Demeter's Gold

by Meghan Ray

  The man was easy to follow with his cart piled high with lengths of cloth. He ended up at a smallish stall in the Agora. The booth was surrounded by others, all of which were offering luxury goods- jewelry, imported wooden furniture, and painted vases as well as fancy wines and honey. The vendors of the Agora were looked down on by most citizens, but then again so was Phil himself. As far as he was concerned, they paid their money, set up a stall, and sold their wares to anyone who had the money to buy them. It seemed simple enough to him but most Greeks citizens considered such activities both unnatural and disturbingly foreign.

  There was a sign over the makeshift awning that said ‘Perdix Clothier’. He waited until the man had unpacked and settled himself back into his stall. Phil walked up to the fabric-strewn place and began looking at the merchandise, touching this and that. The bolts of material were all exotic. They were dyed in rich colors, embroidered with decorative borders, or just incredibly sheer. There was fine wool and cotton, linen from Egypt, and prints from the east.

  It didn’t take long before Phil’s pawing brought the dressmaker over to see what he wanted. He gave Phil a careful look as he asked if he could help.

  “I’m looking for some cloth, something for a chiton for a friend.” He was hoping that Perdix would catch on before he had to spell things out. Most women wove their own fabric at home so buying imported fabric signaled something exotic and probably illicit.

  “I see. What is the occasion for the garment? Maybe for a symposium or some other private entertainment?”

  Phil could tell Perdix was getting the picture. “I think she wants something she can show off,” Phil shrugged his shoulders to indicate that such whims were beyond him.

  The men moved through the small space, looking at the various wares on display, commenting on the qualities of this and that until Phil saw what he was looking for. Perdix saw what he was admiring and said, “This is a lovely piece. I have imported it from the east. It is very fine and a beautiful weave.” The clothier held up the very sheer piece of cloth.

  Phil looked doubtful, “It seems kind of plain, you know, no purple in it. I am just not sure my friend would…appreciate it.”

  Perdix coughed lightly, “Xenodora herself has bought ten lengths of it just today.”

  “Xenodora you say? Well I don’t know if my friend would like that. Suppose they were wearing something made from the same material and ran into each other. That could get me in trouble.”

  Without saying a word to indicate just how unlikely he thought that might be, Perdix just shook his head, “Women always want everything Xenodora has. I don’t think it would be a problem, even if your friend should somehow find out.”

  “Do you know what she wanted it for? Or where she will wear it?”

  Perdix raised an eyebrow, “She does not share that kind of information with me and, even if she did, I wouldn’t be at liberty to share it with you.” Phil decided to push on, against the odds and his judgment.

  He figured that he didn’t have anything to lose and he wasn’t getting anywhere as it was, “But you might have heard something around the household. Something about her plans...”

  The shopkeeper was instantly wary. He was regarding Phil with suspicion, mixed with curiosity mixed with hostility. Phil tried to gloss over his interest, “You understand, my friend is very concerned that she always be unique in every way. She would be really grateful, and so would I, for any information you have,” he added this lamely. Phil knew he was pressing too hard but by now he could tell it was going to be a bust anyway.

  Perdix squinted at Phil for a moment, sizing up the bribe he could reasonably extract and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think I can help you. Xenodora’s household is very discreet and everyone is protective of her privacy and I respect that. I have to, if want to continue to do business with her, and I assure you that I do. So,” he let the word hang in the air for a while, making the universal go-away motion with his arms, then coughed, “if you are through,” nodding toward the door.

  Phil smiled and walked out into the crowded market. He wasn’t upset. These things are always long shots and you can’t get discouraged when they don’t pan out. He worked on the wine merchant next in a similarly ineffective manner and got approximately the same results. Then, since he wasn’t tired, he walked back to Xenodora’s to watch for a few more hours. He was leaning in a shady doorway when Eudora rode up in a covered litter. Phil walked across the street.

