The Pericles Commission (6 page)

“I am surprised. It’s a phrase Xanthippus repeats endlessly, as if he were the only judge of benefice. Xanthippus used to be a man of the people himself. But something warped his spirit; perhaps it was the war against the Persians. The war certainly proved he’s capable of killing in cold blood, and with the greatest cruelty.”

“It did? But Xanthippus was one of the heroes of the war.”

“Do you know the story of the Persian commander? No? There was among the Persian force a commander called Artäyctes. This man stole great treasures from a Hellene sanctuary at Elaeus, in Thrace, far to the north and east of here. Much later Artäyctes and his son were captured by a force led by Xanthippus. Artäyctes tried to bribe his way out of trouble; he offered to restore the treasure, to pay the sanctuary one hundred talents—that’s six hundred thousand drachmae!—and twice that amount to the Athenians, if only they would release him.”

“No wonder Xanthippus is so wealthy,” I said. For surely he would have pocketed some of that.

“You think so? Then let me tell you, Xanthippus had Artäyctes led to the shore, where they nailed him to a plank and raised the plank high so he could see. Then they chained his son to a pole set in the ground. They stoned the son to death, before the eyes of the father, whom they left to die slowly of crucifixion.”

The thought of it made me shudder. Had the grumpy, cantankerous old man I’d met truly done such a thing?

Archestratus continued, “You see that Xanthippus is not a man one crosses lightly. He’s been living off his hero reputation and his power base. That base is the Areopagus. It’s what gives him the ability to influence policy without having to justify himself to the people. Without it, he’d be nothing.”

“You aren’t exactly free of that ambition yourself, are you?” I challenged him. “Isn’t everyone looking for power?”

“They certainly are! But the difference, young Nicolaos, the important difference, is that I seek leadership of the people, not control over them. So too does Pericles, or at least, that’s what he says.”

“You think he doesn’t mean it?”

Archestratus mused, “It must be difficult, having grown up the son of a wealthy, aristocratic family, groomed to lead Athens from his earliest days. His distinguished ancestors merely reached out to take the reins as their birthright, and yet he must
ask
the people for permission to lead, must persuade, where his ancestors had only to command. The temptation to reach out and take as his ancestors once did must be almost overpowering at times. And then, of course, there’s the matter of your employment. Odd, wouldn’t you say?”

“What?” I said, startled. “What’s odd about it?”

“My dear young man! How many friends do you think Pericles has? How many allies? And how many of those do you think are more experienced than you, more skilled in diplomacy, with a better knowledge of the power game? Yet he chose you, a young man of no experience, to carry out this important task. Why? I speculate, of course, but could it be Pericles wants to be seen to be doing something without wanting to risk an unfortunate result?”

I bristled at that. “Archestratus, I was hired to find the truth, and I swear by the Gods that’s what I’m going to do.”

“My boy! My boy! I never suggested otherwise; you wear your integrity like a cloak. It’s not
your
motivation I question.”

“What are you saying?” I demanded.

“Simply this: if you reach the point where you can no longer fully trust Pericles, come to me.”

I found the fine artwork missing from Ephialtes’ home. It was all in the home of his mistress. One of them had good taste. I decided it must be Euterpe of Mantinea, since surely Ephialtes would not have selected that statue of Apollo cavorting with a nymph? The anatomical detail was remarkable.

The house slave sniffed at me when I knocked, as if I were too verminous to cross her threshold. The name Ephialtes got me as far as the public receiving room, where I had been left to linger long enough to have inspected every art piece in the room, and there were a lot of them. I had never before been in the salon of a hetaera. The murals were short on Homeric battle scenes but gratifyingly long on sporting nymphs, satyrs, and priapic Gods. I peered at them closely, my nose almost pressed to the wall.

“Educational, aren’t they?”

I turned, startled, and crashed my knee against a nearby table. Trying not to swear, and clutching my knee, I saw framed in the doorway the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on.

Euterpe had reddish brown hair that flowed down her lovely neck and over a shoulder to her breasts. She was wearing a dress that, even if it were not made of fabric I could see through, would have been considered scandalously immodest. As it was, she had my body’s full and immediate attention. The dress was tied in some way so that the material flowed with her skin. My mind ceased functioning since it was not required for the moment.

“Oh! Are you hurt?”

