by JM Alvey
‘And you?’ Soterides looked at Ikesios. The poet was torn between wanting to challenge the youth, and not wanting to be left to walk back to wherever he was staying with nothing to wear but his sandals and belt.
‘I swear it.’ Ikesios looked at me. ‘And I’ll find him something. Where will I find you?’
‘Do you know where Aristarchos Phytalid lives?’ I wanted to discuss our next steps with him before I took any of this to Melesias Philaid.
‘I can find out.’ Ikesios nodded, determined. ‘I’ll see you there.’
I was about to start walking when something occurred to me. ‘What do you know about Euboeans and whistling?’ I asked Soterides.
Rhamnous is just across the narrow strait from that long island. Even with everything that was going on, what the Scythians had been doing up on the Pnyx had been nagging at me ever since Dados had teased me with that question instead of an answer.
Soterides looked at me with utter confusion, which I had to admit wasn’t unreasonable. ‘The villages up in the hills have a language all their own that’s whistled rather than spoken. It’s not just signals. Shepherds on different sides of a valley can hold a conversation.’
‘Thanks. I might use that in a play some time.’
Leaving him and Ikesios looking equally bemused, I headed back to the city with a real spring in my step. Now we knew more than the killer did. We knew he was hunting Posideos Kalliphonou of Upper Ankyle. Even if the poet had gone to ground we could find his family. Someone in that household must know who he had fallen in love with. We would finally put a name to this murderer once we knew who she was.
Chapter Sixteen
Upper Ankyle isn’t far to the east of Athens, within an hour’s easy walk along a well-used, well-made road. We were approaching Posideos Kalliphonou’s family home while the morning was still comfortably cool, early on the third day of the festival. By we, I mean me and Ambrakis.
When Ikesios and I had told Aristarchos everything we’d learned, he had insisted his bodyguard go with me this morning. Kallinos and however many Scythians could be spared from crowd control at the athletics contests would be up at the Pnyx, along with a sizeable contingent of slaves from the Phytalid household. Further reinforcements had been summoned by Melesias Philaid. If there was going to be any trouble on this last day of the Iliad’s performance, there would be plenty of men to stop it. On the other hand, if the murderer had decided to see if Posideos Kalliphonou’s family knew where he was, I would be out here on my own. Aristarchos said firmly that he found that unacceptable. Having seen this killer’s handiwork, I wasn’t about to argue.
Besides, I had needed Aristarchos’ help to find out exactly where the family lived. Upper Ankyle is a district in the same voting tribe as Diomea, but none of the officials who administered the Aigeis tribe’s affairs in Athens would be willing to share what they knew with me. I was no one special as far as they were concerned. Aristarchos was the one with the status and influence to get the answers we needed, with no questions asked. More than that, he could expect a reply that same evening after Lydis delivered his polite letter.
So instead of taking a route that skirted around the city to get from Alopeke to Ankyle, I had headed into the heart of Athens and then out again to collect Ambrakis and get directions. Even though I passed through the agora early, the crowds were gathering for the men’s foot races. I had seen slaves with the bundles of weapons and armour that indicated their masters would be competing in the double sprint in full hoplite array. The atmosphere was far more competitive than it had been for the boys’ and youths’ competitions, and the pentathlon and wrestling grounds would be even worse. As we headed eastward, there had been plenty of eager spectators going the same way, going out of the city to the Lyceum.
We had left them behind as we headed for our destination. The properties in Upper Ankyle were larger than those inside the city walls. Unlike the households on the road to Piraeus, these houses weren’t surrounded by workshops and storehouses. I could see fruit trees over the top of walls that hinted at substantial gardens.
‘Are you sure you know where we’re going?’ I asked before I could help myself.
To my relief, Ambrakis grinned rather than take offence. ‘Of course.’
I chided myself. He escorted Aristarchos pretty much everywhere. This slave probably knew more about the best routes and shortcuts in and around Athens than men who’d lived in the city all their lives.
