Personally I’d wager the killer was already outside the walls, and heading for some city where he had business ties. If we could narrow those possibilities down, we could see if there were visitors’ advocates here in Athens who could send word to the authorities wherever he might seek refuge. Aristarchos could well get Damianos expelled by letting those rich and powerful men know what he had done and detailing the other accusations against him. If we learned he had definitely been seen in some city or town, well, the families of his victims could consider seeking some private revenge, and that would be between them and the Furies. If word got back to Athens that Damianos had turned up somewhere with his throat cut by some unknown hand, I for one wouldn’t weep.
Meantime, we were continuing on our way to Koele. When we arrived at Damianos’ house, the gate was as solidly shut as it had been before. Neokles and the other Scythian appeared from an alleyway where they’d been loitering. I guessed they’d observed our approach. I wondered if the killer could have seen them lurking and retreated before they had seen him.
Neokles spoke to Kallinos. ‘There’s been no one in or out since we got here.’
Kallinos looked at me. I stepped forward and knocked a simple rat-tat on the painted wood.
‘Good day? I would like to speak to Damianos Sethou?’ I spoke loudly enough to be heard inside the courtyard, but I forced myself to sound at ease, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.
There was no one else in the street. That meant we heard a whispered conversation on the other side of the gate. I couldn’t make out what was said, but the words were urgent or fearful or both. A few moments passed. We heard a door open and close on the far side of the courtyard.
After a few more moments I knocked again. ‘Hello? I really do need to speak to Damianos.’ I sounded apologetic as well as more insistent.
There wasn’t a sound on the other side of the gate.
I knocked a third time and raised my voice, more forceful. ‘Hello!’
There was still no answer. I looked at the others. They were as much at a loss as me. If no one opened this gate, there was nothing we could do about it. None of us had the right to force our way into another citizen’s house.
A rattle of bolts cut through the silence. We turned to see a gate open behind us on the other side of the street. A stooped, grey-haired elder peered out, cautious and curious in equal measure. He gaped when he saw three Scythians as well as four other men. He was about to withdraw like a startled tortoise when Ikesios stepped forward, his hands spread wide.
‘Excuse me, please. Do you know where we might find Damianos Sethou today?’ The youth sounded as if we were concerned for the man’s safety.
The old man frowned, but he didn’t close his gate. ‘No.’
Lysicrates stepped forward, polite and deferential. ‘Forgive me, do you mean that you don’t know, or are you saying that’s something you cannot share?’
‘I’ve no idea where he went,’ the old man said testily. ‘Heading out at cockcrow again.’
‘Perhaps he’s gone to see some friend or relative. A brother perhaps? Or some business partner?’ I was sharing my thoughts with the others as much as asking the old man.
‘His brother?’ The greybeard’s chuckle had a sarcastic edge. ‘Hardly.’
Before any of us could work out what to ask next, a woman appeared in the gateway. She was short, stout and as formidable as any phalanx.
‘Father? Who are you talking to?’
I guessed she was maybe ten years short of my mother’s age, but her accent was pure Athenian, with no remnants of a countryside or coastal girlhood. City born and bred, she looked at us clearly demanding an explanation.
‘Forgive us, we didn’t mean to disturb you,’ I apologised. ‘We are trying to find Damianos Sethou.’
She looked at me warily. ‘Why?’
Something about her reply convinced me she was no friend of her neighbour. I decided there was nothing to be lost by telling the truth.
‘He attacked someone today. A friend of ours.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’
‘Because he thought our friend was the man his sister Adrasteia ran off with.’
The woman stiffened. I thought she was about to ask me what my friend had to do with that scandal. Instead, she half-turned her head and called towards her own house.
‘Straton! Chara!’
A beardless youth a year or so younger than Ikesios appeared, followed by a girl a year or so younger than that. The woman gave them brisk orders.
‘Chara, stay here with Grandad. Straton, come with me.’
Whatever their relationship was, the youngsters obeyed without question. The boy followed her out of the gate. The girl stood close enough to the old man to lay a firm hand on his forearm when he took a step to follow. He scowled, but didn’t step across the threshold.
The woman strode across the street. The lad stayed close, as a respectable woman’s escort should. It was hard to say who would come to whose rescue though, if they encountered any trouble.
If there was any uproar, we wouldn’t be the ones to start it. By unspoken agreement we retreated ten paces as our new ally approached Damianos’ gate.
‘Tryphosa! It’s Pherenike! Open up!’ She hammered with a fist, so hard that the hinges rattled. ‘Open up, or I’ll send for Alkimos!’
As I wondered who he might be, we heard the bolts slide back. The gate opened a crack to show us a terrified, barely bearded face.
‘I need to see your mistress.’ Pherenike pushed past the unresisting slave. As the gate swung wider, we could see the vicious bruises on his arms and face.
As Pherenike went across the courtyard to enter the house, her lad stood in the gateway facing us nervously.
I grinned at him. Now he looked puzzled, but that was better
