Hetaera--Suspense in Ancient Athens (28 page)

Hestia sobbed into the pillow.

What use was freedom for a woman? Even if Lycurgus manumitted her she would not be free, not in any real sense. She had no property, no power. If she were free she would have nothing but her name. Hestia, daughter of Agathon. What use was it to be Agathon’s daughter, if she couldn’t be with the man she loved?

That was the truth of it. She loved Diodorus.

What a fool she’d been, trying to convince herself she didn’t care. She had always loved Diodorus. She loved him as a brother, loved him as a friend, loved him as a woman loves a man. If they couldn’t be together in Eros, they would find a higher love.

She held the pillow and hugged it, imagining Diodorus held her. Peace washed over her and closing her eyes, she drifted into sleep.

A scream echoed through the courtyard.

Hestia opened her eyes, stared at the red wall of her chamber.

The scream came again and she sat up. Gray light filtered through the window. Not yet dawn. She heard footsteps running down the stairway, voices in the courtyard below.

Wearing only her nightshift she hurried from her chamber, ran down the steps two at a time, and rushed toward the screams. A crowd of servants gathered at the door of the library. When Hestia appeared they parted.

“What’s happened?” she asked.

“She did it!” Zosime pointed her finger at Hestia. “I know she did.”

“Did what?”

“You killed him and here’s proof.” Zosime held up a piece of bloody fabric. “Do you deny that this is your himation?”

“It may be mine. I left my shawl last night.”

Hestia pushed past Zosime and entered the library. The gloomy light made it difficult to see. She saw Lycurgus, still lying on the couch where she had left him. She moved toward him. Stopped. Stared and wondered if she might be dreaming. She took another step. He faced away from her, but even at this angle she saw something protruding from his neck. The form began to register.
Her brooch
. Her breath caught in her throat. Blood stains flowed from the gold pin. She walked slowly to the couch, her eyes adjusting to the dim light of the nightmare. But this was not a dream.

She couldn’t breathe. She was choking. A shaking sound came from her throat, grew louder as it reached her mouth and became a high-pitched shriek.

“What have you done?” Zosime said.

The sound rose from her gut and echoed through the house, a piercing scream that knew no end. She stood transfixed, staring at Lycurgus—his severed genitals stuffed into his gaping mouth.

Galenos caught her in his arms. “We must get you out of here,” he said.

“She murdered him,” Zosime said, riling the other servants.

“Out of here, all of you,” Galenos ordered as he carried Hestia from the room.

Outside the door, he set her down. She leaned against a wall, felt the blaming eyes, heard the whispered accusations. The calls for stoning.

“Get back to your work,” Galenos shouted at the servants. “I will contact the authorities. No decisions will be made by this motley group.”

Reluctantly the servants dispersed, glancing back at Hestia. Eager to hear the gory details, they followed Zosime.

“I didn’t do it,” Hestia said.

“I know you didn’t,” Galenos said as he led her away from the courtyard and into an antechamber. “But the evidence looks bad. We must get you out of here.”

“Where will I go?” Hestia could not stop trembling.

“Far from Athens.”

“But I have no one, no money. And if I leave, they will assume me guilty.”

“They will assume you guilty if you remain here. Zosime holds sway, and even now she’s convincing the others of your guilt. Your brooch stabbed Lycurgus, your himation was found soaked with blood, and you were the last to see him. And you had reason to kill him.”

“What reason?”

“Did you not despise Lycurgus? Did you not despair to be his wife?”

“I—suppose so, yes.”

“Stay here and they will stone you before you ever get to trial. Come.” He led her through a side door out into the garden. “I will go with you.”

“Where?”

“You have powerful friends, friends who will protect you.”

“Diodorus?”

“No.” Galenos sounded adamant. “He’s the last person you must run to. We’ll go to Aspasia and plead your case.”

She started toward the pathway leading from the house.

“Not that way,” Galenos said. “Soon all of Athens will be awake and traveling that road. We must take care not to be seen.”

Ducking through a hedge of cypress they escaped the House of Lycurgus. Rocks cut into Hestia’s feet as they scrambled over rough terrain as quickly as her bad foot allowed. The world appeared gray and colorless in the early light of dawn. She paused to catch her breath and heard a noise.

“Hurry,” Galenos whispered. “Soon the sun will rise. There’s no time to waste.”

Hestia glanced over her shoulder.

A dark shape bolted from the shadows. She almost screamed. She broke into a limping run, pushed herself to go faster. Pain jabbed her side and she gulped air. Something shot ahead of her, nearly causing her to trip.

Wolves ran wild in the hills. At night she’d heard them howling.

She saw Galenos up ahead. Saw the dark shadow move toward him and she recognized Odysseus.

D
iodorus hadn’t slept. He’d spent the night preparing, determined to arrive at the House of Lycurgus before first light. He ran the scene through his mind, imagining how it would play out when he confronted Lycurgus—the man whom Melaina claimed was his father.

As soon as Hestia learned that he was not her brother, she would agree to marry him. And if Lycurgus refused to free Hestia, refused to sign the papers proving her to be Athenian, Diodorus would use force.

Twisting the serpent ring around his little finger, he felt a surge of power and felt certain he couldn’t fail. He checked his purse, filled with all the
owls
he could find in case a bribe was needed. He checked his dagger, sharpened in case even a substantial bribe did not convince Lycurgus.

