‘Who was that man looking for you before the festival?’ Phrynichos asked as he sat. ‘That Ionian?’
‘He had some mad notion that the Delian League tribute was to be reassessed,’ I said casually. ‘I told him he was mistaken but he didn’t want to hear it. Do you know who recommended me? Who gave him my name?’
Phrynichos considered this for a moment, his face open and honest as far as I could tell. ‘He’d been asking about everyone who’d been awarded a chorus. He wanted someone with a solid record of wins before the courts but when he found out how much that would cost him, he started looking for someone good but cheap. He told me your name kept coming up.’ He grinned at me.
‘I suppose there are worse reputations to have,’ I managed to say lightly before changing the subject. ‘Where’s the historian from Halicarnassus gone?’ That gave me an excuse for openly scanning the colonnade’s shadows.
‘Giving a series of lectures at the Academy.’ Phrynichos studied the crowd criss-crossing the agora, alert for any potential customer.
‘Who’s that with Glaukias?’ I wondered casually. ‘I’m sure I should know his name.’
Phrynichos glanced over his shoulder, uninterested. ‘Stratonides.’
‘Of course.’ I waved a rueful hand at my apparent forgetfulness.
‘Good day.’ A weary-looking man approached us. ‘My son’s ship has been lost at sea. We need a verse for his memorial.’
Phrynichos was on his feet first, though he waited politely to see if I wanted to compete for the commission.
I waved him on. ‘Go ahead.’
I was more interested in watching Glaukias and Stratonides, because they’d just been joined by Parmenides, the fake orator who’d started the riot here on the first day of the festival.
The rest of the morning passed in similar fashion. A handful of notable men stopped to exchange a few words with Glaukias. Each time Parmenides popped up from wherever he was lurking. He escorted the men away, leaning confidentially close. I committed their names to memory with increasing misgivings. This conspiracy seemed to be growing more heads than a hydra.
Meantime, I took on two commissions. A heartfelt eulogy for a beloved grandfather found peacefully dead in his bed. A speech for an indignant farmer from Acharnae ready to argue his case in court. He had been summoned to the city to answer an accusation that he’d fraudulently moved a boundary stone to encroach on a neighbour’s more fertile land.
The Acharnaean was so outraged that I was pretty sure he was innocent. As a rule I don’t ask, or even try to guess. My job is shaping a client’s arguments into their most convincing form. I leave justice to Olympian Zeus.
Around noon the Acharnaean was finally satisfied that I understood the enormity of his neighbour’s offence. I reckoned he had a strong case. He certainly had an impressive list of arguments and witnesses to put forward in his own defence.
We agreed to meet at noon three days hence, when I would show him my draft of his speech. The man departed, hissing under his breath. I was reminded of my mother’s ferrets when something irritates them. As I gazed after the Acharnaean, I could almost imagine him lashing a fluffed-up tail, twisting this way and that as he eased his way through the crowd. Ferrets as a comedy chorus was an interesting idea. Sosimenes could make them some fabulous masks. But could I weave enough of a story around that idea to make a play?
I stood up, ostensibly to stretch my legs after sitting down for so long. Twisting, I feigned easing a stiff neck as I watched Parmenides approach Glaukias once again. The writer was turning to the slave who kept him supplied with papyrus and pens as well as fetching wine for new clients. The slave gathered everything together and folded up the table and stools. So Glaukias was leaving. If he intended to return after lunch, he’d have left his slave sitting there. I knew that was his usual custom.
‘Time for something to eat,’ I announced to the colonnade in general.
Phrynichos waved a vague acknowledgement. He was deep in conversation with a man wanting a bridal hymn for his daughter’s wedding.
I sauntered through the agora following Glaukias and Parmenides. Enough other people were going in the same direction for that to be unremarkable. This time though, I was acutely alert for any hint of someone following me. I wasn’t going to be caught out a second time.
They went to a discreet tavern in a side street to the north of the agora. It looked like an expensive place, and one with a very select clientele. A solicitous, implacable waiter directed passers-by who showed any interest to a less exclusive drinking den on the corner.
I strode past like a man on his way to an important meeting, his mind on other things. Turning the corner, I ducked back to lurk behind the posts of the drinking den’s vine-clad porch. Athena be thanked, I could get a clear view of the table where Glaukias and Parmenides were sitting. A deft slave was setting out a generous lunch for them to share. A few moments later, Nikandros joined them.
‘Can I help you?’ The drinking den’s owner plucked at my elbow.
‘Almost certainly,’ I assured him. ‘I’ll be back very soon.’
Leaving the baffled man behind me, I headed for the Kerameikos district, walking as quickly as I could. I’d have preferred to run, but that risked attracting unwanted attention.
The workshop door stood open, with all the potters back at their wheels and the painters at their benches decorating the bowls, vases and wine vessels that had been left to dry out over the festival. Kadous spared me
