CHAPTER XVII
Bilassa's gargantuan protectors burst out of the tunnel entrance only a few lengths
behind Duryattes and me.
Glancing back hurriedly over my shoulder, I saw them staring wildly about. They spotted us legging it down the cobbled street parallel to the stadium, and lunged off after us in pursuit, shouting and gesturing. People passing in the other direction glanced at us in surprise or consternation, as we sprinted past them, but everybody was either too intent on getting into the stadium or indulging in the time-honored practice of simply minding his own business to attempt to stop us.
Now, I believe I have mentioned that I am a pretty fair long distance runner, and Duryattes sprinted as only the very young can, so we should have easily eluded our pursuers. I do not think they recognized me at that time, probably because of the cloak covering my head and black raiment I was wearing, when they spied me talking to their sister. They were calling “Hey, you” and “Stop, whoreson” behind us, but I did not hear even one “Bias, you bastard!” , so this reinforced my feeling of temporary security.
Note that I stated that we should have easily eluded our pursuers. They had fallen a good further twenty lengths behind in the race, and their lumbering gait was perceptibly slowing as I darted another look over my shoulder. That was my mistake, since one really should not run forward while looking backward.
I wrenched my head frontwards again just in time to dash headlong into a pair of donkeys piled high with a basketweaver's goods, as they crossed the street.
Although the two beasts probably did not weigh any more than I did and I had a good deal of momentum built up, they were certainly more sure-footed. They did not go down, but I did. Caroming off the near animal, I bounced into his mate and was rewarded with a lusty kick to my backside. Propelled forcefully into the wall of a whitewashed, mud brick house fronting the street, I collapsed onto the cobblestones, gasping like a fish out of water in its last moments. The donkeys, surprised and extremely annoyed, began bawling and kicking out at anything within reach, causing the unfortunate basketweaver to lose hold of the nearest beast and join me on the ground, cursing and screeching alternately at me and his asses. We both scrambled to get out of the way of the leaping animals, I rolling over and over to my right to bang back up against the house wall.
Needless to say, this accident allowed the twins from Hades to catch up to me.
Thrusting a huge hand into my cloak front, the nearest one hauled me unceremoniously to my shaky feet, grasped my hair roughly with his other hand, and lifted me up bodily to shake me like a rat in the jaws of a slavering dog. This was probably not easy for him, as you will recall that my mother had been particularly thorough in giving me a mourner's shorn haircut, but he managed it nicely. My teeth rattled against each other like several pairs of divining bones in a oracle's hands.
”You were talking to our sister, you bastard!” roared the giant, who clutched me tightly. “Do not deny it! I saw you, I did! Do not deny it!” He gave me a couple more prodigious shakes for good measure. I felt like my head was going to snap off the end of my neck, and out of the corner of my eye, somehow noticed Duryattes sprinting away down the street, leaving me to my fate. The words “rotten Carian coward” just had time to register in my brain, when another bone-rattling shake drove them out again.
Apparently satisfied with his jarring actions so far, my attacker slammed me back against the wall, bouncing my head playfully a few times against the mud and brick and causing stars to dance across my vision. The second brother arrived just at this moment, and decided to join the fray by grabbing my cloak at the shoulder. Brother number one then shifted his hold to my opposite shoulder, and I was hauled up like a caught deer hung on a heavy tree branch to drain its lifeblood away.
”Stop, stop!” I croaked. “I am the priest of Poseidon, and the magistrates' investigator!” My heels beat a futile tattoo against the mud bricks.
”Being a priest will not help you, whoreson,” grated the second sibling. “Who gave you permission to speak to Bilassa, eh? Answer that one, you cur!” He slapped my face several times for added emphasis as he spoke.
”I have the permission of the magistrates of Priene to speak to any citizen concerning the murder of the athlete Tyrestes!” I gurgled, clutching desperately at the front of my cloak to desperately pull it away from my throat, where it was slowly strangling me. My vision was starting to gray out at the edges.
