Private Games

Chapter 19

STANDING IN THE exhibition hall in front of a display case featuring Bronze Age discuses, javelins, and terracotta vases painted with scenes of athletic competitions, Dr Daring indicated the first sentence in the text.

‘This is ancient Greek,’ he said. ‘It reads, “Olympians, you are in the laps of the gods.” That’s a term in Greek mythology. It means the fate of specific mortals is in the gods’ control. I think the term is most often used when some mortal has committed a wrongdoing grave enough to upset the residents of Mount Olympus. But do you know who it would be better to ask about this sort of thing?’

‘Who’s that?’ Knight asked.

‘Selena Farrell,’ Daring replied. ‘Professor of Classics at King’s College, London, eccentric, brilliant. In another life she worked for NATO in the Balkans. That’s where I, uh, met her. You should go and see her. Very iconoclastic thinker.’

Writing down Farrell’s name, Pope said, ‘Who is Cronus?’

The museum curator picked up his iPad and began typing, saying, ‘A Titan – one of the gods who ruled the world before the Olympians. Again, Selena Farrell would be better on this point, but Cronus was the God of Time, and the son of Gaia and Uranus, the ancient, ancient rulers of earth and sky.’

Daring explained that, at his enraged mother’s urging, Cronus rebelled eventually against his father and ended up castrating him with a scythe.

A long curved blade, Knight thought. Wasn’t that how Elaine had described the murder weapon?

‘According to the myth, Cronus’s father’s blood fell into the sea and re-formed as the three Furies,’ Daring continued. ‘They were Cronus’s half sisters – spirits of vengeance, and snake-haired like Medusa.

‘Cronus married Rhea and fathered seven of the twelve gods who would become the original Olympians.’ Then Daring fell silent, seeming troubled.

‘What’s the matter?’ Pope asked.

Daring’s nose twitched as if he smelled something foul. ‘Cronus did something brutal when he was told of a prediction that his own son would turn against him.’

‘What was that?’ Knight asked.

The curator turned the iPad towards them. It showed a dark and disturbing painting of a dishevelled bearded and half-naked man chewing on the bloody arm of a small human body. The head and opposite arm were already gone.

‘This is a painting by the Spanish painter Goya,’ Daring said. ‘Its title is Saturn Devouring his Son. Saturn was the Romans’ name for Cronus.’

The painting repulsed Knight. Pope said, ‘I don’t understand.’

‘In the Roman and Greek myths,’ the curator replied testily, ‘Cronus ate his children one by one.’