The Athenian Murders

by Jose Carlos Somoza

  'Perhaps he didn't take any,' suggested Diagoras. 'Maybe he was only going to hunt birds.'

  'But he told his mother that he was going to set traps for hares. At least, that's what she told me. But I wonder: if he was hunting hares, wouldn't it have been sensible to take a slave with him to watch over the traps and drive out prey? Why did he go alone?'

  'So what do you suppose? That he didn't go hunting? That somebody was with him?'

  'At this hour in the morning, I'm not in the habit of supposing anything.'

  The Colonos Gymnasium was a large-porticoed building to the south of the Agora. The doors were engraved with the names of famous Olympic athletes and flanked by small statues of Hermes. Inside, the sun was beating down with violent ardour on the palaestra, a rectangular area of raked earth, open to the elements, where the pancratia were held. The dense smell of crowded bodies and massage oils filled the air. The place, though vast, was packed: older youths, some dressed, others naked; boys in full training; paedotribes in purple cloaks, carrying staffs, instructing their pupils . . . The ferocious din precluded conversation. At the far end, through a stone arcade, were the roofed inner chambers - changing rooms, showers, massage and unguent rooms.

  Two men were engaged in combat on the palaestra. Quite naked and glistening with sweat, they leaned against each other, as if trying to butt each other, the arms of each forming muscular knots around his opponent's neck; despite the clamour of the crowd, they could be heard roaring and bellowing with the prolonged effort; white threads of saliva hung from their mouths like strange barbarian adornments. The fight was savage, brutal, irrevocable.

  No sooner had they entered than Diagoras tugged at Heracles Pontor's cloak. 'There he is!' he cried, pointing to a place in the crowd.

  'Oh, by Apollo ...' murmured Heracles.

  Diagoras saw his amazement. 'Did I exaggerate Antisus' beauty?' he asked.

  'It wasn't your disciple's beauty that surprised me, but the old man talking to him. I know him.'

  They decided to question Antisus in the changing rooms. Heracles stopped Diagoras rushing over to him, and handed him a piece of papyrus. 'Here are the questions you are to ask. It's better if you do the talking: that way I can study his answers.'

  Diagoras was reading the papyrus when a violent clamour in the crowd made them look towards the palaestra. One of the pancratiasts had savagely struck his opponent's face with his head. The sound was heard throughout the gymnasium, like a bundle of reeds cracking beneath the impetuous hoof of a huge animal. The fighter staggered and was about to fall, although he seemed surprised rather than hurt by the blow. He didn't even raise his hands to his crushed face, which looked first exhausted, then devastated by the impact, like a wall smashed by the horns of an enraged beast. Instead, he stepped back, eyes open wide and fixed on his opponent, as if someone had played a joke on him, while, from his eyes down, the solid framework of features collapsed noiselessly and thick lines of blood ran from his lips and large nostrils. But still he didn't fall. The crowd shouted insults, urging him to fight back.

  Diagoras greeted his disciple and said a few words in his ear. As they headed towards the changing room, the old man who had been conversing with Antisus, his body blackened and shrivelled like one huge burn, widened his onyx-black eyes in surprise on seeing the Decipherer. 'By Zeus and Apollo of Delphi, you here, Heracles Pontor!' he cried, in a voice that sounded as if it had been dragged over rubble. 'Let us make libations to Dionysus Bromios, for Heracles Pontor, the Decipherer of Enigmas, has deigned to visit a gymnasium!'

  'Occasional exercise can be beneficial.' Heracles bore the man's violent embrace with good grace. He had known the old Thracian slave for many years - he had served in Heracles' family home - and treated him like a free man. 'Greetings, O Eumarchus. I'm happy to see that you are as youthful in old age as ever.'

  'That is well worth repeating!' The old man had no trouble making himself heard above the violent clamour. 'Zeus increases my age but reduces my body. In you, I see, the two go hand in hand

  'My head remains the same size, for now.' They both laughed. Heracles looked round. 'Where is the man who was here with me?'

