The Goddess of Buttercups and Daisies Read Free Page A

did bring certain obligations. You were meant to be civil to fellow members, and help them out if possible. However, while Aristophanes did occasionally farm out some lyric writing to his staff, neither he nor anyone else was ever going to trust Luxos to write poetry for them, with his effeminately long, tousled hair, his obvious poverty, and his lack of training. He was wasting his time.
    Luxos sensed his thoughts. ‘No one will give me a chance. Just because I’m the son of an oarsman…’
    ‘Face it, Luxos, few great Athenian writers have come from families of rowers. You weren’t even educated.’
    ‘I educated myself! How about giving me the poetry spot before your play starts?’
    Before the comedies were presented at the festival, it was customary for one of Athens’ great lyric poets to entertain the crowd with a few well-chosen pieces, to get them in the mood. As with everything connected with the festival, it was an honour to be selected.
    ‘Luxos, before my actors walk onstage, the crowd will be entertained by one of Athens’ great poets. Does that include you?’
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘Only in your own mind.’
    ‘But I could do it if I got the chance.’
    ‘Come back in a few years when you’ve made your reputation and I’ll consider it.’
    ‘It’s not fair,’ said Luxos.
    ‘We’ve been at war for ten years. Nothing’s fair any more.’
    Aristophanes turned away. Behind him, Luxos had started reciting, but he wasn’t listening.
     
Shout to him! We shall sing of Dionysus on these holy days: he has been absent for twelve months, but now the springtime is here, and all the flowers.
     

General Lamachus
     
    General Lamachus didn’t enjoy being involved with politics in Athens. It had always been troublesome; since the franchise had been extended to almost every man in the city, he’d found it intolerable. He said as much to Euphranor, when they met in the Pegasus barber shop.
    ‘We have a chaotic, ineffective government that can barely make a decision. When they do, it’s liable to be wrong. Do these people think they’re free? As far as I can see they follow the herd. Whoever shouts the loudest, and promises the most reward for the least effort, gets their votes.’
    The general warmed to his theme. ‘I hate the Spartans but I envy them too. They have two kings, and some ephors, and they make all the decisions. None of this consulting the entire population, with the endless slanging matches we have in our assembly. Every petty demagogue saying whatever suits him best, never mind what the city needs. I hate to be involved with these people.’
    Euphranor nodded. He’d been a strong warrior in his time. Now he was grey-haired and overweight, and he wore a chiton a little too fancy for a man of his age. Nonetheless, he was still a powerful character. His weapons factory had made him one of the richest men in Athens. ‘It’s unfortunate, but we need to be involved. We can’t let the peace conference succeed.’
    The general scowled. ‘It’s demeaning for men like us to be associated with a loud-mouthed rabble-rouser like Hyperbolus.’
    ‘I know. But there’s no one like him for stirring up the crowd.’
    Their conversation paused as the barber and his slave attended to Euphranor’s beard. Lamachus wondered what General Acanthus and his Spartan delegation were doing at this moment. Not sitting in a barber’s, that was certain.
Long-haired Spartans.
He was sure he could lead Athens to victory over them, if only he was given the chance.
    ‘So what’s the feeling in the rest of the city?’
    ‘Still mixed,’ said Euphranor. ‘I’ve given Hyperbolus and his party plenty of silver to spread around, but even so there are a lot of people pushing for peace.’ He paused, and looked momentarily awkward. ‘I paid a visit to Kleonike.’
    ‘Her again?’ General Lamachus was exasperated. ‘We don’t need help from some renegade priestess.’
    ‘No harm in covering all the angles. Kleonike