Demeter's Gold

by Meghan Ray

  Phil gave his friend a skeptical look, “How can you know all this if it’s so secret?”

  Meno raised his hands, palms up. “There are signs that are apparent to an expert. See here on the obverse side the circular border around the head is made of the initials D P. These signify the goddess Demeter and her daughter Persephone. The reverse has the eagle of Zeus holding Demeter in her search for her daughter. There are other clues for those who know how to look for them.”

  “But Meno those things are common symbols, often used on coins. What I asked was how can you know so much about a secret mystery token that no one but the initiated are allowed to know about?”

  Meno smiled, “I’m not trying to mislead you. But even the best secrets are known to a few. Celators are needed to carve the dies for the coins and someone has to cast the coins for the cult. Even though I never actually practiced the art, I know many men who have and some of them drink and some of those drink and talk. You know I wouldn’t share this information with just anyone, but I am willing to share it with you. We have been friends since you were a pup and I trust that you will use this information discreetly. I am also trying to keep you out of a bunch of trouble- pointless as that seems.” Meno looked expectantly at Phil.

  Phil smiled and shook his head at his friend. “Okay you win, I got it from a man who wouldn’t say whose it was, which probably means it was a woman, or stolen. I’m supposed to find out what it’s worth and broker a sale, if possible. More than that I do not know.” Phil shook his head at Meno’s skeptical expression. “Really, I don’t.”

  Meno just shrugged, “Well, it’s illegal to possess and impious to sell or trade such a coin and I never heard of one that has been sold or traded. I expect such things happen. You know I’m not naïve- but if they do, they happen in secret and they are dangerous transactions. You have to be careful about this, Phil, and I am not kidding. Don’t play around, counting on your luck like you always do.”

  Phil was touched by his friend’s concern. “Today someone told me that it was a memorial coin, made for the Ephesian games. Could an experienced dealer have made that mistake?”

  “Not if he’s still in business. He might not have known what, exactly, it was, but he couldn’t have mistaken it for any memorial that I am familiar with. Listen, Themis out there wasn’t joking. I really do have to get going, but I am worried about you. I don’t want to see you in the middle of some crazy scheme. It’s dangerous. Just give the coin back to the man who gave it to you and say thanks anyway. That’s my advice, not that you asked.”

  Phil saw Meno’s point. “I know you’re right. I’ll get rid of the coin as soon as I get back to Piraeus. I really won’t be sorry to throw it back in the face of the stiff that passed it to me. Many thanks, Meno. I owe you one. Let me take you out some night.”

  Meno smiled and shook his head. “You’d do me a bigger favor if you’d take my daughter. She can be better company than she was today.”

  Phil tried unsuccessfully to keep the surprise from his face. Meno was a great man. He was a genius in a dozen ways but raising daughters was clearly not one of his skills. “Meno, where would I take her? To a taverna? a symposium? You really are raising her to be a hetaera.”

  Meno rolled his eyes heavenward, “She has a mind of her own, Phil. I guide her where I can but she knows what she wants.”

  Phil shook his head, “Well, as I think we all saw, I’m not one of those things. Still, I’d be happy to take her somewhere for your sake, if she wants to go, which I doubt. But you should be doing more for her. What kind of life do you think all this will bring her?”

  “That is up to her. You know I was kidding before about her becoming a hetaera. And I was kidding about regretting the way I raised her. It is true that she couldn’t be a wife to a man with traditional values. But she’ll be an asset to the right person. Her mother was a gifted and unusual woman, that’s why I married her. I expect that her daughter will be the same.”

  “As you say, you know best,” Phil shrugged; raising girls wasn’t anything that he knew anything about. “Thanks again for your time. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

  Meno nodded and smiled as Phil made his way out of the crowded room, “Make sure you do, Phil, make sure you do.”

  -3-

  One of the reasons Phil had been willing to come up to Athens today was that he had been invited to a symposium that was to take place that evening. But since it was still early, Phil went over to the small room that he kept in Athens. Since he had business in the city so often, he found it convenient to keep a small place near the Agora. It was spare and very small but it suited Phil. Not many people knew he had it and that suited him too. He dropped some things in the room and had plenty of time to go to the gymnasium, exercise and bathe before he was due to arrive at the symposium. He left the gymnasium and wandered through the market on his way to his friend Nicias’ house, trying but not quite shaking the feeling that he was being watched.

  He walked the narrow streets and looked at the pottery and textiles with half an eye while he thought about the coin and about returning it to Critias. He also thought about what to do with Glaucon. It was obvious that he had some ulterior motive in all this but what it was was still unclear. He wanted the coin, that much was clear, but did he want it because he was overcome by an attack of piety and wanted to make sure that a sacred object wouldn’t be sold on the open market, or, much more likely, was it because he was sure he could get an incredible price for something so dangerous and rare. His reason didn’t change the facts. Glaucon had lied to him and Phil would have to do something about it, he just wasn’t sure what. He knew he was thinking in circles and it was getting him nowhere, except, somehow, to the door of Nicias’ house. With everything going on, he would have to start paying more attention- walking around alone.

