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 been 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.

I saw why Diotima had persisted with her questions. Removal of the treasure must surely threaten Karnon’s job. It certainly forced a major change in his life.

There was sudden commotion from outside that made us all turn to the door. From the indignant squeals, the exasperated shouts of a woman’s voice, the thump of buckets, and the splash of water, I deduced that two boys were having a bath. Then there was sudden silence, if you didn’t count the spluttering. The slave woman Marika reappeared with an empty bucket in each hand and a smile of victory.

Karnon turned back to Diotima and said loudly, “The removal of the treasure would mean I go back to Athens. My job wouldn’t change. As I have told you, my appointment derives from the League.” He shrugged. “I would simply move this entire household and everyone in it to another city. One where we don’t have to ration water, or wonder whether the food supply will last until the next shipment.”

“So you would actually prefer the treasure to move?” I said.

“Either is fine with me.”

I decided to take a risk on something that I had guessed. I said, “I assume, sir, if you relocated back to Athens, then you would free Marika and make her your wife, so that she and your sons would arrive as free citizens.”

I thought that was an easy guess. When the boys had run past Karnon, I had seen they were the spitting image of their father. The only difference was that he was bald, while the youngsters had straight, black hair. Karnon would not be the first man to fall for a pretty slave woman.

“My wife?” Karnon managed to look innocent. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. My wife lives in Athens. Her name is Strateia.”

“Oh, I see,” I said politely, the situation suddenly becoming a little clearer. “I thought, with the easy familiarity between you and Marika—”

“My wife is the daughter of a wealthy man in Athens,” Karnon explained. “When I received this posting to Delos, I knew it would create something of a problem. You see, my wife is used to the greatest comforts in life. She is extremely fond of social events and enjoys the company of the wives of other successful men. Myself, I am happiest with my numbers. The opportunity to be accountant to the Delian League was one I could not resist.” He stopped to think about it, then added, “No, not even to please my wife could I refuse such a posting.”

“Then she was not pleased with your appointment?” Diotima asked.

“She viewed it as a hardship post, I’m sorry to say,” Karnon said. “It was she who suggested that she remain in Athens, to look after our children, and my estate of course.”

“Of course. Very sensible,” Diotima said, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

Karnon nodded, then he added, somewhat defensively, “We do see each other from time to time, whenever I’m back in Athens on business.”

“I’m sure.”

“So those excellent young men are not yours,” Diotima said it as a statement.

“They are excellent young men, aren’t they?” Karnon said enthusiastically. “But I must deny paternity.” He said this with a straight face. “Marika had them with one of the men in the village.”

“I see,” said Diotima in a flat voice.

Karnon said, “I don’t know the father. I would never be so rude as to inquire.”

“No, of course not,” I said as deadpan as I could manage, to match Diotima’s effort.

“I merely ensure they are cared for,” Karnon insisted.

“You seem to do it well.”

“Thank you.”

Karnon stood. We rose too.

“Are we finished?” he asked, in a voice that suggested the answer was yes.

“Thank you for seeing us,” I said.

Diotima rode and I walked back to the village. It was midday by now, and thoroughly hot. The heat seemed to rise off the ground, as if we were walking on a giant cooking plate that had been set to simmer. Because of it my feet were hotter than the rest of me.

The donkey clearly had no interest in going anywhere at this temperature. I solved that by whacking it in the rear with a stick from time to time.

As we plodded along I said, “What do you think?”

“I think we just wasted out time. Those coins don’t mean a thing,” Diotima said.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right,” I said.

“But we did learn something. Karnon is the only person we’ve met whose life would be disrupted if the treasure moved. You didn’t believe him, I assume, when he said the children aren’t his?”

“They’re his, all right. He obviously loves Marika. Did you see the way he looks at her?”

Diotima nodded. “He doesn’t want to go home. He wants to stay here with the woman he loves and his sons by her.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” I said. “But that’s only a motive to stop the treasure moving.”

“It’s a motive to kill Geros, if Karnon knew Geros had done a deal with Pericles,” Diotima said.

“That’s a big stretch,” I warned her. “You said this morning that there was only a tiny window of opportunity in which to kill Geros.”

“Yes.”

“That means there’s only the same tiny window for someone to find out that Geros had turned against Delos for money. How could Karnon, who wasn’t even at the protest, possibly learn that Geros had been bribed?”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” Diotima looked deflated. “That makes it much more difficult for my theory.”

“Look on the bright side,” I said. “It means the only people on Delos with a reason to kill Geros are the ones who had a chance to learn that he had been bribed. That should be simple. There can’t be many.”

“I see what you mean,” Diotima said. “But we also have to consider the other side.”

“What other side?”

“The people who wanted the treasure to move, and didn’t know that Geros had been bribed. That, my husband, means the Athenians.”

