swill. My generosity was unparalleled. The excess coins would go straight into the innkeeper’s pocket.
A man staggered in, still more or less conscious as I’d hoped he’d be at this hour. It was Ephron, the drunk the innkeeper had shoved aside when I’d visited before. The man who was always here.
“Why, Ephron! I was hoping to see you.”
“Yeah, what for?” He squinted at me as if he were looking into the sun. “I don’t think I know you. Do I owe you money?”
“No, but if my hopes flower then shortly I am going to owe you money.”
“Yeah, what for?” he asked again. Clearly not a vivid conversationalist.
“Our host tells me you are a great customer of his.”
“It’s an okay place to get drunk. Any place you can get drunk is an okay place when you can’t work.”
I looked him over, but he didn’t seem sick or lame to me. “What’s the problem?”
“I was a sailor. Ran away from home when I was a lad and signed up on a cargo boat, ’cause all I ever wanted to do was sail and see the world. Sailed some good trips, even down to Egypt and back. Then I couldn’t sail no more. Couldn’t see.”
“You’re blind?”
“Nah, but everything’s a blur. Started years ago, when I was a young man, got worse and worse, ’til I couldn’t see what I was doing unless I was up real close. That’s a bad thing in a man who has to avoid rocks and put his boat alongside a wharf.”
I’d heard of this happening to other men, but not as bad as this case. “That’s too bad,” I sympathized. “Couldn’t you do something else?”
“Sailing’s what I know. I tried to get work as a laborer, you know? But it’s just as bad. The boss says to move a sack, and I can see something that’s probably a sack, but when I carry it I trip over stuff and run into things. No one’s going to pay me to drop their sacks, and when I dropped an amphora it was real bad. My woman ran away, got no slaves. So now I do what work I can, I don’t care what, as long I have enough to get drunk so’s I don’t remember.”
I said, “Let’s hold onto the remembering for a little while longer. Do you recall a gentleman by the name of Aristodicus? Tough-looking man, came from Tanagra, maybe didn’t talk much.”
He struggled mightily to perform a feat he probably had not attempted in years. Eventually he said in triumph, “Yeah, I remember him. He owe you money?”
“Not anymore. I want to meet his friends. He had two. They used to visit him here. Do you remember them?”
He struggled once more, then, “Yeah, there were two.”
Now for the all-important question. “What did they look like?”
He squinted at me with eyes so bloodshot there was barely any white to be seen.
“Okay, scrap that question. What did they sound like?”
“Sound like?”
“That’s right. They talked, didn’t they? What were their voices like?”
“Posh.”
“Posh? Both of them?”
“Yeah. Only one was older posh-you know how you can tell from a voice? — and the other was sort of middle-aged posh. The middle-aged guy talked a lot, sounded sort of slimy. Used lots of big words too.”
“What about you, innkeeper?” I asked. He shook his head.
I held up five tetradrachmae. “For a decent description.” He stared at the money and licked his lips, but regretfully shook his head.
“Here! Is that money?” Ephron demanded.
I clinked the coins together.
“Let me think…the middle-aged guy…he had on a pretty good chiton and one of those big himation cloaks, sleazy sort of guy. Two slaves. The slave carrying his purse wouldn’t sit down near me, thought I had fleas or something, uptight little bugger. The second slave had a purse too, but he didn’t do any paying. Maybe his bag didn’t have coins, it dinn’t make any noise.”
“Are you sure it was the middle-aged man who came with an extra bag, a bag that didn’t clink?”
“’Course I’m sure.”
“The middle-aged man.”
“Said so, dinn’t I?”
“If you saw him again, maybe heard him, would you recognize him?”
“Nah, I can’t see too well you know? But I can tell there’s a man standing in front of me.”
“Now, Ephron, what about the first man?”
“The old guy? He was angry, I reckon.”
“Why?”
“I dunno, he just sounded angry is all. And he was scarier than the other one. Sounded like he was used to ordering people about. He only had one slave, and the slave paid Aristodicus.”
“What!”
“Yeah, and that slave wann’t scared of me like the other bastard.”
“The older man paid Aristodicus?”
“Yeah.”
“The older man.”
“You got a hearing problem? I said yeah.”
“And the middle-aged man came here with the bag that didn’t clink.”
Both men looked in silent agreement that I must be dim-witted to repeat their sentences. I was inclined to agree with them.
“Tell me, who came first?”
“The middle-aged man.”
“Did anyone hear what either of them said?”
“Nah.”
I spilled the coins before Ephron, who scooped them up hungrily. I would have been happy to leave behind the revolting liquid in the cup, but as I rose the innkeeper said, “Here! You ain’t drunk my best wine.”
If it came to a prosecution, these men would be witnesses. So I held my breath and drank it down. It was mostly vinegar, with a hint of alcohol and all the pungent aroma of a dead rat. I put down the empty cup and said, “I thank you, innkeeper, for a unique experience.”
16
A slave approached me as I sat in the Agora, trying to wash down with olives and real wine the taste of the vile concoction I had swallowed.
“Are you Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus?”
I looked up at him. “Probably. What do you want?”
“I come from Callias, son of Hipponicus. He desires to meet with you.”
I didn’t bother to ask what about, the man was only a slave. Instead I rose immediately. It wasn’t yet the end of the month, not time to ruin Sophroniscus for debt, so what could Callias want with me now?
I was led to his city house. Much of the lower floor was made of stone, an extravagance since every other home I’d been in was wooden or mud brick throughout, but at least it meant he was safer from fire. The house plan was expansive. The courtyard was a perfect square-someone must have measured it off-surrounded by carved wooden columns and a covered walkway. I looked up and turned around. The upper story of the house was made of wood, painted in rich blues except where murals showed the cavorting of the centaurs, Theseus defeating the Minotaur, and other scenes of our past. I noticed most of the slaves were young and beautiful and went about their work serenely.
I had never been particularly ambitious for wealth. Political importance was my dream. Now I quickly revised
