Pirates of Poseidon Page 3

  Thrax, Fotini, Gaia and I were picking out the constellations when someone behind us gasped. A black trireme was bearing down on us at great speed. The crew panicked when they saw it and many of them kissed their thumb to ward off danger.

  ‘Children, keep your heads below the bulwarks and hold on tight,’ ordered the captain. ‘She might slam into us.’

  As we squatted in the dark, I could hear the trireme’s piper on his aulos.

  Toot… toot… toot…

  Every burst on that musical instrument brought the black vessel dangerously closer to ours. Now we could see its sail clearly. It had an enormous golden mask painted on it. Two figures stood at the prow, their faces gleaming in the pale moonlight. Both were shrouded with himations and wore masks. The one on the taller man matched the giant image on the sail but I couldn’t see the second one clearly.

  Behind the men stood a group of hoplites. They too had masks on, shiny black ones that seemed to glow in the moonlight and made them look like myrmidons – the savage human ants of legend.

  The trireme rushed closer and closer towards us and we thought we were going to be skewered.

  ‘You were right, mistress,’ screamed Gaia, clinging to Fotini. ‘Poseidon has put a curse on us.’

  I was about to agree but at the last moment the trireme swerved and sailed in a tight curve around the hull. Our poor little ship bobbed helplessly in its wake, like a fig leaf in an overflowing gutter.

  The last thing I saw, before the night swallowed the black ship, was one of the two shrouded figures. It had come to the stern and was doing a wild dance, waving its arms above its head.

  Its voice carried on the wind. ‘We scared you, ha ha ha…’

  Its mask, I noticed, was made of silver and it leered at us with the hideous face of a drunken Dionysus.

  CHAPTER 3

  A Party in Aegina

  ‘Well,’ said Hector when our ship had stopped bobbing. ‘Everyone’s heard rumours of the pirate with the golden mask but I never thought I would actually see him with my own eyes. He really does exist.’

  ‘I heard he comes and goes as he pleases,’ added the ship’s captain, ‘with no regard for any law. The Athenian army has been after him for years but with no success. He keeps attacking ships and plundering coastal towns without mercy.’

  ‘And it seems he has a sidekick,’ said Master Ariston. ‘A young pirate in a silver mask. I saw it leering at me with a hideous grin. I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life.’

  ‘The pirate in the silver mask is new to me,’ admitted the captain. ‘But the danger seems to be over now. They must have bigger plunder in their sights tonight. Let’s stop for a moment to thank Poseidon for his protection and then we’ll continue on our way.’

  Our prayer said, the rowers set to with renewed strength and by morning we reached Aegina. The island has two harbours; one for commercial ships like ours, and another used by its navy, which was only second to that of Athens in its power. We docked at the first harbour, itching to get back on to dry land.

  I had heard a lot about Aegina. It is one of the richest islands in the world, famous for its sculptors, potters and jewellery makers. Its citizens are often at loggerheads with the people of Athens but they always make them welcome. I also knew that our old enemy from Delphi, Abantes the corrupt priest, had lived here before he worked in the famous oracle.

  Hector and Sister Agathe whisked Fotini and Gaia off before we had time to make plans, or even say a proper goodbye. Sister Agathe did not think it was fitting for a rich girl to be seen on the docks like a common slave.

  ‘We’ll meet soon,’ called Fotini as the donkey started on its way. ‘I’ll send you a message as soon we are settled at the temple. I know where you are: Inacus the merchant’s house.’

  It turned out that our new host Inacus lived in the city behind the port. We passed through the city walls, which had many gates and towers overlooking the sea, and someone directed us to his house. A burly slave answered our knocking, snatched the letter of introduction out of Master Ariston’s hand and promptly slammed the door in our face.

  It opened again only a few moments later and we were let into a shady courtyard roofed over with grapevines. A short man in an expensive linen chiton came out of an andron to meet us. He had straight black hair cut in a fringe across his forehead. I guessed he was in his late thirties but his face was already lined, showing he spent a lot of time out in the sun, perhaps while travelling.

