Lindsey Davis - See Delphi And Die

'No, but Pelops was better than ever after he was mended, and went out into the world to be a hero.'

'So that was when he came to Olympia and cheated in the chariot race?'

'No choice, Marcus.' Helena was smiling. 'Oenomaus was challenging his daughter's suitors using a set of magic, unbeatable steeds.'

'Unfair! But Pelops had his own magic horses, didn't he? Given to him by Poseidon?'

'Perhaps. In a different version, Hippodameia was as keen on Pelops as he was on her. She was desperate not to see his handsome head skewered above the lintel. So she went to her father's charioteer, Myrtilos, and persuaded him to sabotage Oenomaus' chariot by putting in a wax cotter-pin, making a wheel fall off. Now Myrtilos, rightly or wrongly, thought he had agreed to spike the chariot in order to sleep with Hippodameia himself. After the race he tried to claim his reward. Pelops and Myrtilos fought; Pelops drowned Myrtilos in the sea, but as he finally went under, Myrtilos called down a curse on all the descendants of Pelops and Hippodameia. They had, of course, two bonny sons, Atreus and Thyestes.'

I wagged a finger. 'I sense a bout of Homer coming on!'

'There is more to your Uncle Marcus than a tough nature and a cheeky grin,' Helena told the boys. 'He comes scowling along, fresh from haranguing witnesses, then suddenly he demonstrates how much he reads. So your turn, Marcus.'

'I'm grown up. I don't have to recite lessons.' The boys looked impressed by my rebellion.

Helena sighed. 'Spoilsport. It's a second helping of human stew, I'm afraid. Atreus and Thyestes quarrelled incessantly over their inheritance. Finally Atreus cut up all of his brother's children – except one – and served them at a feast where Thyestes was the guest of honour. Thyestes failed to spot the family's signature dish and he ate up heartily. The only survivor was called Aegisthus.'

Helena was flagging so I relented. 'The famous son of Atreus is King Agamemnon. His nagging wife is Clytemnestra. In his absence at the Trojan War, she becomes the lover of moody cousin Aegisthus. Aegisthus is getting revenge for the new stew incident; Clytemnestra is getting her lust satisfied. On his return from the Trojan War, these lovers murder Agamemnon, whose son and daughter then murder them, providing material for many tragedians.'

'The moral is: only eat salad. If a travel group are going on to see Troy,' said Helena, 'Olympia makes an appropriate starting point.'

'Yes, the Seven Sights group don't just get sport; they are on a drama-rich route. After a detour to Sparta, their next stop is Mycenae, Agamemnon's palace. Then Aulis, whence the Greek ships departed, and on to Troy – Troy is rubbish nowadays, I have heard, just touts and tacky souvenir stalls. So tell me, Helena, is that why you were fascinated with Pelops?' I asked.

'Well, he represents heroic mortal man. He seems to have had a bad conscience; there are a host of memorials he set up – Myrtilos, Oenomaus, the previous suitors.'

'Big of him. I'm damned if I'd honour your old lovers!'

'Didius Falco, you are an informer; you don't have a conscience.' Untrue. Helena knew that very well.

'The whole Peloponnese is named after Pelops!' chirped Cornelius. He had taken to showing off.

Gaius stretched out full length on his back. 'This place is stuffed with relics. As well as his shoulder bone we saw his ceremonial dagger with a gold pommel, in the Treasury of Sikyon.'

'And Hippodameia's couch,' said Albia. 'And her shrine.'

'Girls' stuff!' I mocked. 'Now look. I am glad you are all having a good time as sightseers, but we came to Greece on a case.'

'I am pursuing the case,' Helena growled. 'Imagine it. The men on the tour had become obsessed with all the bloody sports – boxing, wrestling, and ghastly pankration. The women were sick of the men coming home, prattling about violence and blood. They fixed up a Pelops tour as a distraction. Later that evening, Valeria went to her death – so I am trying to deduce what was in her mind that day.'

'Get anywhere with this theory?'

'I am wondering,' she carried on regardless, 'did the courtship of Hippodameia hold a special resonance for Valeria? If she had found she was unhappy with her own new husband, was she affected by the story of a spirited young woman who gained herself a man who really wanted her? Perhaps it made Valeria restless.'

I gazed at my girl thoughtfully. Helena herself had had an arranged marriage, to a weak man who failed her. She stuck it out miserably for a few years, then divorced him. I knew Helena remembered how depressed she had been, both in her marriage and after it fell through.

'Sweetheart, are you suggesting that Valeria Ventidia was afraid she had committed herself to second-best for ever, so became reckless of her own safety? She wanted to ditch Statianus and find herself an old-style hero?'

'No, I just suspect that while the women were trailing around the Altis hearing about Pelops, poor little Valeria accidentally caught her killer's eye.'

'So this brute offered her a ride in his racing chariot?' I suggested with a leer. Then more seriously, 'No, because whoever he was, I'm certain he drew her to the palaestra with sportsman's gossip about long jumps.'

'Couldn't afford a chariot,' Gaius intoned, with envy. 'Uncle Marcus, you have to own millions to race chariots. So much, it is the owners and not the drivers who receive the crowns for winning.'

'Right. Not a charioteer then.'

Helena pressed on. 'Another question: who took the women on the tour? None of the guides will own up.'

'Still, you managed to find the various relics by yourself.'

Gaius rolled on to his stomach as he and Cornelius chorused, 'Helena is clever!'

'Well, why are the guides so sneery? Pelops is the founder of the Games.'

'Or it's Hercules!' Helena told me. 'Anyway, the cult adherents want to keep this site as primarily dedicated to Zeus. Pelops is relegated, a mere symbol of human endeavour. The gods rule this grove.'

'And Zeus is top god… Well, I'd say the women's Pelops excursion has no bearing on what happened to Valeria.'

Cornelius was looking anxious. 'At least she wasn't chopped up and eaten in a stew!' It was a shock to discover that I had a nephew who was sensitive. 'Uncle Marcus, is it safe here? I won't end up in a pot being eaten, will I?'

'You take care. Even Zeus himself had a narrow escape,' Helena teased him. 'Cronus, his father, who used to be king of the heavens, had been warned that a son of his would depose him. Every time a child was born, he ate it. After she bore Zeus, his mother had to hide the baby, disguised as a stone, hung between heaven and earth where Cronus would not find him and gobble him up.'

Cornelius covered his ears and ran off, squealing.

That grisly tale brought my attention back to the Hill of Cronus, where Marcella Caesia had died, with her body laid out under the stars, until her stubborn father came at last and found her. A Roman parent, more caring of his daughter than the average mythical Greek.

Gloomily I wondered what was happening to Julia Junilla and Sosia Favonia back in Rome. My mother-in-law kept a quiet house. I was fairly sure the noble Julia would not issue any challenge to the gods at a pot-luck picnic. Her cook would be spoiling my daughters with treats – our worst problem would be bringing them back to normality when we returned home.

We were running out of options. We were low on food too. Helena had told the doorman we would skip having meals from his sister. She had put together a scratch supper with purchases from site vendors. There was bread, and some vine leaf parcels, with the remains of our Roman sausage.

'I need to have meat!' Young Glaucus complained, ranting that Milo of Croton, the most famous Olympic athlete of all time, had eaten twenty pounds of meat and twenty pounds of bread a day, washed down with eighteen pints of wine. 'Milo trained by carrying a calf on his shoulders. As it grew day by day and week by week into a full-size ox, the effect was like cumulative weight training. In the end, he ate the whole ox in a single sitting.'