I didn’t want to discuss what we’d learned until Aristarchos was here. Distressed as he was, if Tur was recovered enough to see Xandyberis buried, he was capable of rushing out to start hammering on doors and demanding answers. I didn’t want the young hothead getting a knife in his throat like his friend.
‘Thank you.’ I took a cup from Lydis and offered Athena the first sip. Then I drank deep. Aristarchos didn’t save his fine wines for rich and powerful friends. Even this household’s day-to-day refreshments were better than the finest vintages I could afford.
The tray of food offered morsels of fresh fish and tender venison lightly seared in herbs and oil, along with a choice of olives, fresh and pickled vegetables, together with fine wheat bread. Even Tur shook off his misery and ate a little food, though he glowered as he chewed. To ward off any comment about his unmanly tears, I guessed, or because some punch in the agora had loosened a few of his teeth.
Sarkuk surprised us with a sudden bark of laughter. ‘Do you remember Xandyberis and that octopus?’ he asked his father. ‘On Mykonos?’
Azamis shed decades with his grin. ‘Of course.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Tur didn’t know this story.
Nymenios and I sat and drank and ate and laughed appreciatively in the right places as the Pargasarenes reminisced about their friend. As they spoke I found myself wishing I’d had the chance to know Xandyberis. He’d assuredly deserved better from Athens than his miserable fate. This city owed his friends justice for his foul murder.
Aristarchos returned as we were picking at the last tidbits and I was wondering if we might summon another jug of wine. As Mus answered the gate and we heard voices, Lydis appeared from the inner courtyard.
‘No, don’t get up.’ Aristarchos strolled across and pulled up a stool. He looked thoughtful.
‘I hope we haven’t intruded,’ Nymenios looked more nervous than I had seen him for a good long while.
I introduced him to Aristarchos and went on. ‘We’ve been fitting some more pieces of all this together.’
‘Have you, indeed? Thank you.’ Aristarchos waited for Lydis to set down a fresh tray of food. A serving girl brought more wine. ‘Do tell,’ he prompted, reaching for bread and salad leaves.
‘It seems that Megakles’s son, Nikandros, is securing as much leather as he can. My guess is they’re trying to profit from outfitting any phalanxes sent east to quell dissent in Ionia.’ I’d been thinking about that while I sat here, remembering Father cursing rich men who sent other men’s sons to die while they grew richer still trading in timber and metal and linen and everything else that Athens’ fleet and army needed.
I explained what we’d seen and learned today, with Nymenios chipping in as his unease faded. Finally I told Aristarchos we’d seen the man with the broken arm at Theophilos’s tannery yard.
He turned to his slave. ‘Lydis, establish just how many leather workshops and tanneries Megakles owns and whom they trade with.’ He looked at me. ‘I wonder how Nikandros is financing such extensive purchases?’
That seemed an odd question. ‘Using the Kerykes fortune, surely?’
‘That’s not as substantial as you might think,’ Aristarchos said crisply.
‘Megakles told you that?’
‘Hardly.’ Aristarchos smiled, thin-lipped. ‘But one hears things around the right dinner tables.’
‘What did he have to say? What did you tell him about last night?’ I was at a loss to imagine how Aristarchos had started such a conversation.
‘I wished to share my concerns that our two young sons had fallen in with bad company,’ Aristarchos said gravely. ‘It seems they were involved in some brawl, though I informed Megakles that Hipparchos won’t tell me the details. I suspect an intrigue over a woman so perhaps I would rather not know.’
As he shook his head with fatherly dismay, Aristarchos’s act was so convincing that Apollonides and Menekles would have applauded.
There was an appreciative gleam in Sarkuk’s eye. ‘What did he say to that?’
‘Oh, he was very grateful that I’d come to him.’ Aristarchos’s sarcasm was as acid as the vinegar on pickled beets. ‘Apparently Nikandros admitted to getting into a fight, but it seems that he and his friends were provoked by unruly Lydians insulting Apollo Delios and Athena Polias. Can you believe that these villains were swearing they no longer owed the gods their allegiance? More than that, they swore not a bent scrap of silver would be coming from Ionia next year. Naturally these well-born youths took up arms, or at least used their fists, to defend our city’s honour.’
‘We already know they are telling lies.’ Azamis was unsure where this tale was heading.
Aristarchos grinned. ‘Megakles doesn’t know that I know these stories are bilge water. All he knows is I support the proposition that Athens should look westwards as we seek to profit from Callias’s peace. I’m in favour of expanding our colonies in Etruria and other untroubled, uncontested lands. So he was eager to persuade me that Athens must first put down these troubling hints of rebellion in the east, and do so hard and fast, by force of arms if necessary.’
‘Did he say that?’ I looked at Aristarchos.
He shook his head. ‘Not in so many words. Though he has invited me to be his guest at a private banquet tomorrow, to meet those of his friends who have convinced him that looking eastwards promises far better returns than westward ventures for wealthy men with money to invest.’
‘Are you going?’ I asked, apprehensive.
‘It’s surely our best chance to see how far this rot has spread among the great and the good,’ Aristarchos pointed out.
‘I wonder if we can find out who first spread these rumours, and when.’ I’d been thinking about that. ‘Nikandros wanted to start stockpiling leather before these slanders against the Ionians began circulating.’
‘Suggesting Megakles knew someone would create a demand for military equipment which
