Pirates of Poseidon

by Saviour Pirotta

  I stared at the figure. ‘How can the husband of Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty, be so ugly?’

  Thrax shrugged. ‘It’s just a myth, Nico. A story.’

  Outside the workshop, Thrax inspected the lock on the door. Then he went round the outside of the barn, looking for loose bricks or hidden entrances. Finally he clambered on to the sloping roof to check the tiles and the skylight.

  ‘This workshop is as secure as the Medusa’s lair,’ he said, coming down again.

  The statues in the workshop stared at us with blind eyes as we pulled open the door. ‘Careful,’ said Thrax. ‘Don’t disturb anything.’

  I peered down at the thick layer of gritty dust on the floor. It crunched under my feet. ‘Ha,’ said Thrax. ‘Here are my footprints and yours, Nico. These prints going up to the workbench and back belong to Onatas.’

  ‘How do you know?’ I asked.

  ‘I watched everyone’s feet carefully this morning, to memorise the footprints. These ones on the side belong to Master Ariston. I’d know them anywhere. And these, always a couple of steps behind them, were made by Gorgias. He wears special boots that help people with a limp walk better. Notice the right foot has made heavier prints than the left ones.’

  I’d never noticed Gorgias walked with a limp but then I’m not as observant as Thrax. That’s why he is so good at solving mysteries.

  ‘And I suppose these smaller prints were made by Smilis,’ I said. ‘I noticed he goes barefoot all the time. The poor mite probably doesn’t even own a pair of sandals.’

  ‘Neither do Timon and the cook. Look, Nico, those deep ones going towards the charioteer must be Timon’s. He’s got a very heavy step, which leaves very clear prints. The wider ones going up to the workbench belong to Telephassa. She has cracked skin on her heels, and it shows in the footprints.’

  ‘When did you notice that?’

  ‘This morning in the andron. She left sweaty footprints all over the floor.’

  He squatted and looked closely at a set of footprints I hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘And who made those?’ I wondered.

  ‘Someone with money,’ replied Thrax. ‘They were made by a very expensive kind of sandal boot called a cothurnus. Actors wear them on stage because they’re comfortable. I believe rich hunters and horsemen use them when they’re in the saddle too.’

  ‘They’re almost as big as Master Ariston’s.’

  ‘But wider,’ said Thrax. He put his nose close to the ground to inspect them. ‘There’s something not quite right about them.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Thrax ignored my question, got up and dusted his hands. He started walking around the workshop. Now that we had inspected the footprints around the workbench, there was no need to preserve them. He stopped at an empty plinth in a corner and bent down to run a finger along the top.

  ‘Flour,’ he said, putting his finger to his tongue.

  ‘What do you mean, flour?’

  ‘I mean there are traces of flour on this plinth.’

  ‘How odd,’ I said.

  ‘Not odd at all. In fact it makes the whole picture much clearer... much clearer indeed.’

  CHAPTER 9

  The Ghost at the Shrine

  I lay snuggled in my himation, staring up at the ceiling in our secret meeting place. Thrax and I had decided to sleep here. Inacus had a lot of slaves and there was hardly any room for us in their quarters.

  It was the middle of the night but I was too excited to go to sleep. I opened my tablet and looked at our list of suspects.

  1.Smilis

  2.Telephassa

  3.Timon

  I added a fourth.

  4.The person who left the mysterious footprints in the workshop

  One of those four had committed the crime, but which one? And what had Thrax meant when he said the picture was getting clearer? I could see nothing but a tangle of impossible clues. A ring stolen from a locked tool chest. Mysterious footprints made with expensive sandal boots. Some flour on a plinth. How were these things connected?

  I wished I could ask Thrax but he was snoring softly under his himation. I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep but Hypnos, the god of slumber, would not answer my prayers.

  The night was full of strange noises. Beetles munching away at the rotten beams above. Mice scampering across the floor. Owls hooting outside. I thought of the adder in the broken oven and shuddered at the thought it might crawl into the hut.

