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 god 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 - nobility of body, allied to nobility of spirit.' Barzanes was about to interrupt me, but he held back. 'Athletes and spectators assemble here as a religious rite. To honour their gods. 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 gods 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.
Maybe a god 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 - nobility of body, allied to nobility of spirit.' Barzanes was about to interrupt me, but he held back. 'Athletes and spectators assemble here as a religious rite. To honour their gods. 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 gods 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.
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