‘I know the legend well,’ said Master Ariston. ‘The Lapiths were a brave people who lived in the region of Thessaly. They managed to drive the centaurs away and the creatures were banned from ever setting foot in their country.’
‘It is a hideous work of art,’ admitted Zeno, noticing the horrified look in my eyes. ‘I don’t know what makes people commission such frightful mosaics. My wife Penelope won’t let my son in here until I have it replaced with something more gentle and wholesome. She says it will give him nightmares.’
‘I would have had it removed a long time ago,’ said Master Ariston with a shudder. ‘I agree with your wife, sir. It can’t be good for a child to look at this kind of thing.’
‘Zeno and his family have only lived in this house a short time, master,’ Thrax explained. ‘They haven’t yet had time to tear up the mosaic.’
Zeno’s head swivelled round on his thick neck. ‘By the sacred cloak of Herakles, you are right, my boy. How did you guess we’ve only just come to live here?’
‘The boy doesn’t guess, my dear,’ chuckled Socrates. ‘He deduces.’
‘Deduces?’
‘Yes, deduces,’ laughed Socrates. ‘It means drawing conclusions from the evidence around you.’
‘Well, how did you deduce it then?’ Zeno asked Thrax.
Thrax looked around him. ‘There are clues everywhere you look, sir. The shrine in the courtyard, for example. It’s dedicated to Ares, the god of war. The man who lived here before you was a soldier. You are a gym master. I expect one day you will remove Ares and replace him with Herakles, the god of sports and protector of athletes.’
Zeno’s mouth opened and shut like a fish’s. ‘The boy’s right,’ he mumbled. ‘I have already commissioned a sculptor to make me a statue of Herakles.’
‘And then I noticed there are no curtains in the doorways,’ continued Thrax. ‘You moved here from a smaller house with lower doorways. The curtains need altering.’
‘By the golden bolts of Zeus,’ exclaimed Zeno. ‘The boy is right again.’
Hilarion shuffled in with cups and pitchers. He set them down stiffly, without a word, and left the andron again. Zeno poured wine for the adults and water for Thrax and myself.
‘So this is the mystery I have for you,’ he said, when he had our full attention. ‘It’s only a little one, as I warned yesterday, but I’ve been puzzling it over ever since it happened. If you boys can solve it, there’ll be a handsome reward for you both.’
He sipped noisily from his wine cup and began.
‘My wife has a dog, a Melitan called Argos after Odysseus’s beloved pet.’
‘An ironic choice of name for a small lapdog like a Melitan,’ chuckled Socrates. ‘Your Penelope has a sense of humour, sir.’
‘I adore Melitans,’ interrupted Master Ariston. ‘They’re so soft and fluffy you just want to give them a cuddle. I longed to have one when I was a child but my father would not hear of it. He thinks dogs are only for guarding houses against intruders and Melitans are too small to guard anything.’
‘Penelope is devoted to hers,’ continued Zeno. ‘She offers sacrifice on its behalf at the household altar, and she lets the wretched thing lick her dish clean after she’s finished eating. My son is equally smitten. He won’t go to sleep at night unless Argos curls up next to him in his cot. I’m not so fond of the thing myself. It yaps incessantly at everything that moves and I spend a small fortune on titbits for it. Fresh meat and fish. It won’t eat anything else. And it was getting fat. Recently a friend of my wife’s told her that dogs benefit from exercise just as much as we humans do. So now Hilarion walks the dog every time he goes to the market. We even bought the thing a collar and lead so it would not stray and get lost.
‘The other night Hilarion was on his way home with Argos when someone leaped on him from a shadowy doorway and thumped him on the back. Poor Hilarion had change in his mouth and nearly choked on the coins. He was bent double, trying to cough up the money, when the assailant grabbed Argos’s lead and ran off with the dog. Hilarion stumbled to his knees and I’m sure he would have choked to death right there on the street had not a kind passer-by come to his rescue and given him a second thump that actually made him swallow the coins.’
‘Goodness,’ interrupted Master Ariston. ‘I shall never carry money in my mouth again. I’ll insist Thrax or Nico do it for me.’
