Death on Delos Page 10

  “You mean there isn’t. I thought as much,” I said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Who do you think keeps track of all the treasure that arrives?” Anaxinos said. “Of course there’s an accountant here. You want to speak to Karnon.”

  “Karnon?”

  “You’ll like him. He’s an Athenian, and he loves money.”

  Anaxinos gave us directions. As we walked away, Diotima was visibly upset.

  “That was awful,” she said.

  “It wasn’t fun,” I agreed. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  “I had no idea that Anaxinos hated Athens so,” Diotima said.

  “He was drunk,” I said. “That probably has something to do with it.”

  “There’s a poem that says wine is the window into a man’s soul,” Diotima said. “Nico, which do you think is the true Anaxinos? The perfect host when he’s sober, or the bitter man when he’s drunk?”

  “Who knows?” I said. Then I took a moment to consider. “No, I think I do know,” I said after some thought. “They’re both the true man. The sober Anaxinos is a fine gentleman. Maybe he’s too fine a man.” I shrugged.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s almost the perfect manager,” I said. “He’s nice to people—”

  “That’s his job,” Diotima pointed out.

  “Yes, that’s my point. No one’s perfectly nice. At least not normal men. We all have rough edges, our prejudices and our personality defects.”

  “So?”

  “So Anaxinos isn’t allowed to display any of those human traits. He’s in charge of the most holy sanctuary in the world. He’s required to be relentlessly nice to thousands of visitors every year. That would have to grate on any normal man after a while. It would certainly grate on me.”

  “You think when he’s drunk he lets out all the frustrations he can’t voice in public?”

  I nodded. “We caught him at a bad time. Do you think he knows about the bribery?”

  “I hope not,” Diotima said with feeling.

  “So do I, because if he knew, I don’t think he’d hesitate to knife Geros.”

  “That was my thought too. Not only is Apollo his entire life, but he hates greedy men.”

  We walked in silence for a while, then I asked a question that had been building up inside me. “Diotima?”

  “Yes?”

  “How can you face the possibility that soon you’ll have to give birth?”

  “Well, it’s not like I have any choice, you know.”

  “But so many things can go wrong.”

  “When you men are about to go into battle, do you think about what can go wrong?”

  “Most do.”

  “But you get into line and you fight anyway,” she said.

  “Yes, of course.” I didn’t add that most men were more scared of being called a coward than they were of death.

  “Well then, it’s the same for us women,” Diotima said. “Anyway, Nico, I’m not going to die.”

  “Right. Of course not,” I said confidently.

  We walked along in silence for a while. Then Diotima said, “Nico?”

  “Yes?”

  “If I die, you’ll look after the baby, won’t you?”

  I was shocked that she even asked. “Of course I will. You know that.”

  “I mean, you can’t let yourself be killed,” she said. “What we do, sometimes it’s dangerous.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Well, if I die, and then you die on some job, then our baby would be an orphan, like what happened to Anaxinos. You can’t let that happen to our baby. All right?”

  Usually when both parents died, the children would go to live with an aunt or uncle. It was a sacred family obligation. But in our family, Socrates was only a teenager, and both Diotima’s parents and mine were old; they would not live long enough to raise another child. There was no one else.

  “I’ll try not to die,” I said. “I’ll get a safe job in Athens.”

  The Accountant of Delos

  Karnon lived apart from Delos’s other residents. The priests and priestesses and the locals all lived in the village at the southern end of the island. This they called the new village. The sanctuary and the old village were toward the north of Delos.

  Karnon had built his home on the west side of the island, over a low hill away from the main village and thus out of sight of everyone else. I wondered why. It must have been inconvenient every time he wanted something from the village.

  Fortunately we had been warned. Diotima rode the donkey she had been given to get around. I walked alongside.

  Karnon’s home was easy to see in the distance. Like every other house on Delos, it was surrounded by a depressingly large amount of the unproductive, light-colored grit that passed for soil in this place, out of which grew weeds. A small herd of goats ate the weeds and completely ignored us.

  There were two boys playing outside. They were wrestling. They stood up respectfully as Diotima and I approached.

  “Hello, sir,” they said, almost in unison.

  They were both so covered in dirt that they looked like matching white ghosts with powdered black hair. I thought they must be twins, but then I realized one was a few years older than the other, slightly taller, and more filled out, though both were thin.

  “We’re looking for a man named Karnon,” I said. “Is he your father?”

  The boys said, “No, sir. We’ll tell him you’re here, sir.” Again they spoke almost in unison.

  They ran inside.

  A woman came out.

  “I am Marika, housekeeper and slave to my master Karnon. How may I help you? I hope my boys weren’t too rude.”

  “On the contrary, I have never seen two better behaved,” I told her. “We hope to speak with your master.”

  “That is possible. I asked the boys to wake him. Please come inside.”

  Diotima slid off the donkey and I grabbed her on the way down. Marika exclaimed.

