Murder At The Panionic Games

by Michael B. Edwards

CHAPTER XV

  Three days! The Pentathlon, the crowning event of the games, would occur in just three days. And on that same day Polearchus would announce to the world that the city of Priene had been steeped in the dishonor of guestslaying for the entire period. Unless I found the murderer and revealed his or her identity to the powerful Miletian.

  Why me?, I thought morosely, as I trudged back to my father's farm under darkening skies. Why not get somebody else more suitable to investigate these foul murders? Of course, I knew the answer even as I asked the question. Crimes like this were so rare, that we had no persons trained or even assigned to accomplish such tasks as investigation. It was just considered part of a magistrate's many duties, and the accused parties were turned over to the victim's family, whose job it was to convince the citizenry of the accused's guilt.

  I longed to see the murderer standing forlornly at the Podium of Justice in front of a large jury of citizens and confronted by his accusers from their Podium of Retribution.

  But when I tried to picture the face and form of the accused standing behind the stone block of the damned, the visage changed rapidly from one person to another. Who was the guestslayer? In my mind's eye the accused transformed from Endemion to Nolarion to Valato to Ossadia to Bilassa to Usthius in a flashing display of my own incompetence and ineptitude. Gods above, even my own sister Risalla had been dallying with one of the suspects! What in Hades was I to do next?

  As I reached the prodomus of our farm and entered the front door, I also reached the conclusion that I saw no other course other than to keep talking to people, who may have been involved in the crimes and hoping that some minute piece of unguarded information would lead me to the answer. It occurred to me that I had not yet spoken to either Bilassa the daughter of Kreton or to Usthius the brother of Tyrestes. Wracking my

  brain as I might, no brilliant deductions popped out, so the next order of business had to be talking with them, I supposed.

  The household had again already finished the dorpon evening meal, but my mother had kept a plate of food for me on the table in the back garden. I lifted the cloth covering the plate to discover a fine offering of maza bread, two boiled hen's eggs, and a mound of walnuts, small onions, and olives nestled in cabbage leaves. Next to it stood a small jug of wine and one of the family's old, chipped kylixes. Much cheered by this motherly show of affection, I ate slowly by the light of a single olive oil lamp I had brought out from the house hallway.

  ”And has the young master discovered the identity of our nefarious murderer?” a quietly mocking (it seemed to me mocking, at any rate) voice inquired at my elbow. I started and twisted my head to view Duryattes hovering close behind me, a slight smile on his youthful face.

  ”Do not smirk,” I remonstrated to him, stuffing several olives and a cabbage leave into my mouth. “Show a little proper respect, and quit sneaking up on me! And sit down, for Poseidon's sake.” He plopped down on the bench next me, and eyed me carefully for a moment.

  ”My apologies, master,” he said at length. “In truth I did not mean to be disrespectful. Though might I venture a guess that our murderer's identity is still unknown at this point?”

  ”You venture correctly.” I swallowed a gulp of wine. I pushed my plate to one side, and looked at him thoughtfully. He had been quite adept at ferreting information for me in the agora and clearly had a quick, if somewhat rebellious, mind. Perhaps that young mind could discern pieces of the puzzle where mine could not? I admitted to myself readily enough that I could use any help I could get, but balked at bringing this youthful, independent-minded servant into my full confidence. After all he was not even Ionian! How much assistance could he really offer? Any help at all, I thought ruefully, is more than I have right now and made my decision.

  ”Listen carefully, Duryattes,” I cautioned him, staring straight into those intelligent, amused eyes. “I shall relate to you all that has happened, and you shall not speak until I have finished. Then you shall convey to me your speculations of what has happened and who is responsible.” At these words the amusement visibly fled from him like a shade fleeing from a dying body, and he nodded gravely, giving me his full attention.

  Duryattes' eyes grew round and wide as I told him about my conversation with Risalla concerning her meeting with Usthius and Usthius' position now as head of his family. I also related my words with the various spectators at the chariot race, the death of Habiliates, the intervention of his uncle Polearchus, and the misgivings of the magistrates at our recent meeting at Valato's house. I included the strange reaction of Ossadia to the charioteer's death and Valato's seeming bewilderment at the reason for her mourning.

