by Gary Corby
“Nico, this jar is sixty years old.”
“Maybe they still make the same coins?”
Diotima scrolled forward. “According to this, the Samians stopped donating coins in electrum fifty years ago and now they give silver tetradrachms.”
Diotima looked up from the scroll. “What was Brion doing with ancient coins?”
* * *
There was something I had to do, and soon. The trierarch of Salaminia would have reported my safe arrival, but three days had passed, and they’d had nothing from me since. It was time to let Pericles know the situation in Ephesus.
I’d noticed a leather working stall in the agora when I’d explored the place with Asia. I went there now and bought some leather cord. I asked for directions to the quarter where the scribes worked. There I purchased two small wax tablets and a stylus to go with them, a jar of ink, and the smallest brush they had.
In the privacy of my room I pulled the skytale from the bag and wrapped the leather cord around it as Koppa had showed me. I thought for a moment, dipped the brush in the ink, and began.
NICOLAOS, SON OF SOPHRONISCUS, GREETS PERICLES, THE SON OF XANTHIPPUS, AND SAYS THIS TO HIM. BRION HAS DISAPPEARED. ARAXES IS IN EPHESUS. NICOLAOS WILL MOVE ON TO MAGNESIA TO DELIVER THE GIRL. HE HOPES TO LEARN MORE THERE. IF HE LEARNS NOTHING USEFUL IN MAGNESIA, HE WILL HAVE TO FIND BRION OR THE SOURCE OF BRION’S INFORMATION.
I wrote nothing about Diotima. Her situation had nothing to do with my mission for Pericles, and if I told him of her connection with Brion it would only serve to make him suspicious of her.
I hesitated. If I sent blank tablets, and someone snapped the cord and saw they were blank, it would be instantly suspicious. To cover my tracks I should write something on the tablets. But what? Obviously it must be nothing about the mission. It had to appear innocent, boring even. Aha! What would be more natural than a son writing home to ask for more money? I picked up the stylus and scratched into the wax.
NICOLAOS GREETS HIS FATHER, SOPHRONISCUS, AND PRAYS TO ZEUS FOR HIS GOOD HEALTH. FATHER, I HAVE ARRIVED IN EPHESUS. THE JOURNEY WAS PLEASANT. THE WEATHER HERE IS FINE AND THE PEOPLE ARE FRIENDLY, ESPECIALLY ONE YOUNG LADY I MET. I STOPPED HER TO ASK DIRECTIONS AND AFTER SHE SUGGESTED I GO WITH HER TO HER HOME … I’M SURE YOU WILL APPROVE WHEN YOU MEET HER, AND … YOU WILL BE PLEASED TO HEAR I HAVE INVESTED IN A FINE HORSE, A TRUE RACING BEAST … SPEAKING OF RACING … AND SO IF YOU COULD SEND MORE MONEY BY RETURN I SHALL BE ABLE TO PAY MY HONORABLE DEBTS AND … YOUR DEVOTED SON, NICOLAOS
I reviewed my work of fiction. Excellent. Anyone who cracked open the tablets would think these were the words of a naïve young man who had blundered his way about a new city, with little idea of what went on about him, nor of the true characters of the people he met.
I placed the written faces of the two tablets together and bound them tight with the cord, and carried my package down to the docks. On the way I passed the commercial agora, where I saw Pollion, and he saw me. Pollion beckoned me over.
“You deliberately didn’t tell me there is a charge of treason against my late brother-in-law,” he accused me in a cold voice.
“I’m sorry. Since he’s dead, it hardly seemed right to upset you,” I dodged. “I take it you’ve had word from your nephew.”
“Onteles sends his regards to you and asks if there is progress in clearing his father’s name.”
“Oh.”
“Well?”
“I’m afraid not. We don’t even know what the nature of this treason might be, only that he confessed to it before his death.”
“Then there may be no treason at all.”
“That’s what Onteles thinks. He might be right, but I don’t hold out hope. How’s the family doing?”
