Helena and I exchanged a glance, wondering if he had been employed by Seven Sights.
Unlike many temples, visitors were allowed to enter the interior. Of course that did not mean they could enter for free. We gave Barzanes a sum he suggested, to bribe the priests. We then coughed up an extra fee to acquire "special" permission for Albia and the lads to climb some spiral stairs to the upper floor to view the statue at close quarters. Finally we gave Barzanes himself a large tip for his facts and figures. He stayed behind on the temple steps in the hope of more people to hijack.
I wanted to interrogate him about the murders, but no mission was going to stop me seeing one of the Seven Wonders of the World, especially with Helena. Informers are street-level muckers, trading in grime, but I had a soul. Personally, I found it necessary for the job.
IX.
We all paused to accustom our eyes to the lamplit gloom, after the noonday glare outside. Then we simply gasped with awe. It seemed only fair. The great Phidias had intended that we should.
There were other statues; the temple interior was an art gallery. They were wasted. All we could do was to stare up at Zeus, utterly smitten. From fourteen yards high, his head skimming the rafters, he seemed to be gazing down on us. At the steps of his throne stretched a glimmering pool, a rectangle of olive oil in which the Father of the G.o.ds was cleanly reflected. Its moisture helped preserve the ivory of the chryselephantine colossus, though temple priests also burnished it with more oil daily. We were aware of their presence. Moving about discreetly, they tended their charge, supposedly all descendants in an unbroken line from the craftsmen who had worked for Phidias.
I had heard about this statue all my life. I could not now remember how and where I first read of it or was told of it. I had known what it would look like, the ma.s.sive seated G.o.d, bearded and crowned with olive branches, his robe of gold adorned with creatures and flowers, his sceptre topped with the gold eagle, the winged figure of Victory in his right hand, the ebony and ivory throne adorned with precious stones and vibrant painting.
So many things in life are disappointing. But sometimes life confounds you: a promised Wonder of the World lives up to your hopes.
Helena and I stood for a long time, hand in hand. I felt the warmth of her bare arm alongside mine, the faint tickle on the top of my foot from the hem of her long gown. Helena was as cynical as me, but she knew how to give herself up fully to the enjoyment of great things. Her thrill became part of my own.
Eventually she dropped her head briefly against my shoulder, then told the excited youngsters that they could climb up to the higher level. Left alone, Helena and I turned a little towards each other and remained there together for a few more moments.
At length we walked quietly outside to the dazzling sunlight in the sanctuary, still hand in hand.
X.
We paused on the steps until our breathing returned to normal. Our skin felt clammy with the mingled effects of incense and fine olive oil droplets.
Barzanes had failed to find another group. Although we had already tipped him, he hovered near us. He must have seen hundreds of awestruck spectators returning from their visit. He watched us approvingly.
Helena went off quietly to see the temple priests. We had had no sighting of her brother Aulus and if he was still here, we needed to track him down. If he had travelled away from Olympia, he would have left a message at the main temple, to be picked up by anyone who came after him. Aulus had his own a.s.sured style; he must have been certain I would rush out to Greece in response to his letter home.
Aulus would have given the priests money, but I made sure Helena could pay them another gratuity. It would be expected. Best to keep in with them. Zeus was indifferent to mortal men, but priests were easily slighted and in a sanctum like this they wielded enormous power.
I moved down the steps and joined our guide again.
"Did you enjoy your visit?" he asked.
"We are stunned!"
"Do you believe in the G.o.ds?" Barzanes now seemed more subdued. It was an odd thing to ask so abruptly.
"Enough to have cursed them, many times." I recognised that he was trying to throw me off balance; I had met it before in my work. His att.i.tude had changed; I wondered why. " I believe in human endeavour. I am impressed by the statue of Phidias as a great feat of craftsmanship, devotion, and imagination... I believe," I said softly," that most mysteries have a logical explanation; all you have to do is find it."
I left him to work out what mysteries I meant.
I gazed around the Altis, where the ancient temples, tombs, and treasuries were bathed in light beneath a monochrome blue sky of deep intensity. The c.o.c.kerel who woke us this morning was still crowing in the distance. Somewhere nearer, a bullock bellowed, hoa.r.s.e with anxiety. "We did the tour. Now let"s you and I talk about my mission, Barzanes."
"Your mission, Falco?"
It was Falco now. Among my group I had been "Uncle Marcus" or "Marcus Didius". So while we had been inside the temple, someone had told the guide my third name. Olympia seemed deserted, but I had been noted. Somebody had known in advance that I was coming. Presumably, too, rumour had whistled around on sweet little wings to proclaim why.
Maybe a G.o.d had betrayed me; I doubted it.
