Martin Millar - The Goddess of Buttercups and Daisies

‘I can’t imagine you in battle. What’s it like?’

Luxos looked very troubled. ‘Terrible,’ he said, and didn’t seem inclined to describe it further.

‘Couldn’t you refuse to fight?’

The young poet was shocked by the suggestion. ‘Athens needs everyone. I might be feeble but I’m not a coward. I do my best, even if I’m not much use at it.’

Metris put her face close to his and looked into his blue eyes. ‘My warrior hero,’ she said, and kissed him again.

After a few moments, she rose daintily to her feet. She knew that Bremusa would be looking for her.

‘I have to go now. But I’ll find you again.’

Aristophanes sat on a couch with Theodota, in her stately villa in the west side of town, home to all the city’s most successful hetaerae. At twenty-four, Theodota was Athens’ most beautiful and most famous courtesan. Aristophanes lusted after her permanently, and quite painfully. He desperately wished that she liked him more. The playwright had given her a lot of money in the past year. It hadn’t made much difference. They sat next to each other comfortably enough, but no one would have said they were intimate. Finely wrought earrings of delicate gold, imported from Syracuse, hung seductively on the courtesan’s ears, a present from Aristophanes, given to her only the day before. Theodota loved the earrings: she showed no sign of loving Aristophanes.

He watched as her young female servant Mnesarete poured wine for them.

‘To your beauty,’ he said, toasting Theodota.

‘To Athens,’ said Theodota.

Aristophanes had come here for a purpose other than simply lust, but once again, Theodota was not responding as well as he’d hoped.

‘Why won’t you do it?’

‘I’m afraid it’s out of the question, Aristophanes.’

‘Why?’

‘I have my reputation to consider.’

That seemed like an unsatisfactory answer. ‘Reputation? Theodota, you’re Athens’ most famous courtesan.’

‘Exactly. Why would men pay for my services if they could already see me walking around naked for free?’

‘It would really help me out.’

‘I still don’t see why you need a woman to come on stage at the end of your play and walk around naked. Isn’t that a little cheap?’

‘Cheap? You’re as bad as Hermogenes with his artistic principles. I’m not Aeschylus, you know. I’m not writing a great tragedy. I’m writing a comedy and I’m trying to win the prize for it, which means impressing a panel of judges. Five men drawn by lot, who for some reason always turn out to be the five most ignorant men in the city. And nothing would impress these ignorant judges more than Athens’ most beautiful woman walking out naked on stage.’

‘Isn’t female nudity against festival rules?’

‘We’ll give you a few pieces of string.’

Theodota laughed. When she laughed, her features lit up. It was intoxicating, even more intoxicating than her voice, which was already enough to hypnotise most of the men with whom she came into contact.

‘Sorry, Aristophanes, I’m not doing it. The Athenians don’t mind me plying my trade here as long as I’m reasonably discreet, but if I start wandering around naked at the Dionysia I’ll be in trouble.’

‘I think you might be more helpful, Theodota. I’m really struggling.’

‘Everyone’s finding it difficult these days, with the war.’

Aristophanes grunted with annoyance. ‘My rivals don’t seem to be suffering. They’ve got decent producers. Damn Eupolis and Leucon. Neither of them can write to save their lives. All you get from them is one cheap stunt after another. Are you sure you won’t appear naked?’

Theodota sipped her wine. She wore an expression Aristophanes had come to recognise, an expression that meant he wasn’t going to get what he wanted.

‘You could ask someone else. Mnesarete, for instance. She’s pretty. Good figure too.’

‘Your maid? It wouldn’t be the same.’ Aristophanes’ face clouded over. ‘I bet you’d do it for Socrates.’

Theodota rolled her eyes. ‘Not this again.’

He felt a familiar bad temper coming on. ‘Well, you obviously like him better than me.’

‘I’m not having a relationship with Socrates.’

‘You would if he asked. You probably wouldn’t even charge him. Why are all the courtesans in Athens so keen on Socrates?’

‘Why?’ said Theodota. ‘I suppose it’s because he’s intelligent and funny, and he gives good advice. He’s nice to us and treats us with respect. And he doesn’t want anything from us in return.’

‘Yes, fine. I wasn’t really looking for such a detailed answer.’

Aristophanes scowled, angered at the injustice of it. Theodota was capable of freezing out anyone she didn’t like. Her regal disdain could leave a man feeling crushed. There were famous, handsome, wealthy Athenians she’d never accept as clients, because she’d taken a dislike to them for some reason. But whenever shabby, ugly, old Socrates appeared, she just fawned over him like a little girl. It was infuriating. Damn Socrates. Aristophanes felt glad he’d made fun of him in his last play.

Idomeneus entered the room upstairs in the tavern and placed a heavy bag of silver on the table.

‘I have the money from Euphranor.’

‘Is it all there?’

‘Minus the priestess’s commission.’

‘Ah, the priestess. How is Kleonike?’

‘A lot wealthier since she started accepting bribes. I get the impression some of the group that hired her aren’t too pleased at the amount she charges.’

Laet’s lips twitched in the semblance of a smile. ‘Then they’re fools. Kleonike is worth it to them. She’s worth more. There aren’t that many mortals left who can summon a semi-divine.’

Idomeneus looked at her quizzically. ‘You’ve been summoned by a lot of priestesses in your time.’

‘I have. But mostly in the centuries after Troy. Have you not noticed the amount of human contact lessening, these recent years?’

Idomeneus shrugged. ‘I suppose so. I never gave it much thought.’

‘The days of close connection between Mount Olympus and the cities of Greece are coming to an end, Idomeneus. Heroes no longer walk with men. Centaurs no longer teach the sons of kings. The divines are withdrawing, and the semi-divines are following them. Kleonike is one of the last priestesses capable of making contact with us.’ Laet looked thoughtful. ‘That woman on the beach. It’s a surprise to find an Amazon in Athens. Apparently the Goddess Athena has not yet relinquished direct intervention.’

She took a coin from the bag and examined it. ‘Best quality silver. The mines at Laurium have always been very beneficial for Athens. If not for the slaves who have to dig it out the ground.’

‘What do you care about their slaves?’

‘Nothing at all. Though I’m amused at these philosophers talking about ethics when it’s wealth from their slaves that keeps them prosperous.’

Laet put the coin in her purse, an elegantly embroidered item from Corinth. ‘It’s so gratifying to be paid for spreading destruction. Often I’ve done it for free.’

‘I hear the peace conference almost came to blows.’

‘It’s not hard to spread disorder among people who already hate each other. The Athenians and Spartans are locked into their ways and will never change. It will finish them eventually.’

Laet looked around the small tavern room, which was clean but furnished in very basic fashion.

‘You must rent us a house somewhere. I don’t like this tavern.’

She gazed out of the window, northwards to the fine white buildings and marble columns of Athens. She murmured a line from Euripides’ Medea :