We soon arrived at the gate we wanted. I knocked and a slave opened it with commendable promptness. ‘Yes?’
‘Good morning.’ I aimed for the self-assurance of someone accustomed to always having a man the size of Ambrakis at my side. ‘May we speak to Kalliphonos Parmenou? I am here on behalf of the Great Panathenaia Commissioners.’
The gate slave was too experienced to show any surprise. He was also well able to decide we weren’t the vanguard for some gang of robbers ready to force their way in and plunder the place. He opened the gate to admit us. ‘Please wait here.’
There were stools in the shade of a leafy olive tree heavy with fruit. I sat down as Ambrakis stood dutifully behind me and we watched the slave hurry over to the long, low-roofed house. The garden around it was luxuriant even in the summer heat, and well tended. I could see at least three slaves keeping an eye on us in case we wandered where we had no business.
The gate slave soon returned. ‘Please, the master invites you to take some refreshment with him.’
‘Thank you.’ We followed him to the courtyard at the heart of the house. It was cobbled with pale, evenly sized river stones and leafily green with vines flourishing as they wound around the pillars of the colonnade on all three sides. The upper floor had a deep, shady balcony overlooking the courtyard, and I guessed the rooms above us opened on to that.
A man in a plain tunic with no-nonsense cropped hair and beard stood in the portico by a table. Wine and water was already waiting, along with a dish of almonds. He was somewhere between five and ten years younger than Aristarchos, and he looked politely mystified. But his gesture invited me to sit, and he poured a cup of wine for us both. A demure female slave took a cup of water to Ambrakis as he waited by a pillar a few paces away.
‘Let us honour bright-eyed Athena as we celebrate her care for our city.’ Kalliphonos poured a brief, but sincere libation. ‘Please, make yourself comfortable. How may I assist the festival commissioners?’ He was a good host, even to unexpected visitors.
‘All praise to our tireless goddess.’ I made my own libation, adding a silent plea for her assistance with the difficult task that lay ahead.
‘I am here on behalf of Melesias Philaid,’ I began, keeping my tone even and unemotional. ‘He is currently responsible for the Homeric recital competition. He asks—’
‘Does he know where my boy is?’
The anguish in the man’s voice stabbed me like a knife. Well, at least that answered my first question. No one here knew where Posideos was. That didn’t mean I could turn tail and scurry off. I hardened my heart against the pain I was undoubtedly about to cause.
‘I’m so sorry. We don’t have any idea, but we believe there’s a man seeking him who wishes him harm. Perhaps if you can tell us what you know, we can come up with some answers together.’ I tried to sound encouraging.
Some hope. Kalliphonos looked at me, despairing. ‘I don’t even know why he left.’
My heart sank. That wasn’t a good start, if we already knew more than this bereft father. Well, at least I could reassure him none of this was his fault.
‘As far as we can discover, Posideos fell deeply and passionately in love, with a woman who lived in Athens.’ I chose my words carefully. ‘For whatever reason, her – her family wouldn’t approve of this romance.’
He looked blankly at me. ‘Why not? We are a respectable family, with interests in several profitable farms. Posideos is my third son, but he will be well provided for.’
I took a sip of wine bef
ore I replied. ‘This woman’s guardian, whoever that might be, is a far from reasonable man.’
I hesitated, and that was a mistake. As swiftly as realisation dawned in Kalliphonos’ eyes, anger followed to darken his face.
‘Whoever—? You call my son a seducer? You say that this woman was married?’
‘We don’t know any such thing. We don’t know anything about this woman. Well, almost nothing,’ I amended hastily. ‘We know the man who’s hunting her is an Athenian, and we know he’s a vicious brute. We want to find your son so we can warn him to take care, if the two of them did indeed flee together.’
‘What do you mean?’ Kalliphonos looked at me warily.
‘Have you been into the city for the festival so far, at all? To see something of the Iliad’s performance, perhaps?’
He shook his head, and I saw a different pain in his eyes. ‘No, we have no taste for the epics these days.’
