I don’t think I quite managed to emulate Aristarchos’s cold poise but I reckoned Lysicrates would say I’d performed well enough.
Mikos’s lip curled, grudging. As I’d hoped, if honour couldn’t make him do the right thing, fear of disgrace among all his friends and associates made him reconsider.
‘Give that here.’ He stretched out his hand for the papyrus.
‘No.’ I twitched it out of his reach. ‘I need to speak to your wife myself.’
I didn’t trust him not to come back and swear that Onesime didn’t recognise Nikandros, whatever she might actually say. I also wanted two citizen witnesses to whatever she said. I was sure I could find some threat or reward to compel Mikos to give evidence in court.
‘What do you want?’ Onesime appeared behind him. Alke must have fetched her mistress. The little slave cowered a few paces away.
Taken by surprise, Mikos stood there dithering. I seized the initiative and raised the portrait so that Onesime could see it.
‘Do you recognise this man?’
She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘He was one of those who brought the dead man here. One of the gang who painted your wall.’
‘Thank you.’
Mikos interrupted with a weak man’s belligerence. ‘Be off with you then. You’ve got what you wanted. Don’t bother me about this again.’
I bowed low, mostly to hide my contempt. When I stood up, my face was an expressionless mask. ‘You are to be commended, citizen, that your wife understands her duty to Athens so clearly, and that she has taught her slave the same. I trust you will show them your approval.’
I looked Mikos in the eye, unblinking, and hoped that he understood that I’d find some way to make him regret it if we heard Alke’s wails as she was beaten this evening, or if Zosime saw Onesime with bruises at the fountain tomorrow.
He muttered something wordless and slammed his gate shut.
I turned to Kadous and Zosime, still standing silently by our own doorposts. ‘So now we know for certain.’ I walked across the lane and kissed Zosime before unlocking the gate. ‘Don’t open up to anyone we don’t know.’ I handed the key to Kadous.
‘Watch your back.’ The big Phrygian looked troubled.
‘It’s broad daylight.’ I tried to reassure him. ‘The streets are busy, and don’t forget, these people have no idea that we’re out to foil their plans.’
He glowered at me. ‘That hasn’t stopped them trying to kill you.’
‘True enough.’ I could hardly deny it. ‘Which is why I’ll go and see Aristarchos, and be back here as fast as I can. I swear it.’ I glanced at Zosime to include her in this promise.
‘Make sure you are.’ Her expression was unreadable as she turned and went into our courtyard.
I waited until Kadous bolted the gate before heading back to the city. Passing the Hermes pillar, I asked the god’s blessing as I promised myself a day of sitting in the sunshine, going nowhere and doing nothing but reading poetry, once all this was done and dusted.
Passing through the Itonian Gate, I followed the Panathenaic Way through the city. I didn’t take the turn that would lead me to Aristarchos’s house, continuing through the Kerameikos district and on to the Dipylon Gate. I hadn’t said I was only going to Aristarchos’s house.
As I followed the road that led to the Academy, I quickened my pace, constantly checking the sun. I had a fair way to go and the daylight was starting to yellow. I absolutely needed to be done with this errand well before sunset.
Reaching the Academy, I skirted the sacred grove of olive trees and ignored the athletics and wrestling grounds, heading for the sanctuary where the healers gathered.
The first doctor who passed me assessed my bruises with an expert eye. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’d like to speak to Spintharos, if that’s possible,’ I asked politely. ‘My name is Philocles and I’m here on business for Aristarchos Phytalid.’
That was true enough, even if Aristarchos didn’t know it yet. When the brute Iktinos had mentioned the Academy, I’d remembered the name of the doctor whom Lydis had summoned to tend young Tur’s broken nose and bruises. Athena willing, he’d have a few more of the answers we needed. Then we might finally have enough pieces to fit together to show everyone the whole picture on this amphora.
‘I imagine he’ll be able to see you. Wait here.’ The doctor waved me towards a modest colonnade where a handful of patients sat morosely on benches.
I took a seat as far away as possible from anyone who looked remotely contagious and hoped that Spintharos would arrive quickly. As soon as a tall, lean-faced man in a blue tunic appeared and started scanning the glum-faced gathering, I stood up.
‘Excuse me, I’m Philocles—’
‘I know who you are.’ An unexpected smile lightened his severe features. ‘I enjoyed your play very much.’
‘Thank you, I appreciate that.’ I allowed myself a moment to bask in that compliment. Then I led him a short distance from the colonnade, far enough not to be overheard. ‘Can you tell me anything about a man called Iktinos? Does he train here? Though, please, keep this to yourself. He’s—’
‘You don’t need to warn me about him,’ Spintharos said tersely. ‘I’ve treated enough injuries he’s caused.’
‘Who is he?’
‘A wrestler by trade, supposedly in training for the next Nemean Games. I believe Megakles Kerykes pays his expenses.’ The doctor didn’t hide his scepticism.
‘You don’t seem convinced,’ I prompted.
‘He doesn’t train like any athlete I’ve known.