  ‘I do apologise for keeping you outside in the heat,’ he said to Master Ariston. ‘My slave, Jason, mistook you for a craftsman looking for payment. I am Inacus the rope merchant.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ sniffed Master Ariston. ‘We have travelled all the way from Corinth without stopping. I trust I look less than my usual immaculate self. I am Ariston of Athens.’

  The burly slave appeared behind his master to usher us into a small but beautifully decorated andron. The walls were covered in brightly coloured mosaics of ships and sea monsters. The ships were laden with huge coils of shiny rope. Gods in gold-embellished chitons were hovering in the sky, keeping the monsters away from the ships.

  Inacus sat down to read Dymas’s letter again while Master Ariston perched on the edge of a second couch. ‘This is most impressive,’ the merchant said after a while. ‘You have achieved a lot in your long and eventful life, sir. Performing at symposiums and weddings for so many well-connected people. I shall be glad to hire you as a tutor for my son and I shall pay you—’ He bent down to whisper the amount in Master Ariston’s ear.

  ‘I say,’ exclaimed our master. ‘That is very generous indeed.’

  ‘My son Hero has no head for commerce,’ said Inacus, ‘so I should be glad if you could turn him into a poet like yourself.’

  ‘It will be a pleasure, sir,’ our master beamed. ‘I shall do my very best.’

  Hero is away today, visiting relatives,’ said Inacus. ‘You can use the time to settle in before you start lessons tomorrow. I have given you the most comfortable guest room in the house. And of course your boys are welcome to share my slaves’ quarters.’

  He turned and smiled at Thrax and myself. ‘My own slaves say life here is pleasant. Merchants in Aegina can be very heavy-handed with their staff but I am not one of them. I do not approve of flogging, nor starving people to death. And Cook runs a generous kitchen for everyone under my roof.’

  ‘Nico, the chubby one, is not a slave,’ Master Ariston pointed out. ‘He is my scribe. But he’ll not object to sharing the slaves’ quarters. It’s where he sleeps at home.’

  Inacus got to his feet, indicating that our audience with him was over. ‘That’s all settled, then. Welcome to my house. I’ll ask Jason here to take you to your quarters and show you where to stable the donkey.’

  He was about to step out of the andron, when he stopped and turned. ‘I say,’ he said to Master Ariston. ‘I’ve been invited to a symposium tonight. I don’t suppose you’d like to come with me? Most of the guests will be dull merchants who’ll talk about trade and taxes all night. It would be fun to have an artist in our midst.’

  ‘I’m afraid I am not performing at the moment,’ replied Master Ariston. ‘I haven’t been very well.’

  ‘I didn’t mean you should come as the entertainment,’ said Inacus. ‘I want you to be my personal guest. It would be a great opportunity for you to start meeting the good and great of Aegina.’ He winked at Thrax and myself. ‘And I want everyone to know my son has a real live tutor from Athens. The best money can buy.’

  Master Ariston puffed up his chest at Inacus’s flattery. ‘Then I shall be honoured to attend, sir. And I’ll bring the boys with me. It’ll show the other guests that your son’s tutor can afford a personal slave and a scribe.’ He turned to us. ‘Hurry up, Thrax. You need to unpack my best clothes and air them ready for tonight.’

  The symposium was held in a magnificent house at the other end of the city. As Inacus – or Master Inacu
s as Thrax and I had to call him now – had predicted, the guests were mostly merchants. Most of them arrived on horseback, a couple in chariots. Now they reclined on couches, enjoying the food, the wine, and a performance by jugglers and acrobats. Thrax stood behind Master Ariston’s couch, ready to refill his kylix. There was nothing for me to do, so I stood beside Thrax, watching the audience and imagining they were listening to one of my adventure stories. And that’s how I spotted a familiar face entering the room.

  It was Gorgias, the merchant from New Sybaris. He’d been in Delphi at the same time as us, to consult the oracle about a stolen ring. A broad grin appeared on his face the moment he saw me, and he made a beeline for our couch.

  ‘Why, Nico. Thrax. Master Ariston. What are you doing in Aegina? I thought you were in Corinth, putting on a play.’

  ‘The oracle was mistaken about my success,’ spluttered Master Ariston, making space on his couch for Gorgias and indicating for Thrax to plump up the cushions. ‘My play was a complete disaster. I guess the people of Corinth are not ready for my kind of satire.’