She knelt before me and touched my knee where I’d banged it. Waves of pleasure coursed up me.

Euterpe looked a little higher, and smiled. She stood, swayed to a couch, and reclined, arching her back so that her nipples pressed out against the material and her legs were exposed.

“So, what may I do for you, young man?”

I collapsed back against the nearest couch, unable to speak and agonizingly aware how I must look to her.

Euterpe let me recover. She clapped her hands. A young woman appeared, whom I barely noticed.

“Diotima, dear, would you bring me wine? And a carafe of cool water for our guest.”

The young woman reappeared with an exquisite thin pottery watercooler. I took it and thankfully let it rest in my lap, where it did me a lot of good. Euterpe eyed this arrangement while a half smile played on her lips, and her gaze traveled up and down.

“I understand you’ve come about Ephialtes?” She used her finger to twirl some of the tresses that fell upon her breasts.

I had to consider the possibility that Euterpe was not doing this to me deliberately. She may behave this way with every man. If so, I found it incredible Ephialtes had lived long enough to be felled by the arrow. He should have died from excruciating pleasure long ago. I supposed she was old enough to be my mother, but the evidence before my eyes suggested not, or else Aphrodite had shared some of her secrets.

“Uh, when did you last see him?” I managed to croak.

“Why, yesterday, the day he died. He spent the night here and departed in the morning.”

“He did?” I said, surprised.

“You are surprised.”

On reflection I should not have been. “Then at least his last night was a memorable one.”

Euterpe clapped her hands in delight.

“A compliment! Oh, do keep practicing. One day you’ll be enchanting the ladies and receiving invitations to all the best salons.”

“I don’t ever expect to be able to afford it. Did you know where Ephialtes was going?”

“I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem important. Ephialtes sometimes left at dawn to conduct business.”

“How long had you known him?”

“Many, many years,” she said quietly, as much to herself as to me. Then she recollected the admission and said, “Long enough for us to be great friends, as well as the rest. We hetaerae with special friends are more to our men than their own wives, did you know that?”

“I can well believe it.”

“Ephialtes was a rising young politician when we first met. He could barely afford me then, but when he had the funds he would visit. As he rose he became wealthier and could visit more often. Eventually we came to the current arrangement: he kept me in the style I required, and I kept him happy, and saw no other man.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before, a hetaera with only one client.”

“It’s unusual, yes, but it served us both well. Ephialtes posed with the people as one of them. He could hardly do that and visit all the expensive hetaerae! The common men can’t afford hetaerae and have to make do with those dirty pornoi. So a quiet, permanent mistress seemed the best idea.”

“Are you really from Mantinea?”

“Oh yes! I come from a well-born family. I was given as a girl-child to the temple to be priestess there, where the priestesses are required to be virgins but retire early to marry. Well, you can imagine having done my duty as a virgin priestess I was ready for anything! I married a local well-born citizen many times my age, who died on me the following year. Poor old Alexias.”

I had an idea how Alexias had expired, and felt nothing but envy for the old man.

“His lands passed to his son by a previous marriage. The son loathed me—I can’t imagine why—and by mutual agreement I departed for Athens with his funding. So here I was in Athens with no husband, and the local wives looking down on me. It was the most natural thing in the world to arrange a few soirées. One thing led to another, and here I am.”

She paused to consider me.

“Are you married yet, Nicolaos? Betrothed? No? Then some respectable girl still awaits the pleasure of your company.”

“I thought a lady such as yourself would have no time for the respectable girls.”

“Oh, respectability is nothing of value. But security, dear man, security is the important thing for one such as me. The wives may be boring, drab, disgusting, but they are secure.”

Financial security seemed a delicate subject better avoided with Euterpe. I wondered what it cost to maintain this house and where she would find the money now. No doubt there were rich men would pay well to be with her, but she was reduced to looking for custom again where before she had a certain future and a steady income.

“We seem to have moved from investigating the death of your client to my personal love life.”

She came to sit on my couch, leaned against me so that I could feel her breasts against my chest, stroked my thigh, and looked into my eyes with sincerity.

“I often mix business with pleasure. In fact, pleasure is my business. Have you a thousand drachmae? No, I thought not, but if you ever have a windfall, you’ll be thinking of me, will you not, handsome Nicolaos?”

