by Roger Hudson
Hermon pulled himself together. He pushed the wooden message out of sight again, and said, "Now let’s see about this deceiver Philebos!"
Sindron excused himself and headed back to Athens as they had agreed. It was important that he check certain things out with city officials before all the offices closed down for the Assembly meeting.
***
As they climbed down towards the market place, Philia could see the men gathering in the sacred central area for the Assembly meeting that Lysanias had spoken about. He must be somewhere among that crowd she thought to herself proudly, despite all the other women had just been saying about men. It gave her a thrill to think that such a young man should be so knowledgeable about the politics of the city. And he was hers. She was sure her father would be impressed with Lysanias, when he arrived. All the stories were that Kimon had ridden to Corinth himself to arrange the passage through of the troops, so her father should be home soon.
From the top, she had spotted the road to Eleusis and then on to Megara and Corinth snaking off in the distance, and, in the clear air, far, far away on the horizon, the high city of Corinth, but, for all her staring, there was no sign of a column of troops marching back.
"Surely all men and all marriages can't be that bad, Makaria, can they?" She asked it almost pleadingly.
"Most of them. My husband was a fool, anyway."
"Did you hate him?"
"Not hate, despise maybe. I’m sorry to be so brutally honest, young lady, but it’s time you learnt."
The old woman's statements were as blunt and unfeeling as always, but they gave Philia the cue for the question to which she dreaded the answer.
"Klereides, did you hate Klereides?"
"No, nor did I despise him. I didn't like the way he got involved in business, or some of the gossip about him, but he pulled the family out of the financial mess his father landed us in. I have to be grateful for that, even if he has squandered his money recently." It sounded very grudging. Makaria went on to a statement that sounded almost prepared. "You'll find it's difficult for a woman not to want to mother and protect her sons. Whatever they do. However corrupt and deceitful they become." There was a slight pause. "I'd never have done anything to hurt him, if that's what you mean."
"Thank you, Makaria." Philia couldn't tell whether Makaria was telling the truth or not. She couldn’t see into her eyes. It just didn't sound like Makaria to say that sort of thing. She had to feel grateful to her mother-in-law for being so open with her and began to feel a little differently towards her now Makaria was treating her as worthy of respect.
The Temple of the Mother was like nothing Philia had ever seen before. From a distance, it had looked like a rock outcropping from the hill behind. Close to, it was a curving wall of giant rock piled upon giant rock, as though the titans of legend must have placed them here, for no man could surely move great rocks of that size and weight.
Makaria urged Philia to enter through the central opening, where she knew only women were allowed to go. She felt herself quaking, but why should she be afraid? This was a place of women, of the great Mother, protector of women. Here was the home of Gea, the earth spirit, but also of Rhea her daughter, mother of all the gods, of Demeter, her daughter, goddess of the grain and fertility, and of her daughter Kore, of Hera, wife and sister of almighty Zeus, and of Aphrodite, goddess of love and marriage, wife of Hephaistos. Not a vengeful male god among them, so why be afraid? Besides, Makaria was behaving as though entering here was an everyday occurrence.
Ahead of them ran a long wide passage, open to the sky. At its end stood an enormous, bulbous, weather-worn statue of the great earth mother, stolid and dignified as the earth itself.
Makaria introduced Philia to the priestess, who was attired in a flowing gown of earth-brown and gold thread with golden sandals, garlanded with the produce of the earth, vines and olive leaves, corn and barley. She admonished Makaria for not bringing Philia before, then gestured for her to follow.
"Come my, child. I am about to address a gathering below in the underworld."
Makaria excused herself, saying that she had something else to attend to, and went, leaving Glykera with her.
Could this really lead to the underworld, Philia wondered, grateful of the comforting figure of Glykera beside her, as she descended the spiral steps, down and down. At the bottom, the great chamber hewn into the rock, itself like an arched temple, with oil lamps glowing and flickering in niches, and statuettes of the Mother in her various guises, mother, wife and maid, in hollows in the walls.
Philia felt totally enclosed, as though in the womb of the Mother, warm and comforted. The priestess’ address reinforced what she had heard in the High City.
"The stories of the gods teach us that marriage is a battlefield and that wives must always look out for their own interests and those of their offspring." The opening statement drew a gasp from some of the younger, newer women like herself. The priestess continued.
"Gods and men will always seek to constrain and possess women and, while we may be bound as wives and daughters to serve them, yet we can take steps to ensure..."
Philia realised how confused she was feeling. She had always secretly thought that the behaviour of the gods was rather reprehensible. Now here was a priestess saying it was acceptable to behave as badly as the gods! Were these the rules men go by?
"And this is the natural way of things. It proves that female wisdom and power is greater than the male …”
Philia knew that she had always felt that she, and her mother and sisters had more stability than her brothers, who were always off getting into some scrape or another. Now the priestess was giving a firm religious conclusion to her speech.
"The only true worship must be to the source of all the gods and the source of all humans, men and women, the great earth mother, Gea."
Philia joined in the chants absent-mindedly, lost in thoughts of this whole new way of seeing the world, so contradictory to what she had been led to believe but so rational.
