Murder At The Panionic Games

by Michael B. Edwards

CHAPTER XXI

  Setting the trap was not as difficult as I thought it would be.

  After a restless night of tossing and turning on my cot in anticipation of the morrow, I dispatched Duryattes early in the morning to seek out Valato. The boy was to ask the magistrate to contact the other “actors” in our little drama of death, and call them to a meeting in his house that very evening. I would have chosen the daylight hours if I could, but with this being the day of many of the final athletic contests, everybody would probably have refused to come! We Ionians do love our sports, you see, and even something as rare as murder would take second place to the great Games. I suppose that must say something about our civilization, but I was too keyed up to consider what that might be.

  The members of my family, as well as Duryattes, were shocked at my appearance when we gathered in the back garden for the ariston meal an hour after dawn. I think the time I spent in the baths the night before had erased the worst of the ravages, but my lower legs were conspicuously pink and hairless, which raised the eyebrows of my father and mother. The pain in my head had declined to a dull ache, but I was careful to avoid the location of my shrinking lump, when I combed my hair. As for my ribs, I had Duryattes tightly wrap my torso in a long scarf before donning my black tunic, so that injury was out of sight and only revealed itself in a wince or two, if I swiveled in the wrong direction.

  Everyone was agog with surprise, when I related the story of the tent city fire while nibbling on some black olives and goat cheese. In order to keep my mother and the girls from worrying too much (not that they did not have a damned good reason to worry), I did not mention the deaths of Polearchus and Machus in particular, nor did I tell them about my brush with the Fates in the blaze. My slight leg injuries I explained away as having been received while helping to fight the fire, and everybody thanked Poseidon profusely for my good luck in not being further damaged. However, I did note Tesessa eyeing me thoughtfully after an involuntary grunt followed my twisting about to fend off the attentions of my youngest sister, who was clamoring to sit in my lap while she ate.

  A bright smile in her direction warded off her suspicion temporarily, I think, but I reminded myself that my mother was nobody's fool, and I carefully kept my grunts and groans to myself as we all walked to the city in anticipation of the day's great events.

  To say that the athletics that day were an anticlimax for me is like saying that Helen of Troy was only a fairly attractive woman. I watched them for form's sake while my mind whirled this way and that, searching for the right things to say at tonight's meeting. The fact that I stayed conspicuously in the close company of Holicius and was constantly darting wary looks all around did nothing for my concentration. My father gratefully found a ready audience for his homilies about athletes, contests, culture, stadium architecture and a myriad of other odd subjects. I tried to keep Holicius and at least two or three of my sisters between Tesessa and myself, but she looked suspiciously at me from time to time, as if trying to figure out what was different this morning about her son. My father had agreed to let the girls stay for today's events, as they showcased the very best young men of the Ionian world and would therefore display for my sisters the kind of men they should wish for as future husbands. All my sisters showed varying degrees of interest from little Elissa's total involvement with a little girl sitting next to her to Risalla's nearly drooling on the head of a man in front of us, as she constantly surveyed the naked male bodies down in the pit below.

  The results of the contests were not as dramatic as the citizens of Priene could have wished. As Helios' chariot of the sun climbed in the morning sky and then passed overhead and began to descend in the west, our athletes did not perform as well as expected. Oh, we did well enough on the whole, but remember, only first place in the Games means anything. You could have any number of second or third places and be in total disgrace.

  Krelonan won the heavy wrestling event, as expected, throwing his final opponent, a monster from Teos, over his right shoulder to the great delight of the roaring crowd. And surprisingly, Mycrustes took the discus competition with an incredible toss that amazed even him, I think. His tremendous grin as he was presented with his crown of laurel leaves would have lit up a cavern on a stormy night.

  Endemion's performance disappointed everybody. Although he pulled in several second places, he did not prevail in a single event. Recalling his comments in the baths the night before, I could only suppose that he was worried about participating in the pentathlon the next day and did not really put his heart into today's contests. Since the winner of the pentathlon was almost a god for a day, this attitude was understandable but not very satisfying for the home crowd, which grew louder and more scornful after every event as the day wore on. I noticed his father, Nolarion, scowling more and more ferociously, as his son went down to defeat in contest after contest.

