Unfortunately, the assembly lasted even longer than usual. In between all the arguing about the failing peace conference, there was a report from Delos, one of Athens’ allies. They were asking for help but Athens didn’t seem to be in a position to help anyone at the moment. Or if they were, no one could agree how to go about it. The failure to agree on any means to assist their ally caused more bad feeling.
There was one other item on the agenda. The ancient Altar of Pity had split in two. News of this had already spread. Though the altar was not a major place of worship in comparison to the city’s great temples, it was a well-known site, and did have a place in the city’s heritage. The chairman of the committee responsible for public worship reported that it had most likely just fallen apart with age, and would be repaired from public funds. He urged people not to regard it as a bad omen, but most people did exactly that. Some of the more emotional citizens declared that the city was cursed, and that neither Zeus nor Athena would ever show mercy on them again.
Aristophanes found the news about the altar more depressing than anything else. He’d secretly harboured thoughts about saying a prayer there himself, even though, strictly speaking, a failing play would not be regarded as the sort of serious problem normally taken to the Altar of Pity.
Might have been worth a shot anyway, he thought, morosely. Nothing else is working.
When the assembly was finally over, he tried to escape without anyone noticing him, but Nicias waylaid him outside the exit. For a man who’d just been denounced as a traitor who was taking bribes from the Spartans, Nicias seemed quite even-tempered. Aristophanes supposed he was used to it. He’d been involved in Athenian politics for a long time, and had learned how to keep an even temper. Even the malaise that had settled over the city seemed to be affecting him less than others.
‘These meetings are getting worse,’ sighed the politician.
‘Don’t give up. The population wants peace, no matter what Hyperbolus and Lamachus say.’
‘Really? You’d be hard-pressed to tell that from today’s assembly. It’s like they’ve all gone insane. What happened to drive everyone mad?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps the gods really do have it in for us this time.’
Nicias looked concerned. A few of his supporters tried to get his attention, but he brushed them away, maintaining his grip on Aristophanes’ arm.
‘There’s not much time left,’ he told the playwright. ‘The peace conference is meant to end on the last day of the festival. We have to make this city enthusiastic about peace again. If the population don’t want it, the delegates won’t either. No one is going to risk his neck by signing an unpopular treaty.’
He looked Aristophanes in the eye. ‘I need your play to go well.’
‘I doubt my play will make any difference.’
‘It advocates peace, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, but…’ Aristophanes raised his hands hopelessly. ‘It’s not looking good.’
‘Why not?’
‘No money. And maybe I’m a poor writer anyway.’
Nicias was surprised. ‘I counted you as one of the vainest men in Athens. Since when did you lack confidence?’
‘I don’t know. Nothing seems right these days.’
The politician regarded him sternly. ‘Aristophanes, you can’t give up as well. I need your support. Your play has to be good.’
Aristophanes departed, buying a honey cake in the agora. It was tasty as always. If the honey cakes ever declined in quality, he’d know the end was imminent. He wondered about visiting Theodota. Generally one had to make an appointment. What if she was busy, and wouldn’t let him in? That was a depressing thought.
‘Becoming so obsessed with the most popular hetaera in Athens probably wasn’t a great idea,’ Aristophanes mumbled to himself. Suddenly he felt a great desire for the comfort of another honey cake, and went back to buy more.
Luxos
Next door to Luxos’s tiny shack was another home, equally humble, occupied by two elderly sisters. They lived alone, their families having been wiped out by the plague some years ago. With no means of support, they relied on charity from their tribes to see them through. Unfortunately this system was not working as well as it had done in the past. The ten tribes of Athens did their best to look after all members in need, but these days there was not enough to go round. Hyperbolus and his faction had stepped in to help, providing food for people in the poorest areas. Luxos had partaken of their charity in the past but today, feeling that the feast he’d eaten at Callias’s symposium would keep him going for a while, he took the food he collected from the distribution point near the Sanctuary of Theseus to the sisters.
After dropping off the supplies, he played his lyre for them. They were grateful for the food, and they enjoyed the music.
‘You’ve really improved with the lyre, Luxos.’
‘You should sing for all the people.’
‘I will one day!’
Bremusa
Bremusa was standing on the steps of the Parthenon in the company of a sullen nymph, wondering what to do next. A procession was approaching. Part of the Dionysia, she supposed, though she didn’t know what part. Bremusa found the different festival activities confusing, and didn’t understand what it all meant.
Metris was winding strands of her curly, dark hair round her fingers.
‘Are you intending to spend all your time sulking now Athena has forbidden you to see Luxos?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, don’t. We need to work.’
Metris pouted. Bremusa found that annoying. She had never pouted. Among the Amazons, it had not been encouraged.
‘You dragged me to Athens on false pretences,’ said the nymph.
‘What are you talking about? Everything was clearly explained to you.’
‘No one said I couldn’t talk to poets with nice blond hair.’
‘It’s interfering with our mission.’
‘What mission?’
Bremusa tapped her foot on the ground. The procession was coming closer. People were banging drums.
‘Our mission to stop Laet.’
‘Is it that important?’
‘Of course it’s important! It’s the whole reason we’re here!’
Metris was still pouting. ‘I thought I was being taken to Athens to have a nice time at the festival and then I was going to live on Mount Olympus and be a goddess.’
The Amazon warrior glared at her. ‘Are all nymphs as insane as you? No one is making you a goddess! That was never on the agenda.’
‘Then I’m going to sulk.’
Bremusa opened her mouth, but struggled for words. She tapped her foot on the ground again, now in time with the drumming. ‘And no one said anything about having a nice time either!’
‘How could anyone not have a nice time at the Dionysia Festival?’
‘All you’ve done is hang around the harbour with that stupid poet!’
‘That’s not true,’ replied Metris. ‘I’ve seen lots of culture with Luxos.’
‘Like what?’
The young nymph started counting off things on her fingers. ‘I went to the Parthenon and Luxos explained the story of the frieze to me. I saw pictures painted by Zeuxis and Parrhasius in the gallery, and then I watched a wrestling match and a running race at the stadium. Luxos took me to watch a big festival parade, and then we went to the theatre to see a tragedy by Sophocles which was really sad. Then we looked at all Phidias’s most famous sculptures. We listened to Socrates talking about philosophy, and Theodorus of Cyrene lecturing about mathematics. Then Luxos took me to the docks to see how ships are made. Afterwards we met some potters and saw how they make these lovely big amphoras, and then we all went to a tavern and drank wine and sang songs. I’ve had a wonderful time. There’s so much in Athens!’