CHAPTER X
I dispiritedly made my way back home. My conversation with Endemion did not seem to narrow the field of my suppositions any, but indeed, had added to the list of items I now needed to consider. The thoughts spun through my mind like so many seabirds darting after fish on the sea's surface, as I strode back through the city and out the other side towards the west, where my family would be preparing for the dorpon evening meal. The sun was close to setting, lengthening the shadows of the olive trees gnarled branches, as I turned up the path that led from the main road to my father's estate.
What information had I derived from Endemion's comments? Tyrestes was not fully concentrating on the great games, held only once every four years, because he was worried about his family and his estate's debts. He needed money or more land to pay those debts left by his father, and one clear way to obtain such redress was to marry well, or at least to marry rich. He had been Priene's premier athlete, our best hope for winning the Panionic Games, despite Endemion's assurances that he could have beaten his fellow competitor. He and Endemion had both received their cups at the altar ceremony from Nolarion, but had been offered wine by different pouring girls. According to Endemion, who admitted he had been swept up in the excitement and swiftness of the proceedings,
Tyrestes' pourer had been beautiful, while his had been plain with an impressive chest and sparkling eyes! I have to admit that my prejudiced viewpoint assigned Ossadia as his pourer and Bilassa as Tyrestes' wine girl, but I had been there myself, and had observed numerous plain and pretty girls pouring away like mad for the hundred athletes and then numerous spectators. And all that information depended on whether or not Endemion was telling the truth! I had noted the edged tone of envy in his voice, when he admitted that the fickle minor athletes forming his entourage would have been with the personable
Tyrestes, if the latter had still been alive.
Entering our family manor house through the front prodomus, I walked down the central hallway and out the back to the small courtyard. Sure enough, my father, mother, and six sisters were all out there, scattered about the grounds as Holicius expounded on the importance of the day's events. The girls exhibited various levels of interest in his pronouncements, but I noted with pride that my mother was watching him unceasingly, her countenance seeming to hang on his every word. My mother well knew how to keep her family, and especially her husband, happy, healthy, and contented. Since men did not normally wed for love in our Greek society, a woman who could develop and keep the love of a man was a rare person indeed. Yet my mother seemed to do it effortlessly, even though I observed that it took great care and attention.
My father paused in his pontificating long enough for the three younger girls to hurl themselves bodily upon me. I alternately hugged and fended them off as I dragged myself over to his bench, dragged being the operative word since Tapho had wrapped herself around my left leg and was hanging on for dear life. I tickled her under her arms, until she broke off and ran shrieking away, followed with laughter and further shrieks by the other two.
Holicius and Tesessa both rose and embraced me, after I had freed myself from the small harpies. On a bench to the left sat Arlana and Risalla, one at each end like birds on opposite ends of a clothes line. I could almost feel the tension between them like an invisible wall, and sighed, returning my mother's hug. Ulania, as usual, would be overseeing Selcra prepare dorpon for the family.
”My son, I was just explaining to the family about the intricacies involved in a good wrestling match,” he said enthusiastically, settling himself again on his bench. My mother smiled at me, and gently took one of his hands, as she turned her gaze back to
him. I plopped down on the bench on his other side, and gave him my attention.
As he spoke, his head swivelled back and forth from me to my mother like a door on a hinge.
”As I was saying, the superior wrestler is not necessarily the stronger one, but is more likely to be the cleverer one,” Holicius commented. “You saw how Endemion won his match today as compared to Krelonan?” I nodded my agreement.
”Well, then, you saw the two different techniques in action!” he enthused. “Endemion's knowledge of footwork and leverage won him his match, while Krelonan used brute strength.”
”But, Father,” I protested mildly,” you just admitted that both wrestlers won their bouts.”
”Indeed yes. He nodded vigorously and gave his beard a gentle tug. “However, I think you will find that in the matches to come, Krelonan may run into problems, if he is matched to a large young man who knows how to use another's clumsy strength to his own advantage.” I tried to imagine the hulking Krelonan losing to a lithe competitor, but the picture seemed ludicrous. On the other hand I had witnessed many wrestling matches myself, and it was true that you simply could not tell who would be victorious by size or strength alone.
