“That’s kind of you, sir. I’ll bring her as soon as possible.”
“No,” the Basileus said, horrified. “That’s what you mustn’t do. No matter what, you must not come with her. If a man accompanies the wife, it will bring her motives into question. It’s not unknown for a man to lure a woman away from her husband in order to gain the wealth that comes with her.”
“Does that happen?” I asked.
“More often than you might think,” the Basileus said grimly. “It’s completely illegal, of course; to steal the affections of another man’s wife is a listed crime on the tablets outside this office. But some men will do anything for money, and women will do anything for love.”
“What happens then, after Aposila comes to see you?”
“I must ask after the cause of the divorce. If the lady has been suborned, I must refuse to hear her request, and thereby prevent the divorce. This is for the lady’s own good. Women, as you know, are easily misled by unscrupulous men.”
“Yes, of course.”
The door slammed open. Antobius stood there, his chest heaving, the sweat pouring from his brow-he was slightly overweight-his mouth curved into an angry scowl.
“What has this man been telling you?!” Antobius shouted at the Basileus.
“Who in Hades are you?!” the Basileus shouted back. “And what do you mean bursting in here-”
“My name is Antobius, and this man”-he pointed at me-“this man has been interfering with my wife.”
The Basileus looked from one to the other of us. I could tell he was trying to decide which of us to believe, because by his own words, the Basileus had more than once had to deal with unscrupulous fortune hunters. How did he know I wasn’t one of them?
“That’s not the story I hear,” the Basileus said at last.
“What do you hear?” Antobius demanded.
“I make no accusation I cannot prove. But I will ask you a question. Tell me, Antobius, if I were to visit your home this instant this instant and ask to see your wife, would I find her bruised, or with black eyes, or a crooked nose?”
“I deny you permission to see her, as is my right,” Antobius said at once.
The Basileus nodded. “That’s your right,” he agreed.
Then Antobius made a mistake. He said, “What a man does in his home is his own business.”
“The law does not permit you to beat a woman, even if she’s your wife,” the Basileus said sharply. “I warn you, Antobius, that there’s plenty of precedent for wife-beaters being fined large sums.”
Antobius said nothing.
“Now I require you to leave this office,” said the Basileus. “As is my right.”
The Basileus stood, and the two men faced each other.
I thought for a moment that Antobius might actually strike an elected archon. But instead he turned and walked. We could hear the sound of his departure as he hit things and people on the way out.
When all was quiet, the Basileus turned to me and said, “I will assist you this much: I will clear the offices when the lady is to come, and give orders that she’s to be admitted at once. I will not have a lady of Athens stand in the agora like a common supplicant.”
“That’s kind of you, sir.”
“No, it’s merely the most that the law permits me. I believe your words, but that’s not enough. An archon must be seen by the people to have enforced the law fairly, especially when he’s asked to separate a woman from a man who doesn’t wish to lose her. This Aposila must be seen by the people of Athens to walk alone, and to speak to me alone, so that all of Athens will know that the customs have been observed and that it is her own wish that speaks. If there’s any deviation, with all the people watching, no matter how much I may agree with you, I will refuse to hear your client.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Aposila stepped from the house of Malixa and Polonikos, where she had stayed since the episode in the office of the Basileus. Antobius had sworn his wife would not divorce him, which meant Aposila didn’t dare go home. He could have locked her in.
Malixa had offered her own home as refuge, telling her husband that Aposila was a friend whose husband was off with the army. It was common for wives to come together when their men were away; Polonikos had accepted the story without question. Nor did the two husbands know each other, so that Antobius had no way of knowing where his wife was hiding. All Antobius could do was ring the agora with watchers and wait for her to appear. We would have to escort Aposila through whatever cordon Antobius had devised, and do it without being seen to help her.
I watched Aposila out of the corner of my eye, from the opposite side of the street, where I leaned against a wall as if I were just another out-of-work laborer with nothing better to do. I wore the heavily sweat-stained exomis that I always used when my father needed me to help him with blocks of stone. If any civic-minded citizen asked me my business, I would tell him I was a laborer out looking for work.
The Basileus had made it clear I couldn’t accompany Aposila; he hadn’t said a word against guarding her from afar. The question was, did Antobius know that today was the day? Probably he did. And did he know where Aposila would begin her journey? Probably not.
Aposila wore a chiton of the type worn by many matrons, doubled over at the shoulders to give two layers of material for extra modesty, this one dyed in somber green and red, with a simple key pattern about the edges. She wore no jewelry, and her hair was braided and tied up in a simple knot of some sort. On her feet were strong leather sandals. Good. She’d need them for this walk.
Malixa appeared in the entrance behind Aposila. Aposila turned, and the two women hugged-the mother of a missing child and the mother of a dead one.
As she closed the door behind her friend, Malixa saw me standing across the road. She gave me the briefest nod of recognition before she shut the door.
Aposila set off down the road.
She passed by Diotima, who sat in the dirt at the corner and wore the tattered cloth of a beggar woman. It was a futile disguise, for Diotima had no hope of passing for a beggar. Her skin was unmarked by disease, her teeth were perfect-not one of them was black-her face lacked the thinness of starvation, and her hair refused to do anything other than fall in enticing curls. I tried to tell her this, but she put it down to my prejudice.
Aposila turned the corner. Diotima swiveled to watch her. I pushed off from the wall where I leaned and turned the corner after our client.
This was our plan: to leapfrog each other all the way, to keep an eye out for Antobius, who we were sure would do everything in his power to prevent his wife from reaching the archons. Diotima and I would do everything in our power to maintain a safe corridor down which Aposila could walk.
I passed by Aposila. She stepped at a steady, average pace, as we’d asked her. Well ahead, I stopped at the next corner and peered around it. I saw in the street to come the usual people going about their business-men walked along, women stood outside their doors and talked with one another-nothing that looked a threat. I nodded to Diotima as she hurried up. The moment she reached the corner, she slowed to a shuffle. She called for alms as she went down the street. Five men stopped to place coins in her bowl. All five made suggestions that, were we not in disguise, would have caused me to knock them down. Diotima smiled and pretended not to hear them and walked on.
After Aposila passed me-we’d warned her not to acknowledge us in any way-I waited for her to make it halfway along while Diotima stood at the other end. Then I took off, and we did it again for the next street. We continued like this all the way to the city gates, because Polonikos and Malixa lived outside the walls, like at least half the city.