  Nicias’ house was finer than Meno’s, having larger rooms and a second story. The symposium was already gathering in the andron, the men’s room of the house and the traditional site of the drinking party. It was a large room, lined all the way around the walls with couches for the guests to lie on. The couches were covered with cushions in beautiful woven fabric, probably the work of Nicias’ wife. The floor was laid with a handsome mosaic depicting the ocean bottom, complete with sea monsters and mermaids as well as more familiar fish and shellfish. The walls were frescoed with seascapes, rocky cliffs and sandy beaches, all very modern.

  The party was composed of old school friends and army cronies of Nicias, and most were men who also just happened to make up the cream of Athenian society. Phil was in the ‘army crony’ category and definitely not in the ‘cream of society’ group. He and Nicias had been in the cavalry together and had formed a friendship that outlasted their military service despite their social differences. Nicias was an aristocratic Athenian citizen of a very old genos that could trace its history back to the days when Cleisthenes established the ten tribes. The family even claimed that they could go back to the days of the nine archons, but that was just how they were. Phil didn’t hold that against Nicias though. He wasn’t prejudiced against aristocrats as long as they treated him fairly.

  Phil greeted Nicias who took his hand and welcomed him. Phil looked around the room at the couches and arriving guests and asked, “Have you seen Leonidas yet?” Phil had to raise his voice to be heard over the arriving symposiasts and Nicias leaned in to hear him. Leonidas was Phil’s oldest friend and he had thought he would be here.

  “He can’t make it tonight. He told me to tell you to stop by his house later in the week.” Nicias smiled as he spoke but he was distracted by his other guests and the process of getting them into their seats and didn’t stop to say more. Nicias did take time to whisper to a slave who escorted Phil to a couch and brought him a table.

  Phil probably wouldn’t have come if he had known Leonidas wasn’t going be there. He had nothing against Nicias but he could think of better ways to spend one of his occasional nights in Athens than
at a party for rich and bored men. But it was too late to do anything now, so he relaxed and watched the other guests arrive, exchanging greetings with those he knew and guessing about those he didn’t.

  He reclined quietly and listened to the other guests discuss what was already being called the ‘Theban situation’. The Theban generals Epaminondas and Pelopidas were being universally praised for their intelligence and brilliant stratagems against the superior Spartan forces and of course the Spartan losers were being roundly mocked. The Peloponnesian league that had been the humiliation of Athens and her allies was dismantled. The overall opinion was cautiously optimistic. No one seemed to think that Persia would become involved again as it had when the Persian king Artaxerxes imposed the ‘King’s Peace’, a treaty that had left Sparta in control of the other Greek city-states. But the optimism was tempered by caution, and there was already concern over what Thebes would do now that it had thrown off the shackles of the Spartan oppressor. In Greece, it didn’t take long for the victors to become restless with their laurels. And the city-states weren’t known for acting with anything other than self-interest.

  The guests were not about to let politics ruin their fun however and once all the guests had arrived and were seated, Nicias signaled for the slaves to begin serving dinner. The meal was brought in courses, delicious fish, fowl and even Kopaic eels. As Phil dug into the delicious food, he smiled at his neighbor, “Leave it to Nicias to turn this stuff up.” The man nodded but couldn’t comment because his mouth was full. There was also asparagus with other vegetables served with wheat bread and cheese. Leaning on their sides, the men ate and made conversation with their neighbors. Nicias’ slaves made sure that everyone was served as much as they could eat and then some and waited until Nicias signaled for them to begin to clear the food and tables.

  Once the meal was cleared away, the drinking party could begin. All the conventions had to be observed, so after a hymn was sung and the libations made, the drinking master was elected from among the guests. Agathon, an older man who had been quiet during dinner was selected. He had to determine the proportion of wine and water and the number of cups of wine that would be consumed. Phil was secretly hoping for weak wine and an early night. He was preoccupied with his mystery coin and anxious to get rid of it. Sadly, this was not to be. Agathon, despite his age and benign appearance chose an evil mix of two parts wine to one part water. To make matters worse, he named an outrageous number of cups to be drunk. The hired entertainment, including the flute and dancing girls, were already arriving and Nicias’ current favorite hetaera, Eudora, floated in on a wave of expensive linen and scent.

  Eudora was an almost constant companion to Nicias these days. She would make herself available to attend his symposia or other events where such companionship was appropriate. She was beautiful and cultured and a witty conversationalist when she was given the chance. She had been brought to Athens as a slave when she was a young girl. Her looks had set her apart and she was given the opportunity to become a hetaera. She had studied hard and she had mastered skills valued most highly by the bored and wealthy aristocrats of Athens. By now she was probably wealthy in her own right but she didn’t flaunt her wealth and she seemed genuinely fond of Nicias. Tonight her dark hair was elaborately dressed and her full figure was draped in some of the sheerest linen Phil had ever seen.

  The entertainers were even more scantily clad. Many of the dancers were bare breasted and the boys were covered in something that hardly deserved to be called a tunic. The party began civilly enough, with the guests quoting verses and playing games of kottabos. This game was a favorite at drinking parties. The contestants used their wine lees to try and flick a target off a platform into a bowl of water. One’s skill usually decreased as the night progressed and large sums of money could be lost in side bets. These tamer pursuits quickly degenerated into wild horseplay and indulgence with the hired guests.

