Murder At The Panionic Games

by Michael B. Edwards

CHAPTER XXIII

  Very few people knew about the crimes of Nolarion. And if those very few people had anything to say about it, which they did, not a single, solitary other human being would ever find out. This was probably being overly optimistic, of course, since conversation flowed like water between the privileged classes of the various city-states of Ionia. Indeed, I personally would be surprised if the tale of Nolarion's heinous exploits did not become general knowledge among the ruling elite by the end of the year.

  Did I mention that the Ionian love of sport and spectacle exceeded our regard for almost everything else in our world? I believe I did. Anyway, I mention it now because we were back at the stadium by mid-morning. Kreton and his three gigantic offspring, after lugging the murderer's body secretly to the house of Valato, had set off for the athletic area to find Bilassa and her maid. I had remained for an hour at the small magistrate's house, explaining the entire situation, and then asking for further instructions. Valato's intelligent, bird-like eyes had regarded me with some astonishment as I had unfolded my tale, but his cautious approval of the end of the matter had quickly followed. He warned me that I was not to tell anybody of the death of Nolarion until the Games were concluded, especially not Endemion, who was Priene's last best chance for the pentathlon victory. Did I not say that we were mad about sport?

  I found my family at their reserved seats in the stadium with the girls sandwiched between my mother and father. Ulania's young man was with us today, under the watchful eye of my father, and I could tell by the line of his mouth and his narrowed eyes that he did not fully approve of this minor flouting of convention. I mean, if all husbands met and socialized with their future wives before the wedding, where would it lead to?

  On the other hand, I suppose he tolerated it with the view that Ulania, though pleasant enough, was not the greatest catch in the world and he had to get six daughters married

  off eventually. The things one must do out of necessity, eh?

  The competition for the long jump was almost completed by the time I arrived after my conversation with Valato. A muscular entry from Phocae was making his third and last try as I entered through a stadium entrance tunnel, his arms pumping rhythmically back and forth. He grasped a regulation jumping weight in each hand, and was attempting to time the swing of the weights with his hop, step, and jump routine. He must have been slightly off in his timing, as he curved off to his right on the last jump portion and so only obtained a distance of about twelve lengths. It would take at least a fifteen length jump to win this event, so he had no chance of victory. Of course, the winner of the pentathlon was the first competitor to get three clear victories in the five events--the long jump, discus, javelin, sprinting, and wrestling.

  My father looked away from the competition momentarily to spot me as I approached our seats, flashed me a smile of welcome, and motioned for me to sit down next to him. I must have looked as dejected as I felt, as he peered curiously at me, started to say something, and then was drawn back to the action below by the roar of the crowd.

  An athlete from Chios had made a tremendous leap on his first try, fully fifteen lengths, and the spectators were screaming their approval. All the better, I thought thankfully. I certainly did not want to discuss my adventures of the morning with my family in the midst of a deafening mob.

  Unfortunately, over the course of the morning and into the hours of the afternoon, I was compelled to do exactly that, if not with my family, then with various other high citizens of the city. The magistrate Euphemius was the first to seek me out, drawing me away from the discus competition to explain the morning's happenings to him in the relative quiet of a stadium exit.

  ”And did you know that Nolarion was the guestslayer when you made your announcement last night,” the tall, stork-like man asked, when I finished my recitation of

  Nolarion's actions in the sacred cave.

  ”Well, sir, I had narrowed down the possible suspects as I went along, and he was the most logical choice. You see, as more people were murdered, the choice of murderer narrowed accordingly. Any of my original suspects could have killed Tyrestes. Habiliates' death lessened the choices, and my interviews with several of the suspects led me to drop them as possible killers.” Euphemius stared at me in silent inquiry as I pronounced this last statement, and I hurried on with my explanation, not wanting to mention the names of Ossadia or Bilassa.

  ”When Polearchus and his carpenter were slain in the tent city, it was clear that Nolarion had the most to gain or lose in this dangerous game. Endemion had no reason to kill the Miletians and neither had Usthius, though both had reason to slay Tyrestes and Habiliates.”

  ”And what about Kreton,” Euphemius asked, trying to keep one eye on me and one on the discus thrower on the stadium floor below. “Why was he at the meeting last night at all?”

  ”His daughter, Bilassa, had supplied me with valuable information about Tyrestes and Usthius,” I explained warily, being very careful not to fall into the rushing stream of lies, as I crossed on the protruding, wet stones of fact. “I felt that he deserved to attend out of that regard, and I needed the help of he and his sons for the capture of the killer at dawn.”

  Euphemius' attention returned wholly to me, and it was several moments before he spoke.

  ”And me, young Bias?” he asked very softly. “How did you know I was not your killer? You suspected me with the rest, of course.” I stared at him in surprise and some little admiration.

  ”Yes, sir, I did suspect you with the others. But while you had reason to eliminate Habiliates, so that you could win the chariot race, and Polearchus, so that you could save

  the city from damage and embarrassment, you had no reason to commit the first murder.

