by Roger Hudson
"You won't tell Makaria, will you?" the girl burst out, mouthing her greatest fear. Sindron seized the opportunity.
"Not if you help us to get messages to Philia."
"I can’t. She watches like a hawk, the old mistress."
"There must be some time in the day when the old lady is resting or occupied. Think!" Sindron grasped Nubis' arm tightly.
"Stop it, you're hurting!" Sindron eased his grip. "There is a time," she said. "When Makaria's with the steward in the afternoons, though you can never be sure. That's when she caught me today."
"Good." Sindron knew it was the best arrangement they would get. "Now, get along to the foundry."
***
Sindron had had a word with Otanes who had a word with Makaria that Lysanias, the master of the house, felt the household should try to get back to normal routines as soon as possible. So it was agreed that the whole family would eat together for the evening meal.
It was a disaster.
They had arranged the couches in the courtyard. Lysanias offered the choicest morsel of each main dish to the household gods, as he had seen his father do hundreds of times, and made the libations. Makaria's expression looked black. Lysanias reclined on his couch with Makaria and Philia on either side. He said the blessings as required. Makaria looked blacker still. Philia sat bowed on her couch, a slim black statue, unmoving, her black veil concealing her expression and so her feelings.
"Throw back your veil, girl," Makaria was abrupt, almost brutal. "He's dead and gone and, if he hasn't reached the underworld, he never will."
Two automatic responses saw Philia throw back her veil with instinctive obedience to an order, and Lysanias say, just as his mother would have, "Now, grandmother, respect for the dead!" He felt actually quite shocked at this attitude of a mother for her son. At the same instant, he realised the problem. Klereides had probably rarely been at home at meal times, so Makaria would have substituted as head of household, which meant Lysanias was usurping a place she had come to regard as her own. Well, she would just have to get used to it.
Philia had flashed him a brief expression of gratitude, but this had rapidly changed into one that he could only read as guilt, as though his barb had struck as a personal rebuke to her. Her pale face looked as though she had been crying. Again her head was lowered even as she ate, taking few and tiny mouthfuls.
Otanes had insisted on overseeing the serving and he had given Nubis the chore of actually bringing dishes from the kitchen. Her presence made Lysanias edgy for some reason associated with those twinkling brown legs. While, behind Lysanias' couch, Sindron took dishes and placed them in front of him, striving to do everything right in a role as personal slave he had never played before, under the supercilious gaze of Otanes. The atmosphere was icy.
Lysanias tried to break it.
"The squid is excellent, Otanes. Please pass my compliments to the cook."
"Certainly, master."
"Grandmother, congratulations on your household organisation, most efficient."
"Hrrmph."
Lysanias realised his father would never have said anything so stiff and formal, and, from his young lips, it must seem arrogant, but, in this setting of wealth and formality, anything else would seem vulgar. And he had to speak first to Otanes and Makaria to clear the way to speak directly to Philia.
"Philia, any word from your father yet?"
And she burst into tears. It had been the wrong thing to say or the wrong way to say it. Her father’s approval would be needed if the wedding was to go ahead, but he was an officer with the main body of Athenian troops marching back from Sparta that Corinth was refusing to allow cross her borders, on the grounds that they hadn't asked permission. Official heralds had toured the streets announcing it and speculation was rife as to whether this might be a ruse, so that Spartan troops could catch up and attack them from behind, or if it implied war with Corinth. So the girl was naturally worried for her father. He should have realised.
Makaria thawed. "Come now, girl," she said in a surprisingly soft and caring tone of voice. "Your father will be safe. He'll be with us soon. Now dry your tears."
Nubis brought a bowl and napkin and a handmirror, and Philia wiped her eyes and essayed a sorry smile. Lysanias still felt embarrassed at having been so insensitive. Makaria kept talking to cover it.
"Philia is making excellent progress in learning the tasks of household management, Lysanias. I'm very pleased with her progress."
"Is that so? Which aspect have you found most interesting, Philia?"
This formality was ridiculous.
"Oh, working out the quantities of different foods to order for a dinner party," she said immediately and with enthusiasm. "You really have to think hard to work that out correctly, depending on the number of guests and the different dishes and what you can afford within the budget."
Her face came to life, her eyes lit up and looked straight into his for the first time, and he knew that he would really like to know this young woman a lot better. He noted that Makaria looked relieved that this was all Philia had chosen to talk about from the day's activities. Sindron had told him about the bloodstained robe, so he could understand why.
Lysanias asked the slaves to leave them, including Sindron. With the ice broken, they chatted about the future. The two young people seemed now to accept that it was their duty under the law to be married, as Klereides had died without a son of his own. The fright and tantrums of a few days before had receded and a not-discontented resignation had taken their place.
Makaria adopted a tone of gentle encouragement. Lysanias and Philia suddenly found themselves blushing, casting sidelong glances at one another and then looking away, as Makaria listed possible dates, after the end of the mourning period, when the wedding might take place, provided, of course, Philia's father agreed to the match.
