The bartender poured out more wine into Almeus’ two-handled wine cup, then returned behind the bar.
I bought myself wine, then sat and studied Almeus. It did not require much power of observation to see that Almeus led, as Agis said, a dissolute life. His eyes were as smoky as the island's famed volcano, his skin as dry and thin and yellow as I'd been told the fields of the island became under the broiling summer sun and dry wind from the African coast. He looked bony beneath his skin, as if he never ate enough to build up flesh and muscle. He seemed the perfect patient for the young doctor, Hippocrates, who was gaining fame with his recommendations for proper eating and good exercise.
I relaxed. If I had to take on Almeus physically, I would win, even without the usual Scythian musclemen I had in Athens to back me up. Although I kept myself fit like any good Athenian man, I had lately taken a few beatings in wrestling, and I'd found I disliked them.
After a while, I got up and strolled over to Almeus. “You're a Syracusan?” I asked.
Almeus looked at me with disinterest. He nodded.
"I'm a visitor,” I said. “Just arrived on a merchant ship.” It was true. I don't object to a convincing lie if necessary, sophist that I am, but I've hung around with Socrates too long not to respect the truth when possible. “You look like you might know where I could find a lusty hetaera."
Almeus perked up a little. “I know a few."
The bartender scoffed.
Almeus seemed not to notice. “I could take you to one, if you make it worth my time."
"How might I do that?"
Almeus looked at his nearly empty kylix.
I motioned to the bartender.
"We can go down to the port,” Almeus said. “We can have our pick there, if you've got drachmae enough to pay for both of us."
The bartender scoffed again. “Thought you said you'd have only better class hetaerae for a while, Almeus."
Almeus pulled his kylix to himself. “I don't know what you're talking about. Leave us."
The bartender shrugged and walked away. I was pleased. For information like that, I'd often had to bribe people.
I kept up my role. “I'm a sailor. I haven't enough money for anybody too fancy."
"Damn bartender,” Almeus muttered. “He's a fool. I don't know what he's talking about."
I shrugged. I could pretty easily guess what he was talking about. “Finish your wine. I haven't much time."
Almeus drained his kylix. “Let's go,” he said, getting up shakily.
We went out and headed down toward the port.
"The bartender called you Almeus. I heard some talk earlier. Aren't you a relative of the man who was murdered a few days ago?” Not one of my cleverest attempts at soliciting information, but I knew that I didn't need to be too clever with Almeus.
Almeus’ cloudy eyes cleared just a little. “No."
"I know you are,” I said. “I happen to know Agis, your cousin."
Almeus began to take on the expression of a cornered rat. “I meant that it isn't your business."
"I'm making it my business.” I grabbed Almeus’ arm. “You took what money you could get from your uncle. What happened this time? Did he refuse? Did you kill him?"
"I didn't do anything to him. Leave me alone.” Almeus’ eyes flicked in several directions.
For a moment, I thought he was going to take off running in the direction that seemed best.
He pulled his arm away. “I even gave him a burial. I did that."
"Yes,” I said. “I wondered about that. Even the poorest of burials cost a bit of money. What was it that made you do it? Guilt? I know you were there the day he died.” Of course, I didn't know that, but Almeus didn't know that I didn't know.
"I tell you I didn't kill him.” Almeus was looking frightened now. “Somebody had already killed him."
I had what I wanted. I was actually beginning to feel sorry for Almeus. He was so pathetic and easily manipulated. “So he was dead when you got to his place, looking for a handout?"
"Somebody had been there."
"How do you know?"
"The place was messed up a bit."
"How?"
Almeus looked wary. “I don't remember, exactly."
"Try your best to remember. It might save your sorry skin."
"A stool was turned over. Jars were scattered around. A chest was opened. And my uncle was lying on the floor. Somebody bashed in his head. I called in the funeral people to take care of the body. That's all."
Almeus’ story tallied so far with what I'd seen in Dameus’ house and with what Aptimus had said. But Almeus’ words, “that's all,” had come too fast and unasked for. He was hiding something.
