CHAPTER VII
”By Hades, this certainly is not the right way to start the games,” boomed Valato,
staring angrily down the length of the stadium. His small frame quivered with indignation as he observed one of Priene's entries in the initial stadium sprints come in dead last in the first of the qualifying races. The hapless Priene athlete could be seen standing at the end of the large, oval structure, his head hanging down and his hands on his hips. By not finishing in the top one-half of his first heat, he had already been eliminated from the next set of heats designed to continuously narrow the field until the single-stadium length championship race. Of course, there were still the diaulos or double-length sprints and the long race to come, but Valato obviously did not believe that this particular contestant would bring much glory to the home city.
”When does the next sprint begin?” he growled to me, taking a gulp of wine from the kylix he gripped in his small fist. He vigorously rubbed the top of his bald head in frustration.
”It appears that they are lining up now, magistrate,” I replied, pointing at the starting line. The next set of sprinters were already gathering at the line at the other end of the stadium, stretching and flexing their nude bodies in the morning sun. The stadium was even now almost full of cheering, chattering, shouting spectators from all over Ionia, and this was just the beginning race of the beginning day. It appeared that the death of Tyrestes had certainly not dampened the enthusiasm of the visitors and local citizens for sport, I thought ruefully.
”Are any of our young men in this heat?” he asked, inspecting the athletes with squinting eyes. It struck me that perhaps his vision was not as strong as it once had been, and he could not make out the features of the contestants. They were about a half-stade, say 120 paces, from us at the far end of the stadium.
”No, sir,” I assured him. “Our next entry is Endemion, who is in the fourth heat.”
He plopped back down on the seat at this pronouncement, taking another swallow of his watered wine. The wine sellers with their oinochoai jugs brimming with refreshing wine straight from stout psykters buried in the ground were already doing a roaring trade. I spied several of them moving about the stands plying their wares with loud yells and motioned one of them over to me.
”Some more wine, sir?” I asked Valato in my best obsequious tone, as the seller approached.
”Yes, thank you, young Bias.” He held out his kylix. The seller refilled his cup, and then gave me one as well. I passed a few stater into his outstretched hand.
I had found Valato almost as soon as I had entered the stadium, entering it from the river side. The structure crouched on the flat ground next to the Meander on the east side of the city, its long axis paralleling the riverfront. Valato and his family sat in desirable seats almost at the center of the stands, close to the ground.
His wife, Myrnia, a slight, stout woman with hair the color of newly-turned soil ready for planting had smiled welcomingly at me, as I descended the steps between the rows of seats and greeted the magistrate. Valato had grunted at me, intent on watching the first heat of the day, and motioned me impatiently to a seat. I paid my respects to Myrnia, and then turned to Valato's children.
His eldest daughter Ossadia, she whom Risalla said “knew” about “adventures” with men, stared indifferently at me for a moment, and returned her attention to the race. She was about 15 years old, possessed her father's light brown hair and her mother's tendency to put on weight. Oh, she was attractive enough in a kind of bored, washed-out way, but hardly beautiful enough to earn a second look. On the other hand, how
attractive did a woman need to outwardly be to attract a virile and lusty lover? I inspected her a little more closely from the corner of my eye. She did have a desirable if solid figure, and her complexion was clear and unblemished even though she wore no whitening make-up on her face. Her bright blue eyes were an asset, I suppose. Her hands, by contrast with the rest of her body, were long and slender, the fingers coiled like small, white snakes in her lap.
Seated next to her on the hard stand was her younger brother by four years, Illanos, and her small sister, Xenia. They were already bouncing up and down on their cushions in anticipation of the first race. Normally, women and children would not be seen in public like this, but these were the great Panionic games and many general restrictions fell by the wayside in the excitement of the celebrations.
”I do not think these next few heats will be of much interest,” I asserted offhandedly, taking a sip of wine. “Might I speak to you for a moment, Valato?”
The small man grunted his assent, and rose to walk down to the stadium turf, where only the rich and powerful were allowed to mingle with the waiting athletes. I followed him down, receiving another distant smile from his wife and another glance of indifference from his daughter.
”What is it you wish, Bias?” he asked, letting his eyes rove up and down the field, gauging the various athletes assembled in small knots about the grounds.
”Sir, as you know, I have begun pursuing the murder of the unfortunate Tyrestes, and in the spirit of gaining background information, wondered if I might ask you of your knowledge of his character and personality.” I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping this was the right approach to use with the diminutive official. Apparently, I guessed correctly, as he spoke without overt suspicion.
”Well, I did not know him as well as I knew his father,” Valato replied, still peering at the far end of the stadium with his hand at his forehead to block out the sun. “I am not sure that anything I can tell you will be of assistance to you in this regard.”
”Sir, since at present I am utterly in the dark in this matter, anything you can add to dispel the shadows will be of assistance.”
”Very well, then. As I say, I did not know him well. Oh, I have watched him grow up over the years, as I and his father, Tirachos, worked together as soldiers and fellow aristocrats, and he seemed like a good boy on the whole. Perhaps a little bit headstrong, but many boys are until they reach manhood, eh? I know that he took his father's death like a true man several years ago and insured that all the proprieties were observed in his family. He was the eldest son, and the family has a small estate out toward the coast from the city. I suppose the second son, Usthius, will inherit the land now, since Tyrestes was not married.”