"I am trying to imagine how it can be." To begin with, my voice was quiet but heavy. "Travellers come here, just like us. Like us, they must all be overwhelmed by their experience. This is a place where humankind is at its finest - n.o.bility of body, allied to n.o.bility of spirit." Barzanes was about to interrupt me, but he held back. "Athletes and spectators a.s.semble here as a religious rite. To honour their G.o.ds. To dedicate themselves to high ideals. Offerings are left in the olive groves. Oaths are sworn. Training, courage, and skill are applauded. Guides exalt that spirit to the travellers..." My voice hardened. I had a message to send to the establishment here. "And then - let"s imagine it, Barzanes - somebody in this holy place shows his barbaric nature. A young bride, barely two months married, is murdered and dumped. Tell me, Barzanes, are such things understandable? Are they common? Do the G.o.ds in Olympia accept this cruel behaviour - or are they outraged?"
Barzanes lifted his uneven shoulders. He remained silent, but he had dallied to speak to me and there must be a purpose. Perhaps it had been decided by the priests that this issue should be cleared up at last.
I knew better than to hope for it.
"The group in question was brought by an outfit called Seven Sights Travel. Regulars on the circuit. A fellow called Phineus leads them."
At last Barzanes nodded and spoke up. "Everyone knows Phineus." I gazed at him but could not detect his opinion of the man.
"They must have been shown around the site," I said. "It would have been part of their deal, because this year they certainly were not here for the Games. Phineus must have booked a local site guide. Was it you, Barzanes?""
Barzanes came up with the kind of weak excuse I had heard in so many cases. "The guide who took that tour is no longer here."
I scoffed. "Run away?"
Barzanes looked shocked. "He has finished for the season and returned to his village."
"I guess that will be a very remote village, very many miles away... So did he talk about this group, at the end of the day, when you guides were sitting together gossiping? If not, did he comment on them, after the girl was dead?"
Barzanes smiled gently.
Helena Justina came out from the temple, carrying a scroll. After a quick glance at what was going on, she positioned herself within earshot, while pretending to engross herself in the letter.
I was not giving up. "Tell me what happened, Barzanes."
"Pilgrims come here constantly. Exercises, sacrifices, prayers, consultation of oracles - even out of season we hold recitations by orators and poets. So tours of the Altis are regularly provided."
"But any guide would remember a tour where someone who took part was later brutally murdered. How many were there in the Seven Sights group?"
Barzanes decided to co-operate. "Between ten and fifteen. There was the usual mix: mostly persons of some age, with a few young ones - adolescents who kept wandering off. One woman kept asking silly questions and a man in the party gave her answers, wrongly."
"Sounds typical!" I smiled.
Barzanes acknowledged it. "Unfortunately so. Afterwards, the guide could not even remember the bride and her husband. They had made no impression."
"So they were just listening quietly, subdued by the unfarmliarity of travel... Or had they worn themselves out in the marriage bed?" I grinned. Barzanes gazed at the footpath.
"They were sleeping in tents, Marcus!" Helena broke in. "Barzanes, would a group like the Seven Sights not stay at the Leomdaion?"
"If no persons of rank were in occupation, it would be allowed. But only if they paid. Otherwise their organiser would bring tents, or hire them. Much cheaper. Phineus would know how to do it. If the intention is to visit many festivals, he will carry his own equipment in the baggage train."
I wondered if the newly-weds had understood this limitation when they booked in. I could imagine the toothless agent in Rome, Polystratus, "forgetting" to mention that the tourists would be camping. "Barzanes, those good people wanted to be enthralled by your special site. Olympia owes them respect for their tragedy. So what happened to them?"
The guide shifted his feet. "Among hundreds of people travelling around Greece, there will always be deaths, Falco."
"We are not talking about heart attacks caused by sunstroke or overeating at feasts."
"Valeria was battered to death, Marcus." Helena"s voice was cold. Aulus must have supplied this information; it did not match the bland details we had heard from the mother-in-law back in Rome. "Juno, Aulus says she was killed with a weight."
"A weight?"
"A long-jumper"s hand weight." Young Glaucus would have to tell us more about these implements.
"Her head was smashed with it." Barzanes knew that all right.
I scratched my chin, thinking. What had happened to Valeria Ventidia - a ferocious attack, not far from her companions, with the body left in open view - bore little resemblance to what had apparently happened to Marcella Caesia three years earlier - unexplained disappearance, then discovery only much later, in a remote spot. The foundation for our visit was that these two women"s deaths were linked. Not that discrepancies would stop me investigating both.
"Barzanes, we were told the girl"s body was discovered "outside the lodging house." But if the party were camping, that doesn"t fit. I cannot believe she was beaten to death in public, within a few feet of her companions. They would have heard the disturbance."
Unused to speculating on crimes, the guide looked vague.
"She wasn"t killed near the tent. Her husband discovered her, Marcus." Helena was still skimming through her letter. "He found her dead at the palaestra, then he carried the corpse back to the camp. Witnesses saw tears streaming down his face. He was hysterical and wouldn"t leave her. He had to be separated from the corpse almost by force. But the big issue in the investigation was whether Statia.n.u.s seemed like a distraught husband or a deranged killer."
"The magistrate released him," I reminded her. "Though release is not always exoneration."