Lysanias decided that now was the time to set out new guidelines for the household. He called Otanes and asked him to summon all the household slaves.
"Lysanias, what is this about?" whispered Makaria, while they were waiting.
"I just want to introduce myself as the new master while everyone's together." he said, half truthfully.
Otanes coughed when everyone was present. Lysanias was a little surprised that it added up to so many. All those mouths to feed! All his responsibility!
Lysanias summoned what adult dignity he could and smiled broadly. Was a smile the right thing? He modified it, and began speaking.
"I just wanted to thank you all for the excellent way you have handled everything during the funeral preparations, and especially the feast. It really went off extremely well. As you know, I am the new master."
He paused. But all faces were stiff and expressionless, with eyes that implied they were worried there might be bad news such as a reduction in the household and slaves to be sold off. Lysanias noticed a sidelong glance between Makaria and Otanes that didn't seem appropriate, but he had no time to puzzle it. He carried on as he had prepared the speech in his head.
"The intention is that I and Philia will marry, subject to her father's approval. Until she has learnt fully the arts of household management from Makaria, I would like the present arrangement to continue, whereby Makaria organises the household with the assistance of Otanes as steward."
From their expressions, some seemed pleased or relieved, some not quite so pleased, others completely stony-faced.
"Sindron, who some of you have already met, will continue as my personal slave and adviser. To fulfil this role he needs to know a great deal about the household and its finances and to some extent will, as it were, shadow Otanes, purely for information purposes, you understand. I would appreciate it if you would give Sindron every assistance in this, and answer his questions as truthfully and fully as you can. Otherwise please continue to perform your current duties. Does everyone understand?"
Nubis immediately stepped forward. She had looked agitated and had probably been planning to ask the
question where no-one could prevent her.
"Master, what about me? I help both the old mistress and the young mistress with their toilet and to get dressed, I weave in the workroom, I run errands, I danced to entertain guests at dinner parties for the old master, the gods give him an easy passage, and other duties." She dropped her eyelids and then stared straight at Lysanias, the brazen huzzy. He knew what she meant and blushed. "Must I still do all that?"
Was she asking if he wanted to sleep with her? In public like this? No, surely not! She had put on a demure look now, cunning little minx ... but very pretty. Better take her question seriously.
"Once I have a better idea of the household finances, we will review all tasks to see whether more household staff should be engaged or tasks re-distributed." A non-committal reply but it evidently struck home in some areas. Were there slackers amongst them?
As he paused, Makaria broke in. "Of course, Otanes and myself will be assisting the new master fully in this review." Sindron registered that Makaria wasn't going to let it appear that she hadn't been consulted in all this, even if Lysanias was improvising.
"Now, to still rumours," Lysanias went on. "You know how I reacted to your old master's injuries." There were whispers, a few smiles, a sniffle from Philia. Sindron could see that Makaria and Otanes looked concerned that he should talk like this at all.
"You should know that I still have grave suspicions about the cause of Klereides' death." A small gasp from Philia probably reflected everyone else's suppressed reactions. "I am determined to discover if unknown enemies of his had a hand in it. If any of you know of anything which could point to a possible culprit or noticed anything unusual in Klereides’ behaviour in the days before his death or that of any callers, including that last dinner party, I ask you to tell Sindron."
He paused for effect but before he could elaborate Makaria had stepped in. "Or myself or Otanes, of course, if you feel more comfortable talking to someone you have known for a long time."
Otanes added, "Of course, mistress, but I'm sure I would have heard already if there were anything untoward." The meaning 'If you know anything, keep your mouths shut' hung plainly in the air.
Lysanias was obliged to say. "Of course, speak to whoever seems appropriate…” But the slaves were already filing out and Lysanias felt as though his intentions had been foiled, and at a time when he had been feeling so pleased with the progress they had made in their investigations that day. He wondered what information that the slaves might know Makaria and Otanes could be so keen to keep hidden.
***
Later that evening, Lysanias and Sindron sat down and tried to list what they had achieved. Considering how little time they had had, it made a quite impressive list.
That it was murder was no longer merely a suspicion. There was evidence of a crime and a murderer had been seen, albeit by someone who thought it was one of the Furies.
They had the rope that Lysanias felt sure had supported the fatal amphora and it had been cut above the knot, proving someone had done the deed, but how could they make sure nothing happened to the other paraphernalia surrounding his uncle's death, the amphora itself and the bloodstained planks with the footprint, before they had found the real culprit and taken action?
They had Klereides' blood-stained cloak, but there was no sign of the message-scroll that had summoned him to his fatal assignation, though the watchman had verified that it had actually existed. Perhaps the murderer had taken it.
That was it, apart from widely conflicting opinions as to Klereides' character, trustworthiness and loyalties.
Ever logical, Sindron insisted they must consider the negatives as well as the positives, what people had avoided telling them.
At the house, they had been offered no real statement of the household’s financial position, given no knowledge of where Klereides had kept contracts or details of investments, though the locked cupboard did seem a possibility.