"You didn't bother to straighten up the house?"
"Yes. I mean, no. What for?"
"But you looked around. I know you did. Why?"
Almeus’ eyes searched round again.
I held on to his arm.
"I don't know. Maybe just to see if anybody was still there."
"You could tell that in a few seconds. The house is one room and not big at that.” I decided on another guess. “You took the statue, the obsidian statue of a god."
"I didn't take anything. I..."
I twisted Almeus’ arm.
He winced. “I didn't take anything,” he squealed.
I twisted his arm a little more.
"I don't have it. I don't have it.” Almeus’ face was turning a nice pomegranate red.
"Who does?"
"I tell you I don't have it. I don't know."
I considered breaking one or two of his fingers. True, he was considerably younger than I, but he was thin and a little drunk. I was damn sure I could pound Almeus into the ground, if need be.
However, as I watched his face grow redder, I had a sudden flashback to my Athenian people and the red pustules and feverish skin they suffered in the plague. I had seen enough of human flesh beaten and crushed. I loosened my hold on Almeus.
He scurried away, running pell-mell down the hill.
I didn't pursue him. He had the statue all right; I was sure of it. But I doubted that he'd killed Dameus. He was far too squeamish for that. He might push someone off a ship's deck into the sea or shove them over a cliff, but he'd balk at bashing in a head. Almeus was a thief, but not a brutal killer.
I headed back to our lodgings. I had some questions for Agis.
Agis was awake and about to come out in search of me.
In the tavern, we fortified ourselves with barley soup, delicious eel, and excellent Syracusan wine.
I told Agis about my encounter with Almeus. Agis was not as sure as I that Almeus had not killed Dameus. But he agreed to take my counsel and not to dash off to confront Almeus.
"He has the statue,” I said. “I'd bet ten drachmae on that. His burial of Dameus, even at the small cost he put out, was an act spurred by his stealing of the statue."
"I think you are wrong there, Kleides. Almeus is used to stealing. He wouldn't feel guilty."
"I think he has just enough of a superstitious and weak character to fear having stolen from a dead man. He was propitiating the gods by burying the dead."
"Oh, yes,” Agis said. “I see. So he has the statue, or he has sold it."
"I do not think he has sold it yet. If he had, he would not have been so worried and so anxious to get away from me. I believe he has hidden the statue somewhere. Perhaps he has already retrieved it. But perhaps not. Tell me, Agis, if you were to hide something valuable on this island, where would you hide it?"
"That's easy,” Agis said, pushing away his not empty bowl. “The caves."
"But I understand that the island is full of caves. There are some who believe that the Cyclops who ate some of Odysseus’ men lived in a cave on this island. Just legend, of course."
Agis, a believer in the truth of Homer's tales, looked a bit shocked, but said nothing.
"What caves would Almeus go to?” I asked.
"The caves
here in Syracusa. In the quarries where the limestone has been removed to build the temples. The quarries are vast and labyrinthian. They are pitted with bridges, pylons, and caverns. The Syracusans use them as jails for prisoners.” Agis caught his breath. “I pity anyone kept in those quarries. No sun. One might as well be in Hades. For as much time back as anyone knows, Syracusans have used the quarries to hide and store things: treasure, food, even themselves when enemies have invaded."
"Then, it is likely that Almeus hid the statue in the quarries. He is not an original thinker. He is quite likely to do the obvious.” I caught my breath, remembering that Agis had just said that he would have hidden the statue in the caves. I had no desire to hurt poor Agis. He was suffering enough. But he it seemed that he had not noticed my unintentional slur.
"Then the statue is lost to us,” he said. “If Almeus realizes that you believe he stole the statue, he will go to the caves to get it."
"I doubt that. The sun began to set as soon as I left Almeus. If the caves are as labyrinthian as you say, he will wait until early morning."
"Of course,” Agis said.
"Then we shall get there at break of dawn."
