Adventure in Athens

by Caroline Lawrence

  As Crina and I stood outside Simon the Shoemaker’s house, already dry in the oven-hot heat, I was experiencing a weird mixture of euphoria and terror.

  The euphoria came from the cold-water dousing and having escaped the guards.

  The terror came from the knowledge that at any moment somewhere in the city Dinu might find Alcibiades and warn him not to go on the Sicilian Expedition, thereby saving thousands of Greek lives and changing the future forever so that the three of us time travellers would suddenly go kerpluff.

  From inside the house, we could hear Simon’s angry voice.

  ‘What were you thinking? Isn’t it enough that I allow you to help me make shoes instead of weaving at the loom? Isn’t it enough that you have responsibility when I’m not here?’

  ‘But, Father,’ came Simona’s muffled voice, ‘I was just showing hospitality to our guest-friends. One of them was a girl pretending to be a boy. That’s what gave me the idea.’

  ‘A girl? I don’t believe it!’

  I looked at Crina. ‘Now is our moment. Trust me.’

  I knocked on the right-hand door and a moment later it opened to Simon’s angry face.

  ‘We’re sorry we caused trouble for your daughter,’ I said. ‘She was only showing us kindness.’

  Simon glared at me from under his black eyebrow. ‘Do you know the guards were here a short time ago, looking for two boys who robbed the goddess and profaned the Mysteries?’

  ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘Nothing. Because you are friends of Socrates.’ He turned his fierce glare on Crina. ‘Is it true that you are a girl?’

  Crina understood and tipped her head for yes.

  ‘Your elders allow you to dress as a boy?’

  I said, ‘Please, sir, Crina only dressed like a boy because she was lost and desperate to find us. Socrates and his wife helped her.’

  Simon’s scowl turned to a frown. ‘Socrates and Xanthippe helped her do this?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And now our friend Dinu is missing. Please will you help us find him so we can go home? That’s all we want,’ I added. ‘To go home.’

  His expression softened a little. ‘You’d better come in,’ he said gruffly and stood aside for us to enter. ‘I don’t know where your friend is. But I will go into the Agora and ask. Allophanes, the sausage-seller, always knows everything. Simona!’ he cried over his shoulder. ‘Come look after our guests and make sure your brothers and sister stay upstairs.’

  Simona stepped out of a doorway. ‘Yes, Father,’ she said meekly.

  Her father took one of the walking sticks leaning against the wall and went out.

  ‘Tell Simona I’m sorry for getting her in trouble,’ said Crina.

  I told Simona how Crina felt.

  ‘Don’t be sorry!’ Simona hurried forward and grasped Crina’s hands. ‘Apart from when I brought the peplos to Athena, it was the most wonderful afternoon of my life. To be outside. To see all those people … I loved it. And I love the way my head feels so light and cool.’ She touched her dark curls.

  ‘Simona,’ I said, ‘earlier you told us Alcibiades was ugly inside. Do you really believe that?’

  ‘Yes. Because he is beautiful, many people admire him and think his soul must be beautiful. But it is rotten. A few years ago someone dared him to hit a man he hardly knew, a friend of my father’s. And he did it. Just to win a wager. He punched him with his fist and Hipponicus lost a tooth.’

  I told Crina what Simona had said.

  ‘You speak the truth?’ asked Crina, making her memorised phrase into a question.

  ‘I speak the truth.’ Simona’s face was grim. ‘Then two years ago Alcibiades bought a beautiful dog of the sort famous for their silky tails. His dog had the longest, silkiest tail of all. When everyone kept going on about how beautiful the dog’s tail was, he took an axe and chopped it off.’

  When I told Crina this, her eyes filled with angry tears.

  ‘People were appalled,’ continued Simona, ‘but Alcibiades just laughed and said that was what he wanted: for all of Athens to be talking about him.’

  At that moment the front door swung open and Simon came in, sweaty but smiling. ‘Good news!’ He leaned his walking stick against the wall by the door. ‘Your friend was training with Alcibiades at the palaestra.’

  ‘Did you see them? Did you talk to him? Did you beg him to come back here?’

