gates.
“There was a second temple here,” Pericles said.
“There was?”
“Right next to us is where the new temple to Athena Parthenos had been planned. They were halfway through building it when the city was sacked.”
I looked but couldn’t even see the outline in the ground.
Pericles abandoned his seat and stood. I noticed the seat of his chiton was smudged and decided not to mention it. I stood too and we walked slowly around the site, avoiding the subject of Ephialtes.
We stopped at the northern edge where we could see conelike Mount Lycabettos, reaching up higher even than me, and directly below, the chaotic Agora. The people looked like ants scurrying at my feet.
The Rock of the Areopagus rose to the west, lower and much smaller. The ground between fell sharply away from the Acropolis, ambled along, then rose almost as quickly on the other side. The seats cut into the rock, upon which the Council sat when they met, stood out in strong relief in the reflected sunlight. The sight of the Rock of the Areopagus before us made me think back over the crowd who had accosted Pericles with their questions, and I realized something that bothered me. He had answered all but one. He had not said whether he’d seen Xanthippus murder Ephialtes.
“Pericles, did you know your father was to meet Ephialtes?”
“Yes, he told me of it.”
“And the time and place?”
“Not that.”
“Did you see them here, that morning?”
“No! And I did not see my father pick up a bow and shoot my friend, and I did not know he was dead until I came across his body upon the path, with you skulking in the shadows, ready to stab me in the back.” He was shouting, the first time I ever saw Pericles lose his self-control.
He turned and walked away.
I watched his back and thought to myself, I have lost the most influential friend I am ever likely to have, and with him goes my chance of rising in Athens. I would return to my family’s business and spend the rest of my days making statues of men more important than me.
I sat and buried my head in my hands. There was no point in moaning, but that didn’t stop me from doing so for some time. However, someone would eventually find me there, and I didn’t want to be seen wallowing in self- pity, so I rose.
I walked to the southern edge of the rock. The sea was easily visible in the far distance. It was from here that King Aegeus had thrown himself to death when he wrongly believed his son Theseus had died fighting the Minotaur. I looked down. Yes, jumping off here ought to do the job.
To my right stood the temple to Athena Nike: Athena Victorious. It was a small building because that’s all the Athenians had been able to manage at the time. It had been built to celebrate the victory over the Persians and give thanks to Athena for our deliverance. The tiny temple stood where the last defenders of Athens had died.
When the Persians invaded they had swept through Thrace and Macedonia and had come down upon us from the north. Themistocles ordered the evacuation of the city. The women and children were carried on our merchant boats and trireme warships, mostly to the island of Salamis where the government relocated, but also to the city of Troezen. I was among those who went to Salamis, but I was too young to remember it; a baby who had not yet seen his first year. Had the Hellenes lost the coming battle, the Persians would have taken my small body and dashed me against the ground, or run a spear through me.
But not everyone evacuated. A rearguard of volunteers remained. They were joined by the old and infirm, for whom there was no room on the boats, and some priests who refused to leave their holy places. They held their last stand atop the Acropolis. They used stone and wood to block the only path to the top, then sharpened their weapons and waited to die.
And, of course, they did die. But first they sent a lot of Persians to Hades before them. They held the barricades for longer than anyone thought they could. The Persian attacks broke up against their spears. But the tough soldiers and the old men and the priests died one after another. At the end they were overwhelmed when a few Persians climbed the unclimbable rock face on the far side and surprised the defenders in their rear.
I looked at the ground and imagined how much blood had flowed across this bare rock. Those men hadn’t given up, merely because what they attempted was impossible. I didn’t know if Pericles would continue my commission, but I would see it through to the end anyway.
6
I decided to go to the nearest tavern and get some food. If there were another way I would have taken it, but there is only one path down from the Acropolis. I stepped across Ephialtes’ lifeblood once more. It mocked me as I passed.
The Agora had calmed to normal commerce. There were several stalls selling wine, and I paid for a cup at the first I came to. Two stalls down, an old woman was selling bronzeware: mostly urns and pans. I stopped to admire a mirror. They intrigue me; it seems like magic to be able to see myself as others see me. I was relieved to notice the skin where I’d shaved off my beard was starting to darken to the same olive color as the rest of my face. The haggard look that Pericles had commented on was almost gone, my face was filling out now that I was getting normal, regular meals. I saw a bruise on my left cheekbone-I hadn’t realized it was so prominent-that I’d received during the beating, there were abrasions on my chin that had scabbed over, and a small cut above my left eyebrow, all of which my mother had treated and were healing well. I noticed my hair was curling, and I made a note to have it cut. As I tilted the mirror a fraction this way and that, to see myself from different angles, the image of the mysterious stranger appeared above my shoulder. He was peering from around the stall behind me and our eyes met via the mirror.
I turned and walked toward him. “Hello? You there!”
The figure broke from cover, snatched a huge fish from the stall next to him, and whacked me across the face. I fell back with a curse. Everyone but the fishmonger laughed at me. The stranger ran to the right.
He was fast and I was groggy but angry. I couldn’t keep up with him, but I knew it didn’t matter because someone was bound to trip him up.
No one did. They were all enjoying the show too much. I cursed again and ran faster.
He stumbled into a slave carrying pottery jars. The stranger went one way and the slave went the other. The jars flew up and crashed, shattering on the paving stones. The stranger staggered but kept going.
I had to run through this mess, shouting, “Ouch! Ouch!” as my sandals fell upon the jagged shards. He ran along the walkway, which was terminated by stacked jars of olive oil. He pulled a stack over to force his way. Olive oil flowed across the ground to the wails of the farmer selling it. I, of course, skidded and slipped, falling into the remaining stacks, which crashed down upon me. I flung my arms up to protect my head. I would have bruised arms tomorrow.
The stranger was out of the Agora now and disappearing down a narrow street. I had to be wary of being led into an ambush. I’d been beaten once already and had no intention of being caught again. But nor was I going to let this character go, not now that I had him in view.
I took off after him on my shredded, slippery sandals. I cursed, tore them off, and continued in bare feet. He darted down one street and then another, dodging the pedestrians. I stayed with him like a limpet, determined to finish this once and for all. For the first time I had a good look at him. He was obviously still a youth, wearing clothes slightly too big for him so that they covered him down to his knees, and wearing a headdress in the manner of the barbarians.
He turned another corner and was confronted by a hay cart coming from the other direction, which filled the street from side to side. He looked back at me, then around in desperation. He dived through the window of the building beside him. It was an inn.
I heard the clatter of falling cups and shouts of angry men. I ran through the door to see he had skidded along a table. Every man present pointed at the back door. Half of them were covered in wine. I ran into the back
