See Delphi And Die

by Lindsey Davis

  ‘No.’

  ‘Pity we can’t just nip off-but I fear we have witnesses.’

  Other people arrived, headed up by Lacheses, the damned priest who offended me yesterday. Affecting a superior air, he stood at the pool edge, ordering slaves to roll the wrestler over.

  Today Lacheses wore full-length robes with a decorated hemline, and carried a spray of wild olive; this presumably signified he was attached to the Temple of Zeus. ‘You nearly killed a pankration champion!’

  ‘Him or us,’ I answered curtly. ‘Someone told him to attack me.’ The priests of Zeus were my first choice for that. ‘Glaucus my friend, I hope that your discus was of approved Olympic size.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Young Glaucus responded, straight-faced. ‘I took down an official standard from the gymnasium wall. Unfortunately for Milo, the ones used at Olympia are heavier than normal…’ The priest drew a sharp breath at this disrespectful act. ‘Mine was at home,’ Glaucus apologised meekly.

  I took a hand. ‘Your champion wanted to kill us all. My friend had to act fast.’

  ‘You abuse our hospitality!’ snapped Lacheses. He had a quaint view of traditional guest-friendship. ‘Your visit to our sanctuary must end. Leave Olympia before you cause more trouble.’

  The crowd increased. A middle-aged woman pushed the priest aside. A satchel was slung diagonally over her travelling cloak; she wore a dress with brightly coloured borders, and a long matching veil, on which was pegged a high-pointed head-dress, an expensive gold stephane. A male attendant behind her was dressed in the long pleated robe of a charioteer. A younger woman held a pannier and looked on meekly. The female attendant was in a simple folded-over chiton, and had her hair rather attractively bound up in headscarves. She could have been a maiden on a vase, with a half-suggestive smile as she leaned on one elbow and poured perfume. Glaucus and I both flashed Roman smiles admiringly.

  The matron in charge noticed and glared at us. A forceful presence. She shoved aside the slaves, then knelt beside the wrestler in a sprightly manner, checking him for vital signs. ‘Well, gracious me, it’s Milo of Dodona. Is he still hanging around Olympia? So devoted!’

  ‘He can be taken to the doctors at the gymnasium - ‘ Lacheses began.

  ‘No, no; he will do better at the Temple of Hera, Lacheses. Let us look after him.’

  Glaucus offered a hand, and the woman stood up, this time acknowledging that she had creaky knees. The priest bowed deferentially. She nodded, without wasting time on it, then told him she had brought him a pot of the preserved cherries he liked. That seemed to settle Lacheses.

  Then she turned to me. ‘I am Megiste. I am one of the Council of Sixteen.’ It meant nothing. She explained briskly. ‘In memory of the sixteen matrons of honour at the wedding of Hippodameia, the most respected women of Elis form a committee to organise the running races for maidens in the Games of Hera.’ I bet they organised more than that.

  The priest began to say something.

  ‘I’ll deal with this, Lacheses!’ The wimp subsided. ‘I have given some thought to the problem. It is all in hand. A wagon will take these people to the coast tomorrow; a ship will come from Kyllene to pick them up at Pheia.’

  ‘Well, excuse me - ‘ I should have known better.

  ‘No, Falco!’ How did she know my name? I came to the conclusion the Council of Sixteen knew pretty well everything. I hated interfering women of that type in public life. ‘Strife is polluting the sanctuary. You must leave.’

  ‘Oh, that’s Elis for you.’ I refused to be quashed. ‘Always in there, brokering universal peace! You didn’t need to set your champion to batter us,’ I snarled bitterly to the priest. ‘Just ask the matrons of Elis! This lady can fix up extradition for inconvenient visitors at the same time as she lays down a pantryful of salted olives, braids a four-colour floor rug, and cleans out her beehives.’

  He gave me his priestly shrug. ‘I hope you have enjoyed your time here, and found it uplifting.’ He did let slip a trace of admiration. ‘Let us hope Milo recovers.’

  ‘Should do,’ Glaucus assured him. ‘The throw was at the end of its trajectory. He was unconscious, so he went limp as he fell. Anyway, he has plenty of padding!’

  Milo in fact looked pathetic, but he was sitting up and starting to mumble. Megiste ordered the slaves to take him away to her temple. Lacheses ambled off as well.

