Every explanation for Polonikos that I could think of was suspicious. I wondered if we’d paid enough attention to his odd behavior. As I approached the outskirts of Athens, I realized that his property lay not far off my path. The land of Attica resembles nothing so much as a giant octopus, with Athens at the head and the roads her tentacles that spread across the landscape. Running from the major roads in all directions are narrow dirt tracks, and it is down these tracks that one find the farms and estates.
My bottom was sore, but I needed answers more than I needed comfort. When I came to the dirt track that led to Polonikos, I took it.
Polonikos himself was out in his fields when I arrived, supervising his slaves. They held sticks, with which they beat the olive trees. Children collected the fallen fruit in baskets.
Polonikos took one look at Blossom, who had carried me this far, and said, “What is that?”
“I believe it’s a donkey, sir. It’s a rental. My fiancée’s choice.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “You didn’t fall for the adorable donkey routine, did you?”
“The what?”
“How long have you been married?”
“Er … we’re not quite … yet. We’ll be married next month.”
“I see.” Polonikos sighed. “Take my advice, young man. For the rest of your life, never let your wife go with you to a sale yard. The moment those salesmen see a man coming with his wife in tow, they haul out of the stables the scrawniest, most underfed donkey they’ve got. They put an old straw hat on the beast, stick a flower in the hat, and wait for the woman to say, ‘Oh, isn’t he cute!’ Usually the salesman comes up with some cock-and-bull story about how the beast belonged to a little old lady who only used it to carry her herbs to market, and how she’s died and the stupid beast will be off to the knacker’s that day unless someone buys the animal. By the time the salesman’s finished, the only question the ladies ask is what color the hat comes in.”
“Thank you, sir, I’ll remember that. I wanted to ask you-”
He quickly held up a hand. “Stop right there,” he said sternly. “I told you to drop the investigation.”
“Yes, sir, you did. But Pericles, the archons, and the High Priestess of Artemis at Brauron want me to carry on. Another person who wants Ophelia found is her fiancé.”
I paused, waiting for a reaction.
Polonikos signaled to a slave, who hurried over with a bowl of water. In this, Polonikos washed his hands. “Working with fruit always makes my hands sticky,” he said absently.
“Is it true, sir, that a marriage had been arranged for Ophelia?”
“It’s a lie!” Polonikos burst out with no warning.
He must have seen my surprise, because he said, visibly calming himself, “I’m sorry. I’m afraid this subject upsets me considerably. The truth is, there were negotiations. But Thessalus can say what he likes; I deny that anything was ever finalized. If he insists I’ll have to take him to court.”
“That would be Thessalus, the father of Melo?”
Polonikos nodded.
“I understand the two of you were at the sanctuary together.”
“That was during the negotiations.”
“And that Melo later went to visit Ophelia himself.”
Polonikos looked startled. “He did? Not with my permission.”
“So the marriage negotiation failed?” I prompted him. Melo had said nothing of this.
“Talks broke down for the usual reason: we couldn’t agree on the dowry.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. That’s what marriage is all about, young man, merging the wealth of two families.”
A shout from the orchard, a hundred paces away, and a large number of olives fell to the ground. At once the children bent to put the fallen fruit into the baskets. The baskets would be sent to the agora, where the fruit would be sold.
“There’s wealth, right over there,” Polonikos said, half to himself. “Would that there were more of it.” He looked back to me. “This is a strange trade you ply,” he said in a voice more friendly than before. “Who pays you?”
“My clients, sir. I accept work on commission, like any artisan.”
“You’re a craftsman of crime then. Does it pay?”
That brought home a difficult question. One that I’d been keeping from my own thoughts. “I have a large sum due from a client any day now,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
Polonikos smiled cynically. He’d seen me ride in on a scrawny donkey. That made me angry, so to prove my words I said, “The sum is substantial. So large that it will more than meet my immediate needs. I’ll need to invest the rest,” I lied with a deadpan face. “Or maybe I’ll put my spare cash in a bank.”
It was an idle boast, but Polonikos held up his hands in horror and said, “Are you mad? Take my advice, young man, and avoid both borrowing and lending. These new-fangled bank businesses seem to be springing up all over the place, but frankly, I see no future for Athens in banking.”
“They do seem somewhat unethical,” I said, thinking of my past experience with bankers. I rubbed my chin.
“Unethical? Who cares about that? I’m talking about making a profit, lad. Land, young fellow, that’s the future. Country estates. Come with me.” Polonikos had become excited. He took me by the arm to lead me out to his fields. “Do you see that?” He swept his arm to display his fields and the working slaves. “That’s wealth. These banks you talk of … they’re more than happy to take your money-money you earned by hard labor on your own land. Then those vultures, those dogs, they’ll lose your funds in the blink of an eye-”
I was struck by an inspiration. “Sir, have you by any chance recently lost money on an investment?”
“Who told you that?!” he barked. Then, before I could answer, he calmed down once more. “Never mind. I suppose the news was bound to spread. As it happens, I do have a matter before the courts at this very moment.”
“What happened, may I ask?” I stated the question with some care. Polonikos seemed a man of wild mood swings. He was a man on edge.
“You may as well. It’ll all come out in court anyway. Last year, I joined a consortium to underwrite certain trading ventures. Ventures involving a merchant ship and several cargoes. Nothing could go wrong, they said. Everything was insured. The principals were two bankers, their names Antisthenes and Archestratus … they told me the cargo was insured. I believed them.”
“What happened?”
“The ship sank with all hands and, of far greater importance, with the precious cargoes. Or so they say. I have my doubts. I demanded the insurance. That was when those two vultures admitted the insurance had been arranged through their own bank, the payout to be drawn as a collateral loan on the cargo-the cargo that had sunk, mind you-so they claimed the money was lost.”
My head was swimming. I understood only half of what Polonikos was saying, if that. I decided to ignore the high finance and got to the nub of the matter. “I suppose you found yourself short of cash,” I said.
“You may say so. But I’m certain to win my money back when the court hears the facts, I promise you!”
Suddenly I understood his problem. Polonikos did have a contract for his daughter to marry Melo, son of Thessalus, and every marriage contract involved a dowry to be supplied by the father of the bride. The problem was, Polonikos had lost the dowry money in a bad investment. If Ophelia was found, the marriage would proceed, the dowry would come due, and Polonikos would have to spend money he didn’t have.