”Nobody but my father, Kreton, has the right to give anybody permission to speak with Bilassa!” bellowed brother number one furiously. The spittle flying from his lips splashed me in the face. The two giants gave me another head banging for good measure, and I felt the beginnings of my consciousness start to slip away.
”No, I have a warrant!” I screeched. “From the magistrates! Let me show you my warrant.” I was desperate now, as I believed it was the intention of these two cyclops to do me some real harm. My ragged breathing sounded like the bellows of Zephyrus, that baleful wind who accompanied Boreus, as he blew through the skies.
Miraculously, the shaking and banging stopped. I pried opened my eyes to see the two staring at me suspiciously and in some surprise, and still holding me upright so that my feet could not touch the cobbles beneath.
”What do you mean, a warrant?” demanded brother number one. “A warrant to do what?”
”The magistrates!” I gasped hoarsely. “The magistrates have given me a warrant to question people about the death of Tyrestes! Let me down, and I will show it to you! Let me down!”
The gigantic pair eyed each other uncertainly for a moment, and then the first one nodded at the other. I was dropped abruptly into a heap at their sandalled feet, and then hauled unceremoniously to my feet again by brother number two.
”Let us see this so-called warrant,” jeered brother number one. He apparently was doing the talking for the two of them, perhaps being the brighter of the pair. However, I would not have wagered my purse on the intelligence of either of them, as their deep-set piggy eyes and low brows betrayed their lack of brilliance. But since brain power was not necessary for the actions at hand, they and their bulging muscles were doing just fine, while me and my brain were definitely in second place.
”It is in my purse, here, in my purse,” I babbled, searching frenziedly. I tore open the purse top, and thrust the small piece of vellum at them. Brother number one snatched it from my grasp, and stared at it suspiciously. I watched him as he tortuously scanned the document, his lips mouthing the words as he read to himself.
By this time, a small crowd had gathered around us, made up of curious gawkers and bored visitors. However, nobody lifted a hand to assist me, as they all suspected this was a family matter, and family matters in Ionia were only the business of the two families involved.
Brother number two was glaring alternately at me and at his sibling, who was still perusing the warrant.
”Well, what does it say? What is it?” Brother number one scratched his head, and looked uncertainly at the questioner, and back at the short document, frowning in bewilderment.
"It is signed by the magistrates," number one admitted at last. "It says that Bias of Priene has their authority to question anybody on the matter of the murder of Tyrestes, just as he said."
”The magistrates have no right to intrude on family prerogatives,” snarled number
two, keeping a tight grip on the front of my tunic and giving it a vicious twist. “Only father can give permission for anybody to speak to Bilassa. He is probably just one of these bastards, who is trying to bed Bilassa before father gets her married off! He is just one of those trying to take advantage of her innocence!”
Number one's eyes narrowed, as he glared at me. He dropped the warrant on the ground at my feet, and stared full into my face.
”I think you are right, brother,” he growled, his hamlike fist drawing back in front of my head. “This piece of vellum is worth
nothing. We will teach this whoreson what happens when you insult an innocent daughter of Priene!” By the gods, I am finished, I thought wildly, and struggled furiously in the grip of number two.
”That piece of vellum is worth a great deal!” a voice snapped angrily from behind number one, and I saw a large hand on the end of a heavily-muscled arm grasp his shoulder from behind. “Let Bias go at once, do you hear?”
Number one swung around in surprise to confront the stern features of the magistrate Nolarion. Behind him, peeping timorously over his shoulder, I could see the face of Duryattes.
”Magistrate!” number one blurted out in a shocked tone. “This is a family matter. We caught this fellow speaking to our sister without permission. He must be taught a lesson!”
”Are you deaf, you great idiot?” shouted Nolarion, shoving his face up to the startled visage of the speaking brother. “He has a warrant signed by the authorities of this city to investigate a murder. Look at his mourning clothing! Tyrestes died in his arms, and he is charged with dispensing the miasma infecting him and these games!”