He couldn’t go on, but he didn’t need to. I could see how this story unfolded. As a third son, Posideos had been allowed to indulge his passion for epic poetry. If someone as arrogant and self-absorbed as Soterides said the young man was talented, he must have been very good indeed. His amiable father would have been happy to encourage him, and not just for whatever reflected glory the family could bask in, especially if he won a Great Panathenaiac garland. As prosperous as they clearly were, having a third son earning his own silver rather than spending family money would always be welcome.
That would leave all the more for the eldest son, who would most likely inherit this house along with his grandfather’s name, while the second boy would get his fair share of the family wealth by dividing whatever other properties they owned with Posideos. Meantime, the daughters could be sufficiently well-dowered to make suitable marriages without emptying the family strongbox. If there were daughters.
Then Posideos had disappeared, and the pleasure and pride the family had felt watching him perform up on the Pnyx had vanished as completely as the spring snows on Mount Parnassos.
‘He went into the city to watch the warrior dance contest in the theatre. The day and night passed, and then the next day, and he never came home.’ Kalliphonos looked at me bleakly. ‘We searched the city first. We thought we were looking for his body. When we searched his room for some explanation, we realised he had left here with the gear he used to take with him on the road. After that his brothers went in search of him further afield. They’ve made countless trips to every festival we know he visited. They’ve found no trace of him. After a couple of years had passed, people didn’t even recognise his name. We have no idea where he is. The only hope I can cling to is we haven’t yet found him dead.’
He reached blindly for his wine. I let him drink and blink his tears away behind the cover of his cup before I spoke.
‘It’s very likely he made so sure that no one could find him to be certain you would stay safe. We believe he understood how dangerous this man could be.’ That was scant consolation, but I offered it anyway. ‘If you had been up at the Pnyx these past two days, you might have heard that three men have been murdered.’
I told Kalliphonos their names, and the manner of their deaths, though I spared him the gory details. I didn’t mention Thallos. The poet would be right to blame me, if he found Posideos’ father and brothers on his doorstep demanding answers, and I couldn’t see how that could possibly help. We had far more immediate concerns.
‘We are sure the killer is the man who’s hunting this woman. Whatever her offences against gods and men may be – and as I say, we simply do not know, whatever we may suspect – this man, whoever he is, has done far, far worse. She is surely more to be pitied than condemned?’
Kalliphonos wasn’t interested in a woman he’d never known had existed. ‘And my son? This killer is hunting my son?’
‘We think Posideos is one of the men he suspects, though if he had any proof, he would surely have turned up at your gate long before now. But you would be wise to be on your guard until he’s caught, just in case. You and your family, especially if you go into the city.’
Kalliphonos was looking thoughtful. ‘None of us have any interest in the horse races or chariot competitions tomorrow, but my sons will be in the city for the citizen contests after that, and of course my wife and daughters will take part in the rites to honour blessed Athena.’
So he did have daughters. I tried to hide my satisfaction at learning that.
Kalliphonos was still talking. ‘You can’t imagine this villain will profane these ceremonies?’
‘He would have to be mad to risk Athena’s wrath,’ I agreed. ‘He prefers to strike when his quarry is alone and can be caught unawares, without anyone close by to stand witness. As long as you stay together and in public view, you should be safe.’
‘But unless he is caught, we will never know if he has killed Posideos.’ He looked at me, hollow-eyed.
‘This is why we need to know who this woman is. Once we know that, we will surely establish the killer is one of her family.’ I tried to look sympathetic instead of frustrated. ‘Are you quite certain you can’t recall anything, not even the slightest hint, that might lead us to her?’
‘No.’ Kalliphonos’ devastation was absolute.
‘Might he have confided in one of his brothers?’ I felt awful, but I had to ask.
‘Do you think they would have kept such a secret?’ A spark of anger flared in his eyes. ‘For so long, seeing their mother’s distress?’