I groaned. “This is so confusing.”

“I thought a moment ago you said this was simple?”

“That was before I realized there were so many combinations.”

“Then let’s list them,” Diotima said.

“All right.”

Diotima said, “There are two sorts of people on this island: people who want the Treasury of the Delian League to move to Athens and those who want it to stay on Delos.”

“That covers every possibility,” I said.

“Then there are another two sorts of people,” Diotima went on. “The ones who knew Geros had been successfully bribed by you, Nico, and the ones who didn’t.”

“Yes, and the vast majority could not have known.” I paused, then said, “Do you realize we’re starting to sound like Socrates?”

Diotima shuddered. “That’s a scary thought. But you’re right, this is the way Socrates would think.”

Socrates, my little brother, had a tendency to be depressingly logical. Though he wasn’t so little any more. He had turned eighteen just as we left for Delos, and was now serving his compulsory two years in the army. I wondered which recruiting sergeant had been given the job of trying to make Socrates obey orders without question. Whoever he was, the poor man would probably be suicidal before the year was out.

Diotima was thinking aloud. “Possibly only you, Pericles, and Geros himself knew about the deal, but that remains to be seen.”

“I agree.”

“Now let’s list which of those combinations might want Geros dead,” Diotima continued. “First there are those who want the treasure to remain on Delos. Of those, if they don’t know Geros has been bribed, then they definitely want him alive.”

“Very much so,” I agreed. “That must be the vast majority of the Delians.”

“Yes,” Diotima said. “But if you want the treasure to remain on Delos and you know Geros is corrupt, then you definitely want him dead.”

“Those people would be furious with him,” I said. “They would have a very strong motive.”

“The only problem is, as far as we know, the number of people in that category is zero,” Diotima said.

“Yes, that is somewhat annoying.”

“Let’s move on,” Diotima said. “And by the way, when I say move on, I mean this donkey is incredibly uncomfortable.”

“He probably feels the same way,” I said. “You could try walking?”

“I doubt I’d make the distance, in this heat,” she said. It was the first time I’d heard Diotima even suggest that carrying the baby was difficult. “But every time this animal takes a step, every part of me goes up and down, but at different speeds.”

“That’s all right then, babies like to be bounced.”

“Very funny.”

“Go on with your analysis. So far, I agree.”

Diotima held onto the donkey’s neck while it negotiated a particularly steep hill. “All right. Let’s say you want the treasure to go to Athens, and say you know Geros has been bribed, then you want to keep him alive.”

“Of course. That covers Pericles and me,” I said.

“On the other hand, if you want the treasure to move, and you don’t know a deal has been done, then killing Geros looks like a good idea.”

“Yes.”

“That must include most of the Athenians,” Diotima said.

I could only nod to that.

Diotima said, “On the face of it, there are many more Athenians who might have wanted to kill Geros than any other group: the ones who didn’t know there had been chicanery. What if one of them struck Geros on their own initiative?”

I laughed. “Every one of those men without exception is a soldier or a navy man. Do you know the first rule of all military?”

“No, what is it?”

“Never volunteer. It’s inconceivable that one of them would have . . .”

But by then we had reached the first outlying houses of the village. We wouldn’t be able to continue the conversation on a public road surrounded by inquisitive villagers. There were people in the streets, doing the sorts of things villagers always do. Women were cooking, cleaning, or carrying baskets to and from the small local agora. Further down the road, fishwives sat together and gossiped as they mended fishing nets. Men hauled loads on carts, did carpentry on houses or fixed their boats. One was fixing a broken axle. Through a large open window I could see Moira in the tavern, serving drinks.

It was the stuff of everyday life, but every one of these people stopped and stared at us as Diotima and I passed.

Diotima noticed the same thing. “It’s like they’ve never seen a pregnant woman,” she said.

“No, they’ve never seen two Athenian investigators on the job,” I replied. “They’re wondering what we’re going to do, and what it means for them.”

“I wonder if it truly means anything to them?” Diotima asked.

“They think it does.”

But Diotima was right. It wasn’t at all obvious why an ordinary villager in Delos cared about what she and I did.

“Do you know what we don’t have any of?” I asked Diotima.

“Clues?” she suggested.

“I was thinking a bit more specifically. We don’t have a single witness.”

“Well, you made sure of that, didn’t you?” said my wife. She was still annoyed about my part in the bribery.

I sighed. It was because I had set up a clandestine meeting that no one had seen anything. Or at least, as far as we knew. Geros had been killed in the dark, in an abandoned village, after an all-night party that had left anyone still awake too drunk to be a witness, and those not drunk at home asleep in their beds.

For the first time in my career, we were facing a failure so total that we didn’t even know where to start.