  “You look like you might soon have a son of your own,” she said.

  Marika helped Diotima inside, holding her arms and giving my wife attentions that, had I done the same, would have annoyed her. But Diotima accepted the same assistance from the slave Marika. I decided it must be a woman thing.

  Karnon’s home was the most comfortable I had yet seen on Delos. In fact, had I not known better, I would have thought I was back in Athens. I noticed there was an andron at the front of the house, just inside the door. That would have been the normal room to receive strangers, but with a lady visitor it would not have been the done thing. Instead, Marika led us to couches in the courtyard.

  The courtyard was neatly squared off. The furniture was newer and more comfortable than that which the High Priest enjoyed. The walls had been painted not more than a few years ago. Everything was free of dust. I hadn’t realized how dusty everything was on Delos—I had become used to the thin layer that coated almost every surface—until I saw Karnon’s house, which was spotless. I wondered at the obvious wealth and the comfort of this man. If this was what being an accountant brought you, then I was in the wrong profession.

  Marika brought us wine, and bread and cheese for my wife. We were both thirsty after the walk. It was as we sipped this that Karnon entered.

  I stood to greet him, as a guest should, and got an immediate shock. I had seen Karnon before. He was the clerkish-looking man I had seen in the Oikos this morning at dawn when I had discovered Geros dead. He had been the one behind the large desk, full to overflowing with papyrus.

  Karnon greeted me, then Diotima. “Excuse me for not being awake to greet you. It’s my habit to work late and sleep late.”

  “I am sorry to have disturbed you,” I said.

  “It’s of no matter,” he said. “Have you be
en treated well in my home? Have you sufficient wine? Something to eat?”

  I wondered if hospitality was the favorite pastime of the residents of Delos. Karnon’s words were so like those of Anaxinos when we first arrived. Diotima hurried to assure our host that his slave Marika had been the epitome of fine service.

  “That is good then.” Karnon sat down before us. “You came to see me about something?”

  At that moment, the two boys ran through the courtyard, followed closely by a cloud of white dust that settled upon everything within reach, including not only the fine furniture but their master Karnon.

  Karnon grabbed the elder of the boys by his arm, and then he laughed. “Here now, lads!” he said. His voice was mild, where most masters would have been furious. “One mustn’t run through the courtyard, not when we have guests.”

  The sight was vaguely ludicrous as the white dust of Delos settled slowly on Karnon’s bald head. I was instantly struck by the sight of the master and the two slave boys together. I was sure Diotima had seen it too.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” said the elder boy.

  Karnon let go his arm. “You two better sneak out before your mother catches you.”

  “Breto! Melippos!”

  It was too late; the junior miscreants had been caught in the act. The boys’ mother stood in the doorway to the kitchen. In her hands she carried food for us and wine for her master.

  “Leave them be, Marika,” said Karnon. “You’re only a child once, you know.” To the children he said, “Go now, lads.”

  The boys completely forgot the stricture not to run as they headed for the exit.

  “You are too soft on those boys, Karnon,” Marika said.

  Diotima and I exchanged a startled glance. Had we just heard a slave scold her owner?

  Marika placed the food on tables beside our couches. There were olives and bread. Then she passed through the same exit as her children, shouting something about buckets of water and dirty clothes.

  Karnon watched us as we watched the comedy unfold. “I run a relaxed household,” he said, by way of explanation.

  There was definitely something strange about Karnon’s household. I decided the only thing to do was pretend that that episode hadn’t happened.

  “We’re here about the death of the priest Geros,” I said, then paused, waiting for a reaction. When I didn’t get one I added, “I assume you know he’s dead?”

  “I heard. Murdered, apparently. Bad business, that.”

  That was one way of putting it.

  “We wanted to ask you about some coins,” Diotima said. She fumbled in her pouch, extracting the three coins that we had found on Geros. I took these from Diotima’s hand and gave them to Karnon.

  Karnon squinted at the coins. I wondered if he had bad eyes. “Surely you recognize the first two,” he said.

  “Tetradrachms from Athens,” Diotima said. “Do people on Delos really trade in such high currencies?”

  “Hardly,” Karnon said. He put these down in order to inspect the third. He held it up to the light and turned it in his fingers.

  “Now this one is interesting,” he said.

  “We didn’t recognize the metal,” I told him.

  “I’m not surprised,” he said. “This is electrum. It’s a mixture of gold and silver. There are some places where the mines produce it.” Karnon stopped to drink his wine before he added, “Of course, those places are all in Asia Minor.”

  “What on earth would a coin from Asia Minor be doing on Delos?” I asked.

  “It’s an offering, obviously, donated by a supplicant,” Karnon said. He held it up for us to see. “Notice the winged deer and the fish stamped on the front? The design is unique. This coin is from Kyzikos.”

  “I’ve never heard of the place.”

  “It’s in Anatolia. Whoever left the coin almost certainly came from one of the Hellene cities on that side of the sea. They probably got it in trade.”