“They suffer, as the family of a traitor always suffers. Onteles writes of damage to property and frightened womenfolk.”
“Oh, I see. Another question for you, if I may, Pollion. The Ephesians chose Thorion for their proxenos because he had ties with Ephesus. Does that mean Brion has a connection with Athens?”
“There was such when he was appointed, more than ten years ago. Brion had a tie with one of the most powerful families in Athens. It’s all over and done with now.”
“Who?”
“The man who recommended Brion for proxenos was Themistocles. Why, does it matter?”
* * *
I carried on, my head in a whirl with the possibilities, and asked directions to any ship heading toward Piraeus. There were two leaving at first light next day, and I picked the larger, sturdier-looking craft. I negotiated with the captain to carry my package, and arranged for one of his crew to deliver the tablets to the home of my father. I knew I could rely on Father to pass the cord on to Pericles as he’d agreed.
As I turned away from the salty ship, I saw the diverse range of men who inhabited the docks of Ephesus: the tough sailors and wealthy merchants, slaves and free laborers and destitute beggars.
The beggars. They gave me an idea.
I wandered over to the wide front entrance of the warehouse, which I was pleased to see looked none the worse for its near incineration at my hand. A number of thin, haggard beggars sat outside. Every time someone walked through, the beggars stretched out their hands in supplication and called out their tales of misfortune, most of which no doubt were lies. A slave with a stick guarded the door; I could only imagine what would happen if the beggars got loose inside.
I found the one I wanted. It was hard to judge his age, because his hair was long and his beard straggly, but I guessed him to be in his late twenties. His clothes were not quite rags and he seemed alert. His right arm was off at the shoulder in a misshapen stump that was red and scarred.
“You.” I pointed at him and held up a drachma.
At once the others rushed me, but my chosen beggar clubbed them back with his strong left arm, and we walked apart from the wailing crowd.
“What happened to your arm?” I asked. Now we were close I could see the face beneath the beard had ugly red, puckered scars.
“Sea fight.” When he spoke I saw his broken teeth. “We got hit by pirates. One of them had a sword.”
I’d guessed right. This was a man of my own class who’d been struck down by misfortune. I said, “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“If you call this luck.”
“How come they didn’t kill you?”
“Our side won. But by then I was down and screaming. My mate held a torch against the wound, and for a wonder I lived. Can’t work again, though.”
“No, of course not.” No one in their right mind would hire a man who couldn’t do his fair share. This fellow would live so long as he could squeeze coins from passersby, and then he would die.
I handed him the drachma. “This is your down payment. I want information, and I want correct information. I’ll pay you the same no matter the answer, so don’t tell me what I want to hear, tell me the truth.”
“If you say.”
“Do you know of a man called Brion?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you might. They tell me everyone loves Brion, so I guess he’s one of the few who throws you coins.”
He laughed. “The beggars could tell you a different story. Brion’s like all the other rich men, he’s only good to people he thinks might be useful to him. You want to know which people give the most? It’s the poor.”
“I guess you see most things coming and going from the warehouse.”
“Yes.”
“And steal what you can.”
“It isn’t much. The merchants watch their merchandise too closely.”
“I’ll bet. Brion stored some pottery, I don’t know when, maybe a few days ago, maybe a month ago, I doubt longer than that.”
He nodded. “I remember. Fifteen days ago, sixteen maybe.”
I handed him another drachma. “Good. Did the pots come off a ship?”
“No, from inland, on carts, three of them, pulled by donkeys.”
He shook his head. “The donkeys were tired and dirty. So were the men leading them.”
“Any idea where they came from?”
“Yes.” He put out his hand. My one-armed friend had become confident.
I dropped in two drachmae.
“Magnesia.”
“You sure?”
“The donkey men talked about staying overnight before going back. Anyway, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Magnesia’s the closest town inland.”
That was what I wanted to know. “All right, I won’t pay you any more money—”
He opened his wounded mouth to protest but I held up my hand. “Wait. I won’t pay you more money because I have something even better for you. I suppose you plan to spend those coins on food and wine?”
