Стив Хокенсмит - Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 51, No. 6, June 2006

She promised. “I intend to rest for a while.”

I left. I should have made her promise not to leave the tavern.

Downstairs, I looked for Mides and asked him to keep watch over Selkine while I went out. “I must go up to the sanctuary, and I do not want her left alone. She may be in some danger.”

Mides’ eyes opened wide, but he asked no questions. “I’ll stay all night if necessary. I’m sure the innkeeper will give me a room.”

From behind us, the innkeeper grunted. Mides and I took the grunt as assent.

“Fine,” I said, relieved. “Be sure that Selkine stays inside.”

Mides nodded. “I’ll just go to the villa where I’m staying to get some things. I’ll return within the hour.”

“Fine. Selkine is resting now. But get back as soon as you can.”

I went back upstairs to tell Selkine that Mides would return to the tavern later and would be there if she needed him. Back downstairs, I remembered Selkine’s admonition to take someone with me. Not seeing the innkeeper, I asked his wife where her husband was, but she shrugged. “Out,” she said.

I went alone to the sanctuary.

The sun still shone on the mountain of Parnassus. I had an hour or so before the sun sank below the horizon. I headed up to the Lesche, hoping that Ampheus might be there on some administrative duty. He was not. I trudged back down to the bouleuterion where the aldermen of Delphi held their meetings. Ampheus was not there.

I headed down toward the treasuries, hoping to find one of the security men of Delphi. Perhaps he might be able to tell me if Ampheus was at the sanctuary or not. A security man might also be able to tell me who Ampheus had been seen with over the last several days.

I passed the treasury houses, stopping briefly to look at the sculptures of our hero Theseus on the front pediment. Our myths said that he had successfully defeated the Minotaur and saved Athenian youths from terrible deaths by the beast, then returned to Athens to found a democracy, the democracy now in danger. I stood in the cool breeze blowing off the mountains and shivered, wondering whether Parmades’ death was the first of many to come for Athens. What conspiracy was brewing to bring us down?

I shook off my fears as best I could and continued down the sacred way. I passed by the treasury of Siphnos, with its magnificent statues holding up bell-shaped capitals. The statues’ eyes, inlaid gems, glowed in the sun’s fading light. I felt that they were watching me, and as I moved down the sacred way, I swung back around to look at them. I could have sworn that the shadow of one of them moved toward me. I chastised myself for letting my fears gnaw away at my reason, but that did not stop me from feeling relieved when I spotted a security man. He said he needed to secure the temple when the last pilgrim left and to see the sibyl and the priests safely out of the sanctuary, but that he would speak with me before he secured the doors for the evening. I agreed to meet him at the northwestern gate below the theatre. I could, he said, leave by that exit, the last one he would have to secure for the night.

I walked up to the gate, breathing in the smell of pine and listening to the cry of eagles as they flew home to their nests. I envied them. I longed for the joy and warmth of Selkine and, perhaps for the first time, understood Odysseus’ longing to be home with his wife, Penelope.

I started at a sound that echoed off the sloped seats of the theatre. A rock, dislodged by a walker. I looked around. Several people were still moving about the sanctuary, including two men headed to the gate and the stoa beyond, a place to rest or to take shelter from the mountain’s cold air or blowing storms. I considered taking shelter there myself, but I did not want to miss the security man. I consoled myself with climbing the stairs to look at the great bronze charioteer that Polyzalos of Gela had erected in gratitude for his victory in the games of Delphi. Even in the fading light, the charioteer’s intense gaze mesmerized me. His powerful neck, his tousled hair, the strong bend of his arms, all marked him as a victor. The sculptor, Critias of Athens, had created a masterpiece.

I was absorbed in studying the face of the charioteer when the blow came. Had I not bent forward to better see the finely molded folds in the bronze dress, I would have taken the blow full on my head. As it was, the blow fell on my shoulder. I pitched forward, fell, rolled, and scrambled up, fully expecting to see the Spartan coming at me.

It was Tedar, the innkeeper. He had a narrow-necked urn in his hand, and he came at me, swinging the urn. I dodged, ducking behind one of the bronze horses of Polyzalos’ chariot. The innkeeper came on. I dropped on all fours and scurried under the horse. I managed to get out from under the horse and dashed for the stairs. I had three flights to get down before I could reach the level of the sanctuary. I could hear the innkeeper grunting behind me. I raced for the gate, hoping the two men I’d seen were still in the stoa.

Behind me, the innkeeper grunted again, closer. I could almost feel his breath. Then the urn struck me on the side of the head. I lurched toward the sanctuary wall. The innkeeper had flung the urn, and it had hit its mark. I turned to face my attacker.

Someone brushed by me. I blinked, focused, and saw the security man thrust the innkeeper up against the wall of the great bronze sculpture.

I thanked Apollo for my rescue and dashed to help the security man. He was muttering darkly about the punishment for violence in the sanctuary. He didn’t need my help. He hauled the innkeeper toward the gate, admonishing me to leave before he returned.

I leaned against the wall of the sanctuary, dabbing the side of my head with my tunic. My head hurt, but I was not seriously injured. No doubt, I would live to lose another fight with someone and need rescuing.

I dabbed at my head again. The bleeding had slowed down considerably, and I began to think again. The innkeeper must have killed Parmades. He was certainly too dense to be involved in any conspiracy, but he was brutal and crude enough to commit murder for a bribe. In any event, I would know tomorrow. I hoped that the security man and I could intimidate Tedar enough to make him tell us who the briber was, though I had no doubt it was the priest Ampheus.

Glad to see a bright moon beginning to light the sanctuary, I was turning toward the gate when I heard the scream. High and clear, it rang out from the theatre and echoed off the temple and the cliffs, ricocheting through the sanctuary.

I knew that clear voice. It was Selkine’s.

The scream came again, and I raced for the stairs, taking them three at a time. I rounded the mound at the side of the theatre and ran toward the nearest aisle.

I could see, at the top of the theatre’s steep wooden seats, three figures, struggling as if each were determined to fling the other two down the seats to their deaths.

I raced up the wooden stairs, my heart and head beating and my knees protesting. Just as I reached the top, I saw Selkine lift her arm, white in the increasingly bright moonlight, and thrust it forward. The man she was struggling with lurched back. I jumped to the top level of the theatre and ran toward the threesome, now only twenty footlengths away from me.

I saw Mides, apparently just as he saw me. He clutched at his nose, turned and ran, heading to the right and up the narrow path that led to the stadium.

“Kleides,” Selkine shouted. “Mides is the murderer. I’m sure of it.”

I confess to feeling startled, even shocked. How had Selkine, a woman, solved the murder of Parmades when I had not? My mixed emotions slowed my headlong pursuit of Mides up the hill. I hardly knew what I was feeling: pride at Selkine’s intelligence, disgust with my own obtuseness at Delphi, and — I do confess it — almost jealousy at Selkine’s competence.