  Duryattes rejoined us at midday, sidling up to me silently and scaring me half witless by tapping me on the shoulder from behind. Cursing him roundly, I obtained the eager information from him that Valato had agreed to the meeting and was sending out a summons to all concerned. A magistrate's summons did not have to be obeyed in our democratic city, but to ignore it was to cast immediate suspicion on yourself and your activities. They would all be there, all right.

  The day ground away in excruciating slowness. After the last event, the javelin, was over and the throng was disgorging itself through the stadium exits to excitedly stroll back to their permanent or temporary homes or to enjoy Priene's pleasures for one last night, I excused myself to Holicius and Tesessa. I had, I explained, some last minute business with the magistrates, and under my mother's anxious eye, took Duryattes with me and set out for Valato's house. I had no intention of going anywhere alone that night, and described the situation and my plans to the boy as we strode along. His eyes grew as wide as discuses with surprise and disbelief as we grew closer to the magistrate's mansion, and I believe that only his station as a servant kept him from proclaiming me as the biggest fool since Dionysus took his first, innocent sip of wine. Nevertheless, he vowed manfully to remain at my side no matter what, in which considering his size and stature, I took little comfort.

  By the time we arrived at the impressive estate of Valato, the principals had already gathered. They had obeyed the summons very promptly. Smothering a groan of apprehension, I was led into the large andron by one of Valato's servants, leaving Duryattes to fret alone at the portico's entrance. But, you know, even amidst the apprehension and worry, the excitement was beginning to build in me, and I could feel my senses sharpening and my heart beating faster.

  I entered the andron, wiping my hands on the skirt of my black tunic, and all conversation ceased. All eyes were turned on me in varying degrees of welcome, suspicion, or hostility. None of them, however, was indifferent. From left to right in a semi-circle I saw they were all seated on chairs or reclining on couches, grapes, olives, or figs caught for just a twinkling of a moment between bowl and mouth. It was almost like a fresco, even to the detail of a silver cup raised in Euphemius' hand and frozen there for a fraction of a heartbeat. Then, the movement and conversation returned, and I entered the room, to be grasped at the wrist by Valato, who had risen from his couch.

  To my left in a pair of winged-footed chairs sat Nolarion and his son, seemingly engaged in an animated conversation about today's or tomorrow's contests, as the magistrate had his hands curled around imaginary weights, and he was clearly instructing Endemion on how to get the most out of a long jump. Next to them reclined the storklike Euphemius with his glass of wine and his fingers caressing his iron gray beard. He and Usthius next to him were wearing their wreaths of laurel leaves, won during the horse race, and the tall, austere figure appeared languid and satisfied. Usthius, on the other hand, visibly started as I appeared at the door, the wine in his glass sloshing over its edge to stain the hem of his white tunic. Continuing around the semi-circle, ne
xt came the giantlike Kreton, he of the seemingly innocent daughter, Bilassa. He was apparently bewildered as to why he should be here attending this meeting, and he glared about himself like an irritated bear, awakened from a long, winter's nap. He stared at me as I entered, and I cautioned myself that his gargantuan sons had undoubtedly filled him in on my conduct with his lusty little girl. Next to this aging Hercules sat the portly figure of my supposed superior, Crystheus, the major priest of the Panionian. I had wanted him here to confirm a portion of my plan, and it looked like he was trying to be as ingratiatingly polite as he could to Kreton, who turned to growl menacingly at him. Ending the circle on my immediate right was the couch of Valato, the occupant of whom was now guiding me by the elbow to a chair squatting in the center of the semi-circle. I thanked the small magistrate, who resumed his place on his couch, but I was too nervous to sit and proceeded to pace about the inside of the andron, followed closely by seven pairs of eyes.

  ”Er...Bias,” interjected Valato after a moment of this activity. “We are all here, as you have requested. I trust the object of our meeting is more important that watching you walk about the room?” He smiled slightly, and gestured for me to begin speaking. I gathered my hapless wits about me, drawing them in as a fisherman would draw in his net, and spoke.

  ”All of you are aware,” I began, motioning particularly at Kreton and Usthius, “that I have been charged by Priene's magistrates with finding the murderer of Tyrestes. To that end, I was presented with this warrant, authorizing me to speak to any citizen or slave about this matter.” I waved the small piece of vellum in the air, and their eyes followed it back and forth like insects caught in the magic of a flame.