  “Hey Eudora, what are you up to today.”

  “I’m visiting with a friend, Phil. What are you doing…here?” She gestured toward the street with its ever-present contingent of youthful admirers.

  Phil’s mind was working quickly, “Do you know Xenodora?”

  Eudora nodded absently, “We grew up together, trained together, you might say. Pandora bought us both when we were young girls.” She stopped talking but Phil indicated that she should go on. “Well,” she went on in a sing-song, as one who was repeating a familiar story, “Pandora says she’s got an eye for girls who have promise. She named us, taught us our profession. I was always the quiet one, responsible and studious. Xenodora was wilder, always testing Pandora’s patience, stirring up trouble. But, different as we were, we were friends and we have stayed that way.”

  She stopped short, “Oh no, not you Phil, …really?” She was smiling uncertainly, not sure whether to laugh.

  “No, it’s nothing like that. Eudora, you know I can’t afford that kind of hobby. But I do need to see her. It’s important and it’s nothing personal, I promise. Will you ask her to talk to me when you see her?”

  Eudora eyed him speculatively “I will ask her but I am warning you, she doesn’t like this kind of thing and I doubt she will agree, even to please me.”

  “Just tell her that Critias sent me and that I want to return something that belongs to her. Just tell her that. Okay? It will be enough and I will owe you a big favor,” Phil was smiling at the amused look on Eudora’s face.

  “I’ll try but don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work out, okay?”

  He nodded, “Give her my message. That’s all I ask, angel, my thanks.”

  He watched as Eudora entered the courtyard. He was surprised at this chance turn and dared to hope a little that it might work out because nothing else was getting him anywhere and he was running short of half-baked strategies. He had been waiting for about another hour when a giant came out. At first Phil thought that the man was conducting a routine security sweep. But then the brute made straight for him and tapped him on the shoulder with a fist you could compare to a ham hock without hurting the pig’s feelings too much.

  Phil didn’t need to be asked twice. He followed the broad back through the sacred portal and across a well-appointed but not ostentatious courtyard. The court included a carved wellhead, some beautifully painted frescos, and a dozen or so artfully placed and well watered potted herbs in decorative containers.

  At the other side of the courtyard, he was handed over to a more civilized house servant. The brawn at the door was clearly to prevent unwanted gatecrashing. Past the courtyard, he saw a handsome andron and reception hall before he was led upstairs into a sitting room unlike anywhere he had been before. The walls were draped with the same type of fabrics that he had naively assumed were meant for clothing when he saw them at Perdix’s. The floor was of a blue and gold mosaic design depicting a star-filled night sky. The mosaic floor combined with the billowing fabrics on the walls gave the impression of being in a nomad’s tent, traveling across some vast space, far from the constraints of every day.

  The furniture was also exotic, dark wood with inlays, mainly in eastern styles with some Egyptian pieces mixed in. It made Phil’s place look like a Spartan military academy. The couches and stools were made of dark ebony with ivory inlaid in elaborate patterns. Painted trunks and stools filled the room.

  Amid all this exotic luxury, a woman was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. At first
he was disappointed. He couldn’t say what he had been expecting. Maybe someone more than life-size, like the statue of Athena on the Acropolis, gilded and imposing, or maybe he had expected her to possess some extra breasts or some other features like those carvings of earth goddesses he had seen. What he saw instead was a beautiful young woman, lovely but not so unlike other beautiful women he had met, sitting on a beautiful chair in the middle of a very refined, if somewhat crowded, salon and, stupidly, he couldn’t help feeling somewhat let down.

  It was only when she started to speak that he began to understand her gift. She didn’t say anything surprising, ordinary pleasantries mainly but her voice was soothing and melodic, and her manner so soft and beguiling that he began to forget why he had come. Her eyes held him, his face felt hot and he felt blood pounding in his ears. It seemed like some kind of hypnotism. Her shining jewelry, the soft fragrance of her hair and body and her deep soft voice all worked a spell to draw him in.

