When we arrived at the theatre, I saw Aristarchos on the edge of the dancing floor, chatting to Azamis and Sarkuk. It wasn’t Lydis standing with him today but the broad-shouldered slave who’d carried a torch on the eve of the festival. Anyone menacing Aristarchos would have to go through that bruiser, so I wouldn’t bet a mouldy olive on their chances.
‘Go on.’ Zosime had seen me looking. ‘It’s all right, I can see my father.’ She pointed and Menkaure waved at us both. Thank all the gods he’d got here early enough to claim a well-placed bench.
I kissed her quickly. ‘I won’t he long.’
‘I’ll see you later.’ Kadous looked further up the slope to the slave seats.
I hesitated. I’d much rather he sat with us. It wasn’t as if anyone who didn’t know us could tell he was a slave. The city is full of all manner of accents, even more so at festival time. But we knew that someone was out to make trouble for me, for all of us. Someone who knew where I lived, and I guessed they knew my household. If Kadous sat with us, someone could accuse me of encouraging my slave to claim a citizen’s rights. They couldn’t make a case that would hold up before the courts, not out of one transgression in the theatre, but they could make a lot of noise around the agora. Like thrown mud, some slander always sticks.
I nodded. ‘But we don’t leave the theatre without each other.’
‘Of course.’ Kadous looked grim.
I made my way towards the Pargasarenes. Sarkuk waved as he saw me coming.
Aristarchos turned to greet me. ‘Good morning.’
‘Good day to you all.’ I looked at the Carians. ‘Tur has no taste for tragedy?’
Though I wasn’t sorry not to see the boy. His appalling bruises must be an even more shocking sight today. Add to that, I still didn’t trust him to control his temper if some unknown enemy sidled up to taunt him.
‘The doctor set the bone in his nose straight, first thing this morning.’ Sarkuk grimaced. ‘He has no interest in going anywhere today.’
‘I can imagine.’ I winced with genuine sympathy. I once broke a bone in my foot and that had been agony until it healed.
Azamis was looking a lot brighter today. ‘Let us join our fellow delegates.’ The old man nodded towards the seats reserved for Athens’ allies.
Those distant towns’ and islands’ representatives were settling down for the day’s entertainment. I noticed a good few clusters of three or four sitting with their heads close in conversation. I recalled the way these visitors had been looking around before yesterday’s comedy competition. They’d been gazing out across the theatre, admiring the city, or twisting in their seats and craning their necks to look up at the Acropolis behind them. They’d been eager to take in all the sights of our grey-eyed goddess’s city. Today though, whatever they were discussing was evidently more important.
Sarkuk glanced at his father. ‘Let’s see what someone may let slip about whoever’s urging us to defy the levy.’
‘We’ll see what they say when they learn that someone thinks that we’re just foolish monkeys to be led into trouble so that foxes can profit.’ The shrewd glint in Azamis’s eye suggested that the people of Pargasa had good reason to keep him on their council.
I pulled Zosime’s portrait of Xandyberis from my belt. ‘See if anyone remembers seeing your friend on the day he died. Show them this. If we can learn where he went, and when, that might help us find his killers.’
‘Is this your delightful companion’s work?’ Aristarchos pursed his lips, admiring. ‘She is very talented.’
Sarkuk’s hand shook as he took it, making the papyrus rattle. ‘It’s him, to the life.’
‘Let’s meet at the end of the day and share what we’ve learned,’ Aristarchos suggested.
‘Are you sure you want to be seen in public with the three of us?’ I asked him bluntly.
This conversation might still be taken for a passing encounter. Whoever was behind the riot in the agora already knew that I was linked to the Carians but perhaps they still thought that Aristarchos was no more than my play’s patron. Seeing us meet up again risked confirming that we had ongoing common interests.
‘Oh, I think so.’ He smiled without humour. ‘Let’s see what these rabble-rousers make of our alliance. What they do next may give us a hint as to who they are.’
‘If you think that’s best.’ I glanced towards the actors’ entrance onto the stage. People were already milling about in costume, though not yet masked. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and see if I can find Lysicrates before the plays get underway.’
‘Good idea,’ Aristarchos nodded.
Chapter Seventeen
I got a few odd looks as I arrived at the rehearsal ground. Today’s chorus men remembered seeing me in all the bustle of parading their masks and costumes on the festival’s first day. They knew I’d written a comedy. I had no business here now that tragedy had taken over the theatre. No playwright ever composes both.
As it happens, I’d have liked to try my hand at tragedy, but committing to writing three full dramas and the satyr play that follows would have taken more time than I could ever spare from keeping my household fed with my other commissions.
Add to that, Thalia, muse of comedy, has claimed me for her own while Melpomene has resolutely withheld her gift of tragedy. No matter how serious my theme, whenever I try my hand at penning solemn drama, jokes always edge their way in.
I smiled at the curious chorus men and went on my way. Thankfully I couldn’t see