  Suddenly I became aware of yet another noise. Footsteps crunching in the weeds outside. My first thought was to hide under my himation. Then curiosity got the better of me and I tiptoed out of the hut to the door in the wall. We had left it ajar and I could see through the crack very clearly.

  A dark shape was flitting between the mounds of rubble. I opened the door another crack to see better. The figure reached the edge of the house, stopped for a moment to look up and down the street and then disappeared. I looked around to see where it had come from. And that’s when I spotted the statue of Melinoe glowing in the moonlight. It now had a head, with two enormous eyes that seemed to be looking directly at me. The rest of her body was covered in hissing, twisting snakes…

  ‘See,’ said Thrax. ‘No head. Just a broken neck on an old statue. Same as it was when we saw it yesterday.’

  I stared at the statue in disbelief. Thrax had marched me out to have a second look when I’d told him what I’d seen the next morning.

  ‘But it did have a head last night. And it was covered in snakes. I saw something else too. A dark shape floating across the ruins. A ghost – Melinoe is their goddess, isn’t she?’

  ‘Honestly! Your writer’s imagination is running away with you.’ Thrax shook his head and started washing his face at the well.

  He was right, of course. There is no such thing as ghosts. I had imagined everything. Or perhaps I had fallen asleep without knowing and Phantasos, the god of dreams, had sent me a nightmare.

  I picked some figs for our breakfast and we ate them on our way to Inacus’s house. ‘I hope Master Ariston doesn’t have too many chores for us today,’ said Thrax. ‘I want to carry on with our investigations right away.’

  Sadly, Thrax’s wish was not to come true. ‘There you are, boys,’ called Master Ariston when he saw us. ‘I’d started to think you had both been carried away by harpies. Thrax, could you wash one of my spare chitons? I’ve got ink stains on the one I’m wearing and I do want to look spotless in the classroom. And then retune my harp. Hero has a music lesson this morning. Nico, could you make some extra ink and sharpen the styluses? And could you write me a list of all the city-states in Hellas? You’ll find the information in my scrolls. On best papyrus, please, so Hero can keep it after the lesson. We’re doing politics and geography this afternoon.’

  Master Ariston seemed to have taken to teaching like a duck to water. Perhaps it’s because he’s a born performer and Hero is the perfect audience. The boy certainly seemed to be enjoying his lessons, with ink stains all over his own chiton to prove it.

  By the time we had finished our chores, the sun was halfway across the sky and the cicadas were singing loudly in the trees behind the house.

  I met up with Thrax in the yard. ‘What shall we do next?’

  ‘First thing,’ he said, ‘we need to make sure that our suspects really were at the places they claim they were when the crime took place. Smilis and Timon at the symposium, Telephassa at a temple in town.’

  We rode over to the farm on Ariana and talked to Onatas first. Yes, he assured us once again, Smilis had been with him at the symposium all evening. No, the slave hadn’t left the side of the couch for one single moment. Onatas would have noticed if he had, because he kept cooling his face with a rhipis.

  Next we interviewed Telephassa. She was scouring a blackened chytra in the kitchen. ‘I was at the sanctuary of Hekate to offer sacrifice,’ she explained. ‘As you know, once the ritual starts, the doors to the temple are shut and no one
is allowed to leave until it’s finished and the meat from the sacrifice is eaten. I couldn’t have got out even if I’d wanted to. I didn’t get home till Master Onatas was in the workshop.’

  Last of all we went to see Timon in the goat hut. He was sitting outside in the sun, skinning an eel. An old dog lay at his feet, his eyes fixed on the fish. Timon grinned when he saw us.

  ‘Welcome, boys! Say hello, Omega. She’s an old dog but a happy one.’ He held up the eel for us to admire. ‘By the gods, I caught a big one this morning, a giant. It’s Master Onatas’s favourite. Look at the meat on this thing. There’s enough for all of us. We’ll dine like the kings of old tonight.’

  ‘Ha, you must be a very good fisherman to land such a big eel,’ said Thrax.

