“What if they hesitate?” Socrates asked.
“Down the mine they go. Who needs a dumb bodyguard?”
There was a certain unreality to talking with Callias. Most of the time he seemed like anyone else, but then he’d say something that reminded me that here was a man who owned a silver mine. If it were legal, he could have issued his own currency. There were minor cities with less wealth than him.
I said of the bodyguards, “These are the smart ones, then.”
“Yes, but don’t push their limits, Nico. If it comes to it, just point and say ‘kill.’ ”
“Right. Got it,” I said. But I was more worried than I let on. I’d come to Callias for advice on how to approach Aeschylus in a diplomatic manner. I hoped I hadn’t started a street war.
Aeschylus kept a townhouse in Athens, like most successful men. We marched straight to his street. It was no surprise to me when we rounded the corner to see a group of ugly men waiting for us. Ugly not so much for their looks as for the clubs they carried.
We stopped before them.
The door of Aeschylus’s home opened and a man stepped out. An old man, by his beard, but one with a strong step. He wore armor, and pushed back a helmet on his head to expose his face for better sight as a soldier will before a battle.
“I am Aeschylus, son of Euphorion, of the deme Eleusis,” said the man below the helmet. “I know you, Callias.”
“As I know you, Aeschylus. I’ve heard surprising news. News that disturbs me. That you impede the investigation into the death of the tyrant. That you threatened an agent of Athens.”
“I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Callias,” said Aeschylus, and he shook his head in disgust. “A man like you, associating with the revolting spawn of Hippias.”
“I do no such thing.”
“Then why do you stand beside him?” Aeschylus pointed at me.
“What?” I said.
“What?” Callias repeated.
“That dog beside you works for the traitors who plotted to return Hippias.”
“Who told you that?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“See, he admits it. Stand aside, Callias, so I can kill him.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong, Aeschylus. I’ve known Nicolaos some small time. He’d do no such thing.”
“I have it on good authority,” Aeschylus insisted.
What was this about?
Callias said, “We both fought at Marathon, Aeschylus. I hope this won’t be another battlefield we share.”
“If it is, it’ll be your last, Callias.”
The combined ages of Callias and Aeschylus couldn’t be less than 130. But that minor detail wasn’t going to stop these two. I pushed Socrates behind the line of our men and told him to stay there.
Callias raised his hand, his index finger extended. He pointed straight at Aeschylus and said-
“What’s going on here?”
The voice belonged to Pythax. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Pythax was panting slightly. Well, my father-in-law-to-be was getting on in years-his beard was streaked with gray-and he’d probably run all the way from the guard barracks. Behind him stood eight Scythians. They weren’t panting at all. They looked relaxed and in tip-top condition, their bows unstrung and held in their hands, at the ready to break some heads.
It was a lucky slave who could get away with beating his owner. The Scythians, being state-owned slaves, were not only allowed but required to beat unruly citizens. I’d trained with them; I knew it was the part of their job they relished best.
The combatants all eyed one another.
This would be a three-way battle that only the Scythians could hope to win. There were 292 more where this lot came from, and Pythax was no fool; he surely must have sent for reinforcements from among his command. Indeed, even as he spoke another ten Scythians appeared from down the street and fell into line beside their comrades.
Pythax turned to me. “Why is it, little boy, that whenever there’s a riot, you’re in the middle of it?”
“It’s all a misunderstanding, Pythax,” I said. “Honest.”
“Yeah, sure.” Pythax looked as if he didn’t believe me. “You lot, and you lot,” he pointed at the mercenaries of both Aeschylus and Callias. “I want to see your backs, walking down the street. Now.”
One of the men behind Aeschylus pushed past, stuck his face in front of Pythax, poked him in the chest, and said, “Listen up, barbarian, you don’t give orders to an Athenian citiz-”
Pythax backhanded him, and he went flying into the wall headfirst.
“Anyone else?” he asked.
Both groups looked to their employers. Callias and Aeschylus, without taking their eyes off each other, nodded as one. Both of their groups turned and walked, leaving the Scythians to hold the field. I wondered if they’d later erect a victory tripod, as was the custom.
“Now,” Pythax said. “What in Hades is wrong here? You first,” he said to Callias.
Callias pointed at Aeschylus and said, “Gods know why, but he’s protecting the secret followers of Hippias.”
Pythax turned to Aeschylus.
Aeschylus pointed at me and said, “He’s plotting with the followers of Hippias.”
Pythax turned to me.
I said, “Don’t ask me, Pythax. I’m completely ignorant.”
“That,” Pythax growled, “is the first thing I’ve heard today that I can believe.”
Pythax ordered us all into the andron of Aeschylus’s townhouse. He sat us in a row like naughty schoolboys: the richest man in Athens, our greatest playwright, and me. Socrates stood to the side. For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He tried and failed to suppress a grin. I knew my brother wouldn’t let me forget this anytime soon.
Pythax stood before us, folded his arms, and tapped his foot. “Well?”
Callias said, “Nicolaos has information that proves Aeschylus is interfering with the investigation into who killed Hippias, or at least, the remains of what we think is Hippias. It was Aeschylus who sent thugs to attack him.”
Pythax turned to Aeschylus. “Those were your thugs following Nicolaos?”
Aeschylus nodded, and didn’t look embarrassed in the slightest. “For a good reason. I’ve received information that this fellow Nicolaos has been working with traitors.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded angrily. I was mortally offended. I might have reached for my knife except that Pythax was in the room.
Aeschylus said, “I was told by someone who was well informed.”
“Who? Who told you?”
“An anonymous source.”
That made Pythax, Callias, and me all stare at Aeschylus.
Aeschylus blushed. He said, “A man knocked on the door one night-”
“Let me guess,” I said. “He refused to come inside where there was light. Instead, the two of you stood in the dark street, and he spoke in a low whisper.”
Aeschylus nodded. “He told me that you’re an agent. An agent for hire.”
“That’s true,” I said.
“He told me the remains of Hippias had been discovered.” He paused to look each of us in the eyes. “This I already knew. You see, I was present when the Basileus was informed. The fact that this man was privy to the same information told me he had access to confidential sources.”
Callias nodded. “A reasonable deduction.”
“He knew about the signal that flashed on the mountain behind us after the battle at Marathon.”
“That’s common knowledge,” Callias said.
“He said a scroll was removed from the case found alongside the body.”
“That’s supposed to be a secret,” I said. “How did he know that?”
“You perceive the reason why I found his story credible. He then said the men who flashed the signal at Marathon were the ones who took the missing scroll, to hide their identities.”
“That’s one of the theories we’re running with,” I said. “It may even be the best theory.”
“He said you were in the pay of those traitors. To make sure their names never emerged.”