachmae minted in Athens, with Athena on one side and her sacred owl peering out at us on the obverse. Aristodicus had placed bits of rag in among the coins to prevent jangling when he moved.

“Nico, is this what people usually get paid for killing other people?”

The coins were wealth, but not a fortune. “I don’t know, little brother, but I doubt it. It doesn’t seem enough to me, considering who Ephialtes was. Father is paid more for a large statue.” I picked over the coins. In among them was a token I didn’t recognize. I held it up to the light. It was a piece of board, fitting easily into my palm, with a design on it of some form. The board had been cut in two, slicing through the design with a zigzag edge. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it, but I knew Aristodicus had thought it important.

I returned my attention to the bag the coins had been in, which seemed familiar to me although I knew I’d never seen this bag before in my life. Now where had I seen one similar?

At the house of Xanthippus! In his study there was a row of bags identical to this one, I was sure of it. I could have leapt for joy. At last I had a connection between Xanthippus and Aristodicus. I would have to find out where the bags had come from. If they were bought then someone else might have the same, but if they’d been made by Xanthippus’ slaves, he would have a hard time evading the implication. I imagined myself prosecuting Xanthippus before the people of Athens and tearing apart his defense with ease.

“Nico, I’ve been thinking.”

“What now?” I demanded, exasperated.

“The man who gave Aristodicus his orders must be in Athens.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The note about the meeting. No one outside Athens could have written it.”

It was so obvious it made me ashamed. I gave up all thoughts of Persian spies, Cimon, and Themistocles.

“All right then, you’ve made your point. Anything else to add?” I asked sarcastically.

“Whoever wrote the note probably ordered Aristodicus to stay in Athens. He probably has someone else to kill.”

My little brother had reproduced almost everything I’d worked out, but with only half the evidence.

“Nico, I’ve been thinking—”

I sighed. “Try not to think so much, Socrates. It will only get you into trouble.”

“Yes, Nico.”

Pythax screamed, “Again!”

I thrust again with the blade in my left hand. And again I missed. It was astonishing the difference in strength between my left and right wrists. It was my first morning of training with Pythax. With my right still bandaged, Pythax was starting by teaching me what to do when my normal fighting arm was out of action.

The Scythians thought it terribly amusing that a citizen should be fighting in the dirt with them, but they took it in good part because Pythax treated me not one whit different to them. In fact, if anything he treated me more harshly. When I asked him why, he replied, his expression grim, “Because my men keep the peace and do crowd control, but you go looking for trouble.”

Antigonos and Euphrestes, the two Scythians I had been practicing with, laughed, and poked me in the ribs. The first thing I had discovered about the Scythians was that very few of them were, in fact, Scythian. The true Scythians are tribes of barbarians who live far to the north. They are tall, fair, and ride like centaurs. Their people have no towns or villages. Instead they travel from place to place and erect tents for the women and children whenever they stop at a place for more than a few days. Perhaps the original Athenian force was truly Scythian, but that was farther back than anyone remembered. Now the Scythians of Athens came from almost any of the northern hill tribes, and they were Hellenes for the most part, if primitive ones. I was even introduced to a “Scythian” from Crete!

At the end of training I stripped, poured a bucket of water over myself to clean off the dirt, and put on a fresh chitoniskos. I intended to go straight to Piraeus from the training ground.

As I rounded the path to the south, I ran into someone I knew coming the other way.

“Oh! Hello, Nicolaos. That is, I was just going for a walk,” she volunteered quickly.

“Hello, Euterpe,” I said.

She seemed to be peering around my shoulder. “Tell me, are they the Scythians over there?”

“Yes, they are. Pythax has been running early morning training. You might want to say hello if you’re passing by.”

“Yes! Yes, I might do that. Thank you,” and she stepped past me nervously, but then stopped and said, “Oh, ah. You won’t tell Diotima you saw me, will you? If she learned I was exercising, she would tease me about it.”

“My lips are sealed, Euterpe.”

I discovered quickly that Telemenes was well known in shipping circles. He owned more than one boat, which marked him as very wealthy indeed. He was a metic, of course; it is almost unheard of for well-born citizens to indulge in anything as disreputable as trade.

The man I asked was distinctly nervous when I approached him, and his hand shook as he pointed to a building by the quay, which he said was the office of Telemenes. I asked why he was so nervous and discovered that news travels fast. I had gained a certain reputation in Piraeus since the fight with Aristodicus the previous day.

The building was typical of the sort found near the docks, where everything looks like a ware house, with wide doors and cool, dark interiors. What was less typical was the emergence of Rizon as I approached. We ran into each other. He looked frightened and angry.