‘The kind passer-by helped Hilarion home, where the slave managed to bang on the front door before passing out from shock,’ continued Zeno. Penelope was inconsolable when she realised Argos had been kidnapped. She sent me and Olympos, one of our other slaves, to look for it. Alas, we could not find the dog anywhere. I determined to go to the police in the morning – but here’s the thing. When Hilarion opened the front door at dawn, he found Argos sitting patiently on the doorstep.’
‘The brave fellow managed to escape from his heartless kidnappers,’ cheered Master Ariston. ‘He really does deserves his heroic name. Long live Argos!’
‘Oh no,’ said Zeno. ‘Argos didn’t escape. Someone had brought him back. His lead was tied securely to the door handle. That’s the conundrum that’s been keeping me awake. What would make a thief steal a dog only to return it? It just doesn’t make sense. If for some reason the thief changed his mind, why risk bringing Argos back? Why not let the dog loose to find his own way home? Or sell him and make some money? I hear there is a buoyant trade in stolen pets, especially pure breeds like Argos.’
‘Perhaps a kind neighbour found him and brought him back,’ suggested Master Ariston.
‘I’ve asked the neighbours,’ replied Zeno. ‘It wasn’t any of them. And if a stranger somehow knew where Argos lived, they wouldn’t have left him tied to the door where he could have been stolen again. They would have knocked on the door to let us know he’d been found. No, it had to be the thief who brought him back.’
Socrates turned to Thrax. ‘What do you make of it, young man?’
Thrax replied without hesitation. ‘I can see right away why the dog was stolen, sir. But I don’t think that was the only crime committed against Zeno and his family that night. I believe a second one occurred, right here, in this house.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Argos
‘A second crime.’ Zeno sounded impressed. ‘Why do you say that? There are no clues as far as I can see.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Your master is right, you are exceedingly clever.’
‘We underestimate the young,’ chimed in Socrates, raising his wine cup at Thrax and myself. ‘As we underestimate the poor and indeed the honest craftsman. These people have a lot to teach the rich and the privileged if only they would listen.’
‘I would love to investigate some more, sir,’ said Thrax.
‘By all means, young man,’ said Zeno. ‘Please find out what you can. Without neglecting your duties to Master Ariston, of course. I will pay you triple what I intended if there really was a second crime.’
‘I do not work alone, sir,’ said Thrax. ‘Nico assists with my investigations, and his help is invaluable.’
‘Not that I am looking for money,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I enjoy helping Thrax, and writing about our adventures is payment enough for me.’
‘When will you have some answers?’ asked Zeno.
‘I do not know yet, sir,’ replied Thrax, ‘but, with Master Ariston’s permission, Nico and I will start our investigations right away. I take it you have not noticed anything out of the ordinary recently?’
Zeno shook his head. ‘Like what?’
‘Strangers lurking on your street,’ said Thrax. ‘Anything in the house gone missing.’
‘Hilarion might be a doddery old man,’ sniffed Zeno, ‘but he has eyes like a hawk. He’d have spotted anyone dawdling outside the door, and would have informed me at once. And nothing’s gone missing from the house. We don’t have much to steal anyway. I am comfortably off but I do not spend much on myself. I prefer to help pay for public festivals and rituals at the tem
ple,’
‘Spoken like a true Athenian,’ murmured Master Ariston, who much preferred hoarding his own money to giving it away to the public coffers.
‘How many of you live here?’ asked Thrax.
‘There’s me, my wife and my son,’ replied Zeno. ‘My wife has her own personal slave, a Jewish girl called Deborah. She’s away at the moment, visiting relatives. Hilarion looks after the house even though he’s getting on in years. There’s a third slave I’ve already mentioned, Olympos. He helps Hilarion with the heavy cleaning and the carrying, and he acts as my personal slave when I need to appear at official functions with one. My wife has sent him fishing today, so he’s not here. And there’s Eirene the cook. She rarely comes out of the kitchen, poor thing. Won’t say boo to a goose. A very timid woman though an excellent cook.’
‘Can we meet Argos, sir?’ said Thrax.