  ‘They’d just left when I got there, but Alcibiades is attending a symposium this evening. I imagine your friend will go with him.’

  ‘St Nektarios be praised!’ I breathed a sigh of relief and said to Crina, ‘Dinu is with Alcibiades, but he must not have warned him yet. They’re going to a symposium this evening.’

  ‘What’s a symposium?’

  ‘It’s an after-dinner party where men drink wine together.’

  ‘Oh yes! I read about those. They could be very tame or really rowdy, depending on the host.’

  ‘Exactly.’ I turned to Simon. ‘Do you know who’s hosting the party?’

  ‘A rich young man named Euphiletus.’

  ‘Can you please take us?’ I asked Simon. ‘So that we can get Dinu and return to our own land.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t. I myself have been invited to a symposium a few miles outside the city walls so I must set out now. But the house of Euphiletus is easy enough to find. It’s at the foot of the Acropolis, on the south side. The porch has red-and-white striped columns. Anyone can point the way.’

  ‘Father, may Alex and Crina rest here until it’s time for them to go?’ Simona asked. ‘They’re very tired and can have a short nap.’

  ‘Very well, but make sure your brothers and sister stay upstairs.’

  ‘Thank you, Father.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ I echoed. ‘We are grateful for your help.’

  Simona unrolled two rush mats for us to lie on right there in the courtyard. Crina and I stretched out next to each other, and I closed my eyes. But my heart was still thudding and my mind was racing.

  If Dinu had found Alcibiades and we were still alive, that meant he hadn’t yet told him anything that would affect the future. But knowing Dinu, he could let something slip at any moment.

  I looked up at the grapevine ceiling. The late-afternoon sun made the leaves glow like emeralds.

  ‘Please, God,’ I prayed in my mind, ‘may Dinu keep his mouth shut until we get to him. And please may he come home with us. I promise I’ll never time travel again.’

  I must have slept because Simona’s whisper woke me: ‘Alexis! Wake up!’

  The cooler temperature and the light in the courtyard told me that a few hours had passed.

  I sat up groggily to see Simona’s squinting face up close to mine. She sat back and I saw Crina sitting cross-legged on a mat, twirling something like a spinning top with wool coming out.

  I yawned. ‘What’s that?’ I spoke in English without thinking.

  ‘A spindle,’ said Crina, ‘for making wool into yarn that can be woven.’

  ‘So we’re still alive?’

  She put the spindle and wool into a basket and nodded.

  I looked at Simona, who was sitting back on her heels.

  ‘Is it time to go to the symposium?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve been thinking about it. There’s a problem. I tried to explain to your friend but she didn’t understand.’

  I rubbed my eyes. ‘A problem?’

  ‘Yes. They might not let you in. Children don’t usually attend those kinds of parties. Unless they’re entertainers.’

  ‘We can wait outside until Dinu arrives with Alcibiades.’

  ‘But it might be dangerous to wait on the street outside. The archers are looking for you, correct?’

  ‘Yes. But what else can we do?’

  ‘I’ve got an idea, but I’m not sure if it will work. I don’t suppose either of you can play the aulos?’ said Simona. She held out two thin bone recorders with reed mouthpieces. They were like the one
s Alcibiades’ flute-girls had been playing the night before. To our surprise, she put them both in her mouth and her cheeks puffed out as she played a buzzy tune.

  When she stopped we both clapped and she flushed with pleasure.

  ‘Crina plays an instrument called a clarinet,’ I said, ‘which has a reed like those. And I play something called a recorder, with the same kind of holes, so, yes – we both can.’

  Simona rose to her feet and held out a hand to help me up. ‘Then I think I know how I can get you into the party!’

  43

  Swing Low

  If you had been a hawk soaring over Athens that evening you would have seen a dark-haired youth with a walking stick leading two saffron-veiled flute-girls through the narrow streets of Athens, heading towards the south side of the Acropolis. If you had swooped down a little lower you might have noticed that the flute-girls had short hair under their veils, and might actually be flute-boys. If you had perched on the edge of a red-tiled roof and used your keen vision to scrutinise their faces, you would still be confused. Were they boys? Were they girls?