  Megiste watched the rest depart then tackled us.

  ‘Now, let’s see about you!’ To our amazement she had switched straight from Greek to a polite version of our own language. When we looked startled, she giggled endearingly. ‘Tatting and beekeeping don’t keep me busy enough! I thought it might be fun to learn Latin.’

  It was obvious that if the idea struck her, she would be just as enthusiastic about a practical course in glass-blowing or home druidry. I indicated her driver, the one in full charioteer’s kit. ‘And I suppose you fill in any tiny spare moments running racing chariots?’

  ‘Yes, I am an owner. I’m very fortunate - ‘ She was very wealthy, then. She looked at me closely. ‘Hmm. Clean teeth, haircut, and mended tunic - mended in matching thread, I see. There must be a woman somewhere. Is it too much to hope she has come with you to Greece?’

  ‘You can deal with me.’

  ‘I think not, Falco! We of the Council of Sixteen are chosen for our respectability.’

  Wondering what else she had deduced about me in her scientific manner, I admitted that Helena Justina was at the Leonidaion. Megiste gathered her attendants. ‘Tell your wife I have one or two errands at the Temple of Hera, then I shall trot along to see her. Ask her to make sure she is there; I am a very busy woman.’

  Attempting to ingratiate myself, I said we had visited the Temple. To prove it, I commented on its fine painted terracotta acroterion, one of the largest and most handsome roof finials I had ever seen.

  ‘I hope you noticed that the Doric columns are all different. They were dedicated by different cities, many years ago. The Temple of Hera is the oldest here,’ said Megiste. ‘That is why we stand no nonsense from the priests of Zeus.’ She paused. ‘There are things I have to tell your wife about Valeria Ventidia.’

  ‘Valeria? That’s good - but it’s not enough, Megiste. If I am being kicked out of Olympia, I need some quick answers on Marcella Caesia too.’

  ‘Ah, the little girl who was found on the Hill of Cronus… I am sorry. Nobody knows why she went up the hill, or what happened when she got there. Now, I must collect my thoughts and see your wife. We won’t need you, Falco.’

  I was not having that. ‘My wife has a slight stomach indisposition.’

  ‘Oh I can bring her something for that! In about an hour.’ Megiste sensed my rebellion. ‘As you are leaving tomorrow, young man, if you have not done it already, you had better take a brisk walk now up the Hill of Cronus.’

  I loathed bossy women. And if commands were being handed out like free gifts at an amphitheatre, I had a girl of my own who could do it. Helena would refuse to take orders from this arrogant trout. I decided to lounge around the Leonidaion to watch Megiste and Helena facing up to each other like contenders at some female equivalent of pankration. Now that the townswomen’s tyrant had instructed me to do it, there was no way I was going out on a hike.

  XIX

  Only the promise of information made Helena agree to the appointment. She was furious that the interfering Council of Sixteen had put a stop to our visit. The fact that they were women seemed to make her even more angry.

  She took up a position in a colonnade, looking intellectual amidst a bunch of scrolls. I put a stool in the next bay and sat there deliberately idle, with my sandals tossed aside and my bare feet on a column pedestal. I was picking my teeth with a twig. On the Aventine that is understood to be an insult.

  Somewhat later than she had promised, Megiste marched up, steaming ahead of her female attendant, and introduced herself to Helena, who - since she was receiving someone of such renowned respectability - had ma
de Albia sit with her as a chaperon. I received a disapproving look from the new arrival, but was then ignored by all of them. The attendant in the colourful chiton had her back to me so I could not even flirt.

  Helena intended to take charge. ‘How pleasant to meet you, Megiste. I have been told how much you are involved in the community. Elis is to be congratulated. Few cities can summon up sixteen respectable women.’

  ‘We are a tight little band,’ Megiste confirmed.

  ‘The same ones run the Council every year?’

  ‘We try to attract new blood. It’s never easy finding volunteers, and experience counts. It usually ends up with the same old group of us.’

  ‘I had imagined all Greek women are still confined in their quarters at home, while their men go out and enjoy themselves.’ This was meant to be offensive. Helena Justina hated the Greek system of penning up women in separate quarters in the house, unseen by visitors.