“I can stretch out this much for a month, maybe get me a cheap woman too.” He smiled.
“Don’t do any of that.”
“What?”
“Take this money and get a decent haircut at the gymnasium and a wash at the laconica, and buy a new chiton.”
“I need the food more.”
“When you come back,” I said, ignoring him, “no one will recognize you, except maybe for the arm. You’ll have to disguise that somehow. Go in the back door of the warehouse and turn right.” I gave him directions to Brion’s space.
“Under the cover is a jar full of coins.” I described the jar. “They’re all yours if you can take them.”
He said, “How many coins are we talking about?”
“I don’t know. A lot. Maybe enough to buy a small farm and a couple of slaves.”
“Zeus!”
“The jar’s heavy. With only one hand you might need help to carry it.”
“No, I won’t. I’ll find a way.”
I was sure he would too, because half a farm is not as good as a whole one, and I had just offered this man his life.
“There’s a guard,” I warned, “and he’s aggressive. You’ll have to deal with him.”
“Not a problem,” he said confidently. He thought for a moment. “Maybe I’ll buy a long knife too.”
“Do that.”
“Why do you tell me this?” he asked, suspicious.
“Because I like you.”
And because the dangers of my profession were not so different to his. If I did this man a favor, maybe the Gods would send someone to help me, if I was ever in the same straits.
He said, “You have something against this Brion?”
“No. Funnily enough, I’m trying to save his life, if he still has one.” I didn’t know what had happened to Brion, nor fully understand why the self-confessed traitor Thorion had died, but I did know these pots had something to do with it. It was time to strike a blow, anything that might disrupt the enemy.
“If these pots are all that important to you, you might want to check with the man who met him. Half-man, rather. One of the ones from the temple with his balls missing.”
“Huh?”
“A eunuch was hanging around the doors, and when the donkeys arrived and Brion turned up to supervise, they talked like they knew each other as the slaves unloaded.”
“Describe him.”
“Tall, big chest, head shaved. One of the Megabyzoi for sure.”
* * *
“He gave me a message from my family,” Geros said. “It’s quite true, I did meet Brion at the warehouse.”
I’d ambushed Geros by walking up to him as he stood guard on the steps of the small temple. He hadn’t shown the slightest surprise when I appeared, and he spoke to me in a mild voice, which made me wonder if he’d been expecting this conversation.
“You have a family?” I failed to hide my surprise.
A woman’s voice behind us said, “Of course he has a family. You don’t think eunuchs come from Mommy eunuchs and Daddy eunuchs, do you?”
Geros and I both turned to see Diotima. I felt myself blush. I’d been hoping to avoid her presence.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Geros and I are chatting,” I said, avoiding her real question.
“Without me?” Her voice rose.
“I thought we established last time he isn’t yours to protect.”
“That’s not the point. You deliberately went behind my back.”
“Because you have a soft spot for the eunuchs when right now you need to be suspicious.”
“You’re the one I suspect. Of bigotry. Geros, I order you to throw Nicolaos off the temple grounds.”
“I claim sanctuary,” I said at once.
“What? That’s for criminals.”
“Is there any rule says so?” I countered.
Geros looked from one to the other of us and rubbed his chin. “Priestess, technically, the man is right. Anyone can claim sanctuary and the temple has no right to refuse.”
Diotima opened her mouth, shut it again, then said, “You mean he can wander about bothering you and you can’t stop him?”
“It seems so, but truly, there is no difficulty, Priestess. He asks me what I’m not ashamed to tell.”
“I’d never thought about eunuchs having parents,” I confessed. “Did your father donate you?”
“I was taken at eight years and cut at once.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Nico!”
“Yes, it hurt. I was brought here with other boys. They rested us for a few days, and gave us good food so we would be strong, and then they cut us, one by one, in a ceremony, with a knife they held in flame.”
I winced and crossed my knees.
“It’s for the Goddess,” Diotima said gently. “It’s what She requires.”