  ‘I’ve been fishing all my life,’ grinned Timon, leaving a trail of blood across his chin as he wiped it. ‘I love the peace and quiet of holding a fishing line, waiting for something to take the bait. It gives you time to sort out your thoughts, to appreciate the gods’ blessings in your life. I take Smilis with me sometimes but he hasn’t the patience for it. I’m afraid that boy will never be a fisherman.’

  Timon turned out to have a rock-solid witness too, a friend called Priam who’d played dice with him at the stables all night. Timon told us where we could find him in the agora if we wanted to make absolutely sure he was telling the truth. Priam’s master allowed him to run a fruit stall there.

  I was inclined to believe Timon. He seemed a decent fellow to me, not one for stealing priceless rings. But Thrax insisted we had to make sure all our suspects’ witnesses stood up to questioning. So next we went to the agora to find Priam.

  ‘I assure you he didn’t leave the gambling table for a moment,’ Priam said cheerily from behind a counter piled high with ripe grapes and pomegranates. ‘The old rascal was on a winning streak and I believe he went home with his purse full to bursting.’

  We went to the sanctuary of Hekate after that, where the priestess confirmed that she had seen Telephassa at the temple, and that she couldn’t have left till the doors were opened at the end of the long ritual.

  ‘That rules out Onatas’s three slaves,’ I said on our way back to Inacus’s house. ‘Every one of them has a reliable witness. That leaves only the man who left the mysterious footprints. But who is he?’

  CHAPTER 10

  The Pond

  ‘Ha!’ Thrax stopped in the middle of the street. We had just passed the ruined house and I was wondering if I should pick a few figs from outside our meeting place. It was late in the afternoon and I was hungry.

  ‘What’s the matter, Thrax?’

  He looked up and down the street. ‘Come with me, Nico.’

  Thrax made straight for a narrow gap, an alleyway, between two enormous houses with shuttered windows. At the far end we could see a section of the city wall, its sun-dried bricks covered in fresh lime cement. A guard was sitting at an open doorway – one of Aegina’s city gates.

  ‘Good afternoon, boys.’

  ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ we both said.

  ‘You going out of the city?’ asked the guard. He could only have been a year or two older than Thrax and wore a spotless chiton. He smelled strongly of perfume.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I lock the gate at sunset,’ said the guard. ‘Make sure you’re back by then or you’ll have to walk all around the city to the main gate, which stays open longer.’

  ‘We won’t be long,’ Thrax said. ‘We’re just looking for a good spot for fishing.’

  ‘Ah, there’s a pond not far from here where you might hook a carp or catfish. An eel too, if you’re lucky. The slaves on this side of town fish there a lot. I often see them coming back with their catch. Some are even generous enough to slip me a catfish or two for Ma’s cooking pot. But you won’t find anyone there in the afternoon. It’s too hot for fishing.’

  ‘We’re only going to have a look,’ said Thrax. ‘How do we find it?’

  ‘Just follow the path down the hill. You’ll pass an old goat farm on your right. Further on you’ll see an ancient olive tree with a hollow trunk. It has a small altar dedicated to Demeter inside it. Turn right there, keep on walking and you’ll see the pond below you.’

  We smelled the goat farm before we saw it. Two guard dogs barked ferociously as we passed the gate and bared their teeth through the bars. After a while we came to the hollow oak tree with the altar to Demeter. It stank with rotten fish left as offerings. There were pomegranates on the altar too, fruit sacred to the goddess.

  At the end of the path, we saw the pond stretched out below us, a near-perfect oval of deep blue reflecting the sky. The water was smooth as Master Ariston’s mirror. It was ringed with huge flat stones, which shone bone-white in the sunshine. There was no one about, just as the guard had predicted.

  ‘Why are we here, Thrax?’ I asked as we scrambled down towards it.

  He didn’t reply and I followed him to the edge of the water where he dipped his hand in, swirled it round a couple of times, then pulled it out and examined it carefully.

  ‘Ha,’ was all he said before he started to circle the pond, staring closely at the water. After a while, he took off his sandals and chiton and handed them to me.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘What are you looking for?’

  Thrax waded into the water till it came up to his chest. Then he took a deep breath to fill his lungs and dived in. When he surfaced he was clutching a large wet bag. He dragged it ashore.