  ‘My members are very traditional,’ Megiste said. ‘We believe in the old ways.’

  I had never seen Helena smirk so much. ‘Weaving and looking after the children - or booking the comely courtesan for your husband’s next manly symposium?’

  Megiste declined to take offence. ‘Yes, I do like to hire the hetaera myself.’

  Helena chose to take her literally. ‘Marvellous. Do you pick them for big busts or intelligent conversation?’

  ‘Decent flute-playing!’ snapped Megiste.

  ‘Of course; far better to keep their wandering hands occupied!’ Having done her worst, Helena whipped back to business. ‘Now - since we are being shipped out of Olympia so very unexpectedly, Megiste my dear, I do have urgent packing. Will you tell me what you came to say about Valeria Ventidia?’ Megiste must have glanced over at me. ‘Oh let him stay. I honour the Roman tradition,’ boasted Helena. ‘My husband and I have no secrets.’

  ‘How very tiresome for you!’ chipped in Megiste, evening the score.

  Since she did want to obtain all possible information, Helena capitulated. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘Well, he tells me everything, like a good boy - while I just confide what I want him to know… Marcus, darling, you are hanging around like a dandelion seed. Why don’t you take your dog out for a walk?’

  I was a traditional Roman. As a man, I was king, chief priest, and all the gods in my own household. On the other hand, when my woman spoke, I took the hint. I whistled Nux to fetch my sandals, and we set off to explore the Hill of Cronus.

  Helena Justina was indeed a traditional Roman wife. Later, she shared with me not just Megiste’s information, but her own thoughts on it. At the sanctuary, the death of a young woman had been considered a matter for the Council of Sixteen. When Valeria Ventidia was killed, the stalwart ladies had investigated. They discovered the young bride had developed an unwise ‘friendship’ with a man. He was an athlete, a champion pankration exponent from a previous Olympiad, who was hanging around in the hope of attracting sponsorship. He had been given permission to erect a statue of himself among the hundreds which adorned the site, but he could not afford it. His home town failed to come up with the money, so he hoped to raise cash from admiring sports fans. The Seven Sights party - rich Roman travellers, all in love with the Greek ideal - had looked like possible patrons. He attracted Valeria’s attention somehow and was working on her to persuade her husband, and possibly others, to sponsor him.

  Curiously, the Fates had arranged that the champion in question was none other than Milo of Dodona. His attack on Cornelius, Megiste said, indicated his propensity for unprovoked violence.

  The ladies were inclined to exonerate the athlete from sordid motives in befriending Valeria. They accepted, however, that the relationship could have turned nasty without him at first intending it. Valeria herself had been reckless and stupid. The ladies suspected it was the athlete who killed her - but they could not prove it.

  This was a new turn of events. I was eager to interrogate Milo. Curiously again, another Greek quirk of fate had ruled it right out. Megiste regretfully told Helena that, although he had been in the best of hands, that afternoon while he was being tended at the Temple of Hera, Milo had died. He had been given a soothing sleeping draught - one of proven, traditional origin - which had seemed to help. But he never woke up.

  This was doubly unfortunate for us. It looked as if Milo must have died from the injuries Young Glaucus caused with the discus. Concussion can work in peculiar ways. As Megiste pointed out to Helena, it was now even more in our interests to leave Olympia fast.

  Spectators had been killed on occasion when hit with a flying discus; usually they died instantly. But Milo of Dodona was strong and healthy. When we saw him carried off from the swimming pool, he was groaning, but he had come round and should have had nothing worse than a headache. In my opinion all he had needed was a long drink of water and a few hours’ rest.

  ‘I am amazed, Helena, that in the expert care of a matron of Elis, Milo failed to make a recovery.’

  ‘Never tangle with a townswomen’s guild,’ warned Helena darkly. ‘Forget them pottering with their beehives, Marcus. We are in the land of Medea, the child-murdering mother; Clytemnestra, the husband-slayer; big strong girls like the fighting Amazons, who sliced off their own breasts to prevent them tangling in their bowstrings… Listen; after you left and Megiste removed her veil, I saw she had a black eye. I asked if she had been beaten by her husband. She said that it happened at the Temple of Hera.’

  ‘I suppose she walked into a cellar door?’