  Karnon leaned back in his couch, wine in hand, and said, “I notice you haven’t told me where you found these. You also haven’t really told me why you are asking these questions.”

  Diotima spoke for us both. “They were found near the body of Geros.”

  “Oh? Why do you care?”

  “We have been asked by Anaxinos to look into the murder.”

  “You mentioned something to that effect before, but you’re both Athenians.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s complicated,” I told him.

  “Hmm,” he said, clearly unimpressed. “Well, if you think the motive was robbery, you can think again. These coins are very valuable. No thieving murderer would have left them behind.”

  “Any idea why Geros would have been carrying them?” I asked.

  Karnon shook his head. “He certainly had no need for them on Delos.”

  “Or where he got them?” Diotima asked.

  “As I said, it’s the sort of thing a supplicant donates to a temple. Geros probably got them from one of the treasuries.”

  “Which treasury?” I asked. “How do you know what’s in each?”

  “I’ll answer you in kind. It’s complicated.” He chuckled. “I tell you what, come see me when I’m at the Oikos, up at the temples, and I’ll show you how we keep the accounts.”

  I could think of few things less exciting.

  “Is it the normal practice for a priest to carry treasury property?” Diotima asked.

  “Geros may have been given the coins by a visitor and not yet placed them in a treasure house,” Karnon said.

  “Is that normal?”

  “No. Or he may have removed coins to pay for something on temple business.”

  “Geros could do that?”

  “He was the second most senior priest on the island. Of course he could.”

  This was frustrating. Worse, I wasn’t at all sure that the coins had anything to do with Geros’s death. I could tell from the expression on Diotima’s face that she too felt stymied.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing unusual in this—not for Delos anyway.” Karnon looked from one to the other of us. “I know what you two are doing.”

  I said, with slight bitterness, “You do? Then I wish you’d tell us, because we’re not so sure.”

  “You’re on a wild hunt.”

  “Not particularly.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “That’s an expression we accountants use.”

  “What do you mean?” Diotima asked. I leaned forward, suddenly interested, because Karnon was speaking with assurance.

  “Like when a businessman suspects his partner has been stealing from the partnership. Then an accountant looks at where the money was spent. We don’t know exactly what we’re looking for, but we’ll know it when we see it.”

  “Sounds like detective work,” I said.

  “May I ask a question?” Diotima asked.

  “You and your husband have already asked many questions,” Karnon replied. “Why seek my permission to ask another?”

  “Yes . . . umm . . .” Diotima was nonplussed. I knew she had meant a more personal question, the sort that some might not like to answer, but Karnon had not caught her meaning at all. The accountant apparently took everything literally. “I didn’t see you at the protests,” Diotima said finally.

  “Because I was not there,” Karnon replied.

  “I would have thought the removal of the treasure would have a bigger effect on you than any other man on the entire island,” Diotima said.

  Karnon nodded. “I think that must be true.”

  “Yet you were the only one who didn’t protest the removal?”

  “Ah, I see your confusion,” Karnon said. “Let me make several things clear. Firstly, I am an Athenian. Athenians are not exactly popular on Delos at the moment.”

>   “We’ve noticed.”

  “Though I must say, I am generally an exception to that rule. I have lived on this island for a long time. The villagers often think of me as one of them. Secondly, though I am an Athenian, I am a servant of the Delian League. My service is to the League, not to Delos, nor to Athens, for that matter.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  Diotima asked, “As treasurer to the Delian League, did you have advance notice of the Athenian plan? Did you know that they were coming to take the treasure?”

  “I didn’t,” Karnon said.

  “So you were as surprised as everyone when Pericles turned up, demanding the treasure?” Diotima persisted.

  “I was astonished,” Karnon said. “Before you ask, I am not happy about it. The amount of preparation that must go into moving that much money is beyond your wildest nightmares.”

  “It is?” I said surprised. “Don’t they just pick up the gold, carry it to the ships, and sail off to Athens?”

  “Good God, no!” Karnon almost shouted. He half-leapt out of his seat. “You have to count it before it leaves, and you have to count it the moment it arrives. Otherwise how will you know it all got there?”

  I saw his point instantly. We were both Athenians; we both knew our fellow citizens. We both knew what to expect if Athenians were left alone with bags of gold.

  I said, “Someone could steal coins or gold bars in transit.”

  “Of course they would,” the accountant said. “Unless they knew for certain that every box, every bag, every tiny scrap of gold had been listed, counted, and weighed before it left the treasure house. That’s why it’s such a big job to move the treasure. That’s what I was doing when you burst into the Oikos so early this morning.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Or at least, I was starting the planning. We will have to break every box out of storage to audit the contents.” Karnon grimaced. “I tell you, this is going to take forever.”

  Karnon spoke with the authority of a man who knew his business inside out. I wondered if Pericles had thought of these things. He probably hadn’t.

  “What does moving the treasure mean to you personally, Karnon?” Diotima asked.