  I could decipher no purpose in your slaying Tyrestes. You had no daughters to protect, nor had you any sons to promote!”

  The tall, thin magistrate glanced sharply at me during my last words, and I realized I had said too much about daughters along with my comment about sons.

  ”So I eliminated you as a suspect, just as I eliminated your driver, Usthius,” I stammered quickly, hoping to overcome my gaffe. “But for different reasons, of course.”

  He continued to inspect me closely, and I began to sweat beneath my black tunic. If word of my knowledge of the innocent dallyings of Ossadia or the not-so-innocent dallyings of Bilassa ever got back to Valato or Kreton, my career in the priesthood of Poseidon could be brought to an abrupt halt. Not that it was the greatest career in the world so far, but one has to start somewhere.

  ”I think I understand, Bias,” he said slowly. “You have done remarkably well under the circumstances. I shall not forget your success here nor the dangers that you faced in order to arrive at the truth.” He stopped and stared into my eyes. “The truth is very important, you know. It has to be tempered in the forge of expedience, of course, but it cannot be disregarded.”

  ”No, sir, I agree with you completely,” I sighed with relief.

  ”At any rate, let us go enjoy the games! Although I would hate to be the one to tell young Endemion of his father's crimes and fate, eh?”

  ”If you will beg my pardon, sir, either you or the magistrate Valato will have to be the one to tell him. There is nobody else of sufficient rank and stature.” His stare returned to me, but this time his eyes were full of foreboding.

  ”I suppose you are correct,” he answered after a long pause. “I will seek out Valato and determine how this is to be handled tonight.” He gave a heavy sigh, peered at me closely one more time, and then took his leave, heading down the stairs and to his left in search of the seats of Valato's family.

  The competition proceeded through the morning and into the late afternoon with no clear pentathlon winner. The Chiosian athlete had won the long jump, and a boy from Colophon took the discus. Our own Mycrustes gave his all in the latter contest, but had not been able to come anywhere close to his previous day's thro
w.

  The excitement heightened as the competition wore on. Endemion had put in a fair jump and a respectable discus throw, but not good enough in either case. The home crowd began to grow restless after his performance in the discus, but he redeemed himself with a magnificent javelin toss on his second try that secured that victory for him.

  I was seated back with my family, next to my mother, when the sprinting event was scheduled to commence. Elissa clambered up onto my lap, and promptly drifted off to sleep with her golden head tucked into my armpit. Tesessa glanced over at me approvingly, and I smiled at her in contentment, though I have to admit that a small mouse of doubt niggled at my happiness, when I considered what she would say when I told her of the morning's events.

  My father's surprise announcement came at almost the same time that the competitor for Colophon won the sprint by just beating out Endemion. I had noted that Holicius had been talking animatedly to the father of Ulania's betrothed between the running heats.

  ”That is settled then!” he announced triumphantly to us all, startling my mother so that she jerked against my side and awoke Elissa, who stared about herself in some confusion before resettling herself against my shoulder. Seated next to him, Mesivicus, the short, plump father of the pimply betrothed young man, beamed a mighty smile.

  ”Mesivicus and I have decided that Albiades and Ulania will be wed in the month of Pyanopsion, just after the festival of Apaturia,” Holicius continued. “ That is just about five months away, and will give us plenty of time for planning the dowry and celebration!” My sisters squealed with excitement, bouncing up and down on the seats, my mother smiled warmly at the news, and the betrothed pair at the end of the row blushed and managed to look everywhere but at each other. Well, that is good news, I thought with relief. It is comforting to have good news on such a day.

  The wrestling event was next in the competition. Various athletes were thrown this way and that until only two were left, Endemion and an unlikely looking specimen from Lebedos. The unlikely looking specimen was quite proficient, however, and the afternoon was waning when Endemion suddenly got the upper hand, twisted the Lebedoian's left arm behind him, and shoved his face into the ground for the win.

  The stands went wild, the cheers rebounding from the walls of the delirious stadium.

  The five events were complete, and there was no clear winner of three events. The Colophonian had captured the discus and running competitions, the Chiosian had grabbed the long jump, and Endemion had secured the javelin and wrestling. So the fight for the pentathlon crown was between those three. Each would keep the victory in his event until ousted by one of the other two, so that eventually one of them would emerge triumphant. I have to admit that the excitement was catching, and I cheered as lustily as the rest for our homegrown boy. It would really be a matter of who tired first, now.

  The long jump was held again, the three superb athletes leaping as far as they could clutching the jumping weights. Again, the Chiosian won easily, and therefore stayed in the competition. The discus and javelin events proved to be the same, with the former winners again emerging triumphant. The mood of the spectators was incredible now, with waves of emotion crashing back and forth between the sides of the stadium like tides on a rocky shore. The noise was deafening, and as the three men assumed their places for the sprint, it reached a crescendo. My three youngest sisters clapped their hands over their ears to stopper out the screams, and I perched on the edge of my marble seat in anticipation of Endemion's victory. The sprint had been won before by the Colophonian, but not by more than a half-length.

