my estimate of the value of money. If I ever became the richest man in Athens, this was the sort of home I wanted to own.
Callias sat in the courtyard conducting business. At least, he was being read to by one slave while another wrote to his dictation. What the slave was reading and what Callias was dictating seemed to be unrelated. It was a remarkable performance, and I wondered if it had been put on for my benefit or whether Callias normally worked like that.
It was over soon enough and Callias turned his attention to me. He looked me square in the eye and said, “Thank you for coming, Nicolaos. I have been speaking to Pericles.”
If he expected a reaction, all he got was, “What about?”
Callias frowned. “You probably don’t think too well of me, young man, and I wouldn’t blame you for that. But I understand you are stepping into the world of politics, so let’s see if you can manage the first rule of the diplomat: separating your personal feelings from business.”
I felt chastened, precisely as he intended. He himself had been an ambassador for Athens on more than one occasion, and I knew he had just given me professional advice.
I said, “I apologize. It’s obvious you know I’m investigating the death of Ephialtes. I hope to prosecute the murderer regardless of who he is, so I like to think this is not a matter of politics.”
To my surprise I saw him smile. “Ah, I thought as much. I am speaking to an honest man. Perhaps there is a touch of idealism too, so appropriate to the young, and of course a trifle brash. I too, young man, have tried during my time to cleave to the path that leads to the greatest good for our city. I caution you it is not an easy path to tread. One finds there are necessary detours.”
“Thank you for the advice. That is quite close to something my father said.”
“Your father is a wise man, for all that we have our issue at the moment.”
“You’re not really going to bankrupt him, are you?”
“That remains to be seen, young man. You will have noticed even your father didn’t dispute the fairness of his liability. If the culprit isn’t brought to light, I suspect he’ll bankrupt himself without any pressure from me.”
I decided to avoid that delicate subject, as a good diplomat should, and said nothing.
Callias continued, “You may not be aware my dear wife Elpinice is sister to Cimon. Ah yes, I see that’s a name you know. Cimon was ostracized last year and has been residing in the north ever since. Word of the tragic death of Ephialtes has only now reached him, and he sent to me straightaway to act on his behalf. Cimon seeks to reassure anyone looking into the matter that he had nothing to do with it.”
Callias sat back, and I could see him relax as he placed his fingertips together and said, “I went to see Pericles and he, much to my surprise, suggested I talk to you. I did not realize, when you were here with Sophroniscus, that you were involved in politics, and a supporter of Pericles. This changes things.”
For the better, he meant to say, and I felt a surge of hope. Was my association with Pericles going to save my father?
“Do you believe Cimon?” I asked Callias.
“I am a supporter of Ephialtes and the democracy; if I thought Cimon had a hand in his death, I would prosecute him, family or no.”
I nodded. Callias didn’t know it, but his innocent comment that Cimon went north, and not east toward Ephesus and Magnesia, virtually eliminated Cimon as a suspect.
“What do you need to complete your work, Nicolaos?”
If Callias had made his offer earlier, I might have asked him for men to search the inns for Aristodicus, but that problem was solved.
“What I need more than anything else is information. And I need to find the people who know the things I want. I don’t think it’s anything you can help me with, Callias.”
“Is there anything more I can tell you?”
I decided it was worth trying. “You can tell me what this is.” I handed over the broken token.
Callias took it from me and said instantly, “It’s a banking token. Or rather, it’s half a banking token.”
I was suddenly excited. “What’s a banking token?”
“There are men in the Agora who will exchange coins of different currencies, that is, minted in different cities. You know that, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Sophroniscus sometimes has to go to them when he’s paid in foreign coins. He calls the changers thieves.”
Callias laughed. “He may not be so wrong. However, they only take money from men who want to deal with them, Nicolaos, and that makes them legal. Now, these men do more than change coins. They also keep your money for you, which can be useful if you have a lot, or they can lend you money at a rate of interest, or they can transfer your money to another city, so that you can travel there and collect it without the risk of having to transport your own gold.”
“How do they manage that, to move the money?”
“Ah, good question. They do it by not moving any money at all.”
“Eh? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh, but it does! Let’s say you have a lot of money and you want to send it to somewhere, let’s say-”
“Syracuse.”
“Fine choice. You want to send your money to Syracuse, where you will use it to buy a country estate. You take your thousands of drachmae to a banker in Athens. He puts it into his strongbox. In return he writes you a letter, saying that he has taken receipt of your funds and that you will collect an equivalent amount of Syracusan coins when you arrive in that city at an agreed exchange rate. You take your letter and a banking token, and leave. The banker immediately writes to a friend of his in Syracuse, another banker. He tells the Syracusan banker to expect you, and assures the man that your funds are on deposit. When you arrive, you see this Syracusan banker, and he gives you the agreed sum. You have now transferred a large sum of money across the world at no risk to yourself. I use this service myself for my own business dealings.”
“That’s clever.” I was genuinely impressed. “But isn’t the Syracusan out of pocket, and the Athenian has made money he hasn’t earned?”
“Just so. However, it won’t be long before a rich Syracusan wants to send money from Syracuse to Athens. Then the obligation goes the other way. These things tend to even out over time, and you can be sure the bankers keep a very careful count of who owes whom, and how much.”
“But wait! The Syracusan has never seen me before. How does he know I’m not an impostor?”
“Pull out your token. Look at it.”
I did as he bid.
“There’s a pattern on the token. Each banker uses his own pattern and varies it a bit too, so these tokens are unique. The Athenian has told the Syracusan what pattern to expect on the token. The only way to impersonate you is to steal that token.”
“I see.” I hadn’t found any letter among Aristodicus’ effects. “Then tell me, why is this one cut in half?”
“It does rather look that way, doesn’t it? I can only suggest that two men who don’t trust each other have deposited a sum together, and they’ve split the token between them. The banker would only release the funds if both pieces were presented.”
“That’s interesting. Would you believe that none of Pericles, Archestratus, nor Xanthippus recognized this board for what it was?”
“In the case of Xanthippus and Pericles that is wholly believable. Both are traditional men-yes, Pericles too! — and they have nothing to do with trade. In the case of Archestratus, I find that very difficult to believe, considering this token belongs to the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company.”
My jaw dropped. “You are not joking? You mean that?”
“Certainly I do. I recognize the pattern.”
“ Archestratus owns a bank?”
“Not your Archestratus; his son, whom he named after himself instead of taking the name of the grandfather.” It is traditional in Athens for a man to name his first born son after his own father. A second son would often be named for the maternal grandfather. Consequently names tended to repeat with alternate generations. But the rule was not universal, and some families used the same name every time.
I was stunned by the implications, but some part of me was still thinking because I asked without conscious
