See Delphi and Die

XXXIX

Delphi. A mistake, perhaps. Once I decided on action, my brain cleared. Back at our lodgings that evening I made rapid plans for a trip across the Gulf. Helena insisted on coming with me, wanting to see that ancient sanctuary. I opted to leave behind most of our luggage, plus Albia, my nephews, Glaucus, and the still convalescent Nux. Travelling light, Helena and I would make a flying visit, retrieve Tullius Statianus, and return to Corinth.

It sounded good. Aquillius Macer was finding us a reliable ship, a fast one if possible. I reckoned on three days at most.

There were two reasons why I left behind the youngsters and the dog. Apart from my wish for speed, I gave Glaucus instructions that when Nux seemed her lively self again, he was to put her on a lead and walk her past the various members of the tour group."See if she growls at anyone. But if she reacts, don't tackle the suspect. Tell Aquillius, the quaestor.'

Glaucus looked nervous, but Albia and the boys were keen enough to do it. I wanted the test carried out, even though I doubted they would identify the killer of Cleonymus this way. For one thing, the odds were on Phineus, and he was now out of reach, under arrest.

One thing had struck me. Statianus was supposed to be in Delphi. If true, he at least could not have killed Cleonymus. Unless he had returned to Corinth secretly (making our Delphi trip an utter waste of time) then either Statianus was innocent – or if he killed his wife in Olympia, some second killer dealt with the freedman here. Our witness at Acrocorinth had described the mysterious"expensively dressed man' as older than the bridegroom. So did that make Statianus innocent? Was the bride's brutal killer this new man, the middle-aged smart dresser – and if so, did he have any connection with Marcella Caesia three years earlier?

The situation got more complicated at every turn. And worse was

to come. Helena and I were bidding our companions goodbye before our walk to the port at Lechaion, with our bundle of clothes, a money pouch, and my sword. As we stood outside our lodgings at the Elephant, we were accosted by Volcasius.

"I am very surprised to hear you are leaving Corinth, Falco!'

"Just a scenic trip.'

The bony fool stood right in the way of my hired donkey. That suited the donkey, whose reins I jerked to no avail."We have to make haste, Volcasius. Have you something to say?' asked Helena coldly.

"Hardly my place,' he sneered."Falco is the expert.'

"Say what you came for.' I encouraged my mount again, ready to shove Volcasius aside if I had to. The beast stretched out its nose to him, as if to a friend.

"There is an obvious clue you have overlooked.'

Knowing I was about to swear at him, Helena quickly answered for me."What is that, Volcasius?'

"Your dog was hurt during the events up on the acropolis. Either you don't know, or you have strangely discounted this. one of our party had a nasty dog bite previously.'

It was true, but I was none too pleased to find Volcasius making an issue of it."I know all about that. Marinus was bitten by a sacred dog at Epidaurus, the night Turcianus Opimus died. Marinus told me himself, so why don't you keep out of it?' I covered my frustration."Volcasius, stop being self-righteous. I always distrust the man who comes singing that one of his companions is the guilty party. I'll be looking at Marinus – but I'll be looking at you too.'

I kicked up the donkey and made it walk around him. Helena followed me on hers. We left Volcasius standing there, convinced of his own cleverness and our stupidity. Gaius, who was coming with us in order to return the donkeys to their stable after we took ship, leered at the man as he passed.

Not until we were aboard did Helena and I break our silence.

I kicked at a bulkhead."Cobnuts! I am completely slipshod. I missed that.'

"We both missed it.' Helena beat one fist against her palm, so hard I winced and gripped her wrists to stop her. I won't accuse women of talking themselves out of trouble – but Helena was quicker than me at rationalising this dog bite."Marcus, maybe Marinus was simply unlucky at Epidaurus. Nobody has suggested that the sacred dog bit

him because he had lashed out at it. The way Marinus told the story, he was asleep in a cell when he was bitten.'

"Perhaps he wanted us to think that.'

"He didn't have to draw attention to it. The bite was on his thigh – under his tunic. He had no need at all to show us. Still…' Helena began to analyse the clue, if clue it was."Suppose Volcasius has a point. Say Marinus silenced Turcianus and Cleonymus – or even just Cleonymus. Let's consider his motive.'

"He preys on women.' I was terse. But I stopped blaming myself, and my next response was balanced."He does it for money, not sex. Killing the bride – or even arranging a tryst with her – would be out of character. Valeria wasn't his type of victim. She was married, for starters. She had little cash in her own right; even as a couple, she and Statianus were travelling on a budget. One of the women commented that they were bad at managing their money.'

"And someone said Milo of Dodona was fooling himself if he thought they were possible sponsors for his statue. So,' Helena mused,"did Volcasius name Marinus to draw away attention from himself?'

I barked with laughter."Do you see Volcasius as a sexual predator?'

She thought about it, more carefully than me."He is certainly odd. I don't suppose he has had normal experiences with women.'

I was still dismissive."Prostitutes, most likely. If he bothers.'

"In that case, he might have gone up the acropolis to find gratification at the Temple of Artemis. We can ask the women there when we return to Corinth.'

"They won't tell us. By then, they will never remember. Whores have short memories; given their life, who can blame them?'

"He smells,' replied Helena."I know you will say, prostitutes meet plenty of stinkers, but taken with his odd manner, I am sure Volcasius would attract notice. Oh but nobody would ever call him "well-dressed, Marcus!'

Possibly he cleaned up and dressed better when visiting professional women. But I thought Helena was right. I could not really imagine Volcasius getting spruced up for anybody. Even if he used prostitutes for sex, he would despise them.

"This is a false lead, Marcus.'

I let Helena reassure me – but I spent the rest of the sea journey brooding. At least that took my mind off feeling queasy.

Well, it did to some extent. I wanted to disembark at Kirra, but the helpful captain took us past it to a nearer beachhead. By the time we landed at Itea, I was wishing we had gone the long way round by land,

where I had heard the roads were good enough to take the largest wagons, so even if it took forever, you could relax in family-size comfort, almost the entire way.

Note"almost'. Even people who came coach-drawn all had to climb out and lug their goods on their backs the final mile or so. Despite the need to bring pilgrims and visitors to the oracle and the Pythian Games, the last stretch of the road was dire. It was a hard pull even for a man on foot. Helena tackled it bravely, but by the time we staggered to a halt in the village, she was weeping with desperation. I was little better, though I had reckoned I was generally in good shape.

Our bags fell from our hands. We turned back and looked over the plain below. Covered with a thick forest of wild olives, the land fell away gracefully to the sea which twinkled in the distance. The sanctuary clung to a steep hillside on twin peaks of Mount Parnassus, with other mountains crowding around it. Above us towered enormous unclimbable crags. Huge birds of prey circled languidly on the updraughts, so far away that their long wings looked mere threads of black against the brilliant sky. The air was thin and chilly, even though the sun was shining. The beauty of the setting, the bright light, and the rarefied atmosphere gave pilgrims their first notion that they were approaching the gods.

We had made it. As our breath hurt our windpipes, we clung to each other and were proud of our exertion. We could not speak, but we were grinning with triumph to have made the climb.

Had we known what lay ahead of us, our mood might have been different.