  'Over there, with my pupil.' Eumarchus pointed to a place in the crowd with a finger that had a nail as long and twisted as a horn.

  'Your pupil? You're Antisus' pedagogue?'

  'I was! And may the Benefactresses take me in should I be so again!' Eumarchus made a sign to drive away the bad luck brought by mentioning the Erinyes.

  'You seem angry with him.'

  'And why shouldn't I be? He has only just enlisted, and the stubborn boy has decided suddenly that he wants to guard the temples of Attica, far from Athens! His father, the noble Praxinoe, has asked me to try to convince him otherwise.'

  'Well, Eumarchus, an ephebe must serve the City wherever he is most needed.'

  'By the aegis of blue-eyed Athena, Heracles, don't tease me at my great age!' yelled Eumarchus. 'I can still butt your barrel of a belly with my callused old head! Wherever he is most needed? By Cronius Zeus, his father is one of the prytaneis at the Assembly this year! Antisus could choose the most comfortable post of all!'

  'When did your pupil make his decision?'

  'A few days ago. I'm here to try to make him change his mind.'

  'Times and tastes have changed, Eumarchus. Who would want to serve Athens in the City itself? The young seek new experiences.'

  'If I didn't know you as I do,' said the old man, shaking his head, 'I'd think you meant it.'

  They made their way through the crowd to the entrance of the changing rooms. Heracles said, laughing: 'You've quite restored my good humour, Eumarchus!' He placed a handful of obols in the slave's cracked palm. 'Wait for me here. I won't be long. I'd like to engage you for a small task.'

  'I'll stand here as patiently as the Boatman of the Styx awaiting the arrival of another soul’ said Eumarchus, delighted at the unexpected gift.

  Inside the small changing room, Diagoras and Heracles stood, while Antisus sat on a low table, legs crossed.

  Diagoras said nothing for a moment, silently delighting in the breathtaking beauty of the perfect face, drawn with economy of lines and framed by blond curls arranged in the latest fashion. Antisus was clad in nothing but a black chlamys - the sign that he had recently become an ephebe - but he wore it carelessly, awkwardly, as if still unused to it. With smooth violence, the pristine whiteness of his skin showed through the irregular openings of the garment. He swung his bare feet furiously, the childish action belying his newly acquired adult status.

  'We can talk while we wait for Euneos,' said Diagoras. He pointed to Heracles. 'He's a friend. You may speak before him in all confidence.' Heracles and Antisus nodded at each other briefly. 'Antisus, do you remember the questions I asked you about Tramachus, and how Lisilus told me he had been visiting a hetaera? I knew nothing of the woman. I wondered if perhaps there were other things I didn't know.'

  'What sort of things, Master?'

  'Anything. Anything you know about Tramachus. What he was interested in ... What he liked to do when he wasn't at the Academy ... The anxiety I saw in his face during those last days disturbs me somewhat. I want to do everything I can to find the cause and make sure it doesn't happen to other students.'

  'He didn't spend much time with us. Master,' replied Antisus sweetly. 'As for his habits, I assure you they were honourable.'

  'Who could doubt it?' Diagoras put in quickly. 'My boy, I know well the beauty and nobility of my students. Hence my surprise at Lisilus' words. But you all confirmed their truth. And as you and Euneos were his closest friends, I feel you must know other things which, either out of propriety or goodness of heart, you haven't dared reveal.'

  A wild crash, as of objects shattering, filled the silence: the pancratiasts' fight had evidently intensified. The walls seemed to shake at the footsteps of some enormous beast. Just as calm returned, Euneos entered the room.