On the business side, they had seen little financial information and nothing on the contractual relationship with Hermon. On top of that, Hermon flatly refused to say where he was at the time of Klereides death, while the explanation obtained from his slave didn't make sense.
Most puzzling was that Sindron’s friend Lydos had omitted to mention that Klereides' account was held by the bank Lydos works for and to offer details. Though that did seem to be related to somewhat exaggerated fears of the general political situation. But where could Klereides fit into that?
And no-one at all had mentioned a will. Sindron had heard they were normal in Athens nowadays among wealthy families.
Lysanias looked petulant. "Why can't I just ask them all outright and insist?" he demanded.
Sindron sighed deeply. "It looks as though you may have to, but that risks giving unnecessary offence and, if you get a flat refusal then, you could be into force or official action which could take ages."
Silence reigned as they reclined on couches, frowns creasing their brows, as they tried to recall significant details of all that had happened, any detail they had overlooked. Lysanias bit into a pomegranate and felt the flesh and juice slide seductively down his throat. "Did you consider," he slurred through another mouthful, before swallowing. "Did you consider the significance of who came and didn't come to pay respects or to the funeral feast?"
"How could I? I wasn't around much of the time, so I never got to know who they were." Sindron was genuinely tired and a little irritable. He had done so much walking lately that his old joints were aching. Thank the gods Lysanias seemed to be able to drop the master-slave relationship in private, and he could at least relax on a couch rather than stand all the time.
"Yes, but think about it." Lysanias swallowed the final mouthful. “No magistrates or other city officials came, which means they all stayed away. They can’t all have been too busy."
The idea had started Sindron’s memory working as well. "Ye-e-es. That naval architect said he had normally dealt with Klereides but he didn't come, did he?"
"That's what made me think of it. And Ariston is the only general who came."
"Ah, but he was in Klereides' old regiment. The others may not have known your uncle so well."
"Yes, but no other senior officers from the regiment came, except Hierokles. Ariston was the only leading politician too."
"Apart from Perikles' brief appearance," Sindron put in smartly, as though he was afraid Lysanias might have been too drunk to remember it.
"Which makes that even more surprising, don't you think?"
Sindron was pleased to see the way Lysanias' mind was developing. All those memory tests, the logic exercises he had given him as a boy hadn't been wasted after all. He helped himself to another fig.
"Not many from the financial community," he added, still chewing, “though it was the day of an important Assembly meeting, but even so…”
Lysanias pushed on to the conclusion to be drawn from his argument. "So, if we disregard token low level representatives, the bulk of them were people who couldn't afford to stay away like artists and athletes keen to hang on to their source of sponsorship."
Sindron completed the thought. "Or people who were tied to him for business reasons, owed him money or he owed them money. Merchants, traders, businessmen. You're right; it does make some sort of picture! The magistrates and army people would have attended the assembly meeting, of course. Even so, that wasn’t all day."
Lysanias’ expression showed he was pleased at Sindron’s approval. Then it changed to one of puzzled disappointment. "But what does it mean?"
"The others don't want to be publicly associated with his name. That's the logical conclusion."
"But why? What has my uncle done to create that reaction? It's almost like ostracism within the city!" Suddenly he started and sat upright, startled by a new thought. "You don't think he was a traitor, do you? Strynises said Otanes was meeting Eastern people at the harbour. Dealing with the Persians? That's what Themistokles was ostracised for."
"You don't believe Themistokles did that, though, do you?"
Oh, no! He had given Sindron the cue for a discussion on history. That was the last thing Lysanias wanted! But automatically he responded.
"No, of course not! How could the victor of Salamis sell out the Greeks to Persia? Mind you, he didn't do much for his claims of innocence by taking refuge in Persia and accepting a princedom from the Great King, did he?" This was Sindron’s favourite hobbyhorse and he wasn't going to let the slave have it all his own way.
"What choice did he have? If he'd gone anywhere else, the Athenians would have caught him and executed him, innocent or not."
Lysanias sighed. This wasn't what they should be discussing. "Look, Sindron, I was just giving it as an example. What do you think about Klereides being a traitor?"
The boy was getting irritated now and Sindron reacted rapidly to calm him. "I very much doubt it. If that was the case and they knew it, no-one at all would have come, but it must be something serious, more serious than anything we've heard about so far. Let’s try to piece together the bad opinions we've heard ...”
CHAPTER 9
One thing Lysanias was sure of – he had to check out the scene of the murder for other evidence and to check if the murderer had left any physical signs of his presence apart from the footprint. Also a rigger must have hung the amphora and substituted the frayed rope for the cut one. It would be useful to find him – but, if he did, would the man talk?
If he arranged to visit the shipyard through Hermon, Lysanias knew he would be given an escort to hamper him. Then, as soon as they knew he was after something specific, he felt sure they might try to destroy it.
There could be one way. Lysanias would have to go in as a worker himself and find an opportunity to explore when no-one was looking. Stephanos! He would know how to organise that.