CHAPTER VIII
My conversations with Valato and his mercurial daughter left me with an understandable thirst and a healthy appetite as well. I hurriedly downed several kylixes of wine from one of the local wine-sellers, as I pondered her pointed statement about the abilities of Habiliates of Miletus. He easily won his initial running heat, of course, and I watched her in the stadium stands, yelling lustily with the best of them, as he sprinted across the finish line paces ahead of the second-place man. She hugged herself with strong arms, as he strutted past the stadium seats, and I could imagine those eyes burning brightly as they devoured him from a distance. Had she done more than just admire those rippling muscles from afar? If she was one of Risalla's adventuresses, then it would appear that she would be the one who was interested in “a Miletian athlete.” That would leave Bilassa, the beautiful daughter and sister of the house of Kreton, as the knowing partner of a local boy, hopefully named Tyrestes. But it was all so iffy. My impression was that once Ossadia's fires got stoked, a mere mortal man would not be able to tell if she was telling the truth or not.
I satisfied a gnawing hunger with some maza bread made from barley grain paste mixed with olives, cheese, and eggs, and then searched the stands for the other magistrates, Euphemius or Nolarion. There were now fully 5000 noisy spectators in the stadium, but the wealthy of Priene would be spreading their prosperous bottoms on the best seats. I spied the father of Endemion on the other side of the stadium after an hour of searching. His son had easily won his heat in the single-length races. The opening contests of wrestling and boxing were slated for this afternoon, and most of the married women had left for a play or musical interlude in the city, this rougher type of sport being considered unseemly for already captured eyes to see. There were still a number of unmarried girls and women in the audience, being almost encouraged by custom to view the “natural state” of men, thus being theoretically able to determine what they should hope for in a marital match. I noted with little surprise that Ossadia remained to observe the afternoon's entertainment, and indeed, had moved down to the end of the stadium where the boxing bouts would be held.
My mother deemed it inappropriate for her younger daughters to view bloodletting at an early age and had departed with Tirah, Tapho, and Elissa in hand, the eldest bawling piercingly that she should be able to remain, since she was now twelve years old and almost a woman. Risalla was left in the care of my father and a very disdainful Arlana, whom I noticed was observing the flexing wrestlers from the corner of her eyes even as she pretended to look away. Risalla was not even trying to pretend, but was staring hungrily at a particularly large specimen from Chios and squeezing her growing but already impressive bosom in her muscular arms. I expected her to start panting at any moment. Holicius wanted to watch the boxing, but after a warning word from Tesessa before she left, had reluctantly moved to the wrestling end of the stadium. I did not see my eldest sister, Ulania, but I figured she had left to view a play with our male slave Dryses as escort. I couldn't see her weak-chinned betrothed wanting to stay for either the boxing or the wrestling, and considered he would probably trail after her, properly ignored by both her and Dryses.
After spying Nolarion I fought my way toward him through the enthusiastic crowd, hoping to be able to speak to him before a Priene athlete competed again. No luck. Endemion was one of the first in the pot for the wrestling competition, and his father naturally had eyes only for him and his match.
There were three wrestling contests going on simultaneously at that end of the stadium, and three boxing competitions proceeding at the opposite end. The wrestling was of the upright variety, with each athlete grappling manfully with his opponent and attempting to throw him to the turf. The judge counted a fall as soon as any part of the body above the knee touched the ground, and were very watchful for such improprieties
as eye or mouth gouging, biting, kicking, strangling, or tripping. A competitor, who attempted any of these illegal acts, was rewarded by the judge with a stinging blow to the back by a flexible rod of wood and a stern warning that another such violation would disqualify the unfortunate stingee. As you can imagine, this tended to make the wrestling competition very fair and above board. Three of five falls was necessary for a victory.
Boxing, on the other hand, was bloody and grueling. There were no rounds in the boxing competition - the athletes simply went at it tooth and nail until one surrendered. As with the wrestling, there were three sets of boxers trading blows simultaneously. The games' organizers had attempted to arrange it so that different age groups fought at the same time in the different matches. The boxers sported bands of hard leather wrapped around the wrists and over the knuckles in order to make their blows more severe and, hopefully, cut the opponent's skin to draw blood. Their blows were aimed at the head, rather than the body. I have seen many a boxer continue doggedly, until he simply could not see any more because of the blood flowing into his eyes from the cuts in his forehead.
I reached the big magistrate just as Endemion dispatched his foe for the third time by tossing him over his right shoulder with a mighty heave! The home crowd erupted in rapturous screams, as the victorious athlete danced about the field, his knotted arms waving above his head in a gesture of enthusiasm and joy. Nolarion was shouting madly and stomping his huge feet on the stone flooring.
”My boy, my boy!' he screamed, clinching and unclinching his monstrous fists.
“My boy!” His big face was red with exertion, and spittle flew from his lips in his excitement. Other spectators next to him were pounding him on the back in congratulations, as Endemion strode off the field, grinning and prancing.
”Sir, sir!” I shouted as the noise began to die, “ Congratulations for your son's
victory!”
He stared at me as if coming out of a trance, and then beamed a great smile and grabbed me in a bearlike embrace. I felt as if my ribs were beginning to crack when he released me, allowing me to sink to the seat next to him.
”Well done, sir, well done,” I wheezed, as I struggled to catch my breath. Nolarion continued to bask in the praise of many neighbors, who were still congratulating him on his son's magnificent early win. It was as if he himself had won the match, but such is the way of fathers, justly or unjustly securing some of the credit for their son's accomplishments.
”He is just like you, Nolarion, just like you twenty years ago,” cackled one old white-bearded man, throwing his arms around the magistrate from behind. Nolarion boomed out a great laugh, and twisted about to kiss the ancient on the forehead.
