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father’s choice as heir, but when the king died, Pantaleon tried to usurp the throne. His stepmother and other conspirators came to
me, gave me poison, and instructed me to kill the king.’
    ‘I had heard there was a baker involved in this story. That was you?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You used it to poison them instead, did you not?’
    ‘Yes. They were staying in the palace at the time, and it was simple enough for me to serve them with their own poison.’
    ‘Remind me not to make an enemy of you,’ Solon said. ‘They would have made you a rich man. Perhaps even a free man. Instead you became a murderer. Why do it?’
    Isocrates hesitated, his hands pausing for a moment on the old man’s back. ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘I think you do.’
    ‘Croesus is an innocent,’ Isocrates said, after a moment. ‘And they were such schemers. It didn’t seem right, to murder an innocent man to put people like them into
power. And those who use poison surely deserve to die by it. Is that a proverb?’
    ‘It should be. So, you are a baker, a poisoner, now the personal slave of the king. You have many talents, it seems.’
    ‘I like to think so.’
    ‘I am not sure he is worthy of you. I cannot tell you the number of courts that I have visited where the slaves had more wit than their masters. I have begun to think that perhaps our
cities would be much improved if the masters and the slaves were to change places overnight.’
    ‘You do my master wrong.’
    ‘He asked me the most foolish question today. Sitting there with a look in his eyes like a shy boy in front of a beautiful girl. I thought he had some profound dilemma to present to me. A
good philosophical puzzle, perhaps. Instead he asked me to name the happiest person I had ever met.’
    ‘And you didn’t say him?’
    ‘No. I told him it was Tellus. That vexed him.’
    ‘And who is Tellus?’
    ‘An Athenian, like any other.’ Solon smiled. ‘Your Croesus, he is a decent man, and not a bad king by all accounts. But he’s a fool.’
    ‘He’s no fool.’
    ‘Then what is he?’
    Isocrates shrugged. ‘Inexperienced.’
    ‘Ah. There you have it. He hasn’t seen much of the world, has he? An innocent man. That’s why he thinks he’s happy.’ Solon paused, turning the thought over.
‘Thank you, Isocrates. You have given me the answer I was looking for.’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘There was something in his character that I couldn’t quite understand. I am thinking of writing something, you know, on the characters of kings and of their closest slaves. The
chapter on Croesus would have been incomplete without that little observation of yours.’
    Isocrates finished his massage at the base of the other man’s back, stepped backwards, and bowed. Solon sat upright, stretched and muttered appreciatively.
    ‘My thanks to you,’ Solon said. ‘In return, I shall give you something.’
    ‘My duty is my reward.’
    ‘I doubt that’s true. I have no coin to give you, but perhaps you will accept a secret.’ And before the slave could respond, Solon leaned forward and spoke a few words in his
ear.
    Isocrates stepped back and looked at the other man warily. Solon smiled. ‘I know slaves have little use for other men’s secrets,’ he said. ‘My apologies.’ The old
man yawned.
    ‘You are tired,’ the slave said. ‘I will leave you.’
    ‘Yes, I am tired. Sleep comes easily when you are as old as I am. Practice for what lies ahead.’ Solon rubbed at his face. ‘Thank you for your company, Isocrates. I don’t
suppose I shall see you again. I doubt that your master will spare you during the rest of my stay here.’
    ‘You are right. Good luck with your writing.’
    ‘Oh, that.’ Solon waved a hand dismissively. ‘I will never finish it. I’ll die long before it is done, and if it is not finished by me it will have to be burned. There is
nothing more dangerous than leaving a half-finished work behind when you die. Some fool will come along and