friend, a mere four days, that you had to ask me my name. Now you are my political advisor!”
Our meandering had taken us close to where the fishwives were screeching at the tops of their voices, the aroma of warm fish was not enticing, and somewhere close by someone was cooking goat meat in garlic. Pericles screwed up his face and said, “Come, let’s go for a walk elsewhere.”
He guided me south along the Panathenaic Way, away from the crowd. Archestratus was speaking to some men on the other side of the Agora. As I looked in that direction a face surfaced among the sea of heads, and I thought I glimpsed the young man who had disappeared at Xanthippus’ house and then Euterpe’s, but I couldn’t be sure. I said to Pericles, “Wait here,” and pushed my way through the crowd. But either I was wrong, or the man had spotted me yet again and disappeared, easy enough to do in the noisy, busy crowd. In frustration, I elbowed my way back to Pericles, who lifted an eyebrow but chose not to ask me what I’d been doing. We continued our walk.
Where Pericles walked, men followed. A few came up to Pericles to discuss the killing, urging him to take action. Some had other issues.
“Tell us true, Pericles, will you put your hand on the leadership of the people, or won’t you? Do it now!”
“Pericles, there isn’t enough corn in Athens, and what there is I can’t afford. My children starve while farmers send their corn to richer markets. What can be done about it?”
“Pericles, the tax on imports is ruinous.”
“Pericles, what do you say to Archestratus leading the people?”
“Pericles, my neighbor is moving the boundary markers between our farms…”
“Pericles, they say you saw your father murder Ephialtes, is it true?”
Pericles abruptly stopped, and turned to face the crowd. His piercing, intelligent eyes looked down on them. They fell silent.
“Was Ephialtes a tyrant, that the city should collapse in a heap without him?” Pericles singled out the importer. “You there! The taxes are the same they were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. So why do you come to me now? Taxes are a question for the Ecclesia.” Pericles pointed to the farmer. “There is a court for grievances such as yours. If the boundary markers are moved, they will be put back, and your neighbor fined. And while you are about it, sell some of your corn to this man whose children hunger. Perhaps we need a law banning export of corn while any Athenian starves.” He looked over the people, who now seemed abashed at the way they had thronged about him. “Neither Archestratus nor I can be your leader, because in our city the people lead themselves. Are you sheep without a shepherd, or are you the men of Athens, living in the democracy of your own making? Talk to each other instead of to me.”
Pericles turned to go, but hesitated, then said, “And for the future, I will advise the people of Athens as best I can.”
After that we walked silently for some time. We came to the spot where Ephialtes had fallen, and gazed awhile at Ephialtes’ blood, which still stained some of the small rocks.
I asked, “What will you do, Pericles, if Archestratus is the killer?”
He hesitated. “Do you have anything against Archestratus other than his ambition?”
I had failed to discover where Archestratus had been that morning, but I wasn’t going to admit that.
“Not yet.”
“I want you to forget about Archestratus. Your job is to find the link to the Areopagus that we both know is there.”
“No Pericles, my commission is to find the killer, whoever it might be.”
“It’s the same thing,” he said.
Much against my will, I was forced to recall the words of Archestratus, that Pericles might be using me to deliver the answer he wanted.
“Pericles, why did you choose me for this investigation?”
“You pick a strange time to ask the question. I explained at the time: you impressed me when we found the body, you are intelligent and energetic, and you don’t panic in a crisis.” He raised an eyebrow and with an arch tone said, “Are you saying you want to resign your commission?”
“No!” I said, suddenly afraid he might be about to take it from me.
“Then trust me on this, Nicolaos, you are wasting time on extraneous issues.”
“There are some who might call that interference.”
“Let us say instead that I am directing your energies in the most fruitful direction.”
I took a deep breath. “I will pay close attention to any hint of a link to the Areopagus, as well as other suspects that come my way.”
Pericles said nothing, so I repeated my question.
“What would you do if Archestratus is the killer? Would the democratic movement collapse if the killer was a democrat?”
He said slowly, “I think, though I am not sure, we would have to suppress the knowledge.”
I gasped.
Pericles went on. “It would be for the good of the city. I cannot imagine Ephialtes wanting to see his greatest triumph crumble for revenge of himself, and which is more important, the democracy of Athens or punishing one murderer? I think we would take the evidence to Archestratus and offer not to prosecute if he exiles himself for the rest of his life.”
I felt like my insides had turned to ice. “I seem to recall a man, not long ago, saying he would prosecute whoever had murdered his friend, without fear or favor.”
“There is what a man says to a mob to avert a riot, and there is what a man does for the good of Athens.”
“And what, then, if the murder was done by Xanthippus?”
“Him I would prosecute.”
“Because your father is a conservative, and Archestratus is a democrat?”
“That’s right. Welcome to politics, my new advisor.”
I had thought Pericles a good man, and now I realized he was a politician like the rest of them. I was deeply disappointed.
We continued the walk up the steep path to the Acropolis. The giant rock with the flat top had been the bastion of Athens since time immemorial. In ages past it had been the palace of the kings, and later, of the tyrants. In modern times the government had slid downhill, and what remained up high were the sacred temples, or at least, what was left after the Persians were finished with them.
When we reached the top we saw fallen, charred pillars, masonry rubble littering almost every part, and burnt timbers that were mostly charcoal. The old temple to Athena Polias, the protector of our city, once sat here. There had been a temple to Athena on this spot since the city was founded, rebuilt again and again. The one the Persians burnt to the ground had been a hundred years old. The replacement temple was a ramshackle collection of planking and daub mud that rose like a pimple out of the ruins, put together so that the city would still have the presence of our founding Goddess. The rough temple was so small it barely fit its statue of Athena. The plan of the original temple was clear upon the ground: the foundations had proven harder to destroy. There had been other buildings here too that suffered the same fate, notably the old palace of the tyrant Peisistratus, which if the exposed floor plan was any indication, must have been sumptuous.
We sat upon a toppled wooden pillar that lay cracked and rotting in the sun. I broke the silence by asking, “Pericles, what were you doing up here, on the day Ephialtes died?”
“I was wondering when you would think to ask that. I was considering my plans for the Acropolis.”
“You have a plan?”
He shrugged. “A new temple to Athena, at the very least.” He gestured at the small shack. “Look at that pitiful excuse for a temple. Do you think the Goddess is happy to be housed in there? What does it say about us? The people decided, after the Persians were defeated, to leave the ruins as they were, as a reminder of what had happened. But I say Athens has lived long enough in her past. It’s time to build for the future.” He paused. “That sounded good. I must remember that phrase for a speech.”
He shifted his position on the toppled pillar, then shifted again, in a search for comfort. Each time he did, Pericles edged away from me.
We made desultory conversation about the site, where a new temple might be laid, what should be done for