‘No, of course not. Forgive me.’ I rose to my feet. ‘Thank you for your hospitality—’
‘If you learn anything, even if – whatever news – however grievous—’ He couldn’t go on.
‘Of course. Please excuse me. I must continue our hunt for this killer.’
I nodded to Ambrakis, and we walked out of the courtyard. The little slave girl hurried after us to wave to the guard on the gate. He let us out, and I could see the curiosity on his face, but it wasn’t his place to ask my business with his master. Just as he wouldn’t share what he might know about Posideos’ disappearance without permission, so there was no point in me asking him.
I vented my frustration as Ambrakis and I walked back up the road towards Athens. ‘Someone there must know something that could help us. Even one of the slaves, whether they work in the house or the garden.’
‘You expect them to speak up now, and be flogged for keeping quiet for so long? Besides, Posideos would have known they could be beaten into betraying him, if his father suspected they had any answers. That’s why he went into the city to flee with his lover from there. He couldn’t risk bringing her home.’
I hadn’t been expecting Ambrakis to reply, and his forthrightness was even more of a surprise. Startled, I glanced at him, only to see his face was as expressionless as a sacred statue. Since I had no reason to take issue with anything he’d just said, I turned back to study the road ahead.
‘Where are we going, do you suppose?’
‘Over there.’
As Ambrakis pointed, I saw the people we were looking for were sitting in the shade of a bower outside a tavern. It served a handful of modest houses clustered around the junction with a track that led somewhere or other. We walked over to join them, and I looked back to satisfy myself that we could still see Kalliphonos’ gate.
‘There’s no sign of anyone on your trail,’ Ikesios told me.
He had been waiting for me at Aristarchos’ house yesterday evening, and had helped us make our plans for today. He had pointed out the possibility that I might be followed, all unawares like Soterides and indeed like that priest of Nemesis. As he said, I’d spent the last few days asking endless questions about the poets and talking to the men themselves. There was no knowing whose path I might have crossed. So we had agreed Ikesios would trail after us at a good distance, in case the killer was dogging my footsteps. Not only to come to my aid if I was attacked, but to get a good look at the killer and with any luck, follow him home.
‘That’s a shame, but I suppose it was too much to hope for.’ I sighed as I sat down.
‘It’s good news if it means this killer doesn’t know you’re the man trying to find him.’ Zosime passed me a cup of well-watered wine from the jug on the table. When she had heard what we had planned, she had insisted on coming too.
‘So what did you find out in there?’ Since Menkaure had been present for our conversation, he had refused to consider letting his daughter face even the theoretical risk of some encounter with a murderer without him.
‘His father has no idea where Posideos might have gone,’ I told them. ‘He had no notion there was a woman involved, and he can’t think who she could be. As far as the family is concerned, Posideos disappeared with his travelling gear and no one has seen him since the last Great Panathenaia. Believe me, they’ve looked, far and wide.’
I gestured for Ambrakis to take a stool. ‘Have a seat. We don’t know how long we’ll have to wait.’
‘The closest fountain is over there.’ Ikesios pointed across the road to a rocky outcrop by a sizeable olive grove. Some stonemason long ages ago had half-built, half-carved out a basin for the spring that bubbled up there, to make it easier to fill jugs and buckets. The ready availability of fresh water was doubtless why the tavern had been built here in the first place.
Chairephanes scowled. ‘Are we going to be sitting here till sunset then?’
Glykera patted his knee. She was smiling cheerily. ‘Someone will have to fetch water soon, for a household that size on a day this hot.’ She looked at me. ‘What did you find out about the family?’
‘There are two other brothers – at least two,’ I amended. Kalliphonos hadn’t said how many sons he had, only that Posideos was the third. ‘There are daughters, but I have no idea how many, or how old they might be.’
And I had no way to know if these unknown girls would be told anything about my visit. Had any of them had been up on that shady balcony listening to us, unseen? I poured a sip of wine as a libation to Aphrodite, to Hera, to Demeter and to any other goddess taking an interest. If this venture led us nowhere, I had no idea where we might go next.