“Get out of my way!” He raised his arms, probably to push me out of the way, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I stepped back to draw my dagger.

He sneered, “So you’re going to attack me again, are you? You’re a violent man, I’ve warned the magistrates about you.”

“I haven’t fought anyone who didn’t attack me first.”

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, rubbing his nose.

“You don’t count. Striking you is an act of public beneficence.”

“Proof enough of what I say. Well, if you want to strike me down in public where there are plenty of witnesses, go right ahead.” He pushed past and stalked away.

“Rizon!”

He turned. “What?”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“What loss?”

“Stratonike and the nurses. They were members of your household when they died.”

Rizon laughed. “No loss at all. Whoever did that was really doing us all a favor.” He went on his way.

I entered the building Rizon had exited. There was a slave sorting through accounts. This wasn’t your average slave who did the menial jobs around the house or manual labor on a farm. This slave could read and write, and Telemenes obviously trusted him to add the numbers. Such a man would be worth a small fortune on the market.

He looked up at me and said, “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Telemenes.”

“Are you buying?”

“What?”

“Are you here to purchase cargo from the master?”

“No.”

“Selling? I warn you, we rarely export for other merchants.”

“No, I’m not selling.”

“Booking passage then. We do take occasional passengers on our ships. Where would you like to go?”

“Nowhere, I just want to speak with Telemenes.”

“Then I’m afraid he’s not here and won’t be until you go away.”

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary at all!”

A fat man stood in a doorway beyond the slave. He beckoned me inside. I stepped around the slave as ostentatiously as I could manage.

“Do excuse my slave. It’s his job to keep me from being interrupted by unimportant personages, but that certainly doesn’t apply to
you
.” He beamed at me like I was his favorite nephew. His face and body were enormous. Telemenes didn’t walk—he waddled from side to side. I wondered how any man could find enough food to get himself into that condition. In body-conscious Athens, which prized physical beauty above all things, Telemenes was unique. If he’d been a citizen, he would have been shunned by his fellows. As a metic he probably didn’t care, especially since he was apparently rich enough to buy any number of citizens. Besides which, Telemenes gave the impression of being almost terminally jolly.

“You…you know me?” I stammered, suddenly unsure of myself.

“But of course! You are Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus. It would be a poor merchant who didn’t keep up with the latest developments in politics.”

“I’m not a politician.”

Telemenes raised an eyebrow. “Not too many days past, you formed an arrangement with Pericles, a man who, if I read the signs right, will soon be a powerful presence in Athens. You are acquainted with his father Xanthippus, a powerful member of the Areopagus. Indeed, I’m given to understand you helped save his property when the mob became violent. It’s always pleasant to have favors due from the powerful, don’t you think? You were seen to speak convivially with Archestratus at the funeral of Ephialtes. You visited the Polemarch—lovely man—at the time one of his secretaries was forced to retire due to illness. The rumor is you
turned down
his offer of a post, which bespeaks a man of enormous confidence of greater positions on the horizon. My dear boy, let’s not be unduly modest in this room. I understand it is seemly before the mob, but between men such as us we can dispense with pretense. So, what can a fat old merchant do to assist you?”

And all this time I’d thought I’d been investigating a murder. Was this how other people saw me? Or was this slimy dealer trying to flatter me for his own unspeakable purposes?

“First of all, you can tell me what Rizon wanted.”

“The gentleman who was here a moment ago? Surely that is his business. You should ask him.”

“He’s most unlikely to tell me. You, however, are likely to assist a rising politician. Do you trust your own judgment? Let’s reflect on your words about the joy of having favors owed you.”

“I see.” Telemenes reflected for a moment. “The gentleman in question has occasion to make business trips. Most of our passengers are traveling on business. There is nothing unusual in that.”

“It depends on the destination. Where does he go?”

“Ephesus.”

“Anywhere else?”

“Always Ephesus, there and return. Three trips.”

“So Rizon was here arranging another business trip.”

“Indeed.”

“Why in Hades would a sandal maker need to travel?”

Telemenes raised his eyebrows. “Now it truly would be necessary to ask the gentleman. I don’t inquire of my passengers what they intend when they disembark my boat.”

“I’m sure you don’t. You had an arrangement with Aristodicus of Tanagra. I want to know about it.”

“Who?” He looked bemused. I maintained a steady silence, determined to wait him out. Telemenes finally acquiesced and clapped his hands, and the slave came in. Telemenes whispered something to him and the slave departed, returning a moment later with a thick pile of parchments. He sifted through these before picking out one and handing it to Telemenes, silently departing with the remainder.

Telemenes studied the parchment. “Ah yes, Aristodicus of Tanagra. A minor matter that was taken care of directly by my slaves.”

