Over by the door Kallinos was looking sceptical. I couldn’t blame the Scythian.
‘I could come up with reasons why these deaths are tied together all night, and find just as many ways why they’re not.’ I swallowed a yawn. It was late and I wanted to go home. ‘I spend my life making up stories, whether or not they ever reach the stage. Give me some players and a handful of incidents and I can spin any number of yarns to weave them together.’
Aristarchos sighed. ‘You’re right. Until we know more, we’re just guessing. I will find out if Melesias can think of anyone holding a grudge against him. Hermaios’ family will be making ready to receive mourners tomorrow, so you can pay your respects on my behalf. See if you can learn of any reason why he might have been killed. This could be a quarrel that has nothing to do with the festival.’
I opened my mouth to ask if there was someone else he could send, then I changed my mind. I wouldn’t be able to put this behind me until I had some answers, any more than Aristarchos would.
‘Can Lydis give me directions to his house?’
Chapter Six
Zosime didn’t like the idea of me visiting the dead man’s family. ‘You’re going to intrude on a house of mourning when you didn’t even know the man? What are you going to say when someone asks you to share some memory of him?’
‘I’ll say I’m there to pay Aristarchos’ respects.’ I busied myself choosing a different belt for my tunic.
‘What will you say when they ask how he knew Hermaios? In any case, once you’ve delivered his condolences, what reason will you have to stay?’
Zosime was still lying in our bed. I’d hoped to leave her half-asleep after my swiftly whispered explanation for heading out so early. No such luck.
‘You’ll get thrown out,’ she predicted. ‘They’ll think you’re just there to fill your belly with free food.’
Unfortunately, I realised, she was right. That was a distinct possibility. It didn’t change my mind. ‘I told Aristarchos I’d do this. I can hardly go back to him and say I decided against it. There are two murders that someone must answer for, and we need to find something that could lead us to the killer.’
‘Why must you be the one to pursue this?’ She shook her head. ‘Vengeance is a family’s duty.’
‘If Daimachos of Leuktra had a family, they don’t even know that he’s dead yet,’ I pointed out. ‘Who’s going to hunt for his killer in the meantime? You don’t think that the Fates or the Furies or some other god used Kallinos to lead me to that gruesome scene?’
Zosime had no answer for that. She threw back the light blanket and got out of bed. ‘You need to find someone who knew Hermaios then,’ she said tartly. ‘Someone with an honest reason to pay their respects, and to make some introductions so you can ask your questions without getting a punch in the mouth.’
Clearly, I shouldn’t expect much sympathy if I came home with a fat lip.
‘Keep your voice down. We don’t want to disturb Hyanthidas and Telesilla.’ I tried not to show my exasperation.
It wasn’t only Zosime’s objections making me apprehensive about the task that lay ahead of me. I’d lain in the dark staring at the ceiling for a long time before I fell asleep last night, trying to work out where to start once I crossed Hermaios’ family threshold. Finding this killer looked like a challenge to rival one of Heracles’ less amusing labours.
Zosime paused in selecting a pair of shoulder brooches from her jewellery box. ‘Go and see Apollonides. He wanted to be an epic poet before he turned to acting.’ She reached for a length of light wool cloth to pin herself into a deftly draped dress.
That was news to me, but I didn’t doubt it. Zosime had attended enough of my Dionysia play rehearsals to make firm friends with the actors I’d hired, who’d come with me to Corinth and taken the lead roles in The Hounds. Once a man proves himself on stage, a playwright’s a fool not to use him again.
‘He may know someone who knew poor Hermaios.’ She folded the top third of the dress length and wrapped it around herself. ‘Someone you could ask to go with you.’
‘I’m sure that’s not necessary,’ I began.
‘You took Hyanthidas with you yesterday, when you thought there was only one killer. When there was only one dead man,’ she snapped as she stabbed the folded cloth at her shoulders with the brooches. ‘Last night you said there might be two murderers.’
Now I heard the anxiety in her voice. Too late, I realised I’d made a mistake sharing Kallinos’ thoughts last night as I ate my belated meal. I’d been tired and careless, and too ready to answer Hyanthidas’ questions about the body on the slope below Hephaistos’ temple.
I went over and kissed her. ‘You’re as wise as you are beautiful. I’ll see if Apollonides can help. I will be careful, I swear it, and I’ll be safe enough if he’s with me.’
She still didn’t look happy, but she kissed me back before briskly knotting her woven belt. ‘Get on with it. I’ll go into the city with Hyanthidas and Telesilla. I want to go and see my dad.’
‘Say hello from me. We should agree on a night to dine with him. Ask what he particularly wants to see at the festival.’ Hopefully spending the day with her father would stop her worrying about me.
That said, I hoped we wouldn’t have to spend another evening with him discussing Panathenaic amphorae. Not that I begrudged Menkaure his pride that the pottery where he worked was one of the workshops awarded a share of this lucrative work. The
