Death on Delos

by Gary Corby

  “Convenient?” I finished for him.

  “Just so.” Pericles nodded. “A cynical man might misinterpret our actions, not as the result of cool-headed strategy, but rather as a shameful greed for gold.”

  “I’m sure no one would ever accuse Athens of such a thing,” Diotima said.

  I winced.

  “Your sarcasm is not needed here,” Pericles said. “I have enough to contend with, without your pointless humor.”

  He seemed to be almost shaking. I was taken aback. Diotima stared, but aid nothing.

  “Pericles, you should calm down.” I found myself advising the foremost man of Athens.

  Pericles took a deep breath. “Yes, you are right.” He paused again, then said, “The death of the priest now seems somewhat less regretful.”

  Diotima said, “We actually came here to question you about one of the transactions that Geros made. It would help us.”

  Diotima produced the deed for the estate in Kyzikos. She explained its significance.

  Pericles understood the main point at once. “That estate was bought with League funds.”

  “Almost certainly,” I agreed.

  Pericles thought about it. “Kyzikos isn’t just some Hellene city on the coast that the Persians happen to have conquered. It’s further inland, on the Black Sea.”

  “Does that mean something?” Diotima asked.

  “It means the Persians know for sure that a priest of Delos has bought land inside their Empire.”

  “How so?”

  “In the Persian system every man is a slave of the Great King. Everyone! No matter how free a man seems, he is ultimately a slave. This is the system we have fought for decades.”

  “I understand.”

  “Therefore all property ultimately belongs to the Great King. You cannot buy land without the approval of their officials.”

  “Therefore they approved Geros, a senior priest of the Hellenes, to buy an estate inside their empire,” Diotima finished for him. She chewed on her lip. “You’re right, that does look bad.”

  “Do they know where the money came from?” I asked.

  “What do you think?” Pericles replied.

  There was shouting outside—Harpy had returned from Athens. We exited the tent to see the commotion. The trireme docked where it had been before, at the pier alongside Paralos.

  The trierarch was first off, with a bag of responses from the letters that had been sent home. I hadn’t expected a reply and therefore wasn’t disappointed when he indicated there was nothing for me or my wife.

  I was, however, very surprised when a lady of rather small stature was helped off the trireme, following the captain. She had a large bag with her, which she dropped gratefully at my feet.

  “You can carry that the rest of the way,” she said to me.

  I couldn’t reply. My jaw hung slack in shock. Eventually I managed to gather my wits enough to say, “Mother! What are you doing here?”

  “What do you think I’m doing here?” she said. “You send me a letter telling me that your wife, my daughter-in-law, the mother of my first grandchild, could be forced to give birth on some remote island with no one to help her? Dear Gods, boy, did I teach you nothing about how to care for your wife?”

  “She was quite insistent,” the captain of Harpy said. He had come to bid farewell to his passenger and, I suspect, to laugh at me. “She turned up at the boat after we sent off the mail at the Athens end. Refused to leave the ship and cursed me when I wouldn’t sail at once. I’ve never before had a respectable matron threaten to whip the crew if they didn’t row faster.” The captain of Harpy shook his head in mock horror and grinned broadly. He took my mother’s hand in a gesture of farewell. “Madam . . . Phaenarete, if you ever tire of your family, I would be most pleased to hire you as a deck officer. Well, I wish you luck.”

  With that he wandered back to his boat, whistling a happy tune. I was fairly sure that before the day was out, every man in the Athenian Navy would know my mother had arrived to help me.

  The Mother Directive

  It was late in the day, but that didn’t stop my mother from completely transforming our cottage.

  Her first considered action was to inspect Diotima. For this I was told to stand outside and make sure no one entered. We had a murder to solve, but I didn’t even think about disobeying. Mother emerged some time later to announce that Diotima’s pregnancy was in fine condition, and very close to the end. My wife looked mildly embarrassed but, she had to admit, relieved to know that an expert on childbirth was with us.

  The next thing Mother did was place statues of Eileithyia, the goddess of childbirth, around the room. Most men know nothing about her, but because I was the son of a midwife I was more knowledgeable than most. Mother then made offerings at each of these statues and recited prayers beseeching Eileithyia to assist both mother and child.

  Mother put her hands on her hips and inspected her handiwork with approval.

  “This is where the birth will take place, if Diotima doesn’t make it back to Athens in time. We’ve done everything we can to gain divine assistance. At least here on Delos Diotima has the most chance of intervention from Eileithyia.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Because Eileithyia came to us from Hyperborea,” my mother said.

  My jaw dropped for the second time that day. “Say that again?”

  “Hera, the mother of the gods, sent Eileithyia all the way from faraway Hyperborea to Delos, to assist with the birth of the gods Apollo and Artemis. Everyone knows that, my son.”

  “Everyone who is a midwife knows that,” I said. I wondered what my mother would say if I told her I could introduce her to some real live Hyperboreans. But this wasn’t the time to mention it.

  I had to admit the arrival of my mother relieved the fears of both Diotima and myself. We left her to continue turning the cottage into the perfect birthing chamber while we went out to solve a murder.