  After the obligatory pleasantries were out of the way, Xenodora tilted her head to one side, “Well,” she smiled slightly, “Eudora says that you must speak with me.” She shook her head, sighing, “I can not say no to her. She is the friend of my young days, my childhood and my innocence. So now, tell me what it is that you wish.”

  Phil might have been pretty far-gone but he had enough of sense left to realize that if he hadn’t dropped Critias’ name, he would still be standing out on the street. “I have something that belongs to you,” his voice was harsher than he had meant it to be.

  “You do?” she smiled and waited.

  He waited longer. “Well, what is it then?”

  For the first time, her voice betrayed an edge, a hint of impatience and it helped Phil to wake from the stupor that had been threatening. Rather than answer, he tossed the coin onto the table between them.

  “I see,” her voice became hard. “What is it you want then?”

  Phil smiled. For the first time since he had come into the room, he felt like himself. “Look, lady I just want to return it.”

  She looked at him appraisingly; as though she were seeing him for the first time, “Why not give it to Critias? Your business is with him, not with me.”

  “Critias is dead.”

  He said it just like that and she didn’t even blink, “So how did you connect the coin to me?” her voice was flat, barely curious. He didn’t want to get into details, so he just shrugged and rose to go.

  “Wait.” She held up her hand, the long graceful fingers glittering with rings, “You were supposed to sell the coin, not to return it.”

  Phil shrugged again, still standing, “That coin is illegal to sell and I don’t handle that kind of business.”

  “So what would you recommend?”

  She sounded as if she really wanted to know, so Phil told her. “Return it.”

  “Return it?” her eyes widened.

  He nodded, “That’s my recommendation, since you asked.” Again, he turned to go.

  “You’re sure I can’t persuade you to sell it for me?”

  He shook his head, “It’s illegal to sell and dangerous. Anyway,” he gestured around the room, “You don’t need the money.”

  Now it was her turn to smile. “I didn’t get all this by throwing gifts away and, besides, I’ll pay you.”

  He snorted. “I’m sure you would, but I’m still not interested.” He was moving toward the door.

  She called him back. “At least, before you go, let me offer you some food and wine. You have gone to some trouble about this and it’s the least you can let me do.”

  He turned back toward her, walking into her scent and her soft smile. He knew it was probably a mistake, but he was curious and he was hungry. She motioned for him to sit down on the couch and signaled for a servant to bring in a table. The table was laid with food and wine and she served him herself as she spoke amusingly about recent political scandals. Both her food and wine were excellent and she really was a delightful companion when she wanted to be.

  The conversation drifted here and there. She listened quietly and spoke knowledgably on many subjects. When they had finished eating and drinking, she called the servants to remove the trays. Then she moved to join him on the couch. She put her arms around him and pulled him close. And then she entertained him with her legendary charms.

  It seemed to Phil that they were together for a long time as the shadows moved across the blue floor. Later, as she was rising to go, she asked quietly, “Couldn’t you find someone else who would be willing to sell the coin for me?” She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “I know you won’t do it, you’ve made that clear, but you must know of someone.” He mumbled that he would ask around as he rolled onto his side.

  Lying alone on the couch, feeling as rested and relaxed as he had felt in days; he reflected that she had manipulated him and that he had let it happen. He also considered that he had already been paid for the job ahead, and considering the going rate, he had been paid very well. And at the moment, it didn’t matter.

  -6-

  It suited Phil to go back and see Glaucon anyway. He wanted to see if he could figure out why Glaucon had lied about the coin. The way Phil saw it Glaucon had tried to con him for some purpose. Since they had had, if not a friendship, at least a mutually lucrative business relationship, and since business was usually first on Glaucon’s list of priorities, whatever it was that made him risk that relationship must have been pretty compelling. If Phil had more time and energy, he would watch Glaucon’s shop for a week just to see who showed up. But he didn’t have that kind of time, so instead he decided to go visit him and see if, by knowing a little more than Glaucon thought he knew, he could figure out what was going on.

