The Pericles Commission (27 page)

“That was the idea.” I was in such agony; I understood for the first time why they leave it to fathers to arrange marriages. Doing it for yourself is worse than a trip to Hades.

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Are you sure?”

I said quickly, “It’s all right, I understand if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t have anything, not even a place for you to live. Father would disown me of course. I don’t even know if I could feed us. At least if you stay here you’ll have security and enough to eat.”

“Okay.”

“The sensible thing is for you to stay and—What was that?”

“I said okay. I’ll come with you.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”

She smiled nervously. “No, but I just said yes and my heart feels good about it, so I guess the answer is yes.”

If it’s possible for a man to be locked in a condemned cell and ecstatically happy, then I was that man.

A message boy appeared. He handed me a scrap of papyrus. On it Pericles had scrawled,
Conon refuses to free you. The only way out is to win the trial. It’s set for tomorrow.

I silently handed the parchment to Diotima. She read, then crumpled the message in her fist. “Oh well, so much for that plan.”

I spent the rest of the day reviewing the case with Pericles. He refused to have Diotima present, so she departed for the Temple of Artemis. He dismissed the entire edifice of our discoveries as too convoluted to convince a jury.

“To prove your theory, you would have to take the jury through the inner machinations of the Council of the Areopagus; expose divisions within the democratic movement; denounce Themistocles, whom many still believe was the savior of Hellas, and explain our banking system to men who’ve probably never had enough money to save a drachma. To top it off, you need to rely on the testimony of a low innkeeper, a drunken shortsighted sailor, and three men who are dead, two of whom are slaves and whose testimony would have been invalid except under torture.”

This matched my own gloomy view so closely that I could only nod and ask, “So what do you propose?”

“That we take the opposite course, and demonstrate merely that the murderer could not have been you. Above all else, everything must be simple. Take care to remember, Nicolaos, men rarely make decisions with their thoughts. It is their emotions that guide their actions. And in a criminal trial, it is how they feel about the accused that matters far more than the facts. You must ensure you come to trial as a presentable young man and a fine upstanding citizen. Make sure you are washed and properly dressed. Be modest in your manners. You must speak on the second day, but then you are permitted to hand over your defense to a friend.” Pericles winced. “That will be me.”

The first day consisted of witness depositions, and would have been boring had my life not hinged on the outcome. The presiding archon was one of the lesser of the nine archons. He looked at me as if I were a curious object. “Ah, so you are the infamous Nicolaos. Both the Eponymous Archon and the Polemarch have spoken of you, frequently. I must say, you don’t look like an evil spirit sent to harass Athens. I’m rather disappointed, really. Well, let’s hear what the witnesses have to say. Thank the Gods I won’t have to hear the full case. I leave that to the Council of the Areopagus.”

Conon called the son of Brasidas as his first witness. I discovered the boy’s name was Phomion. He looked at me in anger and spat at me. He recounted the end of the conversation he had overheard, my words, “…or you could find yourself dead.” The father was found the next day with his throat slit, the only evidence a shard of pottery clutched in his hand with my name scratched upon it. He asserted only I could have murdered his father. He was now required to support his mother and sister. To that end he had taken over his father’s business, but the takings were poor because the customers of his father had fled to more experienced bowyers and the family was starving. He ended with a demand for compensation of ten talents.

The next witness for the prosecution was Rizon. He testified to my proclivity to senseless violence. I had struck him down without the slightest provocation within his own home and later had manhandled him at Piraeus. Rizon offered up his slaves for torture to confirm the account.

The stallholders of the Agora came forward to testify to the damage I had done while chasing a poor defenseless boy, whom I had suddenly turned upon. He had sprinted off in fear of his own life. The boy hadn’t been seen again, no doubt his corpse was rotting in a secret grave.

The innkeeper who’d been pushed into his laundry tub testified I had tried to drown him, holding his head underwater. Only his valiant struggles had saved him from the demented lunatic. He demanded compensation of five talents.

Piece by piece, Conon built the picture of a man given to sudden murderous attacks against anyone unlucky enough to be nearby when the madness took him.