  The boy did not say a word for several minutes after I had finished, but rather stared thoughtfully at the orb of the moon, his face illuminated by the light of the goddess Selene, as she began her journey of driving her shining steeds across the night sky. When he did speak, his voice was devoid of any mockery or jest.

  "It is clear, young master, that we need more information if we are to apprehend this evil person." I noted wryly that he used the term we instead of you now. However, I had made my decision consciously and was pleased to see that he had accepted the challenge.

  ”Let us analyze each person that you suspect, and determine what further news we need to confirm or deny that person's guilt or innocence,” Duryattes continued in a

  logical tone, holding up a single finger. “First, we have Endemion the athlete, and closely hooked to him is his father Nolarion. You have spoken to them both, in fact several times to the magistrate. Endemion is conscious of the fact that Tyrestes was more popular than he, and even though he does not wish to admit it, that Tyrestes was probably a more skilled athlete. If Endemion is to win any glory for himself and Priene, it would be very fortuitous for Tyrestes to not compete. But Tyrestes is young, strong, and an intense competitor, so it would appear that there is only one sure way to eliminate him from the games. The same goes for his father Nolarion. Did you not say that he was once the champion of Priene?”

  I nodded at the boy. “Yes, he won the pentathlon and several other events in the games twenty years ago. He is probably the best athlete the city has ever produced.”

  ”Well then, there is his reason for the killing. He could have decided to relive his glory through the exploits of his son. When he realized that Tyrestes was the better athlete, his dreams would demand the elimination of that threat. And note, young master, that both men had the opportunity to kill him as well. The father handed the cup to the unfortunate Tyrestes, and the son was next to him the whole time. It would have been simple for either of them to tamper with the cup or its contents.”

  ”In fact,” the slave added brightly, “they could have planned and executed the crime together to insure the son's increased chances of winning the laurel crown!” I must admit that this possibility had not occurred to me, and I could readily see that my idea of including Duryattes in my considerations was already bearing fruit.

  ”But what about Habiliates the Miletian athlete?” I queried. “What are your ideas on his murder by one or both of these men?” Duryattes licked his lips and reconsidered the glories of Selene.

  ”Well, the motive would be the same, would it not? Habiliates was

  extremely fast and was the favorite to win most, if not all, of the running events. I understand he was also very skilled in jumping and throwing the javelin, which would have made him also favored in the pentathlon, despite his indifference to the wrestling event. Eliminate him and suddenly Endemion is at the top of the heap, as far as the competitions go. He is a very well-rounded athlete, and may now be able to win enough events to bring the crown back to Priene and his father's house!”

  ”But what about the opportunity to eliminate Habiliates? Machus the carpenter showed me where the chariot's axle had been sawed nearly through. Would that not take a large amount of time to accomplish, and when could y
ou know when the axle would break?”

  The boy glanced at me with just a trace of disdain.

  ”Young master,” he said patiently. “Have you ever sawed through a sapling with a small, sharp, bronze saw?” I shook my head no.

  "It would be the work of only a few moments," he explained. "Then dab on a bit of grease or paint and nobody would be able to tell the difference. It could have been accomplished that very morning, since all the chariots are kept in the games stables by the hippodrome, are they not? Yes, it would have been child's play. And the matter of when the accident was to occur? Who cares, as long as it does occur? The chances of a charioteer being injured in such an accident are probably quite high."

  ”And the reason the axle did not break until late in the race was because Habiliates is a careful driver, and did not put undue pressure on the sawed joint until he made his dash for the lead,” I concluded for the boy. He nodded smugly. We were both silent then for a space of time, considering these possibilities.

  ”Let us then proceed to the female side of the equation,” I suggested, glancing at the youth out of the corner of my eye. “What are your thoughts in that direction?”

  Duryattes puffed out his skinny chest, preened himself a bit, and then went on.

  ”Young master, it appears that our own Tyrestes was a sexual athlete as well as an athlete in the normal sense of the word. It also would appear that he was searching for a way to rescue his family's fortunes by searching for a wife who would arrive with a large dowry. You concur with these observations?” I nodded my head reluctantly, not wishing to wish ill thoughts of the dead, but forced by honesty to agree with his remarks.