“Your seal is on the document.”

“Ah yes, I am a busy man, Nicolaos. I have many things to attend to. Sometimes a busy man will allow a slave to affix a seal. It’s a minor peccadillo, I know, but you know how it is. In the world of business, there are many worse things a man could do.”

“Do you have many arrangements like this one?”

“Offering passage? Why, of course.”

“How about passage for three times the going rate in return for anonymity and a fast boat on a moment’s notice?”

“Does it say that here?” Telemenes made a great show of inspecting the note closely.

“I am reading between the lines.”

“My dear Nicolaos, you should not make too much of the loose language you come across in notes such as these.”

I made a stab in the dark on a sudden inspiration. “Was there a similar note when you brought Aristodicus to Athens?”

“There you are, young man! A fine example of loose language yourself! I did not arrange for Aristodicus to come to this lovely city.”

“But he came on one of your boats, didn’t he?”

“We are predominantly an import-export fleet, but we do have numerous passengers.”

Talking with this man was like wrestling with an eel. “I suppose you must be pleased now that you won’t have to deliver on your agreement.”

“What do you mean?” He was either genuinely puzzled or an excellent actor.

“Aristodicus is dead.”

“He is? Why, the poor man! I sorrow. I do hope it was not a painful illness that carried him off.”

“Rest easy. The arrow that took him in the back was quite quick. Forgive me for mentioning it, but for a merchant who likes to keep up on political developments you seem remarkably behind the times about spectacular local deaths.”

“I was speaking of the high politics of one of the world’s most powerful cities, and you, unless I mistake your meaning, are talking about the sordid activities of a criminal underworld.”

“I’m not entirely sure there’s a great deal of difference. But even if there were, I am sure you would still know about it, Telemenes.”

“My dear Nicolaos! I am a legitimate merchant. I have five boats plying the waters between all the Hellene ports, plus Crete, Asia Minor, Phoenicia, Egypt, and sometimes all the way to Massalia if the profit is right. We export ceramics and other manufactured goods, we import corn and some luxuries. I give you my most solemn promise I make more profit from such ventures than I ever could from passengers, no matter how well they pay.”

I decided I could keep asking questions all day, and Telemenes could keep deflecting them as if he had some kind of verbal shield. “Where was Aristodicus planning to go?”

“Syracuse,” he said. “Would you care to consider taking his place? As you pointed out, it is paid for.”

“Thank you for the offer. If things continue for me as they have been, I might need a fast ship out of Athens some time soon, but I’m not that desperate yet.”

Telemenes looked at me with interest. “Ah well.”

“Now tell me where Aristodicus came from, and don’t try and tell me you don’t know.”

Telemenes made another great show of inspecting his notes. “That would be…let me see now…ah yes, Ephesus, the famed city of marble. Beautiful place, Ephesus.”

Beautiful perhaps, but on the coast of Asia Minor under Persian control and, if my memory served, the closest major port to Magnesia, where Themistocles was Governor. So Aristodicus came here from Ephesus, and Rizon travels to Ephesus. What could I make of that?

I said, “Let me take a shot in the dark and ask if Rizon traveled on the boat that brought Aristodicus.”

“For that information I will need to consult records.”

“I’ll wait.”

Telemenes clapped his hands and the slave appeared once more for another whispered conference. This resulted in a flurry of activity that terminated with a small scroll placed before Telemenes. He ran his finger down the writing, hesitated, and sat back with a chuckle.

“Indeed they did. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

I had time to make it back to Athens before lunch, which was good because I’d promised to take the box of Ephialtes’ papers to Diotima so we could search them together. I carried these to the home of Euterpe, where the house slave let me in without a whisper. I dropped the box outside her door. Diotima arrived, looking tired and unhappy. Before we began, I said, “I have news for you, the man who shot your father is dead.” I told her the story of his death. This cheered her up.

“Thank you, Nicolaos. You have given me half of the vengeance my father’s shade demands.” She didn’t have to tell me the other half: the man behind Aristodicus. But I couldn’t take credit when it wasn’t due.

“I didn’t kill him at the end. Pythax did.”

“It would never have happened if you hadn’t tracked him down, so thank you. Revenge for my father means a great deal to me.”

She leaned forward and kissed me, and I was not surprised to discover this was highly pleasant. As the kiss went on, she moved into me and I held her tight. I could feel her breasts against my chest and her tongue between my lips.

We were committing a crime. If Rizon walked into the room this minute and killed us both, a court would approve his action as justifiable homicide, as long as he had witnesses.

Diotima probably had the same thought because she broke off the kiss.