  The sun had set and the air was cooler, but it was still warm. A faint breeze ruffled our headscarves and cooled me as it dried the sheen of sweat on my face. I could smell woodsmoke, animal dung and somewhere the whiff of sizzling sausage.

  Crina was playing as we walked, working out a jazzy version of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ on Simona’s aulos. Because she was better at playing it, I had been given a pair of little bronze finger-cymbals to keep the beat.

  We turned a corner guarded by a very masculine herm and Simona pointed out a house a few metres along with two red-and-white striped columns flanking dark blue double doors.

  I stopped dinging my cymbals. ‘That must be it,’ I said to Crina, who had also stopped playing.

  ‘It looks like the American flag!’ she murmured.

  ‘This is the house of Euphiletus,’ said Simona, stopping outside. ‘If my plan works, then I’ll have to bid you farewell now.’

  ‘Thank you for all your help,’ I said, and clasped her hand in gratitude.

  Crina stepped forward. ‘Thank you, Simona,’ she said in Greek, and gave the girl a quick hug.

  Simona had borrowed one of her dad’s walking sticks. She now used this to rap on the front door.

  A moment later the door opened a crack. ‘Password?’ said a voice from inside.

  ‘Flute-girls for Alcibiades,’ said Simona.

  ‘That’s not the password.’ Pause. ‘But it will do.’

  The doors swung open.

  Crina and I gave Simona a final quick wave.

  ‘You opened my eyes,’ were her last words. ‘I will never forget you.’

  Crina and I stepped over the threshold and into a beautiful tiled courtyard with two palm trees reaching up into the lemon-yellow sky of dusk.

  The doorkeeper was a bald man with puffy eyes, wearing a long chiton. He pointed towards a bent-over slave with a couch on his back just disappearing into a room across the courtyard.

  ‘Follow that slave into the andron,’ he commanded.

  The dining room was full of the sound of men’s voices, the heat of their bodies and the smell of perfume and sweat.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw over a dozen men reclining in pairs on seven high couches. Each man had at least one slave in attendance. Some were standing or sitting, but a few crouched under their master’s couch.

  On the central couch against the far wall I saw Dinu reclining in front of Alcibiades. Xanthus the slave boy was almost invisible in the shadows beneath.

  When Dinu spotted us, his eyes widened.

  He grinned and waved but didn’t get up. Alcibiades, on the other hand, gracefully slipped off the back of the couch and came forward with his head cocked to one side as usual. ‘Alexis! Crina!’ he lisped. ‘How delightful that you have come to play for us. This is our host, Euphiletus.’

  He put his arm around a beardless youth with dark hair and the longest eyelashes I have ever seen on a guy.

  ‘Welcome,’ said Eyelashes. ‘Any friend of the general is a friend of mine.’

  ‘We’ve come to fetch Dinu,’ I said. ‘We’ve received word from home. He’s needed urgently.’ I turned to Dinu. ‘Come on!’ I whispered in English. ‘We’ve accomplished the mission. Let’s go home.’

  ‘Before you do anything to change the future!’ added Crina.

  ‘What’s the rush?’ said Dinu in Greek. ‘We don’t need to leave until an hour before midnight.’

  Alcibiades clapped his hands. ‘Then we have hours and hours! You must stay and play for us. But first have some food! There are jellied eels, pickled quail eggs and roasted thrush.’

  Crina recoiled from the bowls of slimy eels, tiny hard-boiled eggs and whole roasted birds the size of my thumb.

  ‘We’re not hungry,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Then play a song! Play us something from your faraway land!’

  I glanced at Crina and nodded. At least if we were here we would be able to stop Dinu from blurting out something that might prove fatal.

  Alcibiades climbed back onto the couch behind Dinu and gestured for us to begin.

  Crina sucked the two reeds of the aulos to wet them.

  Then she inclined her head towards me. ‘The last song I learned was “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”. Do you know the words?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I sang it at a talent show at my primary school. Play it real slow to make it last.’

  Crina’s cheeks puffed out as she started to play her buzzy aulos.