The story was taking a dark tone. I began to see why Aulus had been intrigued when he met the group. And I wondered whether Tullia Longina, the mother-in-law in Rome, had told us the truth as she knew it, or toned it down. n.o.body who knew these details could call Valeria"s death an "accident". Was Tullia Longina minimising the horror to seem more respectable, or had Statia.n.u.s lied in his letter to his mother? I did not necessarily condemn him for that. Any boy has to fib to his ma from time to time.
"Most people decided there was no proof - but the husband must be guilty," Barzanes commented.
"Easy option." My voice grated. "Best for everybody here that the foreigners brought their own killer - and then took him away with them. The establishment can forget all about it."
"You"re being rude," Helena reproved me softly.
"It was sacrilege!" raged Barzanes. Which told us for sure just how the sanctum priests viewed it - and why they wanted a cover-up.
Unfortunately we were then interrupted. Our youngsters came pelting out through the temple porch behind us. They had glowing faces, still enthralled by the Statue of Zeus.
"We saw the G.o.d"s face right up close!" Gaius was bursting with excitement. "The statue is made from enormous sheets of gold and ivory - it"s hollow with a huge support of wooden beams inside."
"Full of rats and mice!" squealed Albia." We saw mice running about in the shadows!"
"Nero tried to steal the statue." Gaius, the natural leader of this little group, had found another guide and grilled him. "But the G.o.d let out a huge burst of raucous laughter so the workmen fled!" Like me, Gaius avoided spiritual explanations. He lowered his voice tactfully. "It may have been the supports shifting, after the workmen disturbed them."
I looked around. In the turmoil of their arrival, the tour guide Barzanes had made good his escape. I reckoned if I tried to find him another day, he would be missing from the site.
Cornelius had a brisk att.i.tude to wonders. "So, Uncle Marcus! This is a grand place here - so where will you be taking us to next?"
XI.
"I am increasingly impressed by my brother!" Back at the hostel, Helena studied his letter more carefully.
"In good Roman homes," I pointed out to Albia, "n.o.body reads correspondence on their dining couch. Helena Justina was brought up in senatorial style. She knows the evening meal is reserved for elegant conversation."
Helena ignored us. Her father read the Daily Gazette over breakfast; otherwise, in the Camillus household meals were a chance for family rows. So it had been in my own family. We, however, never read on our couches because we could not afford couches; nor did we own scrolls. The only time anybody ever sent us a letter, it was the one from the Fifteenth Legion that said my brother had been killed in Judaea.
"Aulus has changed," said Helena. "Now that he is a scholar, suddenly his letters are full of fine detail."
"Has he gone on to Athens like a good boy?" Never mind fine detail. I wanted to establish whether I was off the hook with his mother.
"Afraid not, darling. He has joined the sightseeing tour."
"Oh wicked Aulus!" Nux looked up, recognising the growl I used for reprimanding her. As usual she wagged her tail at it.
"He has given us a list of the people in the group, with his comments on them," Helena went on. "A map of where their tent was, showing how it related to the palaestra. And a heading for notes on the case - but no notes."
"Tantalising!"
"He says, sorry, no time - with actually, no b.l.o.o.d.y ideas! scribbled afterwards, using a different pen nib."
"That"s the old Aulus. Slapdash and unapologetic." All the same, I would have liked to have him here, to insult him to his face. We were a long way from home. Evenings, by starlight, are when you yearn for the familiar places, things, and people. Even a rather brusque brother-in-law.
"He seems to have equipped himself with a very nice traveller"s writing-set," Helena mused, inspecting the handwriting. "How useful for his studies - if he ever starts."
"Unless his inkpots have stupendous seals, the ink will dry out while he"s travelling. If he"s very unlucky, it will leak over all his white tunics."
Any minute now, Helena and I would move from missing Aulus to missing our children. To sidetrack that, Helena showed me the list of partic.i.p.ants in the travel group Aulus had drawn up for us.
Phineus: organiser; brilliant or appalling, depends who you ask.
Indus: Seems to be disgraced (Crime? Financial? Politics?) Marinus: widower, looking for new partner; amiable cove Helvia: widow, well-meaning = fairly stupid Cleonymus and Cleonyma: come into money (freedmen?) (awful!) Turcia.n.u.s Opimus: "Last chance to see the world before I die"
Ti Sertorius Niger and mousy wifey: ghastly parents; him very rude Tiberius and Tiberia: horrendous children, dragged by parents Amaranthus and Minucia: Couple; running away? (adultery?) (fun folk) Volcasius: no personality = no one wants to sit with him Statia.n.u.s and Valeria: Newly-weds (one dainty and dead/one dumb and dazed) "Rude, but lucid!" I grinned.
We all agreed they sounded dire, though Helena"s conscience made her suggest that Volcasius, with whom n.o.body wanted to sit, was perhaps only shy. The rest of us guffawed. I pictured this Volcasius. bony legs, always in a very large hat; a man who ignored local customs, offended guides and hoteliers, had no sense of danger when boulders were falling down rain-sodden mountainsides, always last to a.s.semble when the group were moving on - yet, sadly, never quite left behind.
"Smelly," Gaius contributed; he was probably correct.
"Like you are, Gaius!" muttered Cornelius.