  Diagoras immediately compared them
, as he had many times before, for he enjoyed studying his students' very different beauties in detail. With curly coal-black hair, Euneos looked younger yet more masculine than Antisus. His face resembled a healthy red fruit; his strong, milky-white body had matured into that of a man. The older of the two, Antisus had a more graceful and ambiguous figure, smooth and pink- skinned with not a trace of hair; but Diagoras thought Ganymede himself, cupbearer of the gods, could not rival Antisus' beauty. The boy's face could appear a little mischievous, especially when he smiled, but when he became suddenly serious, as he did when listening attentively, its beauty sent a shiver down the spine. Their physical differences were reflected in their temperaments, although in a manner contrary to expectation: Euneos was shy and childlike, while Antisus, with the aura of a pretty young girl, possessed the forceful personality of the true leader.

  'You called, Master?' said Euneos softly, as he opened the door.

  'Come in. I wish to speak to you, too.'

  Blushing furiously, Euneos said the paedotribe had summoned him, so he would have to change and leave shortly.

  'This won't take long, my child, I assure you,' said Diagoras.

  He explained quickly what he wanted to know. There was a silence. Antisus swung his rosy feet faster. 'We know little else about Tramachus' life, Master,' he said, as sweetly as ever, though the contrast between his youthful firmness of character and Euneos' blushing timidity was obvious. 'We heard rumours of Tramachus' relationship with the hetaera, but didn't believe them. Tramachus was noble and virtuous.'

  'I know,' said Diagoras.

  Antisus continued: 'He almost never met us after class at the Academy, as he had religious duties. His family worships the Sacred Mysteries

  'I understand.' Diagoras attached little importance to this last piece of information. Many noble Athenian families worshipped the Mysteries of Eleusis. 'But I was wondering about the company he kept ... I don't know . . . Other friends, maybe

  Antisus and Euneos glanced at each other. Euneos began removing his tunic.

  'We don't know, Master.' 'We don't know.'

  Suddenly the entire gymnasium seemed to shake. There was a rumbling, as if the walls were about to collapse. Outside, the crowd was howling frenetically, urging on the fighters whose frenzied roars were now clearly audible.

  'One last thing: I'm surprised that Tramachus, in such a preoccupied state, should have gone hunting alone. Was he in the habit of doing so?'

  'I don't know, Master,' said Antisus. 'What about you, Euneos?'

  As the trembling grew stronger, objects around the room fell to the floor: clothes, a small oil lamp, registration tokens for the contest draws .. .22

  'I think he was,' murmured Euneos, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

  The loud quadrupedal footsteps were getting closer.

  A little statue of Poseidon toppled off a shelf and shattered on the floor.

  The changing-room door shook deafeningly.23

  'Good Euneos, do you recall other similar occasions?' enquired Diagoras gently.

  22What is going on? The author is certainly taking eidesis to the

  limit! The pancratiasts' fight has turned into an absurd thundering,

  suggesting the furious attack of a huge animal (which tallies with all

  the images of 'violent' and 'impetuous' charges that have appeared

  throughout the chapter, as well as those referring to 'horns'). I think

  these are references to the seventh Labour of Hercules, the capture

  of the wild, raging Cretan bull. (T.'s N.)

  23I'll quickly explain to the reader what's happening. The eidetic

  image - here, an enraged bull - has taken on a life of its own and is

  charging at the door to the changing room where the conversation is

  taking place. I hasten to add that the 'beast's' actions are purely

  eidetic and the characters cannot, therefore, perceive them, just as

  they are unaware, for instance, of the adjectives the author uses to

  describe the gymnasium. This is not a supernatural event, but

  simply a literary device whose only purpose is to draw attention to

  the image hidden in this chapter (think of the 'snakes' at the end of

  Chapter Two). The reader should not therefore be too surprised if

  Diagoras and his students seem oblivious to the powerful attacks on

  the room, continuing their conversation as if nothing were happen-

  ing. (T.'sN.)

  'Yes, Master. At least two.'

  'So Tramachus often went hunting alone? What I mean to say, my child, is that this was normal, even if something was worrying him?'

  'Yes, Master.'

  The door bulged as something charged at it. There was a scraping of hoofs, snorting, the powerful echo of an enormous presence outside.