  The Hyperborean Surprise

  It was time to inspect the Treasury of Artemis, the one place for which Geros had the only key. Diotima and I were quite certain what we would find. The papers in Geros’s secret room had clearly said that Geros had found a buyer for the Gifts. The empty shelves in that same room suggested strongly that they were already gone. I could only hope that Anaxinos would not be too upset when he saw the truth.

  Philipos joined us, in his official capacity as my apprentice. “I found the boat,” he announced when he arrived.

  “What boat?” I asked.

  He looked hurt. “Nicolaos, you asked me to find which boat went to the Old Village the night Geros died.”

  So I had, and it was so long ago that I’d completely forgotten.

  “You’re never going to guess which one it was,” he said.

  “You’re right, I won’t guess because you’re going to tell me.”

  “It was the dinghy, the one that’s chained to a rock and has the oars inside.”

  Diotima and I shared a look of total surprise.

  “But that’s the emergency eject system,” she said. “People aren’t allowed to use it for anything else.”

  I asked my assistant, “Was there another death that night . . . a natural one, I mean?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure of this?” I asked.

  Philipos managed to look smug. “I measured the keel, just like you said. I measured the keel of every boat in the New Village. All the others are fishing boats; their keels are much wider and deeper.”

  “What about the triremes? Do they carry tenders?”

  “I checked. Some do, but they’re all much longer, for ten men or more.”

  “Whoever took it must have been desperate,” I said. “I wonder who it was? Philipos, you have done well.”

  “Thanks!”
/>   It was then that Anaxinos joined us with his usual cloud of priests.

  “Which treasury holds the Hyperborean Gifts?” I asked Anaxinos.

  “The one closest to the Temple of Artemis,” Anaxinos said, reasonably enough.

  We stopped there, and Anaxinos produced the key that had once belonged to Geros. The steps to this building were barely set off the ground.

  Anaxinos pointed the key toward the slot in the door, missed the hole on the first try, then carefully got it right on the second. He pushed. The key resisted several times, but finally made it all the way in with some extra effort and a few unpriestly swear words.

  Anaxinos began to turn. This key had an extra handle of ivory to make the turning easier. The door made its now familiar clunk as the key released the bar, then squealed to set our teeth on edge as it opened a fraction.

  Anaxinos sighed. “I hate it when that happens.” He put his hand on the door but stopped for a moment and faced Diotima and me. “I suppose you realize this is a waste of time. Everything will be in order.”

  The High Priest pushed the door. It swung slowly inwards.

  “I reveal to you the Gifts of the Hyperboreans.”

  Light from over our shoulders filled the small space within.

  Inside there was shelf upon shelf of votive statues. Some large, some small, all of them works of art.

  Diotima and I stared at this open-mouthed.

  “I can’t believe it,” my wife said.

  “See, I told you the Gifts would all be here,” Anaxinos said. The tone of his voice was almost gleeful. “Geros could never have so forgotten himself as to steal these devout gifts.”

  Diotima and I could only look at the perfectly placed, very beautiful statuettes.

  “You are astonished at the exquisite beauty of the gifts?” Anaxinos said, misinterpreting our dumbfounded expressions. “So am I. I wish we knew who these Hyperboreans were, so that we can thank them properly.”

  Diotima and I could have helped him out there, but this wasn’t the time to tell him. I suddenly realized that behind us, completely unnoticed, Damon had sidled up, ostensibly to see the excitement. I caught his eye and shook my head ever so slightly, to tell him we would not give away his secret.

  Damon smiled.

  “This is a complete and utter surprise,” Diotima said.

  “Why?” Anaxinos asked, puzzled.

  “Because I thought it would be ransacked!”

  Anaxinos and his priests made their way off, after locking up behind them. No doubt they would spend the rest of the day talking amongst themselves about what idiots the detectives were. Damon likewise sauntered off, secure in the knowledge that we hadn’t betrayed his secret.

  This left Diotima, Philipos, and me to contemplate total failure.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “How could the Gifts—the statuettes—all still be in the treasury? Is our entire theory wrong?”

  “None of the facts seem to match any other facts,” Philipos complained. “Is it always like this?”

  “Usually,” I said, “Right up to the moment when things click together. Then it all makes sense. You just have to move the facts back and forth, and work out why they connect, even when they don’t seem to.”

  “Don’t worry, Philipos,” Diotima said. “I feel we have enough facts. We’ll get it, but it might take a few more days.”

  “Well, we have to solve it soon, or you’ll be stopped by childbirth.” I counted on my fingers. “According to my calculations, you have ten days to go.”

  At that moment, Diotima gave a startled groan. Suddenly there was a pool of water by her feet.

  “Honey, are you all right?” I said. “Are you hurt?” I put an arm around her. She seemed to stand there in shock.

  “Oh, I’ve seen that before,” Philipos said. “It means you’re about to be a father, Nicolaos.”

  “What?” I said stupidly.

