On reflection as we’d walked home, I’d thought there might be rather more to it than that. I had seen the meaningful look Melina had given my older brother. That definitely held more than concern over the prospect of a broken night.
The women of my family had evidently discussed the conversation I’d had with Mother the evening before last. They hadn’t heard any whispers that could help us – and after four years that was surely a forlorn hope – but they were still determined to help if they could. When we had arrived at their gate this morning, after I had collected Ikesios and Ambrakis from Aristarchos’ house, Chairephanes had a very chastened expression.
That didn’t stop him insisting on coming too, even though Zosime was there to chaperone his wife, along with Menkaure to protect them both. I could hardly refuse my brother, so we had all set off together. All we needed was Hyanthidas with his pipes, and Telesilla to give us a song, and we could have had our own festival procession. Thankfully the Corinthians had already agreed to spend the day on the Pnyx, to be on hand in case there was any disturbance. Not to get involved, but to stand witness for me to whatever might happen, as well as to watch for anyone taking an undue interest in Soterides or anyone else.
When we reached the main road out of the city, everyone had waited for me and Ambrakis to go on ahead. We’d agreed to meet at a handy tavern. There’s always a tavern. I told myself if the killer was anywhere out here on the road to Ankyle, he would surely never suspect this family gathering was intent on hunting him down. Add to that, having both Glykera and Zosime here gave us options for this next, last and increasingly desperate throw of our dice today.
I reached for my cup and drank sparingly. There was every chance this was going to be a long wait. While Aristarchos had given me enough silver to placate the tavern owner with regular orders, I didn’t want to miss anything vital because I was out the back having a pee.
‘Have you been to any of the panhellenic festivals?’ Glykera asked Menkaure brightly. ‘How do they compare with our celebrations here?’
He smiled back at her. ‘I went to the Isthmian Games once, when I was a young man.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ Zosime was intrigued.
I listened with half an ear as the Egyptian reminisced about the contests and the sights he had seen at the great temple complex dedicated to Poseidon, where the Isthmus offers the only land route into the Peloponnese. Ikesios was intrigued to hear about the women who had competed for the prizes for playing and singing, alongside the men. Chairephanes was eventually drawn out of his sulks when Menkaure described the chariot races. Since the horse was Poseidon’s gift to mankind, those competitions were a major feature of the festival.
The tavern wasn’t particularly busy, and the owner was happy enough to keep us supplied with water, wine and snacks, paid for with Aristarchos’ silver. I kept watch on the gate to Kalliphonos’ house, and I saw Ambrakis was doing the same.
As the sun climbed towards noon, I was starting to think this was a foolish waste of time. I started trying to find a way to raise my doubts with the others, who were still enjoying swapping stories of past festivals and hearing about Menkaure and Zosime’s travels.
Then Ambrakis sat up straight on his stool. So did I. The gate to Kalliphonos’ garden had opened. A trio of women came out. Even at this distance, I could see one of them was wearing the long, pleated gown that’s customary for a citizen woman, the same as Glykera. The other two wore shorter, draped dresses like Zosime. Since we had no reason to think there were any resident foreigners in that household, it was fair to assume they were slaves. They were both carrying tall water jars.
‘See?’ Glykera broke off to grin at Chairephanes. ‘I said they’d need to visit the fountain sooner or later.’
She stood up, and so did Zosime. I opened my mouth and closed it again, but I was too late. She had seen I was about to object.
‘You don’t expect Glykera to do this alone?’
As a matter of fact, we hadn’t discussed it. When I’d been hoping to persuade my mother, I’d assumed I’d be at her side, as the dutiful son carrying a heavy ewer. When we’d agreed that Glykera and Zosime would both come, we’d agreed that Glykera could approach any daughters of the house, while Zosime would be the better choice for talking to slaves. We hadn’t got any further than that, and now it was too late.
Chairephanes, Menkaure and I stayed in the shade outside the tavern, watching the two women walk away. Zosime was carrying the wine jug she’d taken from the table. Ambrakis shifted on his stool. I could see letting the women do this rubbed the bodyguard’s fur the wrong way, even more than the rest of us.
My brother was glowering at me. I decided it was best to say nothing. Evidently so did everyone else. We sat in silence, intent, as Zosime and Glykera arrived at the spring. I saw a few moments’ uncertainty as the other women saw them approach. As they stood by the fountain’s basin and gestured, I could easily write that exchange in my head.
‘You were here first. We can wait.’
‘No, you only have a jug to fill. Please, go on.’
I only wished the rest
