The performer’s head was too full of Homer’s shining words to listen to what I was saying. I was trying to explain for a second time when he started striding across the courtyard, muttering a rhythmic passage under his breath. I was going to have to shock him to get his attention.
‘This killer is trying to find an epic poet who has seduced a citizen woman. He won’t stop until he finds the guilty man.’
Theokritos spun round, outraged. ‘You throw this foul accusation at my feet, in my very own house?’
Almighty Zeus couldn’t have been more ferociously offended. Though granted, that’s not the best comparison since the great god is notoriously unfaithful.
‘Go and see for yourself! Throw open every door! I have nothing to hide!’ Theokritos strode towards me, jabbing a finger at my face. ‘I warn you, if you ever repeat this slur, if I hear you have slandered me thus, I will see you in court. I will see you beggared as a punishment for such a vile lie!’
His fury roused the sleepy slaves, though I don’t think they could work out if they were supposed to help me search the house or to throw me out on my arse. Looking at Theokritos as he bristled with righteous indignation, I was ready to believe he had never strayed from his marital bed.
‘No, I don’t think you’ve done any such thing, but we believe this man, who has attacked three of your fellow poets, is convinced that one of your number has wronged him. Now we know there’s a woman involved.’
Theokritos’ self-assurance faltered. ‘What do you mean? He’s attacked three of us?’
I told him what had happened to Thallos, and told myself this wasn’t breaking my promise. I was saying the battered poet wasn’t a seducer, not speculating that he might be.
‘Please keep this to yourself. Thallos doesn’t want his name linked to rumour of such a scandal any more than you do. He knows people will be ready to believe the worst of such gossip.’
Theokritos ran a hand through his thinning hair, apprehensive. ‘Very well, and yes, I won’t see his name dragged through the mud. He is a good friend, as was Hermaios.’
‘You have to watch your back,’ I stressed. ‘Until we catch this brute, there’s no knowing who he might attack next.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you for the warning. I won’t go anywhere unattended until I have given my performance.’
‘Not until the end of the festival would be my advice.’
Theokritos caught my dubious glance at the aged slaves who were already dozing again in the shade of the porch. ‘I have one son in his final year of studies at the Lyceum, and another home for the festival from service with the garrison near Eleusis. They’re more than able to defend me.’
‘That’s good to know,’ I said, heartfelt. ‘And please, if you can think of any poet who might be accused of being a seducer, rightly or wrongly, let me know. That will help us find this killer and see your friends avenged.’
Along with Daimachos of Leuktra. A man didn’t have to be likeable to deserve justice.
Theokritos nodded, solemn. ‘Of course, though I have to say I can’t think of anyone who would pursue another man’s wife.’
I could only hope some recollection might stir later, and fight its way through the Trojans and Argives who currently filled his thoughts. ‘Thank you, and good day to you.’
I was about to let myself out, but one of the slaves wasn’t as fast asleep as he looked, and he hurried over to open the gate. As I headed for the foundry in Kerameikos I looked for a sundial, but couldn’t see one. Regardless, I needed to hurry up if I was to get to the theatre to see Hyanthidas play in the twin pipe contest.
To save what time I could, I avoided the crowds in the agora by cutting through the streets that run to the west of the Temple of Hephaistos. As I glanced up at the shining white marble shrine, I wondered if I should go and make a libation to the lame god, after I warned Eupraxis and before I headed for the Pnyx. Hephaistos’ legs might be weak, but his wits are as strong as his arms. He’d had his revenge on his adulterous wife without killing anyone. Instead, he trapped Ares and Aphrodite in bed together with a net they couldn’t escape. Then he dragged them before the rest of the gods to be laughed at. I wasn’t laughing today. There was nothing remotely funny about two dead men and one who’d barely escaped with his life thanks to Aphrodite.
We needed divine help in this hunt. If we didn’t catch this killer sniffing around the Pnyx over these three days while the Iliad was performed, I couldn’t see how we were ever going to find him. Worse, I couldn’t see how we could stop him from striking again once the epic was over and done with. Some of the poets might sit through the performance of the Odyssey, or perhaps they would drop by when a particular friend was entertaining the audience over those two days, but the rest would scatter throughout the city. They might want to see the athletics contests, or the chariot races and the horse races at the track outside the city. Others would be drinking with friends or celebrating the Great Panathenaia with their family.
Unless Aristarchos, Melesias and some other rich men could lend us an army of slaves to give each man a personal attendant, the only way we’d catch this murderer was if Kallinos or some other Scythian stumbled across him with another poet bleeding in his grasp or dead at his feet. I wasn’t going to pray for any such thing. Coincidences belong on the stage, not in this real-life tragedy.
I didn’t want anyone else to die. I wanted to see justice done to lift this taint
