Today, the best of the fresh fruit and vegetables brought into the city at dawn from Attica’s farms was already long gone, along with the pick of the cheese and eggs. Slaves from households expecting hordes of guests would have been waiting here at first light to buy what their mistresses demanded. Kadous would have been with those following a little later. We could trust him to make sure we had everything we needed without paying over the odds. Now the slower and poorer were here to make the best of whatever was left. They had better hurry up. It wouldn’t be long before there was another clamour to summon slaves from the wealthiest households, when the bells rang to tell everyone the day’s fresh fish was coming up from Piraeus.
Sausage-grillers and the nut and raisin merchants were doing brisk business. Carts carrying wine amphorae and tall jars of fresh spring water stood at the junctions where side streets entered the marketplace. The cart owners were selling cups of well-mixed wine as fast as they could pour out such refreshment. Some customers were grabbing a snack or a drink as they rushed between the Council Chamber and the Law Court, getting something vital done before legal and official business was suspended. Others were strolling past the food- and wine-sellers, seeing what was on offer and making their choices at their leisure. Our friends from Corinth weren’t the only visitors admiring the shrines to the gods who watch over us, as well as the statues to honour Athens’ lawgivers and military heroes.
I couldn’t help glancing over at the Painted Colonnade, where magnificent portrayals of great Hellenic victories from Troy to Marathon educate the next generation of citizens about duty and sacrifice. Visiting tutors lecture there, sharing their philosophies on history, mathematics and the natural world. I could see several men in the shade gesticulating to an attentive audience, hoping for a modest shower of silver coin in return. Jugglers and acrobats were plying their humbler trades to entertain the bustling crowds.
What I couldn’t see were many scribes-for-hire touting for trade out on the colonnade’s steps. That was a relief. I didn’t want to think I was missing out on too many lucrative jobs.
‘I know the foot races will take place here, but what about the rest of the athletics?’ Hyanthidas broke off as he was jostled.
‘The pentathlon competitions will be held out at the Lyceum. That’s the gymnasium where my brothers and I had our schooling, and where we still exercise,’ I explained to Telesilla. ‘The wrestling, boxing and pankration contests will take place at the Academy.’
Zosime grimaced. ‘Unless you’ve got a taste for sweaty crowds cheering as strong men beat each other bloody, I recommend watching the pentathlon.’
I couldn’t argue with that. The boxing and wrestling can be brutal enough but their bastard offspring, the no-holds-barred pankration, can see men killed. Wrestling may be the fifth and last part of the pentathlon, after the sprint, jump, javelin and discus contests, but skill is prized over brute force. Those athletes want to avoid injuries that will wreck their chances in the other events at the next festival.
‘Both gymnasiums are a fair distance beyond the city walls.’ Hyanthidas didn’t look too keen on the idea of either walk in the heat.
‘Or we could go and visit Alopeke,’ Telesilla said brightly.
‘By all means.’ Zosime smiled.
We bought the makings of a generous late lunch and walked out of the Itonian Gate. We arrived home to see laughter and bustle further down the lane as Sosistratos and his family welcomed cousins from the country. I knocked at our gate and Kadous opened up.
‘We’ve come back—’ I broke off as I saw a wholly unexpected face. ‘Ambrakis?’ I couldn’t think what my former patron’s bodyguard was doing here.
The broad-shouldered slave ducked his head politely. ‘My master’s compliments, and he asks you to call on him.’
‘Oh. I mean, of course.’ There was nothing to be gained and potentially much to be lost by offending one of Athens’ wealthiest men. Besides, I liked and trusted Aristarchos, who had been appointed by the city to fund my first Dionysia play. He wouldn’t ask to see me unless he had some good reason.
I looked at Hyanthidas and Telesilla. ‘I imagine you’ll want tomorrow to yourselves? For some final rehearsals?’ As they nodded, I looked at Ambrakis. ‘Please tell your master I will call on him first thing in the morning.’
The big slave gazed at me, stolid and uninformative. ‘My master wishes to see you today.’
‘Oh.’ I wanted to ask why, but there was no point in that. I might have learned more if this messenger had been Lydis. The slave who serves as Aristarchos’ secretary is as quick-witted as he is light on his feet. Ambrakis is a bodyguard though. He’s not stupid, by any means, but his duties are first and foremost looking menacing enough to scare off any ambitious street robbers and carrying a torch when it gets dark.
‘Go on. Don’t mind us.’ Hyanthidas understood my dilemma. A large part of his own livelihood depended on the goodwill of Corinth’s rich and powerful men. Perhaps our cities aren’t so very different.
‘We’ll be fine here until you get back,’ Zosime assured me.
‘Can I at least have something to eat?’
Ambrakis ducked his head again, and went to wait by the gate. Kadous was already laying out the food on the table in the porch. I didn’t take a seat as I quickly ate bread, cheese and olives, and washed down my last mouthful with the final