Brother number two now noticed the black tunic beneath my cloak, and snatched his hand away as if it were singed. I sank back against the mud brick wall, gulping for air, and silently thanked Poseidon profusely for looking after his own.
Number one swung back to stare at me in my mourning clothing, and then at the warrant that Nolarion had picked up and was shaking in the giant's face.
”Defy this warrant, and I will have you apprehended for interfering with the government of this city,” he threatened, waving it back and forth as if drying a wet piece of cloth in the air. The giant's eyes followed the document from side to side, as if it were a snake about to bite him, and then he reluctantly stepped away to the side.
”Very well, magistrate,” he growled, glaring alternately at Nolarion and myself.”But know this. I will speak to my father about your warrant and your authority. This is a family matter!” He locked his gaze on my somewhat battered visage.
”And you,” he snarled. “Do not speak to my sister again, warrant or not. She is not to be bothered by any unmarried man. She is too innocent for the likes of you, priest or investigator or whatever!” He spat angrily onto the cobbles by my feet, glared one last time at the big magistrate, and stalked off, followed by the protesting and bewildered brother number two. Nolarion turned to me in anger.
”Are you mad, Bias? That warrant is only worth what an individual citizen thinks it is worth. I would hope that you know that. What in Poseidon's name do you think you were doing, talking to a single woman without permission?” I struggled to stand upright, and began to straighten my clothing.
”I spoke to Kreton's daughter, Bilassa, because I believed she may have been involved in the murder,” I said at length. “I thought you and the other magistrates issued me with that warrant in order to find a murderer. I cannot do that if I do not obtain facts and opinions by talking to people.”
Nolarion considered me fiercely for a moment, and then his strong glare diminished.
”You must know that you cannot flout the rules of our society with impunity, warrant or not. You should have asked Kreton for permission to talk to his daughter.”
”If I had done that, the answer would have either been 'no' or I would have had to speak to her in the presence of a brother or a loyal slave. I would have learned nothing.”
”And what did you learn?” inquired the magistrate, his curiosity overcoming his annoyance with me. “Is she involved with the murder?”
”I do not believe so,” I answered. “I honestly believe she does not have the intelligence to have participated in the planning or the execution of the crimes.” I could have added that she also had the morals of a street whore, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor in this case.
”Well, if nothing else, that eliminates one of your possible suspects.” Nolarion tugged at his luxuriant black beard. He sighed gustily. “What will you do next in your plan?” He peered at me expectantly from under bushy brows. Although I knew what I planned to do next, which was speak to Usthius, I suddenly did not want him to know. I do not know why I felt this way--I simply did.
”I do not know what to do next,” I lied, looking straight into those dark eyes. “I think I may go to the baths and steam some of the pain from the head and shoulders!”
He nodded vigorously at this, told me to be more prudent, and turned to go.
”Thank you for your intervention, magistrate,” I said to him. “I do not like to think of what would have happened if you had not been nearby.”
”I was not, Bias,” he admitted, stopping to look back at me. “Your servant raced into the stadium from another entrance and quickly persuaded me that you were in mortal danger. He was apparently correct. You are in his debt, not mine.” He turned back and walked swiftly back toward the stadium. I swung slowly to face Duryattes, who had been waiting in silent expectation by the wall to my side. He looked at me in what I took to be amusement, but did not so much as twitch his mouth in the beginnings of a smile.
”I wish to thank you, Duryattes,” I said carefully. This admission did not come easily to me. “You acted swiftly and decisively. I must admit that I initially did you the injustice of thinking you ran away, but I can see that I was mistaken. You acted in the best traditions of the house of Holicius.”
He eyed me without speaking for a few long moments, and then grinned and bowed slightly at the waist.
”Young master, I admit I did have thoughts of running away for an instant or two when the two giants were upon us, but I quickly thought better of it. My father, Dryses, would never have forgiven me, if I had let harm befall the heir of the house of Holicius!”
I grinned back at him, and reached up to rub the back of my aching head.
Edwards—Murder At The Panionic Games