“No sir.”
“Good. Don’t.” He smiled. “You know I don’t approve of this job of yours, son, but I say if you’re going to commit yourself to something, then be excellent at it, and besides which, if by some miracle you find this man then it might relieve me of this crushing debt.” He wiped his forehead. “Well, if Callias agreed to your plan, it can’t be as harebrained as it sounds. I’ll help you.”
“Thank you,” I said. I felt closer to my father than I ever had before.
“And you’re right, son. It does take me back to my youth. Ah, those were the days. I envy you, lad.”
I smiled. Only two more crew members to recruit.
“When do we start, Nico?” Socrates asked loudly.
“Shhh! Shut up, you idiot, or people will hear you. Do you want to rob a bank, or don’t you?” That convinced him. Socrates trailed along beside me without saying a word, a condition entirely unlike him. I picked a spot in the Agora where I would have a good view, then sent Socrates to his starting position, and raised my arm as the signal to begin.
Sophroniscus ambled up to the trading desk of the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company. He was covered in marble dust. Walking meekly behind him were two slaves carrying bags of money. The slaves belonged to Callias and they were actually trained bodyguards. He might be willing to lend me a fortune, but he wasn’t an idiot.
The jangling of those money bags received the full and instant attention of Archestratus and Antisthenes. There was no doubting what they contained.
“Can we help you?” they asked as one.
Sophroniscus said, “Hello. I, uh, I have some money.”
“So I see,” Antisthenes said smoothly. “Could we offer to take care of that for you?”
“Uh, I’ve received an inheritance from my dear old uncle. I used to be a poor man-we artists generally are, you know-I don’t know much about money…”
“That’s all right, we do,” Antisthenes reassured him.
“Oh, good!” Father didn’t have to act his part. He was genuinely and sincerely ignorant on any subject that didn’t involve sculpting. Fortunately what he had to do was simple. “Can I give it to you now?”
“Certainly.”
They began to count it out under the casual but observant eyes of the slaves, who knew to the drachma what the total should be. Antisthenes and Archestratus themselves had two guards standing behind them. These men appeared to be mercenaries too old for field service, but scary enough to keep away any but a determined attacker. The sudden appearance of so many coins caught their attention too. They went from sleepy to watchful, their eyes searching the crowds for any threat.
When the count was finished, Sophroniscus was handed a token. “I have to insist you take the money to your vault at once.”
Archestratus and Antisthenes looked at each other. It was a reasonable demand, more than reasonable. Common sense would be telling them to get this large deposit to safety immediately. They already had enough coins on the table to handle daily business, the day had barely begun, and they hadn’t any profit on the table to protect.
Archestratus said, “You take the bags, I’ll be fine here on my own.”
So Antisthenes stood and ordered their own guards to pick up the bags. They did so and followed their master out of the Agora to a vault, the location of which I had little doubt would be a closely held secret. That was fine with me: it wasn’t their money I wanted to steal.
Father signaled his two slaves and walked off in the opposite direction, mopping his brow as he walked. I turned on my heel and walked briskly to the nearby corner of the Agora, where I nodded to a woman admiring herself in a bronze mirror.
Euterpe put down the mirror and swayed deliciously in the direction of the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company. At least a dozen nearby male eyes helped her on her way.
“Oh!” she gasped. She suddenly leaned forward and grabbed a nearby table for support. Her position meant that her cleavage was directed straight at Archestratus, not more than an arm’s length distance. He seemed to have some trouble raising his eyes to ask, “What’s wrong? Can I help you?”
“I think I’ve twisted my ankle. Oh, the pain! I think I’m going to faint…” She put a hand to her head and began to sway. The table rocked and the coins threatened to roll.
“Don’t!” Archestratus was around the table in a trice with his arm around Euterpe, who slumped gently against him, tits first. He helped her walk slowly to a nearby bench, perfectly willing to extend the time.
I waved my arm as if to a distant friend. Socrates saw my signal and walked behind Archestratus. He picked up the record scroll as he passed the desk, leaving in its place another that looked at least vaguely like the original. He stepped briskly around the corner to a disused stall where Diotima waited with papyrus and ink pot. There was only one entry that interested us. I prayed to her Goddess that she would be quick.
She was. Socrates was back before I could repeat my prayer to Artemis three times. He paused at the corner waiting for my signal. I waved again and Euterpe, who was reassuring Archestratus that she was feeling much better, asked him to check her ankle to make sure it wasn’t broken. I imagined he was only too happy to oblige, he certainly bent to his task quickly enough, and spent plenty of time about it, no doubt to make sure the lady would be able to walk safely.
Socrates replaced the scroll.
Containing my excitement, I walked as quickly as I could without running to the home of Euterpe. She arrived last. Diotima and Socrates were already there. Sophroniscus had gone straight home.
As soon as she saw me, Diotima shouted, “It’s Archestratus! Archestratus!”
“The father, not the son?” I asked.
“Archestratus, son of Antimachus, together with Aristodicus of Tanagra, jointly deposited two talents into the bank, the transaction handled by Archestratus, son of Archestratus.” Two talents came to twelve thousand drachmae, a very considerable sum. For that amount I could have the house and income promised me by Pericles. You could buy more than a hundred slaves with that sort of money.
Diotima continued, “The token was broken-I gather that isn’t unusual-half to be held by Aristodicus, and the other half by Archestratus the Elder. With Aristodicus dead, Archestratus must be thinking he’s got away with keeping his money. And listen, Aristodicus left instructions that once released to him, the money was to be transferred to a bank in Syracuse.”
“That gels with his sailing ticket from Telemenes,” I mused. “They all link together, don’t they? Themistocles sits in Magnesia, close to Ephesus. Rizon travels between here and there, transported by Telemenes, whose bank is the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company. The Archestratus of the firm just happens to be the son of the politician Archestratus, who covets Ephialtes’ position, and is the man to whom Rizon carries messages from Themistocles. The assassin arrives from Ephesus, carried on the same ship that returns Rizon. He is paid via the Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings and Loan Company with money from Archestratus Senior.”
“Sounds like a conviction to me.” Diotima smiled.
“Pericles will be furious when he learns the Areopagus didn’t do it,” I said in happy anticipation.
“But what about my house?” Euterpe demanded.
Diotima said patiently, “Mother, if Rizon is executed they can’t make me marry him, can they?”
“Oh!” Euterpe smiled. Then she had second thoughts, “But what if he isn’t convicted?”
“That could happen,” I put in. “We have ample evidence to prove the guilt of Archestratus, but there’s nothing to say Rizon was aware of the plot. He could claim he was a simple courier of political deals.”
“But they traveled on the same boat!” Diotima said.
“Coincidence, that’s what he’ll say. Yes, I know he’s up to his teeth in it, but nothing’s been proven.”
“Then Mother and I still have a problem. But I’ve taken steps to deal with that.”
The way she said it made me uneasy. “Diotima, you haven’t-”
“Yes, I have,” she interrupted. “You can leave that to me. It isn’t your problem.” I opened my mouth to reply but thought better of it. There was nothing to be gained having an argument about it.
Euterpe drifted off to bathe “after her ordeal.” Socrates was forcibly removed from the house and told to go home.
As soon as we were alone, I said, “Diotima, blackmail is a dangerous game.”