”I suppose your family must have associated socially with his family over the years,” I mused.
”Oh, yes. As I have said, Tirachos and I knew each other many years, in a companionable, if not close way. We had his family over several times to our house, and visited his place a few times as I recall.”
”Do you recall the last time this occurred?” I assumed my best offhand manner, glancing down the other length of the stadium to where the race officials were waiting impatiently for the next heat to begin. His brow furrowed with thought for a moment.
”It must have been about six months ago. Perhaps in the fall during the month of Pyanopsion. Yes, I believe it was at the last Apaturian festival. Of course, Tirachos was long dead by then. As I remember, Tyrestes' younger brother Usthius was being accepted into the phratry at that time. We are in the same phratry, you know.” The phratries were the modern versions of the old mainland Greek tribes, and drew a powerful loyalty from the old, aristocratic families.
I paused, as we watched the straining runners of the second race flash by. An athlete from Erythrae barely beat out a rival from Samos.
”So your family members knew each other as well? “ I asked as casually as I could, staring down toward the finish line, where the judges were arguing vociferously about the outcome of the race. The Erythraen and Samosian athletes hovered expectantly at the edge of the judges' conversation.
”They knew each other slightly as children,” he answered vaguely, his attention now turned back to the starting area, where the third heat contestants were readying themselves. “Why do you ask?”
�
�Oh, no special reason,” I brushed his question away with a wave of my hand. “I just thought I might be able to obtain some useful information about Tyrestes from your family, with your permission. You know that sometimes young people will tell each other things that they will not mention to older folks. Perhaps I could learn something of Tyrestes from Ossadia, if they spoke together at all.”
Valato turned his full attention to me for the first time, and eyed me speculatively,
his mild eyes sharpening as he looked at me.
”You wish to speak to my daughter about Tyrestes? Why do you think she might be able to help you?”
I could feel the sweat beginning to form on my forehead. I made a point of shading my eyes and peering down the length of the stadium to the starting line.
”Oh, I just thought he might have spoken to her of his acquaintances or ambitions,” I replied in what I hoped was a deceptively calm voice. “Ossadia is a pretty girl, and men tend to brag to pretty girls, eh?” I chuckled nervously, and hoped my praise of his daughter sounded genuine.. Valato continued to contemplate me with interest.
”I suppose he could have told her about himself,” the magistrate mused. “I did let them speak alone in our back courtyard several times, in the hope that he would approach
me as the head of his family with a view to uniting himself or his brother, Usthius, with our family by marrying Ossadia. All quite proper, of course. But he never said anything in that regard. It would have been a desirable match. My family is quite old and respected, you know.”
”Of course, sir. I can see where the match would have been a lucky find for Tyrestes' family. But your family could probably find a more suitable alliance. Any father in Priene would compete to link the family of Valato with his own.”
I smiled in what I hoped again was a properly obsequious manner.
Valato turned his attention back to the athletes, who were just getting into starting positions for the third race.
”You are quite correct when you state that any family would benefit by being linked to my family,” he boasted proudly. “Yes, I suppose you might ask a few questions of Ossadia, if you believe it will aid you in your inquires. I must admit I myself thought well of Tyrestes, all in all, but nothing came of my 'fishing'.” He turned his attention back to me for a moment, and regarded me with speculative interest.
”You are the eldest son in your family, are you not, Bias?” he asked innocently.
The third race had produced no surprises. The favorite runner, a leggy boy from Colophon, won easily, making the other athletes look as if they were on a leisurely stroll.
I stood next to Ossadia at the river entrance to the stadium, and handed her a kylix of weak wine and water. She accepted the cup with no apparent thanks, and eyed me disinterestedly. A hulking male slave escort stood just out of earshot, with his attention focused on the athletic action below. Several tendrils of Ossadia's wispy hair danced lightly in the faint breeze that wafted through the entrance tunnel.
”Father says I am to cooperate with you if I know any information about Tyrestes that may aid you in your murder inquiry,” she lisped. “I am sure I cannot imagine what it
is you think I might know about him.” I nonchalantly sipped from my kylix.
”I am not expecting any information in particular,” I asserted, flapping my hand up to my face to shield a pretended yawn. “But your father did say that he had permitted Tyrestes to speak with you alone a time or two. I was just wondering if he mentioned anything to you about his intentions in the games or, indeed, in his life in general?” She frowned slightly at this, but did not answer me. I hurried on.
”What I mean is that I know a man boasts of his prowess and accomplishments to a pretty girl. Being a man myself, I can see why he might have spoken of such things easily to an attractive and propertied woman such as yourself.” I swallowed and beamed at her, hoping I was not being too obvious in my compliment.
She looked at me closely for a moment, apparently decided I was sincere, and permitted a small smirk to replace the frown. Her free hand involuntarily rose up to her hair to try and pat the offending wavy tendrils into place.