  ”It is possible he dallied with both these young girls,” Duryattes said, holding up two fingers this time. He ticked off his points with his other hand. “We have word through the gossip at the agora that he may have bedded Bilassa, the daughter of the rich aristocrat Kreton. We also know that he at least talked several times with Ossadia the daughter of the magistrate Valato. Might he have done more than talked?”

  I thought back to my conversation with Ossadia in the tunnel entrance to the stadium, where her repressed passion had permeated the air. I shook my head tentatively.

  ”I do not think so.” I scratched the top of my shorn pate. “She seemed much more interested in Habiliates, and her conduct after his death would seem to confirm her devotion to the Miletian.”

  ”On the other hand, does her interest in Habiliates eliminate the possibility that she slept with Tyrestes?” Duryattes asked. I considered this possibility.

  ”No, I suppose it does not eliminate it. She struck me as the kind of woman who would bed whomever she pleased whenever she pleased.”

  ”Then it is equally possible that she compared the two lovers, Tyrestes and Habiliates, and determined to kill the former in order to one, keep him from telling anybody of her dalliances and thereby ruining her future, or two, destroy an impediment to the latter winning the games,” the slave concluded triumphantly. I peered at him dubiously, thinking this a little far-fetched, but admitting its possibility.

  ”And what of Bilassa's motives?” I asked. Duryattes waved his hand negligently

  in the air.

  ”That one is even easier! After being bedded by our hero, she learns that he is speaking to Ossadia and her father about a possible match. Although furious, she bides her time until the right moment and then coldly poisons him. Remember, she too has much to lose if her family or a prospective suitor learns of her adventures of love.”

  ”And Habiliates? What motive would either of the women have for killing him and how could they do it?” The boy considered this dilemma, his brow furrowed as he seemingly contemplated the wonders of olive trees in the moonlight.

  ”I must admit I cannot readily see a reason for Ossadia to murder Habiliates,” Duryattes agreed, “but I think Bilassa had an excellent reason. Besides gaining revenge on Tyrestes, she also determined to achieve her vengeance on Ossadia by killing her lover. As for the how, all large estates have carpenter slaves who could innocently, or not so innocently, give advice on how to disable a chariot. In fact in many cases, the slave could be persuaded to assist his mistress in the maintenance of her honor by performing the deed at her insistence.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders.

  ”I can think of a reason for Ossadia killing Habiliates,” I interjected. “If she too had been bedded by the Miletian as she had wished to be and was then rejected, that would be plenty of reason.” I recalled her smoldering desire during our conversation and shivered. Again the two of us were silent as we let our minds ramble in the gaze of the moon goddess. The air was growing chilly now, and I rubbed my upper arms with my hands, noting the black streaks of dye on my tricep muscles with distaste.

  ”And so, young master, that brings us to Usthius, the younger brother of Tyrestes,” said Duryattes, his skinny arms wrapped around himself. “He had both reason and opportunity to do away with his brother, eh? If Tyrestes dies, Usthius inherits the estate, poor though it may be, and can negotiate for his choice of wife, when he wishes to do so. Do we know anything about the relationship between these two brothers?” I

  shook my head again.

  ”No, I have not yet been able to speak with Usthius. Nor did my family know them well enough to be able to discern their like or dislike for each other. Even Risalla, who has spoken twice to Usthius in the agora and again at the wine pouring ceremony, did not say anything about the men's feelings or rivalries. But she did say that Tyrestes had squelched Usthius' hopes of mating with her. She thought it a great jest!”

  I paused and then continued, “And what of the death of Habiliates? How could Usthius be mixed up in that?” I rose from the cool bench and began striding back and forth. Duryattes watched me for a moment, and then answered.

  ”You mentioned to me that you saw Bilassa appearing very interested in Usthius at the chariot race? Where he was driving the team of Euphemius in place of Tyrestes?”

  I nodded at him once more, noting the gleam in his eyes, as he too rose to his feet and walked excitedly about.

  ”Consider this, young master! Is it not possible that Bilassa either killed Tyrestes by herself or in conjunction with Usthius? If she desired to be mistress of her own estate, either brother would do. She could have murdered the elder brother because he was no longer interested in her and then turned her attention to the younger brother. Or they could have plotted together to do away with Tyrestes so that they could wed!”

  ”That is a possible scenario,” I admitted. “But let us return again to Habiliates.

  What possible reason could Usthius have for killing him?”