This was more than any young man could be expected to bear. I made my thanks and escaped the room, followed by her light laughter.

Back out on the street I felt light-headed and had to lean against the wall for support. I took deep breaths. She was right, if I won that home and modest income from Pericles, I might throw it all away for a night with Euterpe.

A young man peered around the corner onto the street as I stood there. When he saw me notice him, he stepped back out of sight. The light was dim so late in the day and I didn’t get a clear view, but I thought it was the same man I’d seen watching me outside the house of Xanthippus. Could he be one of the men who’d beaten me? I hadn’t had a good look, but I didn’t think so. I sidled to the corner with my dagger drawn, and looked about. He was gone, but it worried me. I was sure I was being stalked.

I found Pericles in the Stoa Poikile off the north side of the Agora, in the corridor of colonnades. The two painters I’d seen before were both still at work, and both had moved on to color. The battle with the Amazons was coming out with brilliant, vivid hues, but the Fall of Troy was looking a bit monotone to me.

The stoa was already the favored place for men to meet and talk. The porch was wide and cool, far enough away from the stalls that the dust kicked up by the shoppers didn’t hang in the air. The columns were stylish, tapered at the top so they appeared to be straight all the way. Some men sat on the steps of the porch, their clothing tucked up, but most stood within the shady area. There was much angry talking, much hand waving. Pericles was talking, but he wasn’t making speeches.

He talked to small groups of men, going from one to the next. He harangued other speakers calling for revenge. He took men aside and spoke to them quietly. He coaxed the doubtful, soothed the angry, cheered the fearful. His message was the same every time: don’t jump to action, think first, consider the consequences, wait for news.

Although I needed to speak to him myself, I stood back and watched, not daring to interfere while he worked. Pericles was barely controlling a mob ready to lynch someone, a Councilor of the Areopagus for preference, but any rich aristocrat would do. He played heavily on being Ephialtes’ trusted lieutenant, telling the mob what Ephialtes would have wanted. But his own wealthy aristocratic family told against him, and when someone shouted Pericles was son of the murderer, it all threatened to boil over. Who was he to say what the people should do?

“There will be news!” Pericles bellowed in a voice that could command a battle, jumping upon an empty plinth. That shut them all up for a moment.

“There will be news,” Pericles said more quietly, forcing the people to listen carefully to his words. “We do not know who killed Ephialtes, but we will. And when we do, people of Athens, if the murderer is Xanthippus, then I, Pericles, son of Xanthippus, will lead the prosecution against him. And if the killer of my friend was any other man, then too I will lead the prosecution. Our democracy favors no man.”

As he stepped down from the plinth I heard him whisper sadly, “Not even me.”

Pericles and I had made eye contact some time before. Now, with the crowd breaking up under the force of his personality, he strode over to me where I stood in the full glare of the sun, between the stoa and the stalls.

“There
will
be news, won’t there, Nicolaos?”

“There will, sir.” I had been feeling a trifle warm, now I began to sweat. I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. I had intended to tell him of my troubles and doubts, but changed my mind having seen his own load. Instead I detailed what I had discovered to date, neglecting to mention most of the events in Euterpe’s rooms.

“I have to emphasize, Pericles, if the point Archestratus made of Cimon is good, and it may well be, then you are in mortal danger.”

Pericles stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It’s almost as useful if Cimon is behind it as the Areopagus.”

“But aren’t you worried?”

“Hmm? Worried? No, I’m not.” Pericles began to stroll about the perimeter of the Agora, I guessed to prevent anyone from eavesdropping. We had the chaos of the markets to our right and the relative calm of the public buildings on our left. Pericles went on, “Athens is no good to anyone if it’s a burning wreck, and the murder of a second democrat now would tip us into civil war, no question. You saw the mob yourself. I am not being arrogant, Nicolaos, when I tell you the only thing standing between Athens and self-immolation this moment is me. If Cimon is watching then he knows that. But surely he must be out of Attica by now. If he were found within the territories during his period of exile he could legally be killed on the spot.”

“You forget the agent theory.”

“Cimon has many friends, that’s true.”

“Does he have enough to stage a coup?”

“Take Athens by force? It’s been done before, of course. Who have you been talking to, or is this your own idea?”

“Lysimachus mentioned it to my father.”