"We cannot,” Agis said, looking alarmed. “Tomorrow the theater opens. Sophist though you are, Kleides, it is still everyone's religious duty to attend the theater, even here in Syracusa, as in Athens. Here the authorities herd to the theater anyone who is in the streets."
"Then we will go to the theater. I have always wanted to see the great theater of Syracusa where Aeschylus presented some of his plays."
"But then we may never find my uncle's statue. Perhaps the gods have willed it so.” Agis shook his head.
"I doubt that the gods have busied themselves with the statue, Agis. And I very much doubt that Almeus will risk going to the caves on a theater day. He needn't take the chance. He will know that we cannot find the statue by ourselves in such a labyrinth as you described."
Agis looked gloomy. “My uncle's murderer must be found, but this delay will not help."
"Do not despair, Agis. This delay may prove useful. I want to observe what happens at the theater: who Almeus talks to, who approaches him. We may learn something useful. For tonight, let us get sound sleep. We have had a long journey.” I thought of Selkine then and my son. I drank more wine, hoping to dull my ache of longing, but I tossed for some time before sleeping.
* * * *
Syracusa was brilliant with sunshine the next day. The theater proved as wondrous as it was reputed. Carved from the limestone that so permeated the island, it crowned the plateau that rose up opposite the city of Ortigia.
Agis and I climbed up one of the eleven tiers of seats, the tier named after the goddess Athena. I felt a surge of pride for my city whose patron Athena was. We Athenians had invented theater. For a moment I could hear Pericles’ stirring speech to the Athenians in the first year of the war, reminding us all that we fought for Athens because it stood for freedom and the highest achievements of art.
Then I looked out over the Bay of Syracusa, wondrously blue, filled with the ships of the Syracusan navy. I felt a clutch at my heart for Athens, fighting powerful enemies such as Sparta, in danger if hostile cities like Syracusa should support Sparta against us. What then of my city? What then of my beloved Selkine and my son? I had not before truly realized how much my life now centered on Selkine and our child.
Agis tugged at my elbow, and with difficulty, I reigned in my swelling fear.
Agis pointed to the tier across from us. Almeus was climbing the stairs, his head down, his shoulders drooped. He dropped a small pillow onto the limestone seat and perched on it, as if ready to flee the moment he could.
After the dedications to the gods, we watched the first of the plays: a performance of The Aetnean Women, which Aeschylus had mounted years earlier in Syracusa. The play was magnificent. I wondered who in Syracusa had the manuscript. How I would love to see it. I thought about that manuscript, then became aware that Agis was tugging at my sleeve again.
"This is Pylar, Kleides,” he said. “He knew my uncle."
"It shall fall to you, Agis, to avenge his murder,” Pylar said. “Almeus will do nothing.” Pylar turned to me. “You are Kleides of Athens?” he asked.
I nodded.
Pylar gave a stiff bow. “We are honored. I have heard of your shrewd reasoning skills.” He motioned toward where Almeus sat. “Almeus, on the other hand, has only enough intelligence to beg for a living. He lacks even the cunning of a thief."
"On the contrary,” Agis said, “we suspect that Almeus may have stolen a statue of my uncle's."
"Or perhaps Dameus simply gave the statue to someone,” I said quickly. I had often instructed Agis that it was not wise to let others know what you were thinking.
"I think it very unlikely that Almeus stole the statue and very likely Dameus gave away the statue,” Pylar said. “Dameus preferred his manuscripts. Always hanging about the muses’ caves here, quoting some poet or other. ‘Holy tortoise shell lyre, bearer of golden words.’ Nonsense like that."
"Are the words from the poet Sappho?” I asked. “The image is quite lovely. I am not familiar with it, though I know her poetry. She was truly inspired by the muses.” I didn't really believe in nine muses who inspired the human imagination, but it was as good an explanation of the source of human creativity as any.
"Perhaps the words are Sappho's,” Pylar said. “She was a political exile here on Syracusa a good long time ago. A dreamer, singing of flowers and stars."
"And love and hate and other human emotions,” I said, trying to hide my annoyance.
Pylar shrugged.