‘Certainly.’ Zeno called for Hilarion and the slave fetched the dog. It was a gorgeous little creature, its muzzle and pointy ears very much like a small wolf’s. Its fluffy coat was white as Delphian snow. Master Ariston started cooing the moment he saw it.
‘Oh, but he’s adorable,’ he said, sitting forward on his couch and holding out his hand for the dog to lick.
Argos barked ferociously and snapped at Master Ariston’s fingers. Master jumped back, pretending not to mind. The dog eyed a dish of nuts on a three-legged table. He whimpered hungrily.
‘You can see why Hilarion has to walk him every day,’ chuckled Zeno. He threw some nuts across the andron for the dog to catch. ‘Get ’em, boy. Get ’em.’
The dog caught the nuts, then trotted over to Zeno and gave his knee a big, friendly lick as if to say thank you. He licked Thrax’s knee too, wagging his furry tail enthusiastically.
‘He seems to like you,’ grunted Master Ariston with a hint of childish envy in his voice.
Thrax gathered Argos gently in his arms and let the dog lick his face. He inspected the collar. ‘I take it this is the same collar Argos was wearing when he was kidnapped, sir.’
‘It is indeed,’ said Zeno. ‘It’s quite an expensive one apparently. A friend of my wife’s bought it on a visit to Egypt.’
‘Do I have permission to search your house if and when I need to, sir?’ asked Thrax.
The gym master nodded. ‘Of course. I know an honest boy when I see one. I trust you and your friend implicitly.’
‘Thank you,’ Thrax replied politely. ‘I understand you are attending a performance at the agora tonight, sir?’
‘I am indeed,’ gasped Zeno while Hilarion led Argos out of the andron. ‘Though I haven’t said as much while you were here. How did you guess… I mean how did you deduce that was the case?’
Socrates chuckled. ‘Even I could work that one out, Zeno. There’s a delicious aroma wafting through the house. Your cook is making honey cakes, the perfect food to give to your friends at a festival. I take it you are going to watch the acrobats from Sparta. Everyone in Athens knows they are performing in the agora tonight. It’s one of the spectacles commissioned by Pericles in honour of the Anthesteria.’
‘There’s going to be more than acrobats,’ said Master Ariston. ‘I heard there will be tightrope walkers who perform right above the audience. There’s even a magician who projects hand-shadows on a wall. He’s pretty impressive from what I’ve been told, although some purists find his art a bit too foreign for their tastes. Apparently he can create all sorts of mythical creatures just by wiggling his hands in front of a flaming torch. Dancing nymphs and all that. No one knows how he does it. He hides behind a curtain with his assistant and the audience can only see the moving shadows on the wall, large as titans. I’d love to go and watch but my father insists I stay at home tonight. We have friends coming round for dinner and he wants me to entertain them.’
‘I assume you will take Hilarion with you, sir,’ said Thrax to Master Zeno.
The gym master nodded. ‘Of course. Olympos won’t be home in time. Besides, it will do Hilarion good to go out at night again. He’s been very skittish since the assault and he needs to regain his confidence.’
‘May I ask that you take Argos with you too, sir?’ said Thrax.
Zeno raised a quizzical eyebrow but nodded. ‘I shall have to ask my wife to make sure the door to the gynaikon is securely locked, then. Argos might be small but Ariston’s father is wrong about Melitans. They make fierce guard dogs. Penelope feels safer with him around when I’m not in.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Zeno rose from the couch, indicating that our meeting was over. Hilarion shuffled back into the andron to clear away the cups and bowls.
Zeno laid a hand on Thrax’s shoulder. I suspect he wanted to shake his hand but he couldn’t because Thrax was a slave. ‘I’m really looking forward to finding out how you and your friend solve this case, young man. May Athena, the goddess of wisdom, assist you. And Hilarion here will ask Cook to give you some of her honey cakes before you leave. They are truly delicious.’
CHAPTER SIX
A Meeting
As soon as we left Zeno’s house, Thrax and I made straight for our private meeting place.