“Lysimachus, of course. I think I said when we first met that your father and I have a common friend. That’s him. Lysimachus is prone to dramatize any situation. But in this case it would hardly be possible to overestimate the danger.”

“So you agree. Cimon has the ability to foment revolution.”

Pericles considered. “Yes, I believe he could; the man is an outstanding military commander, even if he is an aristocratic prig. But Nicolaos, you must remember no one has ever successfully held Athens long-term by force. The people will rise against a tyrant they don’t like.” We had to stand to the side for a moment while a donkey laden with small pots trundled by. From the spicy sweet smell, it had to be fish sauce. As we watched the donkey’s backside recede down the road, Pericles continued, “A tyrant is a king in all but name. If the people like him, no force is required. Peisistratus ruled as tyrant for decades, yet he died an old and happy man, because some men make good kings.” He paused. “But then of course, others don’t.”

I said, “Pericles, you should not assume everyone thinks the same as you about the state of Athens. Political assassination happens; we’re looking at it right now. I’d prefer not to have to say ‘I Told You So,’ while pulling an arrow out of your chest, or a dagger from your back. At least arrange for some bodyguards.”

“Certainly not! What would the people think? However, Nicolaos, to appease you I will avoid dark alleys, and ignore dubious summonses to meetings in lonely corners of Athens. Now, tell me of my father.”

“If you’d asked me two days ago, I’d have sworn he did it. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Pericles long face brightened to a smile. “You have evidence in his favor!”

“No, I have too many suspects, all of whom could be killers.” Pericles’ face fell once more.

I said, “Ephialtes left his mistress Euterpe that morning. She says she doesn’t know where he was going, but we have only her word for that. Of course it’s ridiculous to think she could have pulled the bow, but she could easily have sent a man.”

“A man willing to commit murder just because she asks? Is that realistic?”

“I see you haven’t met her.”

“It sounds like I should.”

“You see, Pericles, only someone who knew Ephialtes was going to be on the Rock of the Areopagus at that time could have killed him. Euterpe could have known the time and place well in advance. She’s one of the few.”

“But surely she would be the last person in the world to want him dead. Even his wife has a better motive.”

“Yes, that annoying little detail gets in the way of my otherwise sound theory. If Euterpe is behind a murder plot, then I need a very good reason for it.”

“What about the wife then?”

“I hadn’t thought about her.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t get near to question her, because it’s unlikely she might have known where he was going, and because she doesn’t have Euterpe’s outstanding powers of…er…persuasion to cause a man to act for her.”

“But she might have family. What about a male relative avenging insults to her?”

“Pericles, this doesn’t sound promising to me.”

“But it’s possible, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I reluctantly conceded. “But why reach for the top of the tree when there is low-hanging fruit to be plucked?”

“Your meaning?”

“Your father. He knew the time and place. He has the motive, he had the opportunity.”

Pericles leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. “Could I bring my own father to trial for murder? Should I? Would it count as patricide?”

“You would have to ask a priest that, or a philosopher.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to ask Archestratus to act for me.”

“On that subject, Pericles, what would you do if Archestratus is the killer?”

Pericles opened one eye. “Are you saying he might be?”

“He did have a reason for wanting Ephialtes dead. Look at the way he’s behaved since. I think he already has more followers than you do, Pericles. You need to watch out for him. You don’t seem to be doing much to build your position.”

Pericles laughed and said, “Ah, Nicolaos, Nicolaos! How we do change! It wasn’t so long ago, my young friend, a mere four days, that you had to ask me my name. Now you are my political advisor!”

Our meandering had taken us close to where the fishwives were screeching at the tops of their voices, the aroma of warm fish was not enticing, and somewhere close by someone was cooking goat meat in garlic. Pericles screwed up his face and said, “Come, let’s go for a walk elsewhere.”

He guided me south along the Panathenaic Way, away from the crowd. Archestratus was speaking to some men on the other side of the Agora. As I looked in that direction a face surfaced among the sea of heads, and I thought I glimpsed the young man who had disappeared at Xanthippus’ house and then Euterpe’s, but I couldn’t be sure. I said to Pericles, “Wait here,” and pushed my way through the crowd. But either I was wrong, or the man had spotted me yet again and disappeared, easy enough to do in the noisy, busy crowd. In frustration, I elbowed my way back to Pericles, who lifted an eyebrow but chose not to ask me what I’d been doing. We continued our walk.

