had good taste. I decided it must be Euterpe of Mantinea, since surely Ephialtes would not have selected that statue of Apollo cavorting with a nymph? The anatomical detail was remarkable.
The house slave sniffed at me when I knocked, as if I were too verminous to cross her threshold. The name Ephialtes got me as far as the public receiving room, where I had been left to linger long enough to have inspected every art piece in the room, and there were a lot of them. I had never before been in the salon of a hetaera. The murals were short on Homeric battle scenes but gratifyingly long on sporting nymphs, satyrs, and priapic Gods. I peered at them closely, my nose almost pressed to the wall.
“Educational, aren’t they?”
I turned, startled, and crashed my knee against a nearby table. Trying not to swear, and clutching my knee, I saw framed in the doorway the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on.
Euterpe had reddish brown hair that flowed down her lovely neck and over a shoulder to her breasts. She was wearing a dress that, even if it were not made of fabric I could see through, would have been considered scandalously immodest. As it was, she had my body’s full and immediate attention. The dress was tied in some way so that the material flowed with her skin. My mind ceased functioning since it was not required for the moment.
“Oh! Are you hurt?”
She knelt before me and touched my knee where I’d banged it. Waves of pleasure coursed up me.
Euterpe looked a little higher, and smiled. She stood, swayed to a couch, and reclined, arching her back so that her nipples pressed out against the material and her legs were exposed.
“So, what may I do for you, young man?”
I collapsed back against the nearest couch, unable to speak and agonizingly aware how I must look to her.
Euterpe let me recover. She clapped her hands. A young woman appeared, whom I barely noticed.
“Diotima, dear, would you bring me wine? And a carafe of cool water for our guest.”
The young woman reappeared with an exquisite thin pottery watercooler. I took it and thankfully let it rest in my lap, where it did me a lot of good. Euterpe eyed this arrangement while a half smile played on her lips, and her gaze traveled up and down.
“I understand you’ve come about Ephialtes?” She used her finger to twirl some of the tresses that fell upon her breasts.
I had to consider the possibility that Euterpe was not doing this to me deliberately. She may behave this way with every man. If so, I found it incredible Ephialtes had lived long enough to be felled by the arrow. He should have died from excruciating pleasure long ago. I supposed she was old enough to be my mother, but the evidence before my eyes suggested not, or else Aphrodite had shared some of her secrets.
“Uh, when did you last see him?” I managed to croak.
“Why, yesterday, the day he died. He spent the night here and departed in the morning.”
“He did?” I said, surprised.
“You are surprised.”
On reflection I should not have been. “Then at least his last night was a memorable one.”
Euterpe clapped her hands in delight.
“A compliment! Oh, do keep practicing. One day you’ll be enchanting the ladies and receiving invitations to all the best salons.”
“I don’t ever expect to be able to afford it. Did you know where Ephialtes was going?”
“I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem important. Ephialtes sometimes left at dawn to conduct business.”
“How long had you known him?”
“Many, many years,” she said quietly, as much to herself as to me. Then she recollected the admission and said, “Long enough for us to be great friends, as well as the rest. We hetaerae with special friends are more to our men than their own wives, did you know that?”
“I can well believe it.”
“Ephialtes was a rising young politician when we first met. He could barely afford me then, but when he had the funds he would visit. As he rose he became wealthier and could visit more often. Eventually we came to the current arrangement: he kept me in the style I required, and I kept him happy, and saw no other man.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing before, a hetaera with only one client.”
“It’s unusual, yes, but it served us both well. Ephialtes posed with the people as one of them. He could hardly do that and visit all the expensive hetaerae! The common men can’t afford hetaerae and have to make do with those dirty pornoi. So a quiet, permanent mistress seemed the best idea.”
“Are you really from Mantinea?”
“Oh yes! I come from a well-born family. I was given as a girl-child to the temple to be priestess there, where the priestesses are required to be virgins but retire early to marry. Well, you can imagine having done my duty as a virgin priestess I was ready for anything! I married a local well-born citizen many times my age, who died on me the following year. Poor old Alexias.”
I had an idea how Alexias had expired, and felt nothing but envy for the old man.
“His lands passed to his son by a previous marriage. The son loathed me-I can’t imagine why-and by mutual agreement I departed for Athens with his funding. So here I was in Athens with no husband, and the local wives looking down on me. It was the most natural thing in the world to arrange a few soirees. One thing led to another, and here I am.”
She paused to consider me.
“Are you married yet, Nicolaos? Betrothed? No? Then some respectable girl still awaits the pleasure of your company.”
“I thought a lady such as yourself would have no time for the respectable girls.”
“Oh, respectability is nothing of value. But security, dear man, security is the important thing for one such as me. The wives may be boring, drab, disgusting, but they are secure.”
Financial security seemed a delicate subject better avoided with Euterpe. I wondered what it cost to maintain this house and where she would find the money now. No doubt there were rich men would pay well to be with her, but she was reduced to looking for custom again where before she had a certain future and a steady income.
“We seem to have moved from investigating the death of your client to my personal love life.”
She came to sit on my couch, leaned against me so that I could feel her breasts against my chest, stroked my thigh, and looked into my eyes with sincerity.
“I often mix business with pleasure. In fact, pleasure is my business. Have you a thousand drachmae? No, I thought not, but if you ever have a windfall, you’ll be thinking of me, will you not, handsome Nicolaos?”
This was more than any young man could be expected to bear. I made my thanks and escaped the room, followed by her light laughter.
Back out on the street I felt light-headed and had to lean against the wall for support. I took deep breaths. She was right, if I won that home and modest income from Pericles, I might throw it all away for a night with Euterpe.
A young man peered around the corner onto the street as I stood there. When he saw me notice him, he stepped back out of sight. The light was dim so late in the day and I didn’t get a clear view, but I thought it was the same man I’d seen watching me outside the house of Xanthippus. Could he be one of the men who’d beaten me? I hadn’t had a good look, but I didn’t think so. I sidled to the corner with my dagger drawn, and looked about. He was gone, but it worried me. I was sure I was being stalked.
5
I found Pericles in the Stoa Poikile off the north side of the Agora, in the corridor of colonnades. The two painters I’d seen before were both still at work, and both had moved on to color. The battle with the Amazons was coming out with brilliant, vivid hues, but the Fall of Troy was looking a bit monotone to me.
The stoa was already the favored place for men to meet and talk. The porch was wide and cool, far enough
