‘When you have holdings of your own in Ionia you’ll be well placed to profit from Persian trade,’ Glaukias observed slyly.
‘You’re sure the Medes aren’t really our enemy?’ Metrobios seemed to be weakening. ‘Because my sons will be called up as hoplites if you tip us into a war. We’re not all cavalrymen.’
He looked enviously at the well-born around the room. As well as Megakles I recognised men from the Thaulonid and Eteoboutid lineages. Though if I was right, they were both public debtors, named and shamed by the People’s Assembly. They would remain stripped of citizen privileges and denied any chance of high office until they paid what they owed to the city. No wonder they were interested in this.
‘You need not worry about that.’
Parmenides spoke at the same time as Glaukias.
‘There are always ways to make sure that the right men are excused from the muster, when any order to summon the draft goes out to the district brotherhoods.’
‘Is that so?’ Metrobios raised his cup to summon the slave who was circulating with a jug of wine dipped from the mixing bowl.
It was a good thing I was effectively gagged by the pipe halter and twin reeds in my mouth. Otherwise I could have told this trio what I thought of their treachery. As it was, I swallowed my ire and retreated behind the other musicians.
Megakles was preparing a fourth serving of wine. I consoled myself with that well-known saying about drinking at banquets. The first cupful promotes health while the second warms the flesh for pleasure, though none of these men looked interested in fondling the dancers. A third cup promises easy sleep and the wise all agree that’s as much as a man should drink.
A fourth serving? That’s a sign of hubris, according to popular wisdom. Arrogance. Vainglorious display. Contempt for the gods and humanity alike. Yes, that’s what this was. I fervently hoped I would be a witness when Athena punished these men, as they so richly deserved. I spared a moment of silent prayer to humbly offer the goddess my own hands as her tools.
Meantime, I wondered what inducements Aristarchos was being offered, over on the far side of the room. He was sharing a couch with a man of a similar age and confident bearing. Aristarchos already knew him, judging by their easy conversation, readily resumed after they broke off to politely applaud the dancers.
We couldn’t talk tonight without arousing suspicion. I’d have to call on him first thing tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following day, I walked Zosime to the pottery workshop and cut back across the agora to Aristarchos’s house. I discovered my noble patron and Lydis were already hard at work. They sat at opposite ends of a long table set up in the inner courtyard. Papyrus covered the polished wood, in single sheets and scrolls. More scroll baskets were lined up on the paving.
Lydis was busy writing, his fingers stained with ink. A sheaf of drying letters awaited the imprint of Aristarchos’s seal ring.
‘Good morning.’ Aristarchos spared me a smile, sorting through a handful of documents. ‘What did you learn last night?’
As I related what I’d overheard, Lydis set the half-written letter aside and made notes on a fresh sheet of papyrus. Once I’d finished, I waited for Aristarchos to tell me about his evening but he looked at his slave instead. ‘Make the same enquiries about Metrobios and Thrasymachos.’
‘What are you asking about?’ I was curious.
‘This and that.’ Aristarchos’s grim expression promised no good at all to the men who’d gathered in that dining room. ‘Marshalling facts.’
This sounded promising. ‘What can I do to help?’
He raised a forefinger to tally his requests. ‘Call on your brothers and ask them to make enquiries of other craftsmen, to see who’s stockpiling wood or wool, linen or metals, just as Nikandros has been amassing hides and leather. Discreetly, and only approaching men whom they trust.’
‘Of course.’ I didn’t need that warning.
Aristarchos raised a second finger. ‘Go to the agora. Take your usual seat in the Painted Colonnade so passers-by can offer you writing commissions. Keep an eye on Glaukias. Take note of anyone who comes to talk to him. If they’re strangers, ask around. See if you can learn their names.’
‘By all means.’ I’d brought my bag of writing materials with me. If Aristarchos hadn’t needed me after this conversation, I’d planned on heading for the agora to get back to work like everyone else.
Lydis glanced up, a question in his eyes. Aristarchos acknowledged his slave with a placating gesture.
‘You can also save Lydis some walking. Call on your actors. We want to know who Strato and Leukippos have dealings with in the next few days. Ask Hyanthidas to find out if any of our friends from last night are hosting their own banquets, especially Thrasymachos or Metrobios.’
‘Anything else?’ Though that would keep me pretty busy.
Aristarchos looked even grimmer, if such a thing were possible. ‘Think of a way to find proof that these men deliberately set out to stir up unrest in Ionia, with malicious intent. At the moment, we can only prove that they’re gluttons keen to gorge on the consequences.’
‘Megakles didn’t let slip anything useful?’ I was disappointed.
‘Megakles doesn’t know anything much at all, as far as I could tell. He was saying that he’s handed over much of the day-to-day running of his business to Nikandros.’ Aristarchos’s scorn showed what he thought of that. ‘Megakles is devoting his leisure time to the arts and to drinking.’
‘So Nikandros is at the centre of all this?’ I looked at Aristarchos, dubious.
‘Seems unlikely, doesn’t it?’ he agreed.
I had no answer to that. In the silence, we heard the gate open and the low rumble of Mus’s voice.
The Pargasarenes entered the courtyard, and I was relieved to see that Tur’s face was less swollen today. He could open both his eyes, though his bruises were now nauseating shades of