“I know this, lady. All we boys cried, and afterwards they took us to lie on good beds. The fever came by next day, and for days afterwards we lay there and others of the Megabyzoi, who had been cut long ago, tended us. One of the boys died. The rest of us lived.”
“So when you met Brion at the warehouse?”
“He gave me a message from my brother. As a proxenos Brion was used to sending mail, but it was kindness in him to do this for a slave.”
Diotima said, “There, you see, Nico? Nothing to worry about at all. Now leave him alone.”
I hadn’t expected such an explanation, and it was impossible to check. Either Geros had been prepared with a clever story, or he was innocent.
“It’s my brother I miss most,” he said, almost musing to himself.
“Can you confirm any of this, Diotima?” I asked, a last-ditch attempt to shake his story.
Geros said, “I would never discuss my problems with the priestess. She has enough worries of her own.”
“Drop it, Geros,” Diotima said at once, before I could ask what he meant.
I led her aside and whispered, “Diotima, do you want to know what else I learned? The pottery was brought to Ephesus from Magnesia.” I related the story of the cart drivers and their conversation.
“Magnesia again.” Diotima looked thoughtful. “This makes it worse. Why are coins minted in Samos, an island in the Aegean Sea, appearing from Magnesia, an inland city?”
“Why is your friend Brion the one importing them?”
Diotima thought for a moment, then seemed to come to some decision because she turned back to Geros and said, “Wait here. Geros, don’t answer any more questions until I return.”
We watched her walk, almost run in fact, into the main temple. The moment she was out of sight I said, “Good, she’s gone. Now Geros, tell me what you meant about Diotima’s worries.”
“The priestess said—”
“Forget what the priestess said. If she has problems, I want to know about them.”
Geros considered me for some time, and I let him. He needed to trust me on this. Then he looked over to the temple where Diotima had disappeared. “The priestess is not popular with her colleagues. It is well you should know. Though you hate eunuchs, I know you have her best interests at heart.
”
“What’s the problem? Diotima was unpopular when she’d served at the Temple of Artemis in Athens but that was because of her parentage. She should have escaped that here.”
Geros said, “The priestess doesn’t tend to notice when others find her high competence a trifle … confronting. It was I who pulled them apart. It is how we met.”
“There was a fight?”
He nodded. “Between her and the other new priestesses, when it became clear she had outperformed them in all learning and prayers and rituals.”
“She said nothing to me of this.”
“Would you expect her to?”
No, of course not. Diotima was not one to admit a problem she couldn’t solve. “She should have pretended to be like the rest of them.”
“If you think that, then you do not know the Priestess Diotima.”
We both nodded our heads glumly.
I said, “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“The Megabyzoi can’t have the emotion as you know it. There is no lust, but there is kind regard.”
“So what you said before about being able to pleasure a woman was—”
“Absolutely true. But it’s not something we need to do, unlike you. I may be a slave to the temple, but you are a slave to your lusts. I know which of us is the freer.”
“I’m perfectly rational.”
Geros smiled his insulting smile.
Why was I arguing about my sex life with a eunuch slave?
Diotima walked out of the temple toward us. She announced, “I’ve just informed the High Priest I’m leaving Ephesus. When you go, Nicolaos, I’m going with you.”
Geros let out a small cry of astonishment. “But Priestess—”
“It’s decided, Geros. Everything leads to Magnesia. I have to follow.”
Geros began to argue, then bowed his head and said, “You will be missed.”
“I’ll miss you too, Geros.”
Geros turned to me and said, “You must keep her safe.”
“I will,” I promised him.
* * *
Next morning, Diotima met Asia and me at the southeast gate. Diotima wore an old, patched chiton, suitable for hard travel on a dry, dusty road. She’d rolled up the hem to her knees to make it easier to walk. Not the most elegant arrangement, but she was a practical girl. I noted with approval that she wore a pair of thick leather sandals. Over her back she’d slung a soft leather sack, stuffed with what I guessed to be clothes and whatever things a woman needed.