  ‘I am fast losing faith in oracles myself,’ declared Gorgias, accepting a cup of wine. ‘The Pythia said my lost ring would be found by a scribe and a slave, which I took to be your Nico and Thrax. But she was wrong. The ring has been found by someone else. I have just arrived in Aegina to collect it.’

  CHAPTER 4

  The Ring of the Harpies Again

  Here I should tell you a little about Gorgias and our adventure in Delphi. The ring he was talking about is a priceless treasure, a golden band decorated with two harpies. Gorgias’s brother Kosmas had entrusted it to him moments before he died. Gorgias was to pass it on to Kosmas’s daughter, a girl Gorgias had never met. But before he could find the girl, the ring disappeared. Someone stole it.

  Thrax and I had worked out that the thief was Milo, Gorgias’s son, who’d used it to pay off some of his gambling debts. But by then its whereabouts were unknown. The gang of criminals Milo gave it to had disappeared with it.

  The oracle predicted Thrax and I would recover the ring. And Gorgias had offered us money if we could find it. His brother had said a curse would fall on him if he didn’t pass the ring on to the girl. But this time it seemed that the oracle really was wrong. Our investigations had led nowhere. Meanwhile, Gorgias had kept on looking for the ring himself. And now he’d found it.

  ‘How did you manage that?’ asked Master Ariston.

  ‘I have friends in many city-states and islands,’ replied Gorgias. ‘One of them is a sculptor called Onatas, who lives in Aegina. I sell a lot of his work back home. He met a collector of antique jewellery who had seen it.

  ‘This man, a retired merchant, was offered the ring by a crooked dealer. I guess the gang who took it off Milo were trying to sell it on. They must have accomplices in every city-state and island of Hellas, and probably beyond. When I got word about it from Onatas, I instructed him to buy it on my behalf. As you can imagine, it cost me an arm and a leg but I am thrilled to be able to keep my promise to my dead brother, and to evade the curse associated with the ring.’

  ‘Imagine being cursed by harpies!’ Master Ariston sniffed grandly. ‘They’d poop on your food every time you tried to eat. You’d never be invited to a symposium again.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Gorgias. He looked from Master Ariston to Thrax and myself. ‘I am collecting the ring from Onatas first thing tomorrow morning. Why don’t you join me? I’m sure you’d like to see the wonderful treasure at last.’

  CHAPTER 5

  A Nasty Surprise

  Onatas’s home was a sprawling farm on a hill behind the city. Inacus had sent word that we were visiting and he came out to meet us as Thrax and I trudged up the path behind Gorgias in his chariot. The sculptor had a wide chest and huge muscly arms, which I reckon he got from chipping away at marble all day long.

  ‘Our host looks terrible,’ whispered Master Ariston, who was bringing up the rear on Ariana. ‘I don’t mean his physique. I mean his pallor. He looks like a shade from the underworld.’

  ‘And he’s walking rather slowly,’ I said, ‘as if he had too much wine yesterday.’

  Onatas did indeed look bleary-eyed and his skin was ashen. ‘I do apologise for my appearance,’ he said, shaking our hands. ‘I ate something bad yesterday. I keep throwing up and my head swims if I try to move too fast. But my slave Smilis is looking after me, aren’t you, Smilis?’

  Smilis was a boy of about seven or eight. The stubble on his head was fair, almost gold, and he had unusually green eyes. His arms were so thin they looked like sticks. An amulet to ward off the evil eye dangled from a leather thong at his throat. He stood shyly behind Onatas, shivering in the morning cold. I felt sorry for him right away.

  ‘Take the gentleman’s donkey to the stable and give her some straw, Smilis,’ said Onatas. ‘Then ask Cook to make me another of her healing potions.’

  Smilis stepped up to Gorgias’s chariot.

  ‘Not the horse, the donkey.’ Onatas smiled patiently and turned to us. ‘I’ve had the boy since he was little. Poor thing, he’s not very bright but he’s faithful as a puppy. I believe his parents were Spartan and left him out to die when he was a baby. No one wants a weakling for a son.’

