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Authors: Gary Corby
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stoa—that is, a covered porch—surrounded by rooms. Doris led us past the temple and across a courtyard of well-kept green grass to the other side of the stoa. She stopped at a closed door, where she announced our arrival by calling out, “It’s me. They’re here!”
The door opened to reveal an overweight middle-aged woman, and I thought this must be the High Priestess until I saw another beyond, an old lady sitting on a dining couch.
Thea, the High Priestess, was a woman of delicate features, gray, frizzy hair, and a determined set of the mouth.
She rose from the couch when we entered, Diotima leading.
The High Priestess took her by the hands, looked up into her face, and said, “Diotima, it’s good to see you again. So few of our girls return to see us. You’ve grown.”
Diotima wasn’t a tall woman, yet she had to stoop to be on a level with the High Priestess. Diotima said, “The last time I stood in this office, I was a scared little girl.”
“Not any longer,” Thea said.
“High Priestess, I wish to present Nicolaos; son of Sophroniscus, who is to be my husband.”
Thea looked me up and down. Her only comment was a noncommittal, “Hmm.”
I felt like I’d failed a test.
The overweight woman spoke up. “I’m Sabina,” she said.
This was the woman who’d sent the original package of skull and scroll case to Athens and started all the trouble. I made a mental note to interview her later, and noted too the way Doris and Thea tried to ignore Sabina.
I said, “I understand you’re a priestess here too?”
“I’m the treasurer of the sanctuary.”
“Is that permitted?” I asked. For a woman to manage accounts was almost unheard of.
Sabina said, in a voice that bristled, “Administration of the Sanctuary of Artemis Brauronia falls within the office of the Basileus, who is back in Athens. The Basileus trusts me to manage things here.”
Doris, in the background, rolled her eyes. Thea chose not to comment. I guessed Sabina’s claim to manage the sanctuary was a sore point.
“I see.” The Basileus had more than enough to do in Athens without having to worry about a small complex on the other side of Attica. He probably sent an assistant once a year to sign off on the books and approve funding for the next, and then tried to forget that Brauron existed.
“What can you tell us about the missing girl?” I asked.
Thea the High Priestess said, “She’s the daughter of a wealthy landholder named Polonikos—”
“I’ve met him. Are all fathers that unconcerned when their children go missing?”
“We don’t lose many girls, so I can’t form a general opinion. But to answer your real question, I wrote a letter to Polonikos the moment we knew Ophelia was missing. I sent the letter by runner and instructed him not to stop for anything but water. A return message arrived next day. Polonikos asked me to let him know when the girl showed up.” Thea grimaced. “Since then, I’ve had no news to send him.”
“Have children gone missing before?” I asked.
“Yes. They always turn up the next day, usually in the company of a passing merchant who found the child walking the road back to Athens. They get homesick, you see. But I knew right away that Ophelia’s case was different.”
“Why?”
“She liked it here. Besides which … You said you met the father?”
“Oh. Right.” It was hard to imagine the girl would be welcomed home.
Sabina said, “Of course, the whole matter might be much simpler than everyone thinks, given the unusual state of Allike’s body.”
Thea glared at her treasurer. “Sabina, there’s no need to bring that up.”
“Anything might be relevant,” I said. “What unusual state?”
“Didn’t Doris tell you? I thought she told you everything.”
“Tell us what?”
“That Allike, when we found her, she wasn’t just dead—”
“Sabina!” Thea shouted. Doris had turned green.
“She was ripped to little pieces. Torn limb from limb.
The door opened to reveal an overweight middle-aged woman, and I thought this must be the High Priestess until I saw another beyond, an old lady sitting on a dining couch.
Thea, the High Priestess, was a woman of delicate features, gray, frizzy hair, and a determined set of the mouth.
She rose from the couch when we entered, Diotima leading.
The High Priestess took her by the hands, looked up into her face, and said, “Diotima, it’s good to see you again. So few of our girls return to see us. You’ve grown.”
Diotima wasn’t a tall woman, yet she had to stoop to be on a level with the High Priestess. Diotima said, “The last time I stood in this office, I was a scared little girl.”
“Not any longer,” Thea said.
“High Priestess, I wish to present Nicolaos; son of Sophroniscus, who is to be my husband.”
Thea looked me up and down. Her only comment was a noncommittal, “Hmm.”
I felt like I’d failed a test.
The overweight woman spoke up. “I’m Sabina,” she said.
This was the woman who’d sent the original package of skull and scroll case to Athens and started all the trouble. I made a mental note to interview her later, and noted too the way Doris and Thea tried to ignore Sabina.
I said, “I understand you’re a priestess here too?”
“I’m the treasurer of the sanctuary.”
“Is that permitted?” I asked. For a woman to manage accounts was almost unheard of.
Sabina said, in a voice that bristled, “Administration of the Sanctuary of Artemis Brauronia falls within the office of the Basileus, who is back in Athens. The Basileus trusts me to manage things here.”
Doris, in the background, rolled her eyes. Thea chose not to comment. I guessed Sabina’s claim to manage the sanctuary was a sore point.
“I see.” The Basileus had more than enough to do in Athens without having to worry about a small complex on the other side of Attica. He probably sent an assistant once a year to sign off on the books and approve funding for the next, and then tried to forget that Brauron existed.
“What can you tell us about the missing girl?” I asked.
Thea the High Priestess said, “She’s the daughter of a wealthy landholder named Polonikos—”
“I’ve met him. Are all fathers that unconcerned when their children go missing?”
“We don’t lose many girls, so I can’t form a general opinion. But to answer your real question, I wrote a letter to Polonikos the moment we knew Ophelia was missing. I sent the letter by runner and instructed him not to stop for anything but water. A return message arrived next day. Polonikos asked me to let him know when the girl showed up.” Thea grimaced. “Since then, I’ve had no news to send him.”
“Have children gone missing before?” I asked.
“Yes. They always turn up the next day, usually in the company of a passing merchant who found the child walking the road back to Athens. They get homesick, you see. But I knew right away that Ophelia’s case was different.”
“Why?”
“She liked it here. Besides which … You said you met the father?”
“Oh. Right.” It was hard to imagine the girl would be welcomed home.
Sabina said, “Of course, the whole matter might be much simpler than everyone thinks, given the unusual state of Allike’s body.”
Thea glared at her treasurer. “Sabina, there’s no need to bring that up.”
“Anything might be relevant,” I said. “What unusual state?”
“Didn’t Doris tell you? I thought she told you everything.”
“Tell us what?”
“That Allike, when we found her, she wasn’t just dead—”
“Sabina!” Thea shouted. Doris had turned green.
“She was ripped to little pieces. Torn limb from limb.
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