  ”Since that time, several days ago, numerous things have happened and many facts have been uncovered. Let me relate these occurrences to you, so that you all know what wickedness has transpired here at these Games.” I then disclosed all the facts of the entire story, starting with the death of Tyrestes, proceeding through the incident of Habiliates at the chariot race, and ending with the demise of Polearchus and his carpenter servant at the tent city. I prudently left out the parts where I had spoken to Ossadia or Bilassa, noting that the look on Kreton's face grew more bewildered at each passing word. The majority of those present knew most of what I was relating already, but the new portion concerning the dead Miletians drew sharp breaths and even sharper glances. I also did not include my suspicions in my recitation to the assembled Prienians, but kept the tale confined to facts only.

  "Do you mean to say that there have been three guestslayings here during the games?" wheezed Crystheus when I finished my story, wringing his hands together as if to squeeze water out of them. "Three? Poseidon has surely shown his displeasure with our city in that case!" He looked for confirmation at the people seated around him, but received only looks of disdain or doubt.

  ”This is the first that I have heard of any of this,” rumbled Kreton, peering angrily at me from beneath shaggy, lowered brows. “What does this have to do with me? Why were you speaking to my daughter yesterday without my permission? It is impossible that she would have something to do with this.” He glared around the room as if he were an infuriated bull, daring anybody to move. Careful, Bias, I cautioned myself, you are treading on very thin ice here.

  ”Noble Kreton, I apologize for speaking to your daughter without your approval,”

  I said in what I hoped was an appropriately abject manner. “I misinterpreted the warrant given to me by the magistrates, and assumed it allowed me to act as I did. I certainly never intended to give offense to you or your innocent daughter.”

  The giant stared at me suspiciously for a moment, then some of the fire seemed to fade from his eyes. He glanced about the room, busied himself for a while straightening the folds of his voluminous chiton, and then spoke in a more constrained tone.

  "Well, young man, your apology is accepted. Perhaps it is with the magistrates I need to speak about this warrant. On the other hand, that does not tell me why you felt you had to speak with her, thus braving convention and my displeasure. What does she have to do with these evil affairs?"

  ”Sir, here was the line of my thought. Bilassa, having known Tyrestes as the new head of his family, correctly interpreted his interest as having to do with her becoming the mistress of his estate. You also knew this, and unless I am mistaken, allowed them to meet once so that Tyrestes could assess your daughter in this light.” Kreton regarded me with some surprise, and slowly nodded his massive head.

  ”Yes, that is so. I allowed them a time in our garden, but I did not think that Tyrestes was favorably impressed, though only the gods know why. You have all seen my Bilassa. She would be a catch for any young man.”

  As long as he did not mind that she had bedded half the young men in Priene, I thought irreverently.

  “As you say, noble Kreton, “ I agreed. “But you were mistaken in Tyrestes' intentions of your daughter. He was most favorably impressed, and was simply waiting for the right moment to propose a betrothal agreement to you.” The small lie rolled smoothly off my lips, and I sent a silent prayer to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, to forgive my transgression. “As such, I had hoped that your daughter, who is very intelligent, may have noted something about the young man that would have aided my investigation. Again, I know now that I overstepped the bounds of propriety, but my enthusiasm ran away with me, especially in the presence of your lovely little girl.”

  ”Ah, indeed, so that was the way of it, eh?” he asked in a much better humor. “And did you discover anything of substance from her?”

  ”No sir, I am afraid not,” I hastened to say with simulated regret dripping from my words. “She was much too taken with the pristine possibilities of life with Tyrestes to notice anything that might have helped me.” I almost writhed with shame at this bald-faced lie, but I figured that Poseidon wanted me to catch a guestslayer more than to be truthful with an affronted father.

  Kreton nodded massively, favorably considering this load of bull dung, and then Valato piped up.

  ”And I assume that is why you also spoke to my daughter, Ossadia?”

  ”Yes, sir,” I answered quickly. “But in her case, she had become enamored from afar with the Milesian athlete, Habiliates, and had no interest in Tyrestes. You yourself have witnessed what this innocent obsession has done to her. I was not able to obtain any relevant information from her either.”

  Valato's head bobbed up and down like a small bird's. Although no screeches of pain came from his plain but passionate daughter in the back of his house, he shot a nervous glance in that direction, as if frightened that such a scream could erupt from there at any moment.