” Well, he was quite interested in me and my dowry when I last saw him. That would have been, um, during the last Apaturian festival, about six months ago.” She gave me a self-satisfied glance, and took a very deep breath, watching as my eyes automatically focused on her rising bosom under her thin chiton. I cannot deny that it was an excellent bosom to focus on. I flicked my eyes away, but not before she allowed herself another smirk.
”And did he speak at all of his desires for the future?.” Wrong word, idiot, I thought, as I saw her gaze sharpen at the term 'desires.'
"What sort of desires, Bias?" she lisped softly with a sort of hiss at the end of my name. With a slender finger she slowly wiped a slight sheen of perspiration from the down above her upper lip.
"Not desires perhaps," I stumbled on, "but plans or intentions. I mean, can you
recall if he spoke of what he planned to do at the games or in the near future.”
”We spoke of many things.” I nervously noted just the beginning of a spark seeming to ignite in her eyes, as she took the tiniest step toward me. By the gods, I speculated to myself, what is hidden beneath that plain face?
”He was very ambitious, you know,” she continued. “He planned to be the winner of the Panionic Games, and use that fame to secure a wife from a desirable family. His estate was not the largest one in the area” She sniffed derisively.
"Were you one of his candidates?" I watched with captured fascination the flame smoulder in those now very attractive eyes. "Your father is both rich and famous, and I am sure he will provide you with an excellent dowry." Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips. By Poseidon, it was like observing the performance of a consummate actor playing a harlot, but I was under no illusions that Ossadia was acting. I could almost smell the scent of suppressed passion trapped there in that narrow tunnel. It was cool and pleasant in that entranceway, but I was beginning to sweat again.
”Yes, he was interested in me for my position and the advantages that might offer him.” Her gaze never left my face for a heartbeat. I began to feel like a squirrel hypnotized by a snake. “I know my father saw no great obstacles in such a union.”
”And yourself?” I wheezed, edging backwards toward the tunnel wall. It did not do me any good. For every miniscule step I retreated, she slid forward the same distance, her wonderful bosom rising and falling with increasing rapidity.
”It did not make any difference what I thought,” she asserted, her tongue flicking out again. “It only makes a difference what my father thought. But if you must know, I did not particularly care for him. He boasted too much for my liking. He went on and on about athletic competitions and his need for more land. His land adjoins that of Kreton, you know, and I am sure that he would have welcomed an alliance with that
boor.”
Where had I ever got the idea that this woman was plain, I thought fleetingly? Her eyes were opened very wide now and blazing intensely blue, and I found I could not look away.
”Of course, he was physically attractive,” she acknowledged, as if daring me to pursue that statement. “In that regard, one certainly could have done worse for a husband than Priene's best athlete.”
”Forgive me for asking, “ I croaked, backed up against the wall of the tunnel with no further place to retreat, “but did he ever attempt to use that physical beauty to, um, persuade you of his desires?” Damn, I used that word again!
An amused smile played over her mouth, as she sidled one more step closer. She was now almost right up against me, looking triumphantly up at my face. The tips of her fingers of one hand rested oh so lightly on her right breast. The tunnel seemed to have narrowed down, compressing the air in it so that it became more and more difficult to breathe.
”Persuade me of his de
sires? If you mean, did he attempt to make love to me, the answer is......yes. If you mean, did he make love to me, the answer is... no. I have lain with no man. Yet. As I said, I did not particularly care for him. Are you shocked at my honesty? Why did you want to know, Bias?” The slight breeze blew a wisp of her hair against my cheek, and it was like the touch of a cool spider web.
”I was merely trying to obtain a picture of his character and personality,” I stammered, determined to regain the initiative. “He could have tried the conversation and actions he had with you on any girl.” My breath caught in my throat, as Ossadia leaned toward me.
”And if he succeeded in making love to her as part of it,” she interrupted, staring unblinking up at me, “that might be motive for murder? I think you overestimate the
importance you men attribute to the first act of lovemaking on a woman.”
”Perhaps so,” I agreed quickly, “but do I overestimate the effect it might have on the girl's father and family?” She considered this for a moment, and nodded slightly in agreement.
”Yes, I see your point there. And yet, since it did not happen to me, you must seek your insulted family elsewhere.”
Ossadia reached out and the long, slender fingers of her hand fluttered against my chest for just a moment, burning through the front of my tunic, and then those smoldering eyes glanced down to see that the color of my raiment was the black of mourning. The hand was snatched back as if scalded by the dark cloth. Curtains fell instantly inside of the fiery eyes, and she was amazingly once again the plain, bored daughter of a rich magistrate. I mentally shook myself like a dog coming out of the water to clear my head. She stepped back, the indifference washed back over her like a wave, and she turned to walk back to the family seats in the stadium. I stood quite still, staring after her, and she paused for a moment, speaking over her shoulder.
”I very much would like to see this next race,” she said laconically. “Habiliates of Miletus will be running. If you want my opinion of physical attractiveness in a man, look at him and you will find it. He is easily Tyrestes' match.” Her head rotated slowly to give me one last, bored stare.
”If he were to try and, shall we say, persuade me of his desires, I believe I could be persuaded, propriety or not.”
Murder At The Panionic Games Page 6