The Goddess of Buttercups and Daisies

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The agora was always busy. Everyone shopped there. Coins flew from mouth to hand, and from hand to till, as goods were bought and sold. Merchants shouted out prices, friends exchanged greetings and news, while the occasional small boy, on the run from his tutor, made a dash for the safety of the stalls. With the Dionysia festival almost due to start, it was busier than ever.

Aristophanes enjoyed his regular visits. It wasn’t that he was particularly good at buying supplies, or running his household — he left most of that to his chief servant Epiktetos — but it was a fine place for observing people. Many events that ended up in his plays had their roots in the agora. People knew he was observing them. They didn’t mind. Mostly it gave rise to mirth.

‘Don’t let Aristophanes see you doing that, he’ll put you in his next comedy!’

Sosinos, at his stall selling honey cakes, greeted him warmly. ‘Aristophanes, when are you going to put me on stage?’

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