away from the stalls that the dust kicked up by the shoppers didn’t hang in the air. The columns were stylish, tapered at the top so they appeared to be straight all the way. Some men sat on the steps of the porch, their clothing tucked up, but most stood within the shady area. There was much angry talking, much hand waving. Pericles was talking, but he wasn’t making speeches.
He talked to small groups of men, going from one to the next. He harangued other speakers calling for revenge. He took men aside and spoke to them quietly. He coaxed the doubtful, soothed the angry, cheered the fearful. His message was the same every time: don’t jump to action, think first, consider the consequences, wait for news.
Although I needed to speak to him myself, I stood back and watched, not daring to interfere while he worked. Pericles was barely controlling a mob ready to lynch someone, a Councilor of the Areopagus for preference, but any rich aristocrat would do. He played heavily on being Ephialtes’ trusted lieutenant, telling the mob what Ephialtes would have wanted. But his own wealthy aristocratic family told against him, and when someone shouted Pericles was son of the murderer, it all threatened to boil over. Who was he to say what the people should do?
“There will be news!” Pericles bellowed in a voice that could command a battle, jumping upon an empty plinth. That shut them all up for a moment.
“There will be news,” Pericles said more quietly, forcing the people to listen carefully to his words. “We do not know who killed Ephialtes, but we will. And when we do, people of Athens, if the murderer is Xanthippus, then I, Pericles, son of Xanthippus, will lead the prosecution against him. And if the killer of my friend was any other man, then too I will lead the prosecution. Our democracy favors no man.”
As he stepped down from the plinth I heard him whisper sadly, “Not even me.”
Pericles and I had made eye contact some time before. Now, with the crowd breaking up under the force of his personality, he strode over to me where I stood in the full glare of the sun, between the stoa and the stalls.
“There will be news, won’t there, Nicolaos?”
“There will, sir.” I had been feeling a trifle warm, now I began to sweat. I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. I had intended to tell him of my troubles and doubts, but changed my mind having seen his own load. Instead I detailed what I had discovered to date, neglecting to mention most of the events in Euterpe’s rooms.
“I have to emphasize, Pericles, if the point Archestratus made of Cimon is good, and it may well be, then you are in mortal danger.”
Pericles stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It’s almost as useful if Cimon is behind it as the Areopagus.”
“But aren’t you worried?”
“Hmm? Worried? No, I’m not.” Pericles began to stroll about the perimeter of the Agora, I guessed to prevent anyone from eavesdropping. We had the chaos of the markets to our right and the relative calm of the public buildings on our left. Pericles went on, “Athens is no good to anyone if it’s a burning wreck, and the murder of a second democrat now would tip us into civil war, no question. You saw the mob yourself. I am not being arrogant, Nicolaos, when I tell you the only thing standing between Athens and self-immolation this moment is me. If Cimon is watching then he knows that. But surely he must be out of Attica by now. If he were found within the territories during his period of exile he could legally be killed on the spot.”
“You forget the agent theory.”
“Cimon has many friends, that’s true.”
“Does he have enough to stage a coup?”
“Take Athens by force? It’s been done before, of course. Who have you been talking to, or is this your own idea?”
“Lysimachus mentioned it to my father.”
“Lysimachus, of course. I think I said when we first met that your father and I have a common friend. That’s him. Lysimachus is prone to dramatize any situation. But in this case it would hardly be possible to overestimate the danger.”
“So you agree. Cimon has the ability to foment revolution.”
Pericles considered. “Yes, I believe he could; the man is an outstanding military commander, even if he is an aristocratic prig. But Nicolaos, you must remember no one has ever successfully held Athens long-term by force. The people will rise against a tyrant they don’t like.” We had to stand to the side for a moment while a donkey laden with small pots trundled by. From the spicy sweet smell, it had to be fish sauce. As we watched the donkey’s backside recede down the road, Pericles continued, “A tyrant is a king in all but name. If the people like him, no force is required. Peisistratus ruled as tyrant for decades, yet he died an old and happy man, because some men make good kings.” He paused. “But then of course, others don’t.”
I said, “Pericles, you should not assume everyone thinks the same as you about the state of Athens. Political assassination happens; we’re looking at it right now. I’d prefer not to have to say ‘I Told You So,’ while pulling an arrow out of your chest, or a dagger from your back. At least arrange for some bodyguards.”
“Certainly not! What would the people think? However, Nicolaos, to appease you I will avoid dark alleys, and ignore dubious summonses to meetings in lonely corners of Athens. Now, tell me of my father.”
“If you’d asked me two days ago, I’d have sworn he did it. Now, I’m not so sure.”
Pericles long face brightened to a smile. “You have evidence in his favor!”
“No, I have too many suspects, all of whom could be killers.” Pericles’ face fell once more.
I said, “Ephialtes left his mistress Euterpe that morning. She says she doesn’t know where he was going, but we have only her word for that. Of course it’s ridiculous to think she could have pulled the bow, but she could easily have sent a man.”
“A man willing to commit murder just because she asks? Is that realistic?”
“I see you haven’t met her.”
“It sounds like I should.”
“You see, Pericles, only someone who knew Ephialtes was going to be on the Rock of the Areopagus at that time could have killed him. Euterpe could have known the time and place well in advance. She’s one of the few.”
“But surely she would be the last person in the world to want him dead. Even his wife has a better motive.”
“Yes, that annoying little detail gets in the way of my otherwise sound theory. If Euterpe is behind a murder plot, then I need a very good reason for it.”
“What about the wife then?”
“I hadn’t thought about her.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t get near to question her, because it’s unlikely she might have known where he was going, and because she doesn’t have Euterpe’s outstanding powers of…er…persuasion to cause a man to act for her.”
“But she might have family. What about a male relative avenging insults to her?”
“Pericles, this doesn’t sound promising to me.”
“But it’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I reluctantly conceded. “But why reach for the top of the tree when there is low-hanging fruit to be plucked?”
“Your meaning?”
“Your father. He knew the time and place. He has the motive, he had the opportunity.”
Pericles leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. “Could I bring my own father to trial for murder? Should I? Would it count as patricide?”
“You would have to ask a priest that, or a philosopher.”
“Perhaps I’ll have to ask Archestratus to act for me.”
“On that subject, Pericles, what would you do if Archestratus is the killer?”
Pericles opened one eye. “Are you saying he might be?”
“He did have a reason for wanting Ephialtes dead. Look at the way he’s behaved since. I think he already has more followers than you do, Pericles. You need to watch out for him. You don’t seem to be doing much to build your position.”
Pericles laughed and said, “Ah, Nicolaos, Nicolaos! How we do change! It wasn’t so long ago, my young