If it was the natural, gods-given order of things for women to conspire against their husbands, then it could be acceptable for Makaria to conspire in the murder of Klereides. Clearly, all women were expected to support and aid one another, so Philia should assist Makaria to conceal this fact. Was that why Makaria had brought her here? To win her support? No, if Makaria had killed Curly, Philia could never forgive her! After all, Klereides had always been kind and gentle towards her; Makaria never had. But she still found it difficult to believe even Makaria could do that.
***
Philebos had crumbled when Hermon and Lysanias confronted him. He admitted he had loaned one of the company seals to the city naval architect Amynias. Senior naval architects and administrators had a drinking club, Men of Poseidon. They were worried at the way Klereides seemed to be backing the radicals and their peace proposals. Without the constant need for war galleys that continued war brings, the status of shipbuilding would decline and so would that of the Men of Poseidon.
"At that last dinner party of his, he tried to persuade us that wasn't his intention, but he spent so much time smoothing up to the officials in charge of construction, roadways and public works, we didn't believe him, so we didn’t cancel the plan."
Lysanias was horrified. "So you killed Klereides for that!"
"No! The plan was to frighten him, to scare him into changing his ways. I suggested the place. There were lots of less heavy things that could be made to fall close by him but big enough so he’d get the point. Something went wrong."
"Wrong!!" Lysanias blurted but Hermon stopped him.
"You’d better tell us the whole story, Philebos."
"Amynias and Inaros were organising someone to do it. So we wouldn’t be implicated. That's what they told me. They persuaded me to arrive at the yard shortly after, find Klereides shaken up and calm him. If I could find some way of hinting that maybe someone was warning him, all well and good. I was to claim that I had called
him to a meeting to show him …"
The overseer’s expression changed. The realisation had hit him.
"By the gods, they set me up to take the blame! And I was stupid enough to agree. No wonder they invited me to join their dining club. They must have meant this all along. I promise I’ll tell you everything."
The overseer looked terrified, as well he might. Accomplice to murder. Not a nice charge for a very ordinary administrator of industry to face. At last, though, someone had admitted involvement in Klereides’ death and the story sounded plausible, even though the man was clearly trying to rid himself of any direct responsibility. Lysanias felt he was getting closer to the real culprit.
It was Hermon who saw the flaw. "Why didn’t you claim to have summoned Klereides to the yard?"
"When I heard he was dead. I realised I could be blamed, or you, Resident Hermon, but you were out of Athens."
"Was it intended that I should be blamed?" Hermon looked very angry.
"No, no, of course not. He shouldn’t have been dead. But he was. I had to contact Amynias to arrange an alibi, but we didn’t expect so many questions. You were a big shock to us all, Citizen Lysanias. Fortunately, my assistant had taken the right steps by the time I got back, but I couldn’t find the scroll. I hoped it had been taken or destroyed."
Hermon instructed Philebos not to leave town and to report to him the following day for a decision on his future with the company. The man was visibly shaken. Well, he deserved it, fumed Lysanias. He's lucky I didn't break his neck! Hermon had promised to take it up with the naval architect and officials at the first opportunity, which could be as early as that evening at General Ariston’s dining club.
He revealed to Lysanias that the new shipbuilding contract had gone to the rival company, and Hermon obviously saw this decision as part of the same conspiracy that had ended in the death of Klereides. However, Lysanias found it difficult to see that as the most urgent concern.
Yet he did ask, "Who owns this company?"
"Oh, it's Isomenes and Partners, fellow from Kition in Cyprus. His patron’s that big financier. You may have heard of him. Involved with Kimon's party. Phrasion, Phrastos, something like that."
"Phraston! You mean the banker?"
"Yes, that's him."
Lysanias was dazed. Why did everyone seem to have connections with everyone else? It really was like the labyrinth he had compared it to earlier, but at least Theseos had finally come face to face with his Minotaur. Lysanias was beginning to wonder if he ever would find his monster, the murderer, at the end of this never-ending tunnel. If he ever did, was he capable of finding his way back out of all the deceit and corruption?
CHAPTER 14
Lysanias was still fuming when he arrived back at the market place and walked towards the red-roped enclosure. His head was going over and over what Philebos had said and the irony if Klereides had died only as the result of a silly prank that went wrong.
Increasingly aware that he was having to fit in with people from different social spheres, Lysanias had that day deliberately worn a fairly straightforward cloak, with a simple design embroidered in two lines around the edge in brown. He was grateful for a while to find himself anonymous amongst the crowd.
From the number of farmers, shepherds and fishermen it was evident that the aristocrats had made great efforts to bring in their supporters from the countryside in an attempt to balance out the craftsmen and shopkeepers of Athens and Peiraeos.
From overheard snatches of conversation, Lysanias gathered that tension was still high over the failed attempt to seize power, worry about how the vote would go and whether Kimon’s troops would return soon and what result that might have. Though Kimon himself was back from Corinth and had secured their passage, it was now unlikely that his troops would arrive in time but some were still hoping.
Then Lysanias realised he must find Hierokles, so that he could be registered to vote. He needed a family member to introduce him and hoped his cousin had remembered.
