Besides, I had needed Aristarchos’ help to find out exactly where the family lived. Upper Ankyle is a district in the same voting tribe as Diomea, but none of the officials who administered the Aigeis tribe’s affairs in Athens would be willing to share what they knew with me. I was no one special as far as they were concerned. Aristarchos was the one with the status and influence to get the answers we needed, with no questions asked. More than that, he could expect a reply that same evening after Lydis delivered his polite letter.
So instead of taking a route that skirted around the city to get from Alopeke to Ankyle, I had headed into the heart of Athens and then out again to collect Ambrakis and get directions. Even though I passed through the agora early, the crowds were gathering for the men’s foot races. I had seen slaves with the bundles of weapons and armour that indicated their masters would be competing in the double sprint in full hoplite array. The atmosphere was far more competitive than it had been for the boys’ and youths’ competitions, and the pentathlon and wrestling grounds would be even worse. As we headed eastward, there had been plenty of eager spectators going the same way, going out of the city to the Lyceum.
We had left them behind as we headed for our destination. The properties in Upper Ankyle were larger than those inside the city walls. Unlike the households on the road to Piraeus, these houses weren’t surrounded by workshops and storehouses. I could see fruit trees over the top of walls that hinted at substantial gardens.
‘Are you sure you know where we’re going?’ I asked before I could help myself.
To my relief, Ambrakis grinned rather than take offence. ‘Of course.’
I chided myself. He escorted Aristarchos pretty much everywhere. This slave probably knew more about the best routes and shortcuts in and around Athens than men who’d lived in the city all their lives.
We soon arrived at the gate we wanted. I knocked and a slave opened it with commendable promptness. ‘Yes?’
‘Good morning.’ I aimed for the self-assurance of someone accustomed to always having a man the size of Ambrakis at my side. ‘May we speak to Kalliphonos Parmenou? I am here on behalf of the Great Panathenaia Commissioners.’
The gate slave was too experienced to show any surprise. He was also well able to decide we weren’t the vanguard for some gang of robbers ready to force their way in and plunder the place. He opened the gate to admit us. ‘Please wait here.’
There were stools in the shade of a leafy olive tree heavy with fruit. I sat down as Ambrakis stood dutifully behind me and we watched the slave hurry over to the long, low-roofed house. The garden around it was luxuriant even in the summer heat, and well tended. I could see at least three slaves keeping an eye on us in case we wandered where we had no business.
The gate slave soon returned. ‘Please, the master invites you to take some refreshment with him.’
‘Thank you.’ We followed him to the courtyard at the heart of the house. It was cobbled with pale, evenly sized river stones and leafily green with vines flourishing as they wound around the pillars of the colonnade on all three sides. The upper floor had a deep, shady balcony overlooking the courtyard, and I guessed the rooms above us opened on to that.
A man in a plain tunic with no-nonsense cropped hair and beard stood in the portico by a table. Wine and water was already waiting, along with a dish of almonds. He was somewhere between five and ten years younger than Aristarchos, and he looked politely mystified. But his gesture invited me to sit, and he poured a cup of wine for us both. A demure female slave took a cup of water to Ambrakis as he waited by a pillar a few paces away.
‘Let us honour bright-eyed Athena as we celebrate her care for our city.’ Kalliphonos poured a brief, but sincere libation. ‘Please, make yourself comfortable. How may I assist the festival commissioners?’ He was a good host, even to unexpected visitors.
‘All praise to our tireless goddess.’ I made my own libation, adding a silent plea for her assistance with the difficult task that lay ahead.
‘I am here on behalf of Melesias Philaid,’ I began, keeping my tone even and unemotional. ‘He is currently responsible for the Homeric recital competition. He asks—’
‘Does he know where my boy is?’
The anguish in the man’s voice stabbed me like a knife. Well, at least that answered my first question. No one here knew where Posideos was. That didn’t mean I could turn tail and scurry off. I hardened my heart against the pain I was undoubtedly about to cause.
‘I’m so sorry. We don’t have any idea, but we believe there’s a man seeking him who wishes him harm. Perhaps if you can tell us what you know, we can come up with some answers together.’ I tried to sound encouraging.
Some hope. Kalliphonos looked at me, despairing. ‘I don’t even know why he left.’
My heart sank. That wasn’t a good start, if we already knew more than this bereft father. Well, at least I could reassure him none of this was his fault.
‘As far as we can discover, Posideos fell deeply and passionately in love, with a woman who lived in Athens.’