  “My waters have broken, Nico,” Diotima said. “My labor just started.”

  “It’s too soon!” I said in alarm.

  “You better tell the baby that, then, because it disagrees.”

  I told myself there was no need to panic. Nor was there, but that didn’t stop my heart from racing.

  “Dear Gods. Philipos, we really need you now. Help me get Diotima to the cottage, would you?”

  My mother recognized what had happened at once. Philipos waited outside while my mother laid Diotima on our bed and announced that she was beginning contractions, whatever that meant.

  “Is that good?” I asked.

  “It’s perfectly normal,” my mother assured me. “Go do something else for the next half day or so. We don’t need you here.”

  “But what about the baby?

  “Calm down, Nico,” she said. “I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

  “But Diotima hasn’t!”

  “I can’t give birth on Delos,” Diotima said. “I can’t break the Goddess’s sacred rule.”

  “Is there time to get her to Mykonos?” I asked Mother.

  “No,” was her short reply.

  “We’ll get you onto one of the triremes,” I said, relieved that I had an answer. “Pericles will give us one. It can stand off the coast.”

  “But then the murder won’t be solved, Nico. We’ll fail our mission.” Diotima seemed genuinely upset. She never accepted failure.

  “Do you think I care? You’re more important.” I took her hand in mine. “Does it hurt?”

  “Only when I breathe,” she said.

  “Don’t stop doing that!” I said, alarmed.

  “Good idea. Nico, listen to me.” Diotima sat up. She seemed quite certain about something. “I have time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “To denounce the murderer.”

  “You must be joking. You’re having a baby—”

  “Yes, I’d noticed,” Diotima replied coolly. “Nico, I was joking when I said it only hurts when I breathe. I’ll declare who is the killer, then you make the arrest while I go have the baby. There’s plenty of time for everything.”

  “You’re not going to risk my grandchild!” my mother said.

  “No, Phaenarete,” Diotima said. “I’m certainly not. But there are women who work right up to the moment they give birth, aren’t there?”

  “Yes,” said Phaenarete dubiously. “But they mostly work on farms.”

  “Then think how easy my work will be!” Diotima said persuasively. “All I have to do is talk for a while.”

  I said, “I don’t think this is a good idea . . .”

  “Trust me. What could possibly go wrong?” my wife said.

  My wife had gone delirious in her labor. “Don’t you think it would help if we knew who the killer was?” I pointed out.

  Diotima said urgently, “I want to try. Nico, I have time, honestly. It’s like we said to Philipos: I’m sure we have all the facts, we just haven’t worked out yet how they fit together.”

  “That would seem to put a stop to the plan.”

  “Nico, we’re facing failure either way. Let’s get up to the sanctuary grounds. It’s the only place where everyone can meet. We’ll start explaining the facts to everyone—the whole island—so that every witness is there. We’ll take it slowly and try to work it out as we go. All right?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be having contractions?”

  “I am having contractions, they’re just not very painful yet.”

  I looked to my mother. “Is Diotima right? Do we have time to denounce a murderer and then get her back here safely?”

  Phaenarete shrugged. “Sometimes they come quickly; sometimes they take a long time. How much time do you need to denounce a murderer?”

  “Usually it’s a long meeting with lots of shouting. Never more than,
say, half a morning, usually much less.”

  Phaenarete lifted Diotima’s tunic and checked certain arrangements on my wife that are normally for my eyes only. She dropped the tunic and said, “You have time. But then you get straight back here after. I suggest you have a stretcher ready and waiting.”

  “Nico, we have to do it,” Diotima said.

  This was insanity. I looked out the window. Night was falling.

  “If we’re going to do this, we’ll have to be fast,” I said.

  I went out to issue orders to Philipos. He was waiting beyond the door, looking solicitous. I was touched by his care. He looked up expectantly as I approached.

  “Philipos, my apprentice,” I said. “We’re still on the job. Go to Pericles and Anaxinos, and ask them to assemble the people of Delos.”

  Hard Labor

  The meeting was held at the same place where the protest had occurred, not so many days before. How things had changed.

  Assembled were the villagers of Delos, the priests and priestesses of the sanctuary, and Karnon and his assistants. Of the Athenians there were Pericles and all the captains of the triremes. The common men were back on the beach. Pericles had insisted the men stay with their boats. They had patrolled during the day because of the threat of the three ships that Semnos and I had seen. Pericles was unwilling to leave the fleet unguarded at night, and he wanted them ready to launch at a moment’s notice. The exception was Paralos. Semnos and his crew had come to watch us.

  It was dark by the time everyone was present, milling about, and with much murmuring from the crowd. Torches were lit. I heard several voices in the crowd loudly comment that dinner was being missed and ask if this couldn’t wait until the morning. The answer, though they didn’t know it, was that it certainly couldn’t. Every now and then I heard a slight moan from Diotima, who sat upon a comfortable stool that I had carried. My mother stood anxiously by Diotima, but we had not told anyone that our detective was in labor. I silently prayed to Mother’s goddess Eileithyia for deliverance for my wife.