She gazed steadily back. ‘Citizen women will be getting together to see their friends all through the festival, especially the ones who are visiting from their homes out in Attica. They’ll be going to see the music and poetry contests together. Then they’ll be gathering to watch the rites and to celebrate as Athena’s statue is re-dressed. One of them is bound to know something, or will get word to a woman who does.’
‘I suppose so.’ I still wasn’t convinced. ‘But the women of the city don’t make the gift of her new dress to the goddess for another five days. We have to catch this killer before then.’ I hated to think how many men would die if we didn’t.
Zosime wasn’t going to be dissuaded. ‘Melina and Glykera will be meeting friends and family as they go out and about with Nymenios and Chairephanes over the next few days, and people will visit the house. They can start asking if anyone knows anything about a woman fleeing her home a few days ago. We can see what answers come back by the time the city’s women gather to honour Athena.’
Meanwhile I would have both my brothers on my doorstep demanding to know what by Zeus’ thunder I was playing at. How dare I involve their wives in such an unsavoury business! I tried to work out a way of presenting their husbands’ objections to Zosime, but why should she agree with them when I wouldn’t? Not when we were talking about finding a killer. I was also pretty sure Glykera and Melina would have something to say about it, discreetly behind their closed bedroom doors. Though I wasn’t necessarily convinced that we would learn anything useful. Not that I was going to say so and risk starting another argument.
‘All right, I’ll ask them if they think they can help.’ My doubts must have shown in my face all the same.
Telesilla laughed. ‘How do you suppose your mother and sisters always know whose nephew or cousin is looking for a wife? Who needs a helping hand as their mother or father grows feeble-minded or unsteady on their feet? Whose son needs reining in, or whose daughter needs someone to confide in who isn’t her sister or aunt? Do you think we only talk about where to buy the best glazed pottery or the freshest fish?’
Zosime looked more serious. ‘It’s how girls learn which boys to avoid, however charming they might seem. Mothers learn which families not to let their daughters marry into, if they don’t want to see them trying to hide bruises. Sons don’t only learn a trade from their fathers.’
I was about to object to that, then I remembered something my mother’s sheep-herding brothers had told me. They always insisted on seeing the dam and sire of any dog they were thinking about breeding with one of their bitches. Blood will out, as so many tragedies on stage at the Dionysia remind us.
Telesilla nodded. ‘I think your husband’s wives will be more than ready to help you find this woman before the man who’s pursuing her does. He’s proved he’s willing to kill when he loses his temper. Don’t you think she must have had good reason to run away?’
‘You’ve been talking about her as if she had no more choice in this than Helen did, when Aphrodite whisked her away to Troy to be Paris’ prize.’ Zosime’s rebuke was directed at me, Menkaure and Hyanthidas. ‘Athenian law may not punish her, but she’s got a whole lot more to worry about than being cold-shouldered as a whore by the neighbours if this brute drags her back home. If she wasn’t already in fear for her life, she must be now. Don’t you think there’s every chance he’ll kill her too, as well as her protector, if he finds them before you do?’
I had no answer for any of this. The law lays all the guilt on the man who seduces someone else’s wife. I hadn’t really considered consequences for this unknown woman.
To my profound relief, the tavern slave who Hyanthidas had waved at earlier finally came over. He took our order for wine, and told us that the dish on offer tonight was rabbit stewed with fennel, raisins and dates. We agreed that sounded very fine. When the food arrived we weren’t disappointed.
I even managed to look interested as Menkaure told Hyanthidas and Telesilla everything they hadn’t realised there was to know about the special Panathenaic amphorae. The artists have to be skilled in the old-fashioned techniques of depicting mythic figures and athletes in black and cream against a red background. There’s far more skill to that, apparently, than simply swapping over the pots and brushes they use every day to show dramatic scenes with red figures at work, play or war on elegantly shaped black pots.
We didn’t linger over our meal. We could see passers-by kept slowing in hopes of finding empty seats, as well as the tavern owner’s regret when he saw their disappointment. Besides, Hyanthidas was looking weary now that the elation of his performance was fading, and Zosime and I had both risen early.
I poured out the last of the wine, and didn’t ask if we should get another jug. ‘Where shall we meet tomorrow? And when?’
Hyanthidas stirred himself. ‘I’d like to see the sprints and the other foot races.’
That suited me. After everything I’d witnessed over