Where Pericles walked, men followed. A few came up to Pericles to discuss the killing, urging him to take action. Some had other issues.

“Tell us true, Pericles, will you put your hand on the leadership of the people, or won’t you? Do it now!”

“Pericles, there isn’t enough corn in Athens, and what there is I can’t afford. My children starve while farmers send their corn to richer markets. What can be done about it?”

“Pericles, the tax on imports is ruinous.”

“Pericles, what do you say to Archestratus leading the people?”

“Pericles, my neighbor is moving the boundary markers between our farms…”

“Pericles, they say you saw your father murder Ephialtes, is it true?”

Pericles abruptly stopped, and turned to face the crowd. His piercing, intelligent eyes looked down on them. They fell silent.

“Was Ephialtes a tyrant, that the city should collapse in a heap without him?” Pericles singled out the importer. “You there! The taxes are the same they were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. So why do you come to me now? Taxes are a question for the Ecclesia.” Pericles pointed to the farmer. “There is a court for grievances such as yours. If the boundary markers are moved, they will be put back, and your neighbor fined. And while you are about it, sell some of your corn to this man whose children hunger. Perhaps we need a law banning export of corn while any Athenian starves.” He looked over the people, who now seemed abashed at the way they had thronged about him. “Neither Archestratus nor I can be your leader, because in our city the people lead themselves. Are you sheep without a shepherd, or are you the men of Athens, living in the democracy of your own making? Talk to each other instead of to me.”

Pericles turned to go, but hesitated, then said, “And for the future, I will advise the people of Athens as best I can.”

After that we walked silently for some time. We came to the spot where Ephialtes had fallen, and gazed awhile at Ephialtes’ blood, which still stained some of the small rocks.

I asked, “What will you do, Pericles, if Archestratus is the killer?”

He hesitated. “Do you have anything against Archestratus other than his ambition?”

I had failed to discover where Archestratus had been that morning, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“Not yet.”

“I want you to forget about Archestratus. Your job is to find the link to the Areopagus that we both know is there.”

“No Pericles, my commission is to find the killer, whoever it might be.”

“It’s the same thing,” he said.

Much against my will, I was forced to recall the words of Archestratus, that Pericles might be using me to deliver the answer he wanted.

“Pericles, why did you choose me for this investigation?”

“You pick a strange time to ask the question. I explained at the time: you impressed me when we found the body, you are intelligent and energetic, and you don’t panic in a crisis.” He raised an eyebrow and with an arch tone said, “Are you saying you want to resign your commission?”

“No!” I said, suddenly afraid he might be about to take it from me.

“Then trust me on this, Nicolaos, you are wasting time on extraneous issues.”

“There are some who might call that interference.”

“Let us say instead that I am directing your energies in the most fruitful direction.”

I took a deep breath. “I will pay close attention to any hint of a link to the Areopagus,
as well as
other suspects that come my way.”

Pericles said nothing, so I repeated my question.

“What would you do if Archestratus is the killer? Would the democratic movement collapse if the killer was a democrat?”

He said slowly, “I think, though I am not sure, we would have to suppress the knowledge.”

I gasped.

Pericles went on. “It would be for the good of the city. I cannot imagine Ephialtes wanting to see his greatest triumph crumble for revenge of himself, and which is more important, the democracy of Athens or punishing one murderer? I think we would take the evidence to Archestratus and offer not to prosecute if he exiles himself for the rest of his life.”

I felt like my insides had turned to ice. “I seem to recall a man, not long ago, saying he would prosecute whoever had murdered his friend, without fear or favor.”

“There is what a man says to a mob to avert a riot, and there is what a man does for the good of Athens.”

“And what, then, if the murder was done by Xanthippus?”

“Him I would prosecute.”

“Because your father is a conservative, and Archestratus is a democrat?”

“That’s right. Welcome to politics, my new advisor.”

I had thought Pericles a good man, and now I realized he was a politician like the rest of them. I was deeply disappointed.

We continued the walk up the steep path to the Acropolis. The giant rock with the flat top had been the bastion of Athens since time immemorial. In ages past it had been the palace of the kings, and later, of the tyrants. In modern times the government had slid downhill, and what remained up high were the sacred temples, or at least, what was left after the Persians were finished with them.