  “Why do you let them get so wild, Nicias?” Phil asked as he absently flicked the lees from his cup at the target for a game of kottabos.

  Nicias shrugged, “I don’t let them. They do as they like. If they start to throw the furniture or light fires again, I’ll have them thrown out but until then I don’t see any harm in their high spirits.”

  Eudora smiled sadly, “One reads so often about the ‘Philosophical Conversations’ and ex tempore poetry at these things but, either I don’t know the right people or the practice is rarer than a blue moon.” Just as she finished saying this, a drinking cup flew across the room almost hitting her shoulder. She shifted, expertly avoiding the danger.

  “Sorry Eudora,” a young man Phil recognized as an orator from the law courts smiled sheepishly, “It got away from me.”

  “Got away from you while you were trying to smash my face,” whined a thin, unhappy man in a very wine stained chiton.

  “Stop complaining, Dolon. It’s all you ever do,” another man spoke, drunkenly looking up briefly as he fondled the breasts of a flute girl whom he had captured on his lap.

  The night wore on and the noise and revelry escalated around him. Phil had had enough. He looked for a way to make his excuses as he quickly downed the last of his wine. It wasn’t until he stood up that he realized he was drunk. Not drunk enough for those around to notice as he carefully made his way across the room and out into the courtyard but drunk enough for this maneuver to require his full attention.

  Although it was customary for all the guests to stay till the end of the party, Phil knew this one had reached the point where no one would remember who had stayed and who had left. So he took the opportunity and slipped out quietly, tipping the porter and stumbling into the night. His rooms weren’t far from Nicias’, so he made his way by instinct down the dark streets. He was turning into a narrow side street when he was hit from behind. The last thing he remembered was feeling four or five hands searching through his clothing and cutting his purse.

  After that it was quiet for a while. He heard the woman’s voice before he could see her. She wasn’t talking to him but to her companion. “Is he dead do you think,” she sounded doubtful but not unduly concerned.

  “No, I don’t think he is. Unconscious only, drunk by the smell of him.”

  “Should we leave him or call someone?”

  Listening to the conversation made Phil groan out loud as he peered unsuccessfully through swollen half-shut eyes.

  “What’s wrong with his head?” The woman sounded troubled, more doubtful.

  “He’s bleeding miss.” The other still sounded unconcerned.

  “Then we can’t leave him, can we? We will have to bring him home.”

  The man, a slave by the sound of him, grumbled but prepared to obey his mistress by roughly grabbing Phil’s feet.

  The girl spoke again, “I don’t think we should drag him. Let’s see if we can get him to his feet.” Phil was more awake now and alarmed at the prospect of being dragged through the streets by his feet. He made every effort to cooperate and stand up with the help of the girl and her slave. Phil had an arm over each of their shoulders and the three were making slow but acceptable progress when the night watch called out for them to halt and account for themselves. The guard came over to question them. He seemed determined to cause trouble for them or at least to get something for his trouble but the girl was surprisingly quick to answer his questions and they were on their way again without much loss of time or money.

  Phil closed his eyes and let them half drag and half walk him to wherever they were going. He truly didn’t care anymore. At least that was what he thought until he opened his eyes and found himself back at Meno’s house. The girl who found him was Themis and the surly slave was the surly doorman. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Themis murmured when she had a chance to see him by the half-light of the torches. She said this coolly but not, Phil was surprised to hear, unkindly.

  They wrestled him into a small chamber, onto a bed, and out of his clothes. Themis looked him over, “I su
ppose you’ve been beaten for pushing your way into other people’s houses. It was bound to happen sooner or later you know.” Phil searched for a witty reply but the foggy haze in his brain forced him to settle for a noncommittal grunt. Themis dressed his wound and wrapped it with clean bandages. “I think you should rest now,” she spoke softly as she pulled a cover over him and quietly left the room. Phil fell asleep about a minute after she left and slept soundly until the noises of the strange household woke him the next morning.

  -4-

  He crawled out of bed because, even though his head was hammering and his stomach churning, lying still felt even worse than moving and because he had to pee. This he did in a pot thoughtfully provided and then he dressed himself in a clean tunic that had been left lying on a stool. His own, filthy he was sure, was nowhere to be seen. The room was small, plain, windowless, and faced out onto the central courtyard. Under normal circumstances it was probably a storeroom.

  He walked into the courtyard where a slave gave him some porridge and water. The water made him feel much better although he could only pick at the sticky porridge. He asked the slave where the master and mistress were and was told only that they had gone out. When he inquired when they would return, or if they had left him any message, he was told that no one knew when they would be back and there was no message.

  He waited around for a while, feeling ill and impatient. He wanted to see the Themis again but after a while he decided he could thank her and Meno later. He left the house and made his way out of Athens by habit. Leaving through the Piraeus Gate, he went back through the long walls and down to the Piraeus. While he walked, he tried to think about his next move but really all he wanted was to get home, go to sleep, and leave the rest of it until tomorrow.