I scrutinized his broad face beneath his thick black hair. His expression was rather self-satisfied with a certain caution about the dark eyes and tight mouth.
A horn sounded for the second play. It was not as good as Aeschylus’ had been, though I do admit a prejudice for the Athenian playwright. By the time the third play, a comedy, was ending, my mind was teeming with bits and pieces of information that were coalescing into a narrative of how the murder might have occurred and why. All the while, I kept a close eye on both Almeus and Pylar.
As the closing rituals to the gods were winding down, I grabbed Agis’ arm, pulling him from his religious trance. “Be prepared to move quickly,” I said. “I want to see where Almeus goes."
Almeus had already begun to edge his way to the end of the row in which he'd been sitting. I had to keep a little distance behind him, and chances were quite good that I'd lose him in the fifteen thousand or so people the great theater held. But that didn't matter. I figured Agis had guessed right about where Almeus had hidden the sculpture, and anyway, Almeus was not the key figure. The important figure was whoever followed him, beside Agis and myself.
We elbowed our way out of the theater, ignoring the wishes that Zeus’ lightning bolts hit us. “Lead us,” I said to Agis, “to the caves, but keep in the shadows of the cliffs and trees."
Agis obeyed.
We followed a road out of the sacred area of the theater, walking between limestone walls. Crowded between the walls, we lost sight of Almeus, as I had known we would. Slowly the crowds cut off in different directions, some down toward the port and Ortigia, others to the populated areas below the theater.
Agis led the way down twisting paths to the caves south of the great plateau. We plunged deeper into the gray of the great limestone cliffs whose upper parts were still lit golden by the setting sun. The smell of the pine forest to the north drifted down to us. We could hear the laughter of people heading to their homes or to taverns.
"There,” Agis said, pointing. “There are some of the main caves."
I could see the yawning mouths of several caves, black holes in the white limestone. I looked up and around.
"Is there a path up to that area?” I pointed to a grove of trees perched on top of a cliff commanding a view of the caves.
"Yes,” Agis said, “but that section is sacred and d
angerous, said to be a place of the gods. Few people go up there."
"Then it's perfect,” I said. “Take me."
Agis hesitated.
"We are on a mission the gods would approve,” I said. “Lead us up. Now."
Agis obeyed.
We picked our way through brush strewn with rocks. I could see that few people came this way.
On top of the cliff, I turned, flattened myself to the ground, and peered over. I had a clear view of the caves below.
Agis joined me, though he kept back a little.
We watched.
"Perhaps Almeus has not come,” Agis whispered. “Or perhaps he has come and gone."
In the groves below, here and there, walkers began to lift as dusk began to fill the groves.
We waited.
A bird, no doubt on its way home to its nest, flew by us in a flutter of wings.
"Look,” I said, “just where that tall olive tree juts out."
A lone figure was heading steadily down toward the caves. As he entered the path at the bottom of the cliffs, two men with torches passed. The flickering light danced off the lone figure and I recognized the thick hair and broad face of Pylar.
Pylar stepped to the side of the path into the shadows of the olive trees.
"Where is he?” Agis whispered. “I can't see him. Can you?"
"No, but he must be heading to the mouth of one of the caves below. If Almeus negotiates for every drachma he can get for the statue, we'll have time to catch one or both of them as they emerge. We must start down now."
I rose, then dropped back down to my knees. “What in the name of Zeus?” I looked about wildly.
Sounds of scuffling, grunts, and then a groan seemed to come out of nowhere and fill the air. The sounds were clear as if very near us. But I could detect no one.
I looked at Agis. He was stiff, as if he'd frozen in his tracks. “The gods,” he whispered. “The gods. We should not be here."
I looked around again, half expecting to see Hermes descending upon us or Artemis aiming a deadly arrow at us. Then I remembered that I was a sophist and didn't believe in the gods. I swallowed hard, choking down the urge to get away from this place of strange noises that seemed to have no detectable source. I would have grabbed Agis’ arm just for human comfort, but I didn't want him to know that my hands were shaking just a bit.
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