“If I could think of anything that would exonerate me, don’t you think I’d mention it?” he said angrily. “I know full well how bad my position looks.”
I had nothing to say.
Diotima tapped her foot. “Well?”
“All right, yes, it’s as you say,” Lakon said miserably. “Romanos came to me several years ago. He accused me of … ah … pretense.”
“You mean fraud,” Diotima said.
“Romanos was more polite. For my silence he required me to promote his career.”
“Was he polite about that too?”
“Rather forceful. He pointed out that since I’d won my position by foul means, that I could help him do the same.”
“What did Romanos want you to do?”
“Oh, introduce him to men of influence, such as that ghastly choregos, Thodis.”
“Anyone else?”
“Almost everyone who was anyone. He was particularly interested in men of a commercial nature. I presume their money was the attraction.” Lakon waved his hand airily. He was regaining confidence. “And now I have told you everything.”
Diotima and I turned without a word and made for the door.
“Wait!”
Diotima and I both stopped.
Lakon said, “What are you going to do about my … ah … indiscretion?”
“I don’t know,” I said coldly. “We haven’t decided yet.”
SCENE 31
Since we were in the area we decided to see how Petros, Maia, and the other Phrygians were settling into Diotima’s house. I wanted to make sure they hadn’t done any damage.
Diotima’s birth father had lived in one of the more salubrious demes to the north of the agora. The people there had gone to some trouble to prettify the street for the Dionysia. Chains of flowers hung along the walls. The hermae-the busts of Hermes placed outside every door to bring good luck to those who passed-were scrubbed clean. A few keen home owners had even washed their front walls and swept the road beyond their doors.
Diotima’s house was presentable on the outside, which was a relief. What was disconcerting was the amount of loud bashing emanating from inside. I instantly had thoughts of the last tenants, who had trashed the place and then run off to their home cities. Diotima and I shared a worried look. I flung open the door and walked in unannounced, the better to catch them at whatever they were doing.
“Nicolaos!”
Petros stood in the courtyard. He was dusty and sweaty, wearing nothing but a loin cloth.
“We weren’t expecting you,” he said.
I walked in, with Diotima right behind.
“What’s happening?” I said.
Three men behind Petros were crowded about the wall, the one the previous tenants had damaged.
“We’re only doing a few small renovations,” Petros said.
At that moment the courtyard’s back wall crashed to the ground. One of the men shouted in triumph. They stepped back. I saw then that they’d torn down the smashed surface that the rich man had kicked in.
Another man walked over. He carried pine panels that were pristine and straight. One of the first three checked the peg holes in the uprights. He declared them good for reuse and they proceeded to hammer in the new panels.
Yet another man was bent over a pot which he stirred, brushes beside him. He was ready to repaint the repairs.
“I hope you like the color.” Petros pointed. Diotima and I turned to see they had already repainted the rest of the courtyard walls, in a pastel blue with a red key pattern on the top and bottom. “It’s not fancy,” Petros apologized.
“It’s lovely,” Diotima said. “Do you know, the place looks quite different.”
Yes, it did. Every bit of damage from the previous tenants had been fixed. The destroyed furniture had disappeared, to be mysteriously replaced by newly built tables and chairs.
“Where did you get the timber for this?” I asked.
“Oh, odds and ends, from carpenters who didn’t need it,” Petros said with a straight face, as two men walked past carrying a thick beam of naval quality. That beam had probably been intended for the keel of a trireme. On the other hand, it would be the perfect structural support for the wall in the kitchen, the one where the second storey above had begun to sag.
“We metics have to be quite resourceful,” Petros added.
“So I see.”
I wondered if I could be charged with theft. But no, of course I couldn’t. I hadn’t asked the Phrygians to steal all this material.
Or had I? I’d said to Petros that the house was rent-free as long as they maintained it. Perhaps the Phrygians had interpreted my terms with a wink and a nod. Which I certainly hadn’t intended.
Then I wondered if I should order Petros to put it all back. But if I did that, they would have to tear it out of Diotima’s house.
They had done such a good job. It was far better than I could have done.
If I pretended not to have seen what I’d seen, would that make me complicit in their theft? At the very least I would be in their debt, and like it nor not, these people were suspects.
It occurred to me that Petros was smarter than he looked.
“Would you like to see the roof?” Petros asked.
“Will I have to close my eyes while I see it?” I asked.
He laughed.
The stairs up to the women’s quarters didn’t creak. The treads had been replaced with new boards of thick pine. The Phrygians must have worked non-stop to have done so much so quickly.
Petros opened the door. It swung quietly. Someone had oiled the hinges.
The women’s quarters looked like a village had camped there. Where the rooms had once housed four women, now there were nine separate spaces set out on the floor with bed rolls around each.
“I hadn’t quite appreciated how many of you there were,” I said.
“Nine families,” Petros said briefly. “I thought you knew.”
In the middle was the ladder I had climbed. It reached up into the thatching. Though there were no visible feet upon it, yet the ladder wobbled from time to time.
Petros peered up. “How are you two doing up there?” he called.
“It’s gonna take a while, Petros,” an invisible voice called back from above the thatch. “Whoever looked after this place was an idiot.”
Petros turned bright red. “Merely our banter,” he explained.
“I’m sure,” I said, still looking up. “Is that new thatch?” I asked. Because it didn’t look the same as it had the other day.
“Thatch is hard to come by,” Petros said.
I could imagine. The thatch’s previous owners would probably notice their roof was missing.
“What happened to the mice?” Diotima asked.
“We have lots of pets,” Petros said. “Some of them eat rats and mice.”
There was more swearing from above.
“Does he know how to fix the roof?” I asked.
“Melidoros is the man up there. He worked as a builder, back in Phrygia. Here in Athens, he is a common laborer for hire.”
“Not all of you are actors then,” Diotima said.
“Most are. A few of us are builders, one is a painter. We all work as mourners.”
“Was it that bad in Phrygia?” Diotima asked.
“No, it’s not,” Petros said honestly. “The Persians rule there. It is a place of great stability. It’s not a good place for anyone who wants to … to …”
He struggled for the words.
“To change things?” I suggested. “To change your life?”
“Yes, precisely! We wanted more. You understand.”
I did. Athens was the place where things changed. Diotima and I had been to Ionia, which was ruled by the Persians. The Persians loved stability and order above all things; not the sort of place for a man who wants to improve his lot. Likewise the Spartans loathed change more than anything, and the other Hellene cities clung to tradition.
We walked downstairs as we talked. Diotima was interested in everything about the Phrygians. She asked several questions about their customs, as might a guest. She seemed to have forgotten that she was the mistress of this house. I was pleased to see that Diotima was more relaxed in her house than she had ever been since her birth father died.