  Quite naked, save for the perfect ribbon encircling his black hair, Euneos calmly spread a brick-red unguent over his thighs.

  After a pause, Diagoras remembered his final question: 'Euneos, it was you who told me that Tramachus wouldn't be attending classes that day because he'd gone hunting, wasn't it, my child?'

  'I believe so, Master.'

  The door endured another battering. Heracles Pontor's cloak was showered with splinters. There was a roar of rage outside.

  'How did you know? Did he tell you himself?' Euneos nodded. 'When? I mean, I understand he left at daybreak, but I talked to him the evening before and he said nothing about going hunting. When did he tell you?'

  Euneos didn't answer immediately. His small Adam's apple charged at his shapely neck. 'That... same ... evening, I think, Master.. .'

  'You saw him that evening?' Diagoras raised his eyebrows. 'Did you often meet in the evenings?' 'No ... It must have been ... earlier.' 'I understand.'

  There was a brief silence. Barefoot and naked, the glistening unguent like a second skin over his thighs and shoulders, Euneos carefully hung his tunic on a hook bearing his name.

  On the shelf above there were a few personal belongings: a pair of sandals, alabaster jars of unguents, a bronze strigil for scraping oneself clean after exercising, and a little wooden cage containing a tiny bird. The bird was flapping its wings violently.

  'The paedotribe is expecting me, Master ...' he said.

  'Of course, my child,' smiled Diagoras. 'We, too, must leave.'

  Obviously uneasy, the naked youth glanced at Heracles out of the corner of his eye and apologised once again. Passing between the two men, he headed for the door - it was so damaged it fell off its hinges as he opened it - and left the room.24

  Diagoras turned towards Heracles, looking for a signal that they might leave, but the Decipherer was staring, smiling, at Antisus: 'Tell me, Antisus, what are you so afraid of?'

  'Afraid, sir?'

  Apparently highly amused, Heracles took a fig from his knapsack. 'Why, if not, would you have chosen an army post so far away from Athens? I, too, would try to leave if I was as frightened as you. And I would choose a similarly plausible excuse, so that I should be considered not a coward but quite the opposite.'

  'Are you calling me a coward, sir?'

  24 As I've already said, the eidetic events - the savage charges, the battering of the door - are purely literary and, therefore, only perceived by the reader. Montalo, however, like the characters, notices nothing. 'The surprising metaphor of the roaring beast,' he states, 'which seems literally to destroy the realism of the scene and interrupts the measured conversation between Diagoras and his students (. . .) on several occasions, seems to have no purpose other than satire - a scathing criticism, no doubt, of the savage pancratium matches held in those days.' Need I say more! (T.'s N.)

  'Not at all. I will call you neither cowardly nor brave until I know exactly why you are afraid. The only difference between the brave man and the coward is the source of his alarm. The cause of your fear may be so horrifying that anyone in their right mind would choose to f
lee the City as soon as possible.'

  'I'm not running away from anything,' said Antisus, stressing every word, although his tone remained gentle, respectful. 'I've wanted to guard the temples of Attica for a long time, sir.'

  'My dear Antisus,' said Heracles placidly, 'I may accept your fear but not your lies. Don't for a moment think of insulting my intelligence. You made your decision only a few days ago, and your father has asked your former pedagogue to make you change your mind, when he might have tried to do so himself. Does that not imply that your decision took him completely by surprise, that he is overwhelmed by what he sees as a sudden and inexplicable change of opinion, and that, not knowing what to attribute it to, he has called upon the only person outside your family who knows you best? I ask myself, by Zeus, what could be the cause of such a brutal change? Could the death of your friend Tramachus have played a part?' And, quite unconcerned, he added, almost without pausing, as he wiped the fingers in which he had held the fig: 'Excuse me, where might I clean my hands?' Heracles selected a cloth from near Euneos' shelf, utterly oblivious to the silence around him.