  Phil would offer him the coin to sell and see if he could turn up anything new from the offer. Since that would also fulfill his promise to Xenodora, he would then be free to wash his hands of the whole business. As he walked through the darkening streets, past children playing the last rounds of their evening’s games and tired merchants putting the last of the day’s business away, he tried to decide whether he should go over to see Leonidas for dinner or whether he should go straight to his own room where he could pass a quiet night with no questions.

  He realized that anonymity would probably be both safer and smarter for everyone. He wouldn’t risk bringing friends into fray, at least until he had a better idea what was happening. So he stopped for a quick meal of olives, stew and bread, then he ordered an amphora of wine and took it with him. He went to his small, sparely furnished room, wrapped himself in a thin blanket and sat drinking water and wine and thinking for a long time.

  Xenodora had taken Critias’ death very calmly. Granted, she was trained to hide her feelings but still Phil wondered if it was because she didn’t care, or because she already knew he was dead, or both. He also wondered what Glaucon was playing at. Did he really believe Phil would be so easily fooled by his clearly makeshift story? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Late, he crawled into his hard bed and pulled the scratchy blanket over him. He fell soundly asleep and stayed that way until morning.

  He rose early, easy to do in a freezing room with no heat and next to no cover. He walked over to the baths and had himself cleaned up, stopped at the barber for a trim and some gossip, and then grabbed some dark bread and wine from a street vendor. After eating, he went to the Agora to find Glaucon.

  He wound his way through the morning crowds until he came to Glaucon’s shop. The shutters were still up, but Phil knew that Glaucon often stayed in the back room when he worked late, as he usually did. Phil went quietly around to the back of the building and pushed the wooden door to let himself in. The light from the doorway made a bright path through the center of the room but left the corners in darkness. In one of those corners he made out a shaded figure, sitting on a stool, leaning over a high table.

  “Ahem,” Phil tried clearing his throat but the man didn’t move. Uneasy, Phil took a tentat
ive step toward the dark, still figure.

  “What do you want, Phil?” Glaucon snapped his head around. “I am not even open yet. Zeus, I can’t get any peace, even in my own back room.” He lowered his bushy gray eyebrows and stared at Phil in a cross between a squint and a glare.

  “I don’t want anything, you sour old man. You want something…remember. You asked me to bring you the coin when it came on the market. It’s on the market and I thought of you. Let me know if I’m wasting your time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Glaucon smoothed his manner with an effort. “You caught me at a bad time.” He moved away from the tablets he had been studying on the table and into the light in the middle of the room. “You have to admit, it’s unsettling to be snuck up on first thing in the morning.”

  “Sure and I’m sorry. But the client is anxious to have this business under way and I figured that you would be too.”

  “So who’s the client? Do you have the coin with you?”

  “Sorry, I still can’t name the client. They are planning to find someone to act as intermediary, you know, to do their business for them and that person will be your contact, that is, if you’re interested in handling the sale. I’ll get the coin if you are interested.”

  “How come you’re not going to do it yourself?”

  Phil shrugged, “Too busy, I guess. Are you interested?”

  “Sure I am always interested in unusual merchandise.” Glaucon took a stage-y look around. “But I really can’t discuss this here. Meet me later.”

  Phil looked around the dark and deserted shop, “Why not here. It seems like exactly the time and place for this kind of discussion.”

  “Well it’s not. I’m expecting someone.” Glaucon snapped. Phil raised his eyebrow. Glaucon gave himself a visible shake, lowered his voice and spoke in the tone of one who is trying hard to be reasonable. “Look, you’re asking me to get in the middle of a very unusual sale without knowing the client or even the broker. Well that’s alright, but we have to do some of this my way, okay?”