He left the house and walked briskly past mother’s garden toward the stable. The dogs greeted him, jumping onto their hind legs to lap his face. The mule brayed as he approached. He stroked the animal’s nose. Peering into the stall he saw a small, dark figure curled in the hay.

“Calonice?”

The girl woke with a start.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I wanted to stay with Enyi.” Brushing off straw, Calonice stood. “Are you going to get Hestia?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll come with you.”

The girl seemed so eager that Diodorus didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

Diodorus and Calonice arrived at the House of Lycurgus just before dawn. He expected to find a sleeping household, but instead the grounds crawled with Scythians.

Athenians preferred not to be policed by fellow Athenians. Consequently, three hundred Scythian slaves, owned by the state, policed the city, and as the mule clomped along the path leading to the House of Lycurgus, it seemed to Diodorus that half of those police were creeping around the property.

A burly man approached the mule, blocking their progress. He glanced at Calonice and addressed Diodorus, “What business have you here?”

“I’ve come to see the Master of the house.”

“You’ve had business with him before?”

“I was here last night. He’s expecting me this morning. What’s going on?”

“There’s been trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Diodorus jumped down from the mule, his first thought, Hestia.

The policeman held up his hand. He shouted something in Scythian and two men came running. They stood at attention, waiting for orders.

The burly man turned back to Diodorus. “I’m the lokhagos in charge of this investigation. Diodorus of Athens?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll need to question you.” The policeman glanced at Calonice. “This is your slave?”

“Question us about what?”

“There’s been a murder.”

“Who?” Diodorus started toward the house. The policemen caught his arm, stopping him.

“The Master,” the lokhagos said.

“But I saw him only yesterday.”

“That’s why we need to question you. Take him inside. I’ll be there shortly,” the lokhagos said to the other policemen.

Calonice muttered something.

Lifting her from the mule, Diodorus saw that she was trembling. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “We had nothing to do with it.”

After Diodorus tethered the mule to a tree, the policemen led him and Calonice along the path to the entrance of the house. Police were everywhere, inspecting the terrain, exiting doors or entering. They led Diodorus and Calonice up the steps and into the foyer. An excited crowd of servants had gathered in front of the library, all of them talking at once. When they saw Diodorus, the conversation became a murmur.

“He was here.” A serving girl pointed at Diodorus. “He knows the murderer.”

Her hair was dark and her features striking. And though a little worse for wear, she was still beautiful. Vaguely he recalled the flute girl called Zosime.

She raised her voice, “He can tell you about Hestia.”

“Hestia? Where is she?” Diodorus searched the crowd.

“Gone,” Zosime said. “Which proves her guilt.”

“I don’t believe it.” Diodorus moved toward the library, a policeman close at his heels. “Is this where it happened?”

“Yes,” the policeman said.

“I’d like to see the body.”

“No one is allowed in there.”

“Not even family? Lycurgus was my father.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. Diodorus felt the gaze of all their eyes, their curiosity. Saying the words aloud somehow made it real. Lycurgus was his father, not Agathon.

“Lycurgus was your father?” Zosime glared at Diodorus with hatred he couldn’t comprehend. “Then your mother, the wife of Agathon, is the woman who killed my baby. You’re a family of murderers.”

The courtyard grew quiet, the only sound the fountain’s rush of water.

“R
emember what I told you,” Aspasia said. “You must remain hidden beneath the hay until you are well out of Athens, preferably past Eleusis. The wagon is slow, but you should arrive there before nightfall.” She pressed a purse into Hestia’s hands. “This will carry you. All in all, the journey to Delphi will take about ten days. Once there, you’ll be in good hands.”

Hestia kissed Aspasia on both cheeks. “Thank you for believing me.”

“Some may claim Lycurgus deserved to die.”

“Perhaps I really did kill him,” Hestia said. “I gave him sleeping potion.”

“Not enough to die.” Galenos tugged the brim of his floppy hat, part of his disguise.

“From the way things ended,” Aspasia said. “He was more than dead.”

“Many will say he got what he deserved.” Galenos spat on the ground. Anger held his voice, “Lycurgus had plenty of enemies. Athens is better without him.”

He spoke with so much passion that Hestia and Aspasia exchanged a glance.

They stood in the stables behind the House of Pericles. The statesman had left for the agora before the fugitives arrived. Aspasia claimed it was just as well that he knew nothing of the matter.

She clapped her hands. “I guess we’d better say goodbye. I’ll tell Pericles I gave this old donkey cart to a farmer in need.” She turned to Galenos. “And you, my friend, really do look like a farmer.”

“Not my usual dress, but it serves a purpose.”

Using walnut juice, the eunuch had stained his pale skin brown. Instead of his brightly colored tunic, he wore a peasant’s robe of sakkos and a wide-brimmed hat that came down almost to his nose.

“You know the way?” Aspasia asked. Before either of them could answer, she said, “From Eleusis you continue on to Thebes, then Levadia, and finally Delphi. Chances are the authorities will assume you’ve gone to Piraeus and hope to sail. That should buy you a few hours.”

“Thank you,” Hestia said. “What will you do if someone followed us? If they suspect you helped me?”

“If they question me, I’ll steer them in the wrong direction. Once you’re past Eleusis, you should be safe from Athenian authority, but be careful of highwaymen.”