Aristarchos continued. ‘You deserved to be called to read for Praxiteles, to compete for a chance at the Dionysia. You beat those other playwrights fair and, square. Whoever’s spreading this slander is simply trying to undermine me, hoping to gain some advantage if we ever oppose each other in the courts or before the People’s Assembly.’
I supposed that could be true. While even the humblest citizen can spend a year as Ruling Archon, if the gods decree his name comes up in the annual lottery for magistrates, it’s still men like Aristarchos who take the lead in bringing cases before the law courts or proposing new legislation in the public interest. They have the leisure to pursue such concerns, thanks to income from their estates outside the city, or their interests in craftsmen’s workshops within the walls. Then there’s the return on their investments in the merchant ships that leave the docks at Piraeus full of olive oil amphorae, before filling their empty holds with luxuries from Egypt or the Hellespont for the journey back. They never know when they might need some advantage over each other, and are always on the lookout for an opportunity to secure one.
From time to time these wealthy men are chosen to put their silver to other uses for the general good, like paying for one of the triremes that helped secure the present peace. Or financing a play for the Dionysia. Aristarchos had been awarded that honour back at the start of this year, so he was paying for everything, from the piper who’d accompanied my comedy’s first rehearsals to the wine and nuts the audience would enjoy at the performance.
‘Do you have some important case coming up?’ I asked. ‘Or a particularly contentious law to propose to the Assembly?’
‘Perhaps our rivals are simply worried that you’ll win,’ Aristarchos mused. ‘You’ve hired three very fine actors and your chorus master is one of the best. You saw how interested the crowd was to see Apollonides and Menekles walk out to join your chorus yesterday. Perhaps the naysayers hope to cast a shadow over your chances, if their spiteful whispers reach potential judges’ ears.’
I nodded but still couldn’t help myself. ‘Euxenos got the best piper. You saw how Diagoras was cheered.’
‘Euxenos got the best pipe player he knew of,’ Aristarchos corrected me. ‘He got the piper everyone was expecting, whom they’ve heard tootling year in and year out. You’re bringing them someone new.’
‘True enough.’ I smiled at that thought. I don’t suppose it would even occur to Euxenos to discuss such matters with his own paymaster. Would Xanthippus have been so ready to help him, as Aristarchos had done for me? I have no idea if other rich men take any notice of the entertainers who arrive when their banquet tables are cleared so the evening’s wine and songs can begin.
Who knows? Who cares? What matters is, barely a day after I’d been awarded my chorus, Aristarchos had sent me the name of a Corinthian piper who’d impressed him at a recent symposium. Back then, Hyanthidas had only just arrived in the city. In the months since, so Aristarchos said, the Corinthian garnered quite a following among the wealthy men who host such lavish dinners.
‘Was there something particular you wanted?’ Aristarchos prompted. ‘Or are you just wishing me good day?’
‘There is something.’ I took a deep breath and explained about the dead Carian and this morning’s encounter in the agora. I hadn’t intended saying anything, but Nikandros’s casual insults had given me second thoughts. Anyone out to make trouble for Aristarchos could spread slanderous hints about some sort of scandal if word of a dead man on my doorstep got around.
He was shocked. ‘How thoroughly unpleasant. But there can be no question of you being suspected, or your slave?’
‘I don’t believe so, but if we can find out more about the dead man, perhaps that will explain who killed him. That’ll put the question beyond doubt. His name was Xandyberis and he was part of the delegation bringing the annual tribute from Pargasa, one of our allied cities in Caria.’
‘A robbery?’ Aristarchos looked dubious. ‘Some thief followed him out from the city all the way to your door?’
I grimaced, still unconvinced. ‘I don’t think he was a rich man, even if he was dressed in the finest he could afford. Perhaps his companions can shed some light on his fate. Is there any way that you could find out where this particular delegation is lodging?’
Presenting those tributes from the Delian League was as much an integral part of the Dionysia’s formalities as the procession Aristarchos would take part in when he was honoured as my play’s patron. The same officials would be organising both events.
‘I can certainly ask those who will know.’ Aristarchos’s eyes grew distant, thoughtful.
I hoped the rest of the Pargasarene delegation proved more reasonable than the lad I’d met in the agora. I thought Aristarchos was about to say something more but he shook his head. ‘Leave it with me.’
A flourish of pipe music in the outer courtyard told us both that the final rehearsals were about to begin.
Chapter Five
By noon I was ready to head for Piraeus and jump on the first ship going anywhere. The further the better. The rehearsal was a disaster.
‘All right, all right, simmer down!’ Lysicrates got everyone’s attention. ‘Let’s try that again.’
Menekles, who was playing Meriones, and Apollonides as Thersites, took centre stage. Two Homeric heroes, playing for laughs.
Meriones turned to Thersites with an expansive sweep of his spear. ‘This is to be our new home!’
Thersites cocked his masked head. ‘So you say, but where are we? I swear, Meriones, Odysseus will get home before we do. I knew you were lousy at driving a chariot but you’re just as hopeless at navigating a ship!’
Meriones spurned such criticism with an
