This was neither the time nor the place for that debate, so I held my tongue, drank my wine and ate some food. Now Azamis was saying something much more interesting.
‘If we break our ties with Athens, even if we stay free of the Persian yoke, there are Hellenes in Pargasa who claim ancient blood rights to rule.’ The old man’s voice grew harsh with emotion. ‘Foreign tyranny or home-grown oligarchy? What choice is that? To be devoured by Scylla or by Charybdis!’
‘No one on the council wants to see a favoured few putting their boot on our necks.’ Sarkuk took up the tale as Azamis reached for his cup to wash the bitterness from his mouth. ‘But those citizens who think they can seize power are always the first to complain, and the loudest, whenever the council and the assembly discuss gathering the levy payment each year. This is why Xandyberis was determined to stand before the Archons and have his say, to make our case to have this burden eased.’
‘Only we find that we have been lied to, and our friend has been killed.’ Azamis could barely restrain his fury. I was starting to see where Tur got his temper.
‘Then we must find out who has lied and why,’ Aristarchos said crisply.
‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ I spoke quickly. ‘Sarkuk, did you recognise that Ionian’s—’
‘What?’ Tur interrupted, startling us all. ‘You think we must all know each other?’
‘No,’ I shot back, ‘and if you’ll keep quiet, I’ll explain why I don’t think he was an Ionian at all.’ I asked Sarkuk again. ‘Did you recognise his accent as Carian, or Lydian, Mytilenean or Hellespontine?’
He considered this for a moment. ‘No. I’d have said he was a man who’d left his home town or island many years ago. Still Ionian in his speech, but anything distinctive to mark out his birthplace has been smoothed away by years of travelling and speaking only Greek.’
‘You called out to him, in the agora. What did you say?’
‘That he had no right to speak for the rest of us,’ Sarkuk said robustly.
‘I don’t think he even realised you were talking to him. I don’t think he understood a word you said.’ I turned from the Carian to Aristarchos. ‘I think he was in league with the man who was making that speech condemning the Ionians. I saw the two of them swap a glance when the rabble-rouser was so surprised to see Tur step forward. They made use of the interruption quickly enough, though.’
Sarkuk frowned as he considered this. ‘I believe you are right.’
‘Someone’s conspiring to stir up trouble, turning Athenian citizens against Ionians in the streets.’ Aristarchos looked grim.
‘And we were unlucky enough to walk right into it.’ All the same, I had some good news. ‘But I believe we have a scent to follow. I reckon that man who was playing the Ionian is an actor. I’d say he’s a professional who specialises in regional characters.’
‘I suppose that’s possible.’ Aristarchos sounded dubious.
I pressed on. ‘I think that orator’s an actor as well. He made a joke about Greek handmaids giving Persian satraps hand-jobs.’
Aristarchos pursed his lips with distaste. ‘Hardly high-flown rhetoric.’
I nodded. ‘Quite so, but I’ve heard that joke before.’
‘Where?’ Aristarchos leaned forward. ‘When?’
‘When I was called to read for the Archon the year before last, in hopes of a chorus for the Lenaia. A playwright called Timodemos used that exact line for an Athenian oarsman at Salamis.’
More fool him, thinking he could make a comedy out of that crucial battle. The Archon’s distaste had been clear before any announcements were made.
Aristarchos took my meaning. ‘So these conspirators have most likely hired an Athenian writer as well as at least one actor.’
‘How will you find them?’ Sarkuk asked.
I grinned. ‘At the theatre, where else? Keep your eyes open when you come to watch my play tomorrow.’
Tur was still determined to be contrary even though he was swaying on his stool and every word he spoke was an effort. ‘You think you’ll recognise two men among however many thousand… ?’
‘Maybe,’ I retorted, ‘and regardless, you’ll all be safer there than anywhere else in the city. No one’s going to try knifing you or beating you up with an audience that size to witness it.’ I looked at Aristarchos. ‘But I think we’ll have better luck if I ask Lysicrates which actors have a particular talent for playing foreigners, and who among them might be persuaded to do something like this.’
‘Persuaded or merely paid. That’s a sound notion, Philocles.’ Aristarchos turned to Azamis. ‘Forgive me, but I don’t think it’s wise for you to return to your hostel. I have property nearby where you can stay as my guests and we can ensure no enemies know where to find you.’
I could see that Azamis was reluctant, but equally he could see that Aristarchos was a man used to being obeyed. The old man exchanged a glance with his son and Sarkuk nodded.
‘We are honoured by your hospitality,’ he said formally.
‘It’s little enough restitution for all that you have suffered. Lydis, send to the hostel for their belongings and pay any outstanding bill. Meantime, I will send word to the Polemarch’s office, so you may claim your friend’s body.’
When the Pargasarenes had finished interrupting each other, thanking him profusely, Aristarchos turned to me.
‘I really have to get to my brothers’ house,’ I said quickly. ‘My mother’s going to have my balls for loom weights as it is.’
‘Of course.’ Aristarchos set aside whatever he intended to say.
When I arrived at my family home, I was relieved to