“The evidence of the son of Brasidas is damaging,” Pericles whispered to me. “The rest can be dismissed one way or another. Fortunately the key is Ephialtes. If you did not kill him, then you had no reason to harm Brasidas or the slaves. We will concentrate on showing you could not have murdered him.”

I nodded my understanding. I hadn’t truly believed this was happening to me. Now that the trial had begun I was struck down by the seriousness of it all. Pericles knew more about the workings of Athens than I ever would, and I was more than happy to leave the strategy to him.

“You will claim you went to see Brasidas about a bow. You have no idea why he was killed but it was certainly nothing to do with your investigation. The son misheard your words.”

I objected. “But that would be lying!”

“Yes, that’s the usual way to win a court case. Don’t talk so loudly, they’ll hear you.”

For the defense we had but two witnesses. The first was Pericles himself. He gave a simple account of the discovery of Ephialtes.

The second witness was Pythax. He gave an accurate account of my appearance at the barracks and the discovery of the bow, and certified it had been made by Brasidas. He ended by describing my struggle with Aristodicus and the ending of it.

The next day the trial began in earnest at dawn. It was held fittingly upon the Rock of the Areopagus, within the chamber of the Council. For a crime of this type, and given the importance of the victim, there were more than the usual number of dicasts assigned to hear it. Pericles scanned them as they filed in and said to me, “A thousand and one in the jury.”

“Is that good?” I asked anxiously.

He shrugged. “It’s both good and bad. The more dicasts, the bigger an audience we have to play to, and the more the trial hinges on who can entertain them the best. That’s good for us because Conon is a boring pedagogue whereas I am a great speaker,” said the modest Pericles. “On the other hand, large juries often provide closer results. Whether your notoriety will work for or against us I don’t know.”

“I’m notorious?”

“You should hear what they’re saying in the Agora.”

The dicasts sat along both sides of the chamber. Tiered wooden benches held them all, though barely.

Spectators stood at the back of the room. I nodded to Lysimachus, who looked grave. Archestratus stood in the front row, standing next to his son.

The judges sat at the front. This being a case of homicide, the judges were all chosen from the ranks of the Council of the Areopagus. I didn’t need Pericles to tell me that was bad for me. The entire Council filed in and took their seats. The full Council were essentially spectators at the proceedings. There were three seats placed at the fore for the chief judge and his two assistants. Now Xanthippus marched in and took the position of Chief Judge. That shook Pericles, who muttered, “He never told me. They must be doing this because they think I’ll be more restrained with my own father in the chair. Well, they have something to learn.”

The second seat next to Xanthippus was taken by Lysanias. I felt good about that, I thought Lysanias liked me. The third and final seat was taken by a man I didn’t recognize. Pericles snorted. “Demotion. He’s a toady to my father, we can expect him to agree with anything Xanthippus says.”

The dicasts were sworn in, repeating in unison the words, “I swear to vote according to the laws of Athens. I will never vote for a repudiation of debts, nor to restore before their time those who have been ostracized. I will not accept any bribe or offer for my vote, and if any man offers me such I will report him. I will not accept or take any bribe on behalf of another. I will hear both sides impartially and vote strictly according to the merits of the case. Thus do I invoke Zeus, Poseidon, and Demeter to destroy me and my house if I violate any of these obligations, and to send me many blessings if I obey them well.”

Xanthippus made the sacrifice. When he was done a slave brought him a basin of water and a towel to wash his bloodied hands. I noticed there was a spot that did not come out, but thought it impolitic to mention.

Xanthippus declared, “Let the prosecution begin.”

Conon led the dicasts through the same logic he had developed the day before: the story of a man given to senseless violence when you least expect it. His evidence was convincing and I saw the nearest dicasts draw back as Conon’s speech went on. He stopped at various times to read the evidence of Phomion, the evidence of the stallholders, and of all his other witnesses one after the other. After each reading the witness stood to confirm it had happened as Conon had said.