  ‘Swing low, sweet chariot,’ I sang in my nice high choirboy’s voice. ‘Coming for to carry me home …’

  Chipmunk-cheeked Crina turned wide-eyed to look at me and raised her eyebrows as if to say ‘Wow!’

  I carried on singing, and I also kept time by chiming my bronze finger-cymbals together. ‘I looked over Jordan (ding!), and what did I see (ding!), coming for to carry me home? (Ding, ding!) A band of angels (ding!), coming after me (ding!), coming for to carry me home.’

  The chatter in the room died down as some of the reclining diners stopped to listen.

  I sang the chorus a little softer, so as not to drown out the buzzy aulos.

  But that made everybody even quieter.

  ‘If you get there before I do (Coming for to carry me home), tell all of my friends that I’m coming there too (Coming for to carry me home).’

  Now all the men were silent. One or two had actually paused with food halfway to their mouths.

  ‘Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down (Coming for to carry me home), but still my soul feels heavenly bound (Coming for to carry me home).’

  After the final chorus, I stopped singing and Crina lowered her aulos.

  For a moment there was absolute silence.

  Then the room erupted in applause.

  ‘That was sublime,’ called Eyelashes from against the far wall. ‘What is the song about?’

  ‘It’s about a chariot coming to carry your soul to heaven after you die.’

  ‘Is it a song of the Mysteries? Or one about the soul?’ lisped Alcibiades. ‘Either way, I approve. Play it again!’

  Each time we played it, the men clapped harder and harder. I could almost feel waves of adoration. Crina must have felt the same way. Her eyes were bright.

  After the fifth reprise Alcibiades cocked his head. ‘Beautiful. But what else do you have for us?’

  I looked at Crina. ‘Do you know “King of the Swingers”?’ I whispered.

  She raised her eyebrows at me. ‘Or how about Bluzie’s song: Take me back, Alex … I’ll go anywhere with you …’

  44

  Throwing Wine

  Dusk turned to night as Crina and I entertained the symposiasts with music.

  ‘King of the Swingers’ went down a treat.

  So did ‘Take Me Back’, ‘Greensleeves’ and ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’. The last song was appropriate as some of the house sla
ves brought in bronze oil lamps on stands to fill the room with flickering light and smoke.

  The men had now finished eating so the slaves took away the small tables with the remains of the food and came back in with flat drinking cups and garlands, one for each diner.

  You’d think a wreath of ivy, violets and daisies on a man’s head would look girlish but somehow it worked. It made them look like commandos in a jungle.

  Meanwhile, two other house slaves brought in some pots and set them on the floor in the middle of the room. The biggest was a krater, the ancient version of a punchbowl and twice as big as the one we had seen at Simon the Shoemaker’s. It was big enough to bathe a baby in, though the baby would have got very drunk, for it was full of wine.

  Eyelashes got down from his couch and stood over the slaves so he could tell them how much water to add.

  Then he gestured for all the slaves to leave.

  Without them, the room suddenly seemed different. Empty and flickering and mysterious.

  ‘This is when the drinking portion of the banquet begins,’ I whispered to Crina. ‘The proper symposium.’

  ‘Perhaps our singer would like to serve the wine?’ Alcibiades was looking at me, his eyes glowing green in the yellow lamplight. ‘It is a great honour to do so,’ he added in his charming lisp.

  ‘He wants me to be the wine-server,’ I whispered to Crina.

  ‘Better you than me,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll just sit in the shadows and keep an eye on Dinu.’

  I started towards the krater, but Eyelashes stopped me with a gesture. He uttered a prayer, poured a libation of wine on the packed clay floor, and led the men in a short hymn to the gods.

  Finally, he beckoned me over.

  ‘Have you done this before?’

  ‘No,’ I confessed.

  ‘Just dip this jug in the krater, go around and fill each man’s kylix with wine. Make sure nobody’s cup goes dry!’

  As I went round I noticed there was a different design inside each man’s cup. It was on the bottom, so it would only be revealed when they had drained the contents. When I got to Dinu I whispered, ‘Go easy. We have four more hours before midnight.’ His cup had a Medusa sticking her tongue out.