‘He had to come to the Dionysia regardless, to bring his town’s tribute and the armour they owe to Athena.’ I was still brooding over the notion that Ionians might suspect Athens of double-dealing. Surely everyone knows that anyone holding public office here faces a merciless audit at the end of their year’s service. No magistrate would dare to misappropriate funds, still less risk divine wrath by embezzling coin from Athena’s own temple.
‘Someone had to bring their tribute, but I’ll wager good money it didn’t have to be Xandyberis. A man of influence who could afford Persian shoes could have sent somebody else.’ Zosime wrapped the cloth around herself, trapping the fold loosely under her arms. ‘He came because he was certain he could ease the burden of the levy for his people. He risked his life on that voyage, Philocles. You’ve never been further than Boeotia. I still remember sailing here from Crete. The ship nearly foundered twice, and the captain said we only met summer squalls.’
I sat up, hugging my knees. ‘But who would tell such a lie and why?’
I could only think of reasons that might make a comedy plot. To get a stern father away from home so a feckless son could do something stupid. So everyone might believe the head of a household had drowned, until he returned to cause endless confusion. An old man might go on a journey to fake his own death before returning in disguise, to see if he was truly mourned. Instead, he’d find everyone celebrating. I should write those ideas down.
Zosime tugged up the fold of cloth to pin it on each shoulder with matching silver brooches. Now the loose fabric hung down to cloak her gorgeous breasts with a decorous double layer. ‘Maybe that boy you met in the agora has some answers.’
I doubted it. He looked the type to fight first and not bother with any questions later. Let’s hope he had some companions with cooler heads.
‘I wonder how many people are here from Pargasa. If Aristarchos can find out where the delegation is lodging, I’ll go and see them and ask a few questions. After the festival, though.’ I threw back the blankets.
Zosime made sure the unsewn cloth overlapped at her side and secured her dress with one of Epikrates’s best belts. It never ceases to impress me how quickly a woman can transform a simple length of cloth into an elegantly draped garment.
‘You know, there’s more to the Delian League than just fighting the Persians,’ I reminded her as I got up. ‘Settlers from Attica founded every town in Ionia, back in the days of the heroes. They all acknowledge Athens as their mother city. That’s why they begged us to lead the struggle against the Persian Emperor. Those new temples on the Acropolis honour that ancestral relationship. That’s why the first portion of their tribute goes to Athena and that’s acknowledged in the public record for all to see.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ She cocked her head, sardonic, as she donned the gold filigree earrings I’d bought her from a Carthaginian trader to celebrate my success at the Lenaia.
‘But don’t you see how many people are drawn here now we have peace?’ I refilled the washbasin. ‘From all over Hellas. Not just masons and architects to build the new temples but all manner of craftsmen: sculptors, bronze-casters, goldsmiths—’
‘Potters and painters?’ Zosime raised her eyebrows. ‘What does my father’s decision to come here mean to some poor Carian struggling to feed his children on the other side of the Aegean?’
‘The harbours at Piraeus see more ships come and go every year,’ I said with irritation as I washed. ‘That trade sends at least as much silver east as we see coming westwards. That’s not all Ionia gets from us. This Carian boy mentioned his town council? They make their own laws and manage their own affairs and they can thank Athens for that. Otherwise that young fool and his family would be crushed by some local tyrant ruling by whim and decree. Either that or an Imperial satrap would screw them for every last grain of their harvests, sending bushel baskets to feed Persia’s armies while their children starve.’
I warmed to my argument as I went to my own clothes chest to find the sage-green tunic my mother had woven and sewn, to be sure I looked respectable in front of the whole city today. ‘Do you suppose they’d have any right of appeal? Anyone who raises a hand under Persian oppression gets it chopped off. If he’s lucky. Otherwise it’s his head on the block. Those satraps keep order through fear, brutality and blood. But Athens is every Ionian’s mother city. They can all appeal to our courts if they feel local judgement is lacking. The humblest can stand before the Assembly and speak without fear or favour, to make their case when their tribute’s reviewed.’
‘Only if they can afford to travel to Athens!’
Zosime seemed determined to argue. I hate it when that happens. It’s not like quarrelling with my sisters or anyone else born and raised in Athens. I can read them like a freshly written scroll. Zosime though, she can be as impossible to understand as Egyptian hieroglyphs.
Thanks be to Athena, Kadous called us for breakfast. He’d already been out to buy honey cakes. As we sat and ate, I heard passers-by in the lane.
‘Is everyone hereabouts going to the festival?’ I felt uneasy about leaving our little house unprotected.
Kadous shook his head. ‘Pyrrias’s mother is too feeble this year.’
‘Sosistratos’s daughter-in-law is staying home with her new baby,’ Zosime added.
‘Good to know.’ Both women would be attended by slaves and most likely would have visitors as well. Plenty of witnesses to raise an alarm if anything untoward happened.
Even so, when we walked up