His manner was every bit as pedagogic as Pericles had said, and despite the sensationalism of the case I saw some dicasts beginning to drop off. Pericles leaned over to me and whispered, “He should have stopped an hour ago. Conon thinks he’s making sure of his case by hammering every single point against you in minute detail, but what he’s actually doing is boring the people whose minds he needs to keep active. Take heart. Most of the dicasts will never remember all his detail, and at least some of them will forget his main points too.”

But the dicasts were saved from boredom by an unexpected arrival.

I knew nothing of it until a minor commotion broke out at the back of the room. That was nothing unusual in an Athenian courtroom, but when the rumble became louder I turned to see the men standing at the entrance part, revealing a figure standing silhouetted against the bright light outside.

Euterpe swayed into the center of the chamber. She was wearing what for her was conservative dress: a standard matron’s robe of expensive but opaque material. Nevertheless, it was firmly fitted. She had tied a broad belt around her waist so that her hips and breasts were well outlined.

Even the judges were too stunned to protest. No one was sleeping now.

“I am a modest woman,” she began quietly. I stifled my laughter. “I know full well it is not the place of a modest woman such as myself to soil this august chamber with the presence of a mere woman. Imagine for yourselves then the pressure I must bear, the agony in my heart that forces me to plead with the wise men of the jury. My husband is dead, gentlemen, foully murdered. Yes, I know only too well we were never husband and wife in law, and you wise men know only too well the social demands that require a man to stay with convention. But husband and wife we were in every important sense of the words. And that is why today I must do what the Gods call upon me to do, to avenge the murder of my man.”

Euterpe suddenly tore away her dress, exposing her bare breasts to the jury. The jurors were overjoyed. They stamped their feet, cheered, and whistled. Xanthippus and the Council were aghast but shifted position for a closer look. I myself studied her attractions with great appreciation. So that’s what she’d been rubbing up and down my chest. I wondered if Diotima was similarly endowed.

Euterpe raised her arms in supplication and gave everyone a better view. “Look upon me, men of Athens!” As one, the jury obliged. It’s a good thing they were seated, or their chitons would all have been poking out at the front.

“Look upon me, men of Athens! I am but a poor woman deprived of her man by the hand of a perfidious murderer. I am destitute, distraught! Yes, I know what is said about me, those cruel rumors. Forget them! Think only of Ephialtes. Who can deny he loved me? He stayed with me for more than two decades in the face of malignant gossip. Ours was a true, abiding love, but we were torn asunder by foul murder. And I know that you loved Ephialtes, the man who led your democracy and was never anything but forthright and honest. Yes, you loved him too, though not, perhaps, in quite the same way as I.” Laughter filled the chamber.

“Who was the man who did this? What creature of evil dared to take the life of the one we loved above all others? The deed was done by
that man
!”

Euterpe kept her body facing the jury and pointed dramatically with her left arm. Her face turned to the man she accused, emphasizing her lovely neck; her eyes flashed with malice and beauty.

Every head in the room turned to Conon, the Eponymous Archon. He turned bright red and spluttered. If there’d been somewhere to hide I’m sure he would have dived for cover.

Someone in the jury shouted, “Death!” Other men took it up and the chant of “Death! Death! Death!” carried to Conon.

Pericles leaned toward me and asked, “Did you arrange this?”

“No! I thought you must have.”

“Not I.” He studied her and murmured, “She’s really quite good. It’s a pity we can’t recruit her for the democratic movement. Can you imagine that performance before the Ecclesia?”

“Order! Order I say!” Xanthippus roared across the chamber. “Guards, throw that woman out.”

“Wait!” Lysanias turned to Xanthippus and said in a voice loud enough to reach the far wall, “The accusation has been made. We must hear the reason for it.”

Xanthippus retorted, “We are here for the trial of Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus, not to hear random slurs against our highest executive and, I might add, the prosecutor of this case. This is obviously a charade put up by the defense to distract our attention.”

“Yet if she speaks true, then the young man is certainly innocent.”

The jurors were chanting, “More! More! More!”

Xanthippus saw that he had no choice. “Very well, woman. What is your ridiculous reason for this baseless accusation? And be quick about it, we don’t have all day. And put on your dress.”