  ”There is a double reason for Usthius to have murdered his older brother, you know. Not only did killing Tyrestes gain him an estate. It also gained him entrance to participating in the games without having to endure the years of training and discipline. The chariot race is the most chancy of all the events - anybody can win in that race due to sheer bad fortune on everybody else's part! That could also give him a reason for eliminating Habiliates, an excellent charioteer. Even without Bilassa urging Usthius on, the younger brother would greatly increase his chances of winning by a little judicious sawing. He could have even tampered with other chariots. We only know about Habiliates' chariot being sabotaged, because his was the only one that crashed on its own!”

  Even as I dubiously contemplated these assertions, linking them close to the edge of absurdity, the niggling thought came to me that people did very strange things when in the throes of envy, hatred, or greed. While it seemed ridiculous to think that Usthius would sabotage Habiliates' chariot to eliminate a racing rival, it seemed chillingly possible that he might do it at the behest of the vengeful Bilassa. Her beauty could spur a man do commit many crimes, I conjectured. Even as I strode back and forth wrapped in thought, Duryattes spoke up one more time.

  "Young master, there is one m
ore possibility you must consider." He stood as still as a statue. What happened to the we of such a short time before, I wondered.

  I received my answer in his next sentence.

  ”By her own admission your sister Risalla has been involved with Usthius. We do not know how deep this involvement runs, as we only have her word that it was a few conversations in the marketplace. Although Usthius could have murdered Tyrestes because of his refusal to consider Risalla as a bride for his infatuated younger brother,

  it is equally possible that your sister could have assisted him in the deed. As the wife of Usthius, she would be the mistress of her own estate ahead of her two elder sisters.”

  I had listened to this quiet argument with growing anger and disbelief. How dare this boy accuse a lady of his own household of such a deed. Had he not been raised side by side with Risalla, playing with her around the grounds for years? My face must have reflected my burgeoning anger, as he looked at me and then took several steps backward.

  My pent-up frustration burst out suddenly, and I grabbed at him with a snarl! Much more nimble than I, he scampered around the edge of the table, and I banged my shin soundly

  against the bench in front of me. The searing pain, combined by the necessity of my hopping about holding my leg and swearing vociferously, burned the anger out of me after several hops. I sat back down on the bench vigorously rubbing my injured limb.

  Duryattes eyed me warily from the other side of the table, ready to jump either way at an instant's notice.

  ”Come and sit down, boy,” I said wearily. “You have my apologies. I was not mad at you, but rather at the damn situation. Of course, we must consider the possibility of Risalla's involvement. Of course we must.”

  Duryattes carefully skirted the table and eased himself down on the opposite end of my bench. His face broke into a quick grin when he saw that my regrets were genuine.

  ”I am sorry I had to bring it up, young master. I agree it is not very likely, but does one ever get to really know another person? I mean, really get to know their thoughts and desires, and what they are truly capable of doing?” His observation amazed me, I must say. I stared at him in astonishment, as he nodded like some old sage.

  "At any rate, our next move seems quite clear," he went on. Ah, the our was back again. "You must speak separately to both Bilassa and Usthius, and note their reactions to your many questions!"

  ”I had already reasoned that out, my dear Duryattes,” I said dryly. “But how am I to go about this task? Bilassa is guarded by her Atlas-like brothers, and Usthius certainly has no reason to cooperate with me.”

  "Just as you have reasoned that this must be done, young master, I have reasoned out how it will be done," he asserted, his eyes twinkling in the night. "You will recall that I am acquainted with Bilassa's maid, the one that spoke up in the marketplace about her mistress' indiscretions. When we attend the competitions tomorrow, I will seek her out and conspire with her to arrange for her mistress to meet with you."

  I looked at him admiringly. This boy was crafty enough to go far!

  ”And in the case of Usthius,” he added, “what could be simpler? I will deliver a message to him that you have learned of his improper interest in your sister Risalla and would speak to him about the affair!”

  My admiration doubled.

  ”By the cunning of Pan, I think both those solutions may work!” I grinned at the boy across the bench. A look of alarm flooded onto his face.

  ”Young master, do not mention Pan when we are under the gaze of the moon goddess Selene,” he whispered furiously. “Remember, he seduced her by turning himself into a snow-white ram in the forest!”