I nodded, exasperated. ‘And whatever might be said at this banquet, it will be your word against theirs without at least one other Athenian citizen witness with no stain on his character.’
Aristarchos set his wine cup on the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘So how do we get you in, so you can testify in court?’
I sucked my teeth. ‘If we don’t know who’s going to be there, we don’t know who might remember me from the theatre.’
Aristarchos leaned back. ‘Would you,’ he asked cautiously, ‘consider shaving off your beard? No one would recognise you then.’
That was undoubtedly true. Like everyone else here, I hadn’t gone clean-shaven since I could first boast whiskers. Seeing Aristarchos arrive for an evening of fine dining and wine with a beardless companion, one with his curls dressed with perfumed oil just for good measure, Megakles and his friends would doubtless dismiss me without closer inspection. A rich man’s couch companion is often an idler who uses a razor to signify his lack of interest in taking on a citizen’s duties, preferring a life of indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh.
It would be Aristarchos they’d be looking at more closely, surprised that he indulged in such dalliance. There’s no law against it, but he’d never had a reputation for dissipation. A model Athenian, he was well known for his long and respectable marriage.
I frowned. ‘What happens afterwards, once these people know you’re their enemy, if they start spreading word that you’ve taken a younger lover to a dinner? You don’t think they’ll twist the tale to hint that you’re one of those unsavoury types who like to prowl a gymnasium and grope little boys without any hair on their balls? They’ve already painted me as a Persian’s cock warmer,’ I reminded him.
I also didn’t relish the prospect of staying indoors until my beard grew back to a respectable length, to avoid the startled glances and indelicate curiosity of family, friends and neighbours if I ventured out.
Aristarchos’s grimace told us he took my point. ‘That is a risk I’m prepared to take. My reputation should be sound enough to withstand it.’
‘But if someone does recognise him?’ Nymenios demanded. ‘They’ve already tried to kill him once!’
Sarkuk was frowning. ‘We know they’re watching Philocles. If someone sees him without a beard the very day after this banquet, they’ll guess he was Aristarchos’s companion. They’ll surely try to silence him then, to make certain he can’t speak up in court.’
‘Could he go pretending to be Aristarchos’s slave?’ wondered Tur.
‘A slave won’t be admitted to the drinking and entertainments after the food.’ Aristarchos spoke half a breath before I slapped the boy down for his ignorance. ‘That’ll be when anything incriminating is discussed. Otherwise I could just take Lydis.’
‘A slave could still bear witness to who came and went,’ the young Carian said stubbornly.
‘Enough!’ Sarkuk silenced his son. ‘Surely admitting he’d been willing to pretend to be a slave would discredit Philocles in the eyes of most jurors?’
‘It would,’ I confirmed. In fact, it was worse than that. An Athenian seen behaving like a slave, with no regard for his obligations, is swiftly stripped of the citizen privileges he has so clearly shown he disdains.
‘Does anyone have any ideas?’ Aristarchos asked, exasperated. ‘He can hardly go wearing a chorus mask.’
‘No,’ I said slowly, ‘but I don’t suppose they’ll give the musicians a second glance. I can play the double pipes—’
‘Aristarchos can’t turn up with his own piper,’ Nymenios objected. ‘That’s not like bringing an amphora of wine as a gift for your host.’
‘You would need to arrive with the musicians they’ve hired,’ Aristarchos looked at me with tentative hope.
‘If we can find out who they are,’ I said slowly. ‘I’ll bet Hyanthidas would know.’
Aristarchos’s grin answered my own. ‘Lydis, go and offer my compliments to the Corinthian, and ask him to call here as soon as convenient.’
We had the beginning of a plan. Hopefully, whatever we found out would shed some light on recent events.
If not, well, at least I’d have an idea for a hero’s masquerade to work into a new comedy plot. Though I reminded myself how often such schemes go awry on the stage. It would be no laughing matter for us if this all went wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hyanthidas proved invaluable. He soon discovered that Megakles had hired Potainos, an Aitolian with a reputation for providing tastefully erotic entertainments. Potainos was perfectly happy to add another pipe player to his ensemble in exchange for a fat purse of silver. That was merely to stop the rest of the troupe asking awkward questions, he assured us. Aristarchos obliged without comment. Potainos wasn’t asking any questions and that was well worth paying for.
Though the Aitolian did insist on hearing me play. Then he made me promise I would only wave my double pipes around and mime. His musicians had their good names to consider.
I didn’t waste my time feeling insulted. It would be much easier to hear the dinner guests’ chatter without my own tootling in my ears. Add to that, even after another night’s rest and an undemanding day watching Zoilos’s superb final trilogy of tragedies, I was still in no fit state to be taking deep breaths without sharp pains in my ribs. Most importantly, I needed to get in and out of the banquet without anyone recognising me. I hardly wanted to attract undue attention by blowing sour notes.
As the evening arrived, I left Menkaure to escort Zosime home from the theatre. Following Hyanthidas’s directions, I found Potainos’s courtyard where his troupe of entertainers gathered before setting out for the symposium. Most were women, and I found that frankly disconcerting.
There were eight girls, all told. They stripped off their everyday dresses and painted their faces before draping themselves in indecently flimsy fabrics