  ‘Yes, and how appropriate. ‘Walking into a door: is a very traditional lie!’

  ‘I get the impression, Helena, that the Council of Sixteen is called in to be the fixers when this sanctuary has some scandal. I’m none too certain that Milo of Dodona killed Valeria - Valeria was covered with yellow athletics dust; I noticed that Milo used the grey. Not proof, perhaps, but indicative.’

  ‘So, Valeria was not killed by Milo?’

  ‘And Milo was not killed by Young Glaucus. But it may be convenient for some people if it looks as if he was.’

  Helena Justina said softly, ‘Imagine Milo of Dodona, half pacified with a sleeping draught. It would be tricky to get the dosage correct for a man of his enormous size. Then he would be difficult to handle if he thrashed about - as he would do, if the dose was too low and he revived enough to realise he was being smothered with a pillow, say. Anybody holding down the pillow might well end up with bruises.’

  ‘This is hypothetical.’

  ‘It’s right, Marcus!’ Helena was rarely so prejudiced. She must have really loathed Megiste.

  ‘So why would Milo need to be silenced?’ I mused. ‘Well, if he really had been involved with Valeria, then after she died, he must have become a frightened man. To anyone who found out that he had known her, he would look guilty. So he had a spectacular body but a small brain, a brain that had taken a few batterings in his career…’

  Helena helped me work it out. The Council of Sixteen may originally have promised him protection. He was Greek; he was possibly innocent; and even if Valeria had behaved badly with him, respectable women with traditional values may have felt that a man is always in the right. To the Council, Valeria deserved her fate.’

  ‘Cobnuts. Respectable women with traditional values. are deadly!’ I had made Helena smile. ‘Then along comes Didius Falco. Even the Council of Sixteen had failed to make the scandal go away. The women, with or without the priests of Zeus, were forced to come up with new tactics. Someone persuaded Milo to attack me.’

  ‘When that failed, thanks to Glaucus, maybe they feared it would rebound. I expect the priests set him on you,’ Helena suggested, ‘while the women thought that was a stupid idea. It meant you knew that Milo existed. You were about to discover his link with Valeria. Following the discus incident, you might have gone to talk to him.

  ‘Yes, when a gigantic bastard attacks me, I always have a few kind words with him afterwards!’

  Helena had h
er own dark anger. ‘It is possible that the priests or the Council of Sixteen or both decided Milo needed to be punished now, either for his stupid involvement with the girl, or for actually killing her, if he did so. Anyway, Marcus, Milo may have genuinely liked Valeria. If you had probed, perhaps he would have told you something he knew about her death.’

  Utter frustration gripped me. ‘And what was it? What could Milo have told me? Was he the real killer? If not, did he know who was?’

  Helena and I were now certain of one thing. Milo of Dodona had been silenced. He had been put out of contention by the redoubtable dame from the Elian Council of Sixteen.

  As for my trip up the Hill of Cronus, as I expected, that had been a waste of time. My turn for confiding. I described it to Helena. I had walked up, looked around at the scenery, found nothing, and walked back down again feeling very tired. Now we had to sail away from Olympia with no real new evidence, either in the murder of Valeria Ventidia or the mystery of Marcella Caesia three years before.

  I warned my party to be packed and ready as soon as the tireless Olympia cockerel sounded his first note next day. They were all subdued, especially Young Glaucus. As if he wanted to atone for his part in the death of Milo, he came to me with an object that we would carry away with us, our one piece of tangible evidence. it was a jumping weight.

  ‘I persuaded Myron, the flute-player, to steal this from the superintendent’s office. It was kept in a cupboard, after Valeria was killed.’

  As weights go, it was striking. Unlike the much plainer styles that Glaucus had shown me, this was made of bronze, in the form of a charging wild boar, full of character. A plain bar formed the handgrip. In use, the boar’s curved body would extend over the knuckles. His sharp spinal crest would make the weight doubly dangerous if used to bludgeon someone.

  ‘Is this the one they found covered with blood?’

  ‘We think so, though it’s been cleaned up. There were two on the wall. The other one has not been seen since the attack.’

  ‘I wonder if the killer took that. Some of them want a trophy…’ Running my finger along the wild boar’s crest, I did not go on.