He started to move towards the gap in the rope that served as an entrance to the meeting area. Then, there right in front of him were Stephanos and Glaukon talking with Arkhestratos. Lysanias had hoped to avoid significant contact with either faction. It was too exposed. The other side might see and his divided loyalties would really be obvious, but it was too late now.
"Is everything all right?" he asked.
Stephanos pulled away from the others to talk. "We’re worried about Ephialtes. No-one’s seen him all day. Apparently his slave said he was sleeping soundly when the boys asked this morning."
"Probably preparing his speech."
"That's what we thought earlier but it’s not like him. Perikles has gone to fetch him, with a few bodyguards. Can't take any risks!" Tucked in a group of workers, Stephanos obviously felt reasonably confident to speak his mind, but now he lowered his voice. "How'd you know they were going to try to seize power last night?" The question Lysanias had hoped to avoid, but sometime he would have to tell Stephanos the truth, why not now?
"I thought you'd realise when I told you I had a rich uncle ...”
"Thought you were telling a tall one, citizen. You’ve really got rich relations?”
"Yes. My uncle was ...”
"And still you told us...?" Stephanos looked amazed, almost admiring.
"Yes, my uncle was Klereides."
"The one who was crushed in the shipyard?" Then Stephanos smiled. "That explains a lot."
"I think he was murdered, that's why I wanted to get work in the shipyard. To check it out."
A light seemed to dawn in Stephanos eyes, taking over from the suspicious look that had lurked there. "You think one of the rich lot did it, don't you? That's why you sided with us, right?"
Lysanias grinned, recognising he had made his decision without realising it, "I think that’s because I regard myself as a worker."
"Too right, brother. Soon as I saw you handling those tools, I knew you weren't faking it." Lysanias was obliged to exchange the Fellowship greeting grip with Stephanos, who seemed eager to share the news with his colleagues. Lysanias stopped him, "Could you keep it to yourself for the time being? Till I find the murderer? Just wanted you to know that, if you see me talking to any of Kimon’s supporters, it doesn't mean anything."
Reluctantly, Stephanos agreed, and Lysanias managed to move away amongst the crowd, hoping none of the aristocrats he knew had spotted their conversation.
He wasn't sure if he had given the real reason for his siding with the radicals. He couldn't really pretend, even to himself, that he was still a worker. He had no need any more to work to support himself. He was a wealthy Athenian now, and they didn't work. His interests might well lie with the aristocrats. He just didn't feel like one of them. Maybe it was that the wealthy seemed so lazy, selfish and conniving, even corrupt, while the workers like Stephanos were so much more straightforward, said what they meant. But Themistokles, he wasn't at all straightforward, nor some of the other radicals. Lysanias had a feeling he might regret this later.
He noticed Boiotos moving from group to group among the younger well-dressed men, presumably trying to consolidate the pro-Kimon vote.
"Ah, Lysanias, heir of Klereides." Lysanias turned. Had he been noticed talking with Stephanos? No, it was only Strynises. With his system of informants, he must know already about Lysanias' double life. "A little something you may not have heard already, young man," he said, then recited a few lines of verse.
"When a general favours boys,
A lovely wife may stray,
But who's to tell the world
If vengeance is disguised."
His eyes twinkled mischievously. Was this serious? Then the poet gave a gesture of farewell and moved on with his bodyguards. He must need them among this crowd, which was likely to contain many people he had aggrieved. Yet what in Hades was the information he thought he had given in that doggerel? "Call it an inspired guess, if you will," he called back over his shoul
der, leaving Lysanias even more puzzled. The man was playing with him!
***
With the offices closed, Sindron realised he had some time to spare before the Assembly meeting started, which he was eager to watch. Something had urged him to walk round by the rear of the Temple of Theseos, though he wasn't sure why.
He stood for a while in the shadows of an alley on the other side of the street. He had seen Lydos and his subordinates arrive back from the table in the square, carrying the chest and scales and other attributes. The subordinates left after a while but not Lydos. Then shortly afterwards, Otanes had arrived. Instead of going in, he had stood waiting by the portico, looking down the road that led from the square. Then a black-screened cart had come along, driven by the groom from the house, and who should get down and go in but Makaria. Both she and Otanes entered the Treasury.
A woman dealing personally with a bank! As far as Sindron had heard, that just didn't happen, and it suggested connections between her and Lydos that he would never have imagined. What intrigue could this imply?
Sindron had slipped away without the groom noticing him and made his way back to the market place.
***
Lysanias found Hierokles. His cousin was in a grim mood. He muttered something about things looking bad and did his duty perfunctorily of introducing Lysanias to the officials of the tribe. After the brief swearing-in ceremony at the statue of his tribe’s hero, Lysanias found himself an area within his tribe's section occupied by a mix of citizens amongst whom he knew not one face, and hoped he would be inconspicuous. From the conversations he overheard, even people from the country, small farmers and fishermen, seemed fed up with war and constant preparedness that they saw as Kimon’s policy because of the impact on their farms, families and livelihood of the menfolk having to be away so often fighting. They wanted peace now. And not a few seemed to be blaming Kimon for “bringing all these foreigners into the city.”