  ‘Your stylus sharpener, please, Nico.’

  I handed him the knife and he slashed the bag open. A large stone fell out as he turned it upside down. It was followed by a pair of sodden sandal boots. Cothurni. The kind that had left the unexplained footprints in Onatas’s workshop.

  Thrax picked one up, shook the water out of it and examined the sole carefully. ‘Just as I thought. Look at this, Nico.’

  I peered closely at the sandal boot. There was something sharp stuck in it. Thrax pulled it out with his fingernails and held it in the palm of his hand.

  It was a tiny fragment of marble.

  ‘This must have come from Onatas’s workshop,’ I gasped. ‘These sandals are the ones the thief was wearing when he stole the ring.’

  ‘You’re right, Nico. Put it carefully in your bag. We’ll take the sandals too. We’ll hide them in our meeting place in case we need to show them as evidence.’

  I wrapped the sliver of marble in a spare piece of papyrus and stowed it carefully in my bag. ‘But how did you know the cothurni were going to be in the pond? Was it one of your famous hunches?’

  ‘No, it was just something I noticed yesterday when we met Smilis, and something Timon said earlier today. Those sandal boots are the first in a list of three clues we need to nail the thief.’

  ‘What are the other two?’

  ‘Make a list in your tablet, Nico. You can cross out each clue as we find it.’

  I started writing.

  CLUES TO SOLVE THE MYSTERY

  1. SANDAL BOOTS

  I put a line across that right away. We’d already found them. ‘What next?’

  ‘Clue number two,’ said Thrax, ‘is MARBLES. The third is KEYS.’

  He put on his chiton and sandals while I wrote in my tablet. Then we trudged up the hill again.

  As we passed the shrine in the olive tree, a movement on the altar caught my eye. I saw a flash of yellow and brown scales. Another adder. I leaped back, but not before I’d noticed that someone had disturbed the offerings.

  One of the pomegranates was missing.

  CHAPTER 11

  Poison

  We stopped at our meeting place to hide the sandals inside the old krater.

  ‘Where have you been?’ demanded Master Ariston when we got home, scowling fiercely to impress Hero. ‘Hunting for Gorgias’s ring?’

  ‘Sort of, master,’ said Thrax.

  ‘You’ll have to put the investigation aside for the moment,’ said Master Ariston. ‘H
ero and I are composing a song about Aphaia, the goddess of Aegina, but I hardly know anything about her. No one outside this island does. I want you to go over to her temple and get some information out of your friend Fotini. Go first thing tomorrow. Inacus said one of his slaves will take you.’

  I was desperate to get on with solving our new mystery but I was also delighted to be seeing Fotini and Gaia again. They’d be thrilled to hear about our latest case and Fotini, no doubt, would want to get involved.

  We set out on Ariana before dawn, with a slave called Rhesus who had his own donkey. Our friend the guard was on duty at the gate again, but he was fast asleep, snoring under his himation. He still reeked of perfume.

  A light mist hung in the air but the morning sun soon melted it. It was going to be another scorching day. The road to the temple, which stood at the north of the island, took us through flat land patterned with farms and well-cultivated orchards. Sometimes we rode through valleys that smelled of thyme and lavender. There were bees and large brightly coloured butterflies everywhere.

  The journey was quite long, nearly three hours, and we approached our destination hot and tired. The sanctuary loomed ahead on a steep hill covered in pine trees, a small fortress of brick walls and a wide wooden gate. Thrax and I got off Ariana and finished the rest of the journey on foot. We could see a marble sphinx on a column poking up behind the wall, and the upper half of a temple with columns and a sloping, red-tiled roof.

  We stopped outside the gate to admire the view. It was truly spectacular, the best I’d ever seen. Below us was a little harbour, busy with small coracles and a fish market on the quay. From where we stood, the people looked as small as ants.

  Beyond the harbour, the calm sea stretched out to infinity, green close to land but a purplish blue further out.

  Rhesus told us that on a clear day you could see all the way to the acropolis in Athens where the Athenians had just built a new temple to Athena.