”What about the pancration, though?” I asked. This bloody contest, a favorite among the lower classes and admittedly, gaining popularity among many of the aristocrats too, was wrestling combined with every dirty trick in the book. The contestants began the match on their feet, but opposed to wrestling, where the action stopped if any part of the body above the knee touched the ground, the pancration continued on the ground, until one of the athletes surrendered. Almost anything was allowed, including punching, kicking, and strangling. I had never been fond of watching this “sport.” Neither, apparently, had my father.
”Pancration is not a true sport,” he said with a disdainful sniff “and should never have been allowed in the games. It is simply a sop to the mob's bloodthirsty desires! But I will grant you that brute strength is vital to win it! Krelonan should do very well indeed in that contest.”
After a few more minutes of our discussing the day's events, Selcra announced that the dorpon was ready. My father and I retired to the andron in the front of the house to lie on our klines, and the women removed themselves to the gynaikonitis rooms in the rear. This evening's repast was a light one, but very tasty, I must say. We dined on mackerel pickled with olive oil, vinegar, dill, and fennel, and nibbled on horta, a green leafy vegetable served with olive oil and vinegar. To offset the sour taste, Selcra had baked fresh maza bread and included several new onions on which to munch. Holicius topped it off by treating us to several kylixes of his best wine from Chios, as a sort of celebration of the first day of the games. It makes my mouth water just remembering it!
At the meal's end my father announced that he was fatigued after such an exciting day, and wanted to get up early tomorrow to watch the initial bouts of diaulos running and javelin throwing at the stadium, and then proceed from there to the hippodrome to view the chariot-racing. We did not have a chariot entered for these games, which Holicius greatly regretted, since the owner of the winning chariot and not the charioteer, was the person who gained the most laurels. Nevertheless, he apparently did not intend to let this lack of personal ownership deter him from cheering on his friends' entries (and perhaps indulge in a few small bets on the side?).
After my father retired back to his sleeping room, I sauntered back out to the courtyard and sought out Duryattes, finding him enjoying his own dorpon in his family's small quarters against the back wall. He grinned as I stood at the door, and took a monstrous bite from a huge onion he held clenched in a grimy fist.
”Greetings, young master,” he piped, leaping to his feet and inclining his head in my direction. I motioned for him to follow me outside into the courtyard, and nodded
courteously at Dryses and Selcra, who returned the hello, and resumed eating their meal.
Duryattes brought his onion with him, and snatched a hunk of maza from a shelf as we exited.
I eyed him irritably as we seated ourselves on a bench, and he alternately stuffed his mouth full of bread and onion. When he had chewed up the last of both, he stared back at me and wiped a hand over his mouth.
”Well?” I asked impatiently.
”Well what, master?” he inquired innocently. I felt the hackles beginning to rise on the back of my neck, and he must have sensed it too, as he immediately abandoned his teasing and launched into his tale of adventure in the city of Priene.
”When we parted at the city gate, I walked to the agora right away. You should have seen it, master! I have never beheld more people in one place at one time. The market place was packed full, not just of slaves buying food and wine for their masters at the games, but of all types and varieties of visitors from near and far. Why, there were some people there that I could hardly understand, their accents were so thick! I know they were speaking Greek because I recognized some common words now and then, but their accents were barbaric!” Despite my annoyance at his impertinence, I had to hide a smile at this, since it was clear that to him if one spoke in any accent other than that of Priene, one was a barbarian. And this was even though he was Carian, not Ionian!
”How did you go about trying to discover the information we sought?” I asked curiously, caught by his sense of excitement. He puffed out his small chest.
”Just strolled about using the old ears, eh, young master?” he boasted. “The main topic of conversation was the games themselves, you see, but now and then other subjects would emerge, such as the price of wine or meat or olives. Master, you should have heard what the wine sellers are charging for a kylix of watered local wine! Not even
Chios, but just local! It was scandalous, but the visitors were buying it up like it was going to turn into donkey urine tomorrow.” He shook his head in worldly consternation. I bit back an impatient comment or two.