  The runners crouched at the starting line, bunched the toes of their back foot against the marble starting blocks, and stared down the lanes. The judge dropped the starting cloth, and the whole thing became an anticlimax. Endemion slipped as he got off to a bad start, the Colophonian shot out like an arrow, and it was an easy victory.

  So now it was down to the wrestling again. The three athletes drew lots to see who would wrestle first, leaving the third man with the advantage of being fresh for the final match. Either Endemion or the Chiosian had to win this event for the competition to revolve again to another round of the long jump. The judges conferred quietly for a moment, their bearded faces pressed close together to hear each other in the noisy crowd, and then announced that the wrestling would be confined to one fall only. This caused the throng only to scream all the louder.

  The Colophonian drew the winning lot, so he sat tensely at the sidelines, while Chiosian and Prienian circled each other and then grappled. They strained back and forth mightily for a moment, and then the Chiosian was falling backwards, his arms windmilling wildly. I have to admit that as good as he was in the long jump, he really was not much of a wrestler.

  That left Endemion and the Colophonian. After a quick gulp of cold water, they were in the middle of the wrestling area. Endemion was the faster of the two, moving like an eel from the Aegean Sea, and leaped to grasp his opponent's left arm, twisting it behind the man to elicit a howl of pain. They danced a strange, muscular duet for a heartbeat as the Colophonian strove to rid himself of the Prienian's hold, and Endemion tried to shove his opponent's left hand backwards above his head.

  The Colophonion broke free, but was holding his left arm close to the side of his body, obviously to keep it from further injury. His face twisted in agony. Was the arm broken? Certainly, many bones had been smashed in the wrestling events before now. Endemion's wolflike grin reminded me grimly of the look on his father's face, as he closed swiftly with the injured man.

  Then, all of a sudden, it was over. The Colophonian's good right hand shot out, grabbed Endemion by the throat, and squeezed with all its might as his supposedly damaged left hand darted down to latch onto the Prienian's right thigh muscle. A mighty heave and Endemion was on his knees, clutching his aching throat with both hands as the Colophonian threw his arms triumphantly into the air! A prodigious howl of disappointment erupted from the majority of the throng, but the judges were already at the Colophonian's side and had supported his upthrown hands to show that he was declared the pentathlon winner.

  The crowd streamed out of the stadium, each individual bent on his or her own personal pleasures. Some were headed for the various taverns in the town, some for the tent cities, some for the baths, some for home, and the religious ones, along with most of the athletes, were winding their way back over the spine of Mount Mycale towards the Panionion. At the sacred site of Poseidon Helikonios, the winner would be officially declared and crowned, and sacrifices would again be offered by Crystheus, chief priest of the shrine. I hurried to get there before the majority of the revelers, only to find that Crystheus himself had not yet arrived.

  Tesessa and the girls had begun the long walk back home, accompanied by Duryattes and Dryses, and Holicius had accompanied me over the mountain to the altar site. We were intercepted about halfway there by a happy, but obviously inebriated, Kreton. He had his three sons with him, all none the worse for wear, and the grins they sported could have fit on a comedy actor's mask. Before I could say a word to caution him to silence, the giant aristocrat took it upon himself to fill my father in on my adventures in the cave of Poseidon. He was quite an accomplished storyteller, and as all good storytellers will do, took the opportunity to embellish the exploits of both myself and his Herculean children.

  ”Is all this true, then, Bias?” asked Holicius, when he managed to get a word in edgewise. “Nolarion was the murderer and is now dead? Does Endemion know?” I did not get a chance to answer.

  "Of course, it is true, noble Holicius," bellowed Kreton, flinging a gigantic, friendly arm around my father's shoulders. "My son, Krelonan, skewered him like a lamb chop on a spit. And as for Endemion, who knows if he knows? The damned rascal lost the pentathlon for us, so who cares? The other two magistrates will tell him of his father's traitorous acts." Who, indeed, would care about a young man who tried his very best
, but was not quite good enough, I reflected wryly. His own father had seen the truth long ago, I supposed. A sad commentary on our civilized society.

  My father writhed in the strong embrace of the big man, but could no more escape from his clutches than I could several days earlier from that of his sons.

  ”Why did you not tell me of these dangerous exploits, my son?” wheezed Holicius, when he was able to catch his breath. Kreton supplied a ready reply again.

  ”He was probably just too modest,” he roared out. “He was brave, very brave, and cunning too. It was well done, very well done!” Kreton stopped abruptly, peered closely at me, and then at my father.

  ”He has met my Bilassa, you know,” he said in a thunderous stage whisper, scratching his tangled beard with his free hand as he continued to hold Holicius prisoner. “My beautiful, modest Bilassa. Say, is not Bias your heir and not yet betrothed?”

  Staring up at the giant aristocrat, my father's small face was split by a smile that stretched from ear to ear.