The Athenian Murders (25 page)

He was trying to sound encouraging, to give me hope, but I could tell he didn't think it such a good idea. 'Actually,' I said, 'I have discovered something - the Labours of Hercules, and a girl with a lily who—'

'They mean nothing,' he interrupted impatiently. 'They're just images! To you they may be the Labours of Hercules or a girl with a lily, but to another reader they might be something quite different. Don't you see? Images change, they're imperfect! You have to find a final idea that's
the same
for all readers! You have to ask yourself what the key is. There must be a hidden meaning!'

I stammered a few clumsy words. Heracles observed me, coldly curious, before saying: 'Pah! Why are you crying? You should be getting down to work, not giving up! Look for the central idea. Use my method of logic: you know me, you know how I work. Delve into the words! There must be something!
Something!
'

I leaned over the papers, my eyes still wet. But it suddenly seemed terribly

important to ask him how he'd managed to get out of the novel and to appear in my
cell. He interrupted imperiously: ‘The end of the chapter’ he said.
⁶³

⁶³
I've resisted a strong urge to destroy this bogus Chapter Eight, no doubt added to the book by my kidnapper. The only thing the bastard has succeeded in doing is making me cry - something I seem to be doing all the time lately. It's one of the ways I measure time. But Whoever He Is is quite wrong if he thinks these interpolated pages are going to make me lose my mind. I now know what