‘May his studies prosper.’ I spoke more out of respect for Athena than any hope of Nikandros learning lasting wisdom.
‘Hipparchos had better prove equally industrious when he returns to the city, though he will be studying at the Lyceum. He should make a better class of friends there,’ Aristarchos said acidly, ‘whatever his mother may think of their lineage.’
To my surprise, he hesitated. What he said next startled me even more.
‘I would be grateful if you’d allow Hipparchos to observe you working on my speeches for the People’s Assembly, in favour of the Delian League tribute reassessment. Show him how you use the Carians’ evidence as the basis for our case. How you anticipate and counter the arguments you expect will be raised against us.’
‘Of course.’ I could afford to play tutor while he was paying me so handsomely. Besides, Hipparchos’s offences had been in a different league to Nikandros’s conspiracy. Aristarchos’s son had been arrogant and gullible but if those were ever called crimes, half the young men in Hellas would be driven into exile.
‘Thank you.’ Aristarchos smiled briefly.
The Carians had retreated from Xandyberis’s grave so Aristarchos went forward to make his own offering and pray to the gods below.
Azamis, Sarkuk and Tur came over to me and Zosime. The old man had been weeping but his faded eyes were at peace. He clutched the oil flask and smiled at Zosime. ‘Thank you, dear girl, once again. His family will treasure this gift.’
‘It’s the least I could do.’ She embraced the old man and he kissed her forehead like a grandfather.
I offered my hand to Sarkuk. ‘We’ll tend his grave at every festival until you return.’
‘Until the Panathenaia.’ The Pargasarene clasped my forearm like a warrior.
‘Commend him to Tarhunzas,’ Tur said abruptly. Realising that sounded ungracious, he tried to make amends. ‘As well as to Athena and Dionysos. We will entreat Tarhunzas to watch over you and yours, in our gratitude for all you have done.’
‘Thank you.’ I was willing to accept an unknown god’s blessing in this mutual spirit of goodwill.
Aristarchos completed his obsequies for the dead man and joined us. We walked back to the city where Ambrakis and some other slaves waited by the Dipylon Gate with the Carians’ baggage. They would escort the three men to Piraeus and see them safely aboard their ship. We said our final goodbyes and watched them set off on their long journey home.
‘Shall we find a cup of wine in the agora?’ Aristarchos suggested. ‘I’d like to hear your ideas for your next play.’
‘I’ve nothing much as yet,’ I confessed.
Aristarchos wasn’t troubled. ‘It’s early days. Still, we must make sure that you have enough time to prepare,’ he said as we walked down the Sacred Way back towards the heart of the city. ‘You want to be ready well before you’re called to read for the new year’s magistrates. We cannot allow this work on the Ionians’ behalf to spoil your chances of being awarded another Dionysia chorus.’
I felt Zosime’s fingers entwine with mine. She had no doubt that I would get another chance to compete with a new comedy next year. Aristarchos wouldn’t be my paymaster though if I won that honour. No man, however wealthy, could be expected to bear such an obligation for two years in a row. I could only pray that Apollo would send me another such agreeable patron.
As we reached the agora, I gazed up at the Acropolis, at those ancient ruins and the bright new temples replacing them. I wondered what good fortune and unexpected challenges blessed Athena might send me in the months to come.
Meantime, I knew where to get a fine jugful of wine to wash away any lingering sadness after the Pargasarenes’ departure. We could sit beneath the plane trees in the agora, discussing ideas for comic plays as we watched the Athenian populace pass by.
I turned to Aristarchos. ‘Let me introduce you to a friend of mine called Elpis.’
Acknowledgements
I’ll confess to a fair amount of trepidation about embarking on a project like this after decades away from serious academic study. I owe sincere thanks to Tony Keen, for his initial and ongoing encouragement, and for a very useful reading list in the earliest stages of this venture. I am similarly grateful to Edward James, and to Kari Sperring, for reading the first draft with suitably critical rigour, and assuring me that it passed muster as entertainment as well as found the right touch with historical research.
Through the writing and rewriting, I am indebted to Julia and Philip Cresswell for cups of tea and conversation to sustain me before and after visits to the Bodleian, and to the Ashmolean. Their interest and sustained enthusiasm for Philocles’s adventures were invaluable throughout the Herculean labour of submissions to agents and editors. I’m similarly grateful to Gill Oliver for her unfailing belief that the book would land on the right desk at the right time, especially on those days when my own stamina was flagging.
Sincere thanks go to Sam Copeland, for putting me in touch with Max Edwards, who is now representing Philocles at Mulcahy Associates. I am hugely grateful to Max for bringing fresh eyes and excellent suggestions to the final round of revisions, as well as for his indefatigable determination to find the right editor for this book. He’s certainly succeeded. Craig Lye at Orion is a pleasure to work with, as well as a consummate professional, and his input has improved this book through each successive phase of editing.
Catching up with thirty years of classical scholarship would have been utterly impossible without the ability to search for,