  ”Quite so, quite so,” he murmured swiftly. “But where does that leave you now, Bias?” His frankly questioning eyes gave me the opening I needed for my explanation.

  ”Let us consider what we know here, sir,” I said. “Why did each of these deaths take place? Murders are rare enough in our society that there must have been an overwhelming reason or urge for the killer to strike. Add in the miasma of guestslaying, and you have a man whose sense of reason has been overpowered by one of the gods. This man is tainted forever in the sight of all other gods and men. What could his reasons be for this incredible betrayal of his city and his religion?”

  ”Well, he must have had a personal vendetta against Tyrestes,” ventured Nolarion.

  ”Why else would he have lessened Priene's chances of winning the Games? Tyrestes was the best athlete this city has produced since I won the pentathlon 20 years ago.” Endemion glanced sharply at his father at this statement, and then looked away, his face reddening in the glow of the late evening sunlight.

  ”Why indeed?” I echoed softly. “But what about the others? What about Habiliates?”

  ”Could that not have been an accident?” asked Euphemius with a shrug that set his storklike head bobbing and weaving. “I know that Polearchus felt
that it was deliberate, but accidents do happen all the time in chariot racing and horse racing.”

  ”No, I believe that Polearchus must have been correct in his surmise, sir,” I answered. “His master carpenter confirmed the fact that the chariot axle had been sawed. Eliminating Habiliates would be an excellent step forward for someone to rank even higher in the Games.”

  Heads swiveled back and forth between Endemion and Usthius, regarding each of them in turn with suspicion and distrust. Endemion was the first to break.

  ”I will not be accused in this fashion,” he retorted angrily as he surged to his feet, followed swiftly by Euphemius' horseman.

  ”Nor I,” screeched Usthius, his voice breaking on a high note, like that of a youth balanced between boyhood and manhood. His fists clinched and unclinched, as he stared around the room.

  ”Nobody has accused you of anything,” I said harshly. “There is still the matter of

  Polearchus and Machus.” The two glared fiercely about the andron, and then slowly reseated themselves, so that they were perched on the edge of their chairs, resembling two birds on a rope.

  ”The matter of Polearchus and Machus,” I repeated slowly. “What possible reason could there be for them to die? They were not competitors in the Games.” The room was very silent, broken only by the ragged breathing of the two athletes. Then Valato cleared this throat.

  “Polearchus had threatened to tell the citizens and the visitors about the guestslaying of Habiliates. Only the gods know what would have happened had he done that.”

  ”Would that have been enough reason?” I asked in a low tone. “I do not know. Is anybody concerned enough about Priene to kill for her in cold blood?” The others all exchanged speculative glances between themselves, and looked back at me.

  ”You have a lot of questions, and it appears that you have gathered precious few answers, Bias,” said Nolarion. “If you know the identity of the murderer, tell us so that we may act.” Two or three of the others nodded their heads at this statement. I paused for several long moments before continuing.

  ”I believe that I may have the answer and your murderer.” My assertion caused some audible, indrawn breaths. I lingered for the slightest time, and then added. “But I do not know for certain.”

  ”What else is there for you to do to find out?” asked Nolarion hoarsely, his hands pulling angrily at his long beard. “How long will this go on?”

  ”It will be over by tomorrow,” I concluded, looking about the andron in quiet satisfaction. The faces reflected incredulity, doubt, relief, and perhaps even envy.

  ”I intend to go to the shrine of the god Poseidon tomorrow at dawn and ask for his guidance and wisdom. I feel that I am only a heartbeat away from the answer.” Heartbeat indeed, I thought...maybe my last one.

  ”A heartbeat away,” repeated Kreton thoughtfully. “And you think Poseidon will provide you with an answer.”

  "He is a priest of Poseidon, you realize," spoke up a voice that had been unheard almost all evening. It was Crystheus, his face screwed up in an expression of what could only be described as holy indignation. He was zeroing in on the matter with uncanny accuracy, and I had not even asked! "The gods do favor their anointed with insights into the strange doings of man, do they not?" He stared belligerently around the room.

  ”Indeed they do, noble Crystheus,” answered Nolarion shortly. “Indeed they do.”

  Edwards—Murder At The Panionic Games