”And did you find out anything that may help us solve this mystery?” I prodded.
He glanced at me interestedly at the us in my question, and continued.
“Well, master, let me tell you, it was not easy. I would have thought that Tyrestes' death would have been the subject of numerous conversations, but this was not so! It was almost as if the people were avoiding talking about it. As if merely talking about the subject would bring bad luck. I wandered about until I came across several slaves engaged in a conversation about religious ceremonies, and was able with a few well-turned phrases to lead them onto the subject of the altar ceremony.” The young man preened himself like a bird with gorgeous plumage, and again I had to hide a smile.
”Let me tell you, master,” he said again,” they had more theories about Tyrestes' death than a sophist. I listened to everything from the irritability of Poseidon to jealousy of Apollo due to Tyrestes' abilities to the vengeance of various ladies that he had toyed with! Once I got a couple of them going on the subject, more people joined in until a whole section of the market fairly buzzed with speculation on what caused his death.” This was more like it. This was what I needed.
”Did you find out if anybody saw anything?” I asked imploringly.
”Mostly, they chattered about every piece of gossip they heard under the sun,” Duryattes sighed. “I do not think anybody saw anything directly, if you know what I mean.” I knew what he meant. He had not found a witness to the actual scene at the ceremony, a witness who might be able to cast some light on an increasingly murky situation. I cursed under my breath. How could this whole episode have happened in public and nobody saw anything odd?
”But I did find out some gossip that may be important to you,” the young slave continued after a moment. That sharpened my interest back to him. He fidgeted on the bench for a moment, and then jumped to his feet, unable to sit still for another heartbeat.
”A slave from the family of Kreton was in the group, and he told us that Tyrestes had visited their estate several times in the past month. According to some talks this slave had overheard between the mistress of the house and Kreton's only daughter, Tyrestes was interested in a possible match between himself and the daughter as a way of uniting the families. He said that the mother initially was in favor of the idea and the daughter was doubtful, but in a later conversation, their roles reversed!”
”What do you mean, their roles reversed?” My tone was quiet, to try and calm Duryattes down a little. He was pacing up and down in front of the bench now.
”Kreton's slave said that the daughter later seemed much more open to the idea of a match, but the mother discouraged it. He mentioned that the mother had discovered that Tyrestes was apparently seeing Valato with the same possible intention in mind for Valato's daughter. The whole thing was muddled, you see, since Tyrestes had no father or mother to make a match for him, and had to kind of stumble along himself as he thought best. Kreton's daughter had apparently been quite shocked that Tyrestes was seeing this other girl, Ossadia, I believe her name is, and burst into tears as her conversation with her mother went on. The mother took this as a sign that the daughter was unhealthily interested in Tyrestes, and forbade her to speak any more about him.”
”Was the daughter's name Bilassa?” I asked eagerly, overjoyed at last to get some significant information from the boy.
”Yes, I believe it was, young master! Bilassa, the daughter of Kreton.”
”Well, done, Duryattes,” I congratulated him. “That gives me another avenue to
explore that may bear fruit!”
”Wait, master, that is not all I found,” he continued importantly. “Speaking about bearing fruit, figuratively, that is.” He looked at me sideways and rewarded me with a broad wink.
”What else?”
”With the older male slave of Kreton was his daughter. Let me tell you, she was a pretty little thing. Anyway, she added to the conversation as well, although she nearly got a cuff from her father for her troubles.” Duryattes' look now could only be described as sly and knowing.
”The conversation had temporarily stopped, as if the audience around Kreton's slave was absorbing and chewing on this information, when the girl piped up that she knew that Tyrestes and Bilassa had done more that just speak about the possible future.
What do you mean, girl, the father had asked? Well, Father, she said, I know that they were playing the two-backed beast during his visit before the mistress soured on him.
