I said, “But Callias, you still have a statue.”
“A horse without a leg is worthless,” Callias said mildly.
Sophroniscus was too strong a man to beg, so he said nothing. I was simply aghast.
“Master!” a man shouted. He was one of the slaves who accompanied Callias, and he beckoned to us from where our equipment lay. Callias strode over to him, and we all followed.
“There is something here you should see.” The man knelt by the block and pulley system used to raise the statue. He held up the rope that had snapped.
“You see, Master?”
I saw it in an instant. But Callias said irritably, “No, I don’t see, Koppa, that’s why I have you. Tell me.”
The slave ran his fingers across the break. “The rope is thick, strong,” he said. “See? It is as thick as my wrist. It needs to be for the weight it holds. But look at the break, Master. It is smooth on the inside, a clean cut, but here, around the circumference, these few threads”-his finger traced the outer skin of the hemp-“here it is all frayed.”
Callias frowned. He wasn’t a stupid man. He said to us, “This is Koppa. He understands mechanical things. Stand aside and let him inspect.”
We all stepped back and watched in silence as this odd man walked about the entire mess, humming to himself. He was a small man with thinning white hair and a slight paunch, and spoke with an accent I couldn’t place. That a slave was fed well enough to put on weight told me Callias valued him highly. Koppa paid particular attention to the pulleys, blocks, and levers.
“There’s no doubt about it, Master. This equipment was sabotaged,” Koppa reported back to Callias. “The rope was cut inside, as I showed you.” He held up more of our equipment for everyone to see. “In addition, this pulley I hold was weakened where the pin meets its container. With a little more pressure, it would have snapped.”
I said, excited, “Both the rope and the pulley would only be under pressure while we were raising the statue, and before we had it upright.”
Koppa looked at me in surprise and slight distaste. He must have thought I was a lowly slave from the way I appeared, but he agreed. “Master, this man is correct. The purpose of this crime was to smash the statue.”
“Thank you, Koppa.” Callias turned to my father. “Well, Sophroniscus, it seems you have an enemy. At least you have the small satisfaction of knowing it was not your own negligence that undid you.”
“But this means Father doesn’t owe you anything,” I said in triumph. “It’s the man who sabotaged us who owes you.”
“It alters nothing,” Callias replied. “Your father allowed his tools to be damaged. He remains liable to me. If he can find his persecutor then the sum might be recouped.”
Sophroniscus said nothing, which meant he knew Callias was in the right again. I had only one more try.
“Are you sure, Callias, this wasn’t aimed at you?”
“Your loyalty to your father does you credit, young man.” He considered for a brief moment. “No, it’s most unlikely. I have enemies aplenty, but anyone smart enough to think of this is certainly bright enough to know they could only hurt the sculptor.”
Sophroniscus nodded glumly. “I will have to think on this.”
“I expect your payment before the end of the month. Do not fail, or I shall take further action.” Callias strode back toward his mansion.
Father hadn’t an enemy in the world. I, on the other hand, like Callias, had plenty. A murderer out there somewhere didn’t want me to catch him. Someone had ordered me beaten. The political futures of many men rode on the identity of whomever I uncovered. And if I was forced to answer my family obligations, I would have no time for anything else. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind who this was aimed at.
My brother had almost lost his life because of me. And worse, I, Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus the sculptor, was the cause of my father’s downfall.
“Callias!” I shouted at his back.
He stopped and turned. His unsmiling face showed impatience. “Yes?”
“Whoever caused this, whyever it was done, it was not my father.”
“Yes. And your point is?”
“If I can prove who it was, will you sue them instead? They say you have a reputation for liking justice; well, if you do, shall we see some?”
Callias stood silent for a moment before nodding. “You raise a reasonable point, young man. Very well. Bring me the name of this enemy, and proof good enough for a court, before the end of the month. If you fail, the responsibility falls on your father.” And so saying, he turned on his heel and walked rapidly away.
To put it mildly, the atmosphere in our home that night was despondent. Father blamed himself for almost losing a son. He left dinner early and shut himself in his office, to ponder his finances for some way to pay Callias. I was not hopeful and nor, I suspect, was he. Socrates blamed himself for playing silly games underneath the statue, forgetting that Father would be facing the same financial ruin regardless. I was the only one to receive any praise- for pulling Socrates from danger-and that served only to make me more miserable because I was sure the sabotage had been directed at me.
The only one carrying on any semblance of normal life was my practical mother.
“That’s because there’s nothing else I can do to help,” she said, when I asked her. “Your father will work it out; I have every confidence. When we returned to Athens after the Persians sacked it, we’d lost everything and had to start again, and then we had a small baby to care for-you.”
The revelation that Ephialtes had considered exposing Diotima to die as a child had kept niggling at me. Was it really true, or was it something Euterpe had made up to gather sympathy? I couldn’t be sure; I decided to put the matter to rest by asking the one person who could tell me what had really happened.
“It was a close call,” Phaenarete admitted. She was instructing the slaves for their household duties, but I interrupted her to ask the question. “I remember it was an easy birth; Euterpe suffered little compared to most women, for all the fuss she made.” Phaenarete grimaced. I had no trouble imagining the drama Euterpe would have created.
“When it was over I cut the cord and tied it, and put the baby into Euterpe’s arms. Euterpe did whatevery new mother does, check the sex of her child. She saw, but said nothing. As custom required, Ephialtes was called, and when he entered the room Euterpe held up the baby to him, still without saying a word. I remember he just stood there and stared.
“Euterpe said, ‘I present your daughter,’ and she cringed a little.
“Ephialtes was silent for a moment, while he considered. Then he said, ‘Expose the child.’
“Well, Euterpe went into hysterics. You can imagine! I think at that moment, maybe for the first time in her life, she must have developed strong feelings for someone.”
“You didn’t say anything?”
“This happens every time a child is born, and I never say anything. It isn’t my place. The mother has no say either, only the father decides whether to keep the child.
“Euterpe must have been sore and in some pain, but she threw herself on her knees and begged for the child’s life, making all sorts of promises. I won’t go into the details of that conversation! It was torrid, I must say. I was embarrassed to have to listen, but I could hardly walk out.” Phaenarete shuddered.
I said, “Wasn’t she taking a terrible risk, a woman in her position? He might have walked away and simply never returned.”
Phaenarete nodded. “I thought so too. But he took the baby from Euterpe’s hands, which meant he accepted her, and said, ’Very well, you may keep the child, but only so long as you keep your bargain,’ referring to all the promises she’d made. He handed the baby back to Euterpe, turned his back on the whole scene, and walked out of the room. I helped Euterpe back into bed, cleaned and washed her, made sure she and the baby were comfortable, and left. Later I recommended a wet-nurse. Ephialtes paid my bill on time but didn’t send a bonus. I expected that; men only pay a bonus if it’s a boy. I suppose Euterpe’s been bound by those promises she made ever since.”
“You think that was hard on her?”
“I think she’s had a remarkably soft life. I’m almost jealous.” Then she laughed. “Don’t look so shocked, my son! But it’s true enough that the hetaerae have much freer lives than we respectable married women. They’re permitted to walk the streets whenever they want. They can go to the theater. They can talk with men. They can
