Free The Pericles Commission by Gary Corby

buildings.
    It was from the shadows of one such niche that a man stepped before me. His clothing was worn, making me think of a country worker or perhaps a laborer.
    “Hey, you Nicolaos?” he asked.
    “Yes, what do you want?”
    “Stop asking questions. Hear me? Just stop.” His voice was harsh.
    “What?” I said, my mind stupid for a moment before I realized what he was saying. “You want me to stop investigating the murder? How do you know about that?”
    “Not your problem. Leave it alone.”
    “Who are you?” And, because I could not credit this bumpkin as acting on his own, I demanded, “Who do you work for?”
    He punched me hard in the diaphragm and I doubled over, the air knocked out of me. I was still recovering when my legs were kicked out from under me and I went down. Another man ran up and I thought he was coming to my aid, but instead he kicked me in the kidneys.
    The first man said again, grunting as he kicked me in the gut, “Stop asking questions. Leave it alone.” Then the two of them started on me in earnest. There was nothing I could do but cover my head with my arms and hope they didn’t maim me, or did they intend to kill me? The beating hurt worse than anything I remembered, and oddly, the anticipation of not knowing where the next blow would fall was worse than the pain. I cried out for help.
    “Hey! You! Stop that!”
    They both took to their heels. I remained curled in a ball and felt, rather than saw or heard, several pairs of feet run to me.
    I was picked up. I opened my eyes, but I was so dizzy I shut them again. I felt myself swaying, and a pair of hands on either side helped to steady me. I opened my eyes again, and the world was spinning about, but slower than before. When it stopped, I found myself looking into the eyes of Archestratus.
     
    Archestratus poured a cup of watered wine and set it down beside me. “Did you get a look at him?”
    We stood in his courtyard. One of his slaves who knew something about injuries was checking me for broken bones. I flinched every time he poked me.
    I shrugged. “Not good enough. He came at me from the shadows, and I’d walked from bright sun into the shade. My eyes hadn’t adjusted. He had a beard, dark hair, average height, bad clothing. That should narrow it down to half the men in Athens.”
    “Just so. What about the second man?”
    “The best I can tell you is he needs to cut his toenails.”
    “That would describe almost every man in Athens.”
    “Just so,” I said, imitating his way of speech.
    The slave ceased his prodding and stood up.
    Archestratus said, “Well?”
    “There will be many bruises, sir. But as far as my humble skills can say, the bones are whole. He was lucky we came along when we did; if it had continued much longer, I feel sure something would have broken inside. The young man should see a healer to be sure. Sometimes a man might walk away from such a beating but die without warning a day or two later.” Such a cheery fellow.
    I immediately said, “No thanks, I have my own resource in that area.”
    Archestratus raised an eyebrow.
    “My mother is a midwife.”
    Archestratus said, “Terrible as your ordeal was, I don’t think you need fear pregnancy.”
    Another slave came running with a chitoniskos in his arms. I took off the soiled one and tipped a bucket of cold water over my body before putting on the fresh.
    Archestratus said, “This will be laundered and sent to you.”
    “I am in your debt.”
    “It’s my pleasure.”
    I sat and sipped at his wine. He sat down beside me with his own cup and lay back on the dining couch. A slave brought a bowl of figs, olives, and grapes. You can tell a lot about a man from the way he treats his slaves, and Archestratus thanked his boy, who smiled and departed.
    “Tell me, how goes your investigation?”
    I hesitated.
    “If you would like to repay that debt you mentioned, let me help you if I can. Pericles does not hold a monopoly on revering Ephialtes.