  Onatas showed us into a small andron furnished with just two couches and a few small side tables. The walls were a rough brick, painted brilliant white to act as a backdrop to the many sculptures in the room. His house, Onatas explained, used to be a farm. He had added a bathroom and the andron.

  Master Ariston threw himself down on one of the couches, marvelling at how soft it was, but Gorgias remained standing.

  ‘It’s great to see you again, old friend,’ said Onatas. ‘You look well. I suppose you are eager to get your hands on the ring?’

  ‘I’ll offer sacrifice to Athena when it’s in my possession again,’ replied Gorgias. ‘You have done me proud, Onatas.’

  ‘I did have to haggle for it,’ said the sculptor. ‘The crooked dealers kept increasing the price the moment they sniffed money. But I managed to secure it for you.’

  ‘You must tell me how much I owe you. And that includes payment for your time. I know you are a very busy man.’

  Onatas rubbed his ailing tummy. ‘You have been a patron of mine for many years, Gorgias. It has been an honour to help. Come on, let’s fetch that ring. It’s in my workshop.’

  We left the farmhouse and crossed an overgrown meadow towards a hulking whitewashed building that had once been a barn. Onatas unlocked a huge double door with a key from a metal ring on his belt, and we all filed in.

  I was expecting the place to be dark because there were no windows, but light streamed in through a grate in the ceiling. It illuminated a crowd of bronze and marble statues. A few were of gods, which I recognised by the symbols in their hands. Athena had an owl. Zeus was hurling a thunderbolt. Demeter carried a bunch of ripe corn. Most of the others were athletes wearing laurel wreaths. There was even a half-finished charioteer in a long chiton.

  Onatas marched up to a wooden chest on his workbench. ‘The ring is in here, gentlemen.’

  We gathered round while he selected a second key from the metal ring. It turned smoothly in the lock without making a sound. Onatas threw back the lid to reveal a collection of tools: chisels, a mallet and a small axe. He removed them one by one till the chest was empty.

  We looked up from it, puzzled.

  ‘Where’s the ring?’ asked Master Ariston.

  ‘Behold, gentlemen,’ said the sculptor, tapping the side of his nose to show us he was being crafty. He pressed on the bottom of the chest with both thumbs and it flipped up, revealing a secret compartment.

  I caught a glimpse of a leather purse, a few silver amulets on chains and a tiny woollen packet, bound up with a knotted leather thong. Onatas picked it up carefully and handed it to Gorgias.

  ‘Here is your ring, sir.’

  Gorgias stared at the packet for a moment, his hand trembling.r />
  ‘Allow me,’ said Onatas. He took the packet and carefully loosened the thong. Something shone on his palm as he peeled away the woollen cloth. But it wasn’t the golden ring of the harpies. It was just a polished stone marble, the kind young children play with on the street.

  The ring of the harpies was nowhere to be seen.

  CHAPTER 6

  A New Case for the Medusa League

  ‘It’s been stolen,’ gasped Master Ariston.

  Gorgias stared at the marble in horror, his jowls quivering.

  ‘But no one could have got into my tool chest,’ protested Onatas. ‘It was securely locked, and so was the door to the workshop.’

  ‘Then it must have fallen out of the parcel before you put it in the chest,’ said Master Ariston. ‘It must be on the floor. Come on, Thrax. Nico. Make yourself useful. Start looking for it.’

  ‘No,’ said Thrax in a loud voice. ‘Everyone stay where you are. Don’t move.’

  Everyone turned towards him.

  ‘The ring wasn’t lost. Master Ariston was right the first time. It’s been stolen. We mustn’t disturb the scene of the crime. We might destroy any clues left by the thief.’

  Gorgias looked up from the stone marble, which Onatas was still holding. He had the appearance of a man who had just woken from a nightmare. ‘Thank the gods you are here, boy. The oracle at Delphi may be right after all. I am sorry I doubted her words but how was I to know the ring would be stolen a second time? The offer I made you in Delphi still stands. Find the ring, and I will pay you handsomely.’

  ‘Nico and I will do everything we can to retrieve it, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘A very clever crime has been committed here but a thief ALWAYS leaves tell-tale clues, and they always lead to his conviction.’