A moment too late, I realised that wasn’t very tactful. Ikesios drew a sharp breath. I looked at him, ready to apologise. Instead I saw him staring at Soterides with grim determination.
‘That’s fitting. There’s no greater service I can do for his memory than see this killer condemned.’
Something in his voice made me uneasy. ‘Condemned by the Areopagus Court, for all Athenians to see. Don’t be tempted to seek vengeance yourself and risk being hauled before the judges by Soterides’ family.’
‘Like Achilles killing Hector to avenge Patroclos? Don’t worry.’ Ikesios managed a shaky laugh. ‘Hermaios always said that, for a great and glorious hero, Achilles offers an excellent example of what not to do.’
That was reassuring. ‘He wasn’t wrong.’
Ahead of us, Soterides passed through the Piraeus Gate and out of sight. I walked faster, my breath harsh with fear that we might lose him.
Chapter Fifteen
As we emerged from the gate’s shadow, for one heart-stopping moment I couldn’t see Soterides anywhere. Then Ikesios pointed. ‘There!’
‘I see him.’ I thanked Athena for the poet’s showy red tunic.
Soterides was walking quickly along the high road, past the houses and shops crowded together outside the gate. The route from the coast to the city wasn’t busy, but there were people coming and going so we didn’t look unduly conspicuous.
Not that Soterides would have seen us. He wasn’t glancing over his shoulder now, clearly intent on where he was heading.
I glanced at Ikesios. ‘I hope he’s not going all the way to Piraeus.’
The youth grimaced as he matched my pace. ‘There’s not a lot we can do about it if he is.’
We passed the turning that would have taken us to Hermaios’ home. That was a relief. I would look an almighty fool if Soterides was going to pay his respects. On the other hand, I was now seriously concerned that we were heading for the port. Once we reached the point where the Long Walls drew closer to the road, to safeguard Athens’ access to our harbours, it was hard to imagine the poet wouldn’t realise we were following him.
Soterides walked on and we walked after him. Finally the poet halted by a turning and took a final look around. Satisfied he was unobserved, he headed down a broad path between two high-walled houses. As soon as Soterides was out of sight, Ikesios broke into a run. I hurried after the youth.
We both stopped a few paces short of the entry. Ikesios looked at me. I looked at him. We both took a step forward, about to look round the corner. We both halted to let the other go first. Our timing couldn’t have been better if we’d rehearsed it. Up on stage in the Theatre of Dionysos, we’d have got a roar of laughter.
Right here, right now, this wasn’t in the least amusing. I tried not to glare at Ikesios as I raised a hand to tell him to stay put. As he nodded and stood motionless, I edged towards the corner. I snatched a look down the path. I was just in time to see Soterides go through a gate that had opened to admit him. Some unseen hand immediately closed it.
‘Come on.’ I headed down the path. Thankfully the gates on either side were firmly closed as well. Like Hermaios’ family home, these were bigger dwellings than most ordinary homes inside the city, though none were anywhere close to the size of Aristarchos’ property. Still, if this was where Soterides was keeping an illicit companion, he must be earning a handsome income as a performer.
The gate he had gone through was at the end of the path. I was relieved to see a narrow alley cutting between this property’s enclosing wall and the neighbour’s. I pointed at it and whispered to Ikesios, barely more than mouthing the words.
‘We go down there if we need to hide.’
He nodded and I walked up to the gate, taking care to tread silently on the dry, dusty ground. I took another look around. The other gates were still closed. I stood as close as I could to the entrance and listened intently.
Ikesios stood on the other side of the gate and pressed his ear to the crack between the wooden planks and the post. He wiped sweat from his forehead, and gave me a rueful glance. I tried to give him an encouraging smile. At least the heat of the day meant that few birds were twittering to obscure the voices within. Better yet, the wall gave us some welcome shade as we waited to learn what we could.
Writing comedy, I try to avoid those scenes that an audience has already seen, time and time again. High on that list is somebody discovering something vital for the play’s plot by listening at a door. It’s been done too often. On the other hand, the best jokes are rooted in reality. People persist in thinking that if you can’t see them, you can’t hear them either.
Soterides certainly felt secure in his privacy. We could hear him as clearly as if he were speaking before the People’s Assembly.
‘I told you I would come and visit you. You must have got my letter.’ The poet’s words were smooth and reassuring, without any hint of rebuke. ‘I have simply been so busy. So many of my admirers have come to the Great Panathenaia. They beg a moment of my time and I have to oblige, and so those moments mount up. Even a performer of my eminence must keep his audience happy. You must understand that.’ His tone took on a wheedling note.
‘You always expect everyone to make allowances, don’t you?’
I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle an exclamation. Whoever had just answered the poet wasn’t some forlorn and languishing lover. Or at least, this wasn’t a woman. That voice was a man’s. Not a boy, or a youth, but someone who sounded like the self-assured head of this household. A man in his prime.
