‘I will be careful,’ I promised her. ‘I swear it by Pallas Athena.’
‘This woman…’ she began.
‘If she wants to stay hidden, I won’t reveal where she is. I’ve already promised my mother. And you were right to send me to ask her to help. She will see what she, Melina and Glykera can learn about any recent runaway, so we can find this killer. That’s what matters most of all.’
I kissed her again. This time, when Zosime pulled away, she unpinned one of the brooches holding her draped dress on her shoulder. As the cloth slid away from her breast, she cupped my hand around her silken softness. I kissed her, and felt her smile as she enjoyed my caresses.
I reached up and slid the other brooch off her shoulder. Zosime stepped back and unknotted her belt to let her dress fall to the floor. I tossed my belt aside, well away, so neither of us would tread on the buckle in the darkness, and pulled my tunic over my head. I heard the lid of the box where she keeps the sponge and olive oil that keep her safe from the hazards of pregnancy.
Zosime drew me down onto the bed, and we made love slowly and silently, mindful of her father on the other side of the wall. That didn’t matter. We didn’t need to talk. We’d said all that we needed to. Now we understood each other perfectly once again.
Chapter Thirteen
When we reached the agora the next morning, I noticed Menkaure glance up towards the Temple of Hephaistos. Then I realised he wasn’t looking at the temple, gleaming white in the sunlight on its hill, but at the squat and solid building just to the north of it. The city uses that for a variety of purposes. When Athens is at war, it’s a weapons store. In the run-up to the Great Panathenaia, and during the festival, it’s where those prize amphorae of olive oil are kept secure.
‘Do you want to see the handiwork offered up to the goddess by your rival potters?’
Menkaure looked at me, startled. Then his grin was as good as an admission. ‘I could take a look, I suppose. If they let me in.’
I was pretty sure the public slaves guarding that considerable wealth would recognise a man who’d helped them stack the precious delivery from one of the workshops awarded the honour of so much hard work. ‘You may as well ask. They can only say no.’
‘Go on,’ Zosime urged. ‘We’ll be waiting for the others by Aphrodite’s altar.’
‘Oh, very well.’ Menkaure headed quickly along the southern edge of the agora.
He’d have to go as far as the road that led to the city prison, and then turn to follow the edge of the marketplace past the Council Chamber and other civic buildings. There was no hope of heading straight towards the temple hill from this opposite corner of the agora where we had arrived. Packed crowds were intent on the foot races, as ten competitors at a time pounded up and down the racecourse that runs the length of the agora from north to south. A full stadion of two hundred strides is permanently marked out, with toeholds for the athletes at the start carved into the stone paving. There would be judges up there, watching closely to make sure no one stole even the slightest advantage by moving before the brass trumpet’s note released them. The single sprint competition for the boys was reaching its climax, as successive heats decided who would race in the final.
Not that we could see any of this. The dense throng completely blocked our view. We could only tell what was happening from the cheers and roars as we continued along the Panathenaic Way. I looked at Kadous. The tall Phrygian was trying to see over the crowd. The youths would be next to race today. As well as competing in the single sprint, they would try for glory and the more tangible rewards of olive oil in the double sprint, and in the gruelling twenty-stadion race. A second set of judges at this end of the track would make sure every runner completed the full course before turning to head back to the start again.
‘Go on,’ I told him. ‘Come back home whenever you like, today or tomorrow.’
‘Thanks.’ He grinned and slipped between two onlookers as a space opened up between them.
Zosime and I continued on our way. The Painted Colonnade was packed with spectators and the steps were crammed with people eager to get a better view of the races. They were shouting encouragement and cheering on their favourites.
There was a wine-seller close at hand and we bought a measure of undiluted sweet wine. Aphrodite’s altar is close by, and we weren’t the only ones here to make an offering to the goddess of love and desire, so we had to wait a few moments before we could approach the magnificent carved stone altar.
I offered glorious Aphrodite silent thanks for bringing Zosime into my life. I vowed to do better by my beloved. Finally, and fervently, I asked for the goddess’s help in finding this unknown woman before the man who was so ready to kill tracked her down. The gods only knew what violence he had in mind.
Then I added a prayer for this woman herself. Whatever her guilt or troubles, the goddess of passion would know the truth, just as she would know the guilty poet’s real motives. If he was a cynical seducer, I invited Aphrodite to goad him with whatever torments she saw fit, to make him confess.
I passed the half-full jug to Zosime, and she made her own libations. A brief smile teased her lips, and the sight warmed my heart.
‘Good day to you both! Have you been here long?’
I turned to see Hyanthidas wave as he shouted a greeting from the end