”No, he is better than me, better! He will bring great honor to our city!” The crowd ebbed and flowed about Nolarion, adding their congratulations and praise and then drifting back to their seats to await the next bout. He finally noticed who I was and motioned for me to sit down beside him.
”What did you think of that, young Bias, eh?” he asked with infectious good humor. I found myself grinning back at him, as he reached up to tousle my close-cropped hair.
”Outstanding, sir, outstanding! You certainly have a son to be proud of in Endemion.” He nodded vigorously several times, and then rose to his massive feet in a renewed burst of energy.
”Come on, boy!” he roared, jerking me off the seat I had just occupied. “Let us have a drink to celebrate his victory and go seek him out!” I hurried after him, as he headed for the nearest wine-seller. He thrust a full kylix of wine into my hands, and drained his own in a single swallow. His big hand rubbed vigorously at the red wine
dribbling down into his full-flowing beard.
”Well, by the gods, that was something, eh?” he questioned. “I think Endemion has a good chance of winning that competition! Let's go find him!”
”Magistrate, please, can I have a moment of your time before we search for him?” I begged. “I would like to ask you a few questions about Tyrestes, if I may?”
Nolarion stopped smiling and peered
at me curiously for an instant, and then the huge grin reappeared.
”Of course, young Bias, of course. Come, let us sit over here out of the way, and have some more wine.” He indicated an empty pair of seats close by, and motioned for the wine-seller to refill our kylixes. I did not tell him that I probably had quite enough wine for the moment, and found myself with another overflowing cup. I sipped slowly, rapidly marshalling my thoughts, as I watched him observing me with great good humor.
”Sir, I am not sure how to proceed with this, but as you yourself pointed out last night, the magistrates were the last people to touch the wine cups before they were given to the athletes at the sacrifice ceremony,” I began. “You must have had ample opportunity to look about and see who else was in the vicinity of the wine pouring.”
Nolarion visibly focused his attention away from his son and on the matter at hand. He wrapped a hamlike fist around his beard and tugged at it thoughtfully..
”Well, yes, that is true, I suppose,” he mused. “But I do not recall seeing any angry or disturbed spectators around.”
”They would not have to be necessarily angry. Was there anybody there who seemed to be out of place?”
”But even if there was, he would have had to have access to the wine cups, would he not? The poison had to be in the cup, since many athletes drank from each oinochoai. The girls there poured wine indiscriminately for all the athletes.”
”But did they, sir? Could it have been possible for one of the pourers to give Tyrestes a drink from one jug and then set it aside, even though it was not empty?”
At this point the crowd erupted in a screaming frenzy as Krelonan, the gigantic son of the gigantic Kreton, threw his opponent from Samos to the ground with a bonebreaking thud. The Samosian did not even stir as Krelonan stepped on his chest with a monstrous foot, and threw his arms into the air, basking in the throng's adulation. Nolarion leaped to his feet with the others, and howled his approval of the young Prienian's triumph.
”By the gods, we cannot lose in this wrestling competition,” he exulted. “ With Endemion in the middle weight class and Krelonan in the heavy class, we should take the whole thing!” He thumped back down on his seat, downed several more gulps of wine, and then focused on me again.
”I beg your pardon, Bias,” he apologized with a winning smile. “What was that last question?” I repeated my question about the possibility of Tyrestes being the only one to drink from a certain jug. He gazed thoughtfully away at the boxing end of the stadium.
”Well, yes, I suppose that is possible. There were many oinochoai jugs there at the pouring. I saw several kicked over in the excitement, and certainly, there was almost as much wine poured onto the ground as into cups. But would not that mean that the poisoner is one of the wine-pouring girls?”
I paused for a moment before answering, peering carefully into his questioning eyes. His smile was gone.
”Yes, sir, that is exactly what it would mean,” I said. “Unless Tyrestes ate some type of deadly food along the road to the Panionion, he had to have ingested the poison in
the wine at the altar site. Since the liquid that we drink is turned into blood very quickly, if he had taken a poisoned drink on the road, he never would have reached the religious grounds at all. And it seems to me that to try to give a specific individual poisoned food on the road as hundreds of people march by would be a very difficult task, if it could be accomplished at all. On the other hand, it could be done at the altar site by a very determined person. The killing potion could be placed in a cup to be mixed with the innocent wine as it came from the jug, or it could have been in the jug itself.”
Nolarion regarded me very carefully for a moment.
”Then the wine girls are not the only suspects,” he ground out at last. “They could only have poisoned Tyrestes if the wine was in a jug, and that specific jug was used for his cup alone, and then discarded. The only other people who could have controlled giving him poison within a single cup were the magistrates, including myself.”
”Yes, sir, “ I breathed softly. “Including yourself. Anybody else would either have been noticed or would not have had sufficient access to the jugs or cups.” I waited for the proverbial blow to fall. I do not know why I revealed my suspicions to Nolarion and not to Valato earlier. Nolarion's eyes roamed about the stadium, and I wondered if he were searching for his fellow magistrates. His answer, when it came, surprised me with its mildness.
”I think you are quite correct,” he agreed quietly, still looking off into the distance. “I do not think any other person would have had the time or opportunity to administer the poison and make sure it was given to one special victim. Either a wine girl placed it in a jug or one of us magistrates placed it in a cup.”
”Sir, perhaps you can help more than you know. Do you happen to recall who gave the cup of wine to Tyrestes at the altar?”
He transferred his gaze from the boxers to my eyes, and then grinned hugely
again.
”I remember well who gave the cup to Tyrestes because it was the same magistrate who gave a cup to my son, Endemion, since they stood together in the line.
I gave the poisoned wine to Tyrestes.”
And he laughed until the tears rolled down his hard face, the guffaws turning to sobs.
Murder At The Panionic Games Page 7