The girls danced and entertained us with juggling and acrobatics, which gave the banquet guests a good look at their plump breasts and luscious buttocks. I stood behind the other musicians in the space where the doorway interrupted the square of couches. While I faked a tune on my pipes, I listened to the guests’ conversations.
Pheidestratos was in the seat of honour beside Megakles, with Strato on the next couch along. The playwright had no interest in assessing the musicians for any professional purposes. He was nodding vigorously and obsequiously every time his comedy’s patron spoke to the man between them. Their target’s name was Thrasymachos. I knew him from his speeches before the People’s Assembly, vehemently contesting Pericles’s plans to use Delian League funds to rebuild our ruined city.
Not that Thrasymachos had argued on behalf of our hard-pressed allies. He was utterly opposed to the notion that ordinary citizens should make such decisions. He believed that the people should abide by the choices made for them by the well-born and wealthy. He was soon ready to agree that these ungrateful Ionians needed showing a firm Athenian hand.
I edged closer to the nearest couch on the other side of the doorway. Archilochos, so-called, had his back to me, reclining beside another playwright, Leukippos. He was intent on convincing the tragedian about something, though he didn’t seem to be making much progress.
‘Enough, Gorgias,’ Leukippos objected. ‘I’m sure the Ionians are as relieved as we are to see peace agreed, and grateful that Athenian triremes sail their waters to guarantee that tranquillity. I cannot believe that any city or island’s assembly will vote against paying the agreed tribute, whatever a few hotheads may say.’
I stepped backwards, well satisfied. Now I had this fake Archilochos’s real name, we could ask around the agora about a man called Gorgias, with his description to confirm who we meant, who traded poetry scrolls in Ionia. It wouldn’t take us long to learn who his father had been and his voting district. How would his sworn brotherhood react, when they were told he’d been rabble-rousing among our allies, not caring if their sons went to war, so that wealthy men could get richer?
It was clear that this gathering of noble citizens was drooling at the prospect of profits. On the couch beyond Gorgias and Leukippos, the man who’d insulted me and the Carians in the agora was all but promising fat contracts to a man called Metrobios who shared his couch. Metrobios had interests in timber, thanks to his family’s contacts in Thessally, and he owned joinery workshops in Athens.
‘Hoplite shields, triremes, oars.’ The speech maker threw out his lures. ‘All needed quickly and in quantity.’
‘You think the Council will open the Treasury’s strongboxes, Parmenides?’ Metrobios countered robustly. ‘No, some poor fools will find themselves beggared when they’re nominated to supply and outfit a trireme as their service to the city. I don’t want to draw the magistrates’ gaze when they’re looking for wealthy men to shoulder that burden.’
‘You can’t be asked to provide a trireme if you’re already sponsoring a play for next year’s Dionysia.’ Parmenides gestured at the playwrights in the room. ‘We have excellent connections when it comes to the theatre. You don’t imagine it’s a coincidence that one of our allies wrote a comedy this year, while another served as his patron?’
Metrobios still wasn’t impressed. ‘Putting on a play hardly comes cheap.’
‘But then you need not undertake any public service, even if the magistrates pick you,’ Parmenides assured him. ‘We’ll help you make a case to nominate someone else to take on that obligation. Won’t we, Glaukias?’
The man he appealed to was someone else I recognised, and I was sorry to see him here. Glaukias is one of the most sought-after speech writers in the agora. I had no doubt that he could get Metrobios excused such a civic duty, or anything else he asked.
‘Is there someone you’d like to do that particular disservice?’ the speech writer asked archly. ‘I can make anyone you care to nominate look as rich as Croesus while convincing everyone else that you live modestly within your means.’
‘Look to the future,’ Parmenides urged. ‘Once we see the Ionians condemned as Persian sympathisers, their lands will be ripe for confiscation.’
‘And every field and pasture will be given to the poor from Athens’ slums,’ Metrobios objected.
‘Not all.’ Parmenides shook his head. ‘There will be plenty left for us and our friends, to earn us rents in silver and goods.’
‘Not that the magistrates here will have any idea what those rents may be worth,’ Glaukias said quickly. ‘You need not fear that they’ll add it to what they know of your wealth.’
‘Far from it,’ Parmenides agreed. ‘Indeed, your new foreign holdings will offer a refuge for your income from Attica and any property you hold in Athens. Or you can ship your silver to one of our banks in Crete, in the care of someone you trust. No one will be able to point to your strongboxes lodged here in Athens.’
‘If anyone asks where your money has gone, you can say you are investing in Ionia, for the sake of future peace,’ Glaukias said, mock-piously.
Metrobios still dug in his heels. ‘All my money could be lost if the Persians get wind of this unrest and take it seriously. What if they seize their chance to invade Hellenic lands?’
‘That won’t happen,’ Parmenides promised him. ‘We have agreements with satraps all along the coast. They’ll convince Artaxerxes that this is a passing storm and he’d be most unwise to try riding its currents.’
It’s a good