How do you know this, asked the father, clearly astonished. Well, Father, she said smugly, I am a woman, I wait upon the young mistress, and I can tell these things, you know. That is what earned her the near cuff on her face. Her father's blow missed her only by a fraction, and she immediately begged his forgiveness in very humble tones!”
”Are you saying that Tyrestes and Bilassa slept together? “ I inquired, stunned that
this kind of gossip should be floating about the bazaar. Although it was not uncommon for an unloved wife to have an affair with an attractive young male, for a unwed girl to succumb to such a temptation could be disastrous for her marriage prospects. Even the rumor of such a breach of manners could easily deter suitors in search of a virgin bride from pursuing her.
”That is the word at the market place, master.” He threw himself back down on the bench and looked at me with expectant eyes.
”If that is the case, and I am not saying it is,” I amended hurriedly, “then that
would certainly explain Bilassa's distress at hearing from her mother that Tyrestes was possibly pursuing Ossadia as well as herself.” I thought for a moment, with Duryattes still staring at me eagerly.
”She certainly would not have told anybody in her family,” I mused, almost to myself. “That would ruin her for certain. But Risalla said that Bilassa acted as if she knew what she was talking about when it came to lovemaking prior to the ceremonial procession. In that case, would that be sufficient reason for Bilassa to poison Tyrestes, thinking that she would not be wedded to him, or maybe to anybody? No, that's ridiculous! She still would have been in the running, so to speak, for the place at his side as his wife. Yet, she may well have spoken to Ossadia before the procession, and the gods above only know what that one would have told her. It would be possible to obta
in the poison hellebore at a short notice -- it is very common as a medicine, I believe that physician said yesterday. I turned back to Duryattes.
”We know that Bilassa was one of the pouring girls,” I said slowly to him. “Were you able to find out who she poured wine for at the altar ceremony?”
”No, young master. Remember, I said this was all gossip, not eyewitness accounts of the ceremony itself. The ceremony was for citizens, after all, and only a few serving slaves had been present there.”
The sun had gone down now, and there was a slight nip in the late spring air. The only light was supplied by a small, olive oil lamp that Dryses had lit at the far end of the courtyard. Duryattes hugged his thin tunic about himself.
”Is that all, master?” he asked, clearly desiring to go inside his family's quarters to his warm cot. I peered at him in the gloom, and smiled wanly.
”Yes, that is all, Duryattes,” I answered. “You have done extremely well. I shall
not hesitate to call on you again should I need further information.” He got up, stretched and yawned, and started back toward his hut. Then he stopped abruptly, turned about, and walked slowly back to me.
”Master, there is one other piece of information I picked up at the agora,” he confided after a slight hesitation. “I am not sure it has anything to do with this matter, but it is something you should know for our family's sake.”
”What are you talking about?” I had taken in enough strange musings for the day, and longed for my bed as well.
”I found out that the noble Tyrestes had one more further problem to complicate his life. Not only was he searching for a possible bride with a dowry, he was searching for one for his brother Usthius as well. Although not old enough to wed, the noble Usthius is old enough to become betrothed and thereby further enhance their family fortunes.” He hesitated again.
”Yes, go on,” I urged him, fascinated despite my weariness. A bride for Usthius as well!
”I was further told that Tyrestes and Usthius did not get along together at all. Usthius apparently had no desire to become betrothed to any female that might be picked by Tyrestes, but wanted to choose one himself and then have Tyrestes arrange the engagement. I have heard that Usthius had one in mind, but that she did not have enough money for Tyrestes to consider. I have also heard that Usthius was at the altar ceremony, off to one side out of sight. Of course, with all the excitement and confusion at the time, would it have been possible for Usthius to tamper with some wine or a cup? And the girl was there too, the girl that Tyrestes would not consider.” Duryattes halted again, and looked at me imploringly.
”What are you trying to say, Duryattes? What does this have to do with our family.” The young slave visibly swallowed, gathered his courage, and blurted out.
”Young master, the girl that Usthius wants to wed is your sister, Risalla!”
Murder At The Panionic Games Page 9