In every adventure we’ve had, Thrax has always insisted we have secret meetings where we can discuss the mystery in hand, take notes and plan our next move. In Corinth, we met in a small courtyard overgrown with vines. In the sacred city of Delphi, Thrax built a tree house in the branches of an ancient olive tree. On the island of Aegina, we held meetings in a forgotten hut at the back of a ruined house. For this mystery, we didn’t have to look for a new meeting place. We already had one.
A year before Thrax came to live with us, I had discovered an ancient tree in a lane behind our house. It was gnarled and twisted, a mighty oak, sacred to both Zeus and Pan. They say the rustling of its leaves is really the voice of Zeus, whispering in a mysterious language. I climbed into the branches to hear the god better and discovered the tree was hollow. It didn’t take me long to turn it into my own secret hideaway.
In its damp-smelling darkness I kept my few secret and precious belongings. An old stylus my mother had given me, a toy wooden horse my father carved for me when I was still a toddler, a few good-luck pebbles I had found on a beach. And, of course, a small supply of dried fruit and nuts.
I can’t write or even concentrate if my tummy is rumbling with hunger. My little store, which I keep in a pottery jar with a tight-fitting lid, has often kept me going in lean, unhappy times.
When Thrax came to live with us, we transformed the hideaway into a proper secret meeting place. We mended two broken stools we found on a scrapheap. I dug up two old himations to drape over our legs when it got cold and Thrax supplied an old goatskin that we filled with water to drink along with the nuts and dried fruit.
I checked to make sure no one could see us, before I followed Thrax into the branches of the tree and dropped feet-first into our meeting place.
We’d only just eaten the delicious honey cakes but I was ready for some nuts and dried figs. I opened the jar. Thrax took the stool opposite me.
‘I declare this meeting open,’ he said, reaching inside his chiton and taking out a medallion showing the face of the Medusa. ‘Long live the Medusa League.’
I had a similar medallion hanging on a leather thong around my neck. ‘Long live the Medusa League,’ I repeated, holding it up.
The Medusa League is a secret society that Thrax and I started after we solved our first mystery. Its members are people we have met on our adventures. First to join us were Fotini and her slave girl Gaia. They live in the city of Corinth. Selene, who became the pythia at the oracle in Delphi, is also a member, as are Alexa and Smilis, two children we rescued from pirates near the island of Aegina. They are all brave heroes without whom we would never have survived our adventures. Like us, they each wear the medallion of the Medusa around their neck and Thrax and I know we can rely on their help should we ever need it again.
I opened my tablet and spat on the poi
nt of my stylus to clean it, ready to take notes. Thrax reached in the jar for a few raisins and chewed on them thoughtfully.
I did the same. ‘I’ve been racking my brains all the way here but I can’t for the life of me think why the dog was stolen,’ I said through a big mouthful or raisins. ‘Or why it was returned.’
Thrax smiled. ‘Zeno himself gave us the clue.’
‘Did he?’
‘Remember what he said about Argos?’
‘He said he yaps too much. He doesn’t sound very fond of him.
‘Which isn’t true at all,’ chuckled Thrax. ‘Dog and master have an excellent relationship. You can tell by how affectionately Zeno talked to Argos when he threw him the nuts, and the way Argos licked Zeno’s knee. Only a dog who loves and trusts his master does that.’
‘But why hide his affection for the dog?’ I wondered.
‘Big men like Zeno are not supposed to like small fluffy creatures like Melitans. They consider them a woman’s pet,’ replied Thrax. ‘Real men prefer big hulking dogs like Molossians. But what else did he say about Argos, when I suggested he take him to the agora tonight?’
‘He said that he’d have to get his wife’s permission…’
‘Because?’
I ate a dried fig to help me remember. ‘Because Penelope feels safer having the dog at home when her husband is out.’
‘Exactly,’ said Thrax. ‘He said Argos is a first-rate guard dog. I agree with him. We had a Melitan on the farm outside Thebes and it barked the place down if someone dared as much as come up the meadow to the front door. Melitans are descended from wolves and they have their alertness and confidence. So what do you conclude from Zeno’s comment?’
I chewed on two more figs and thought very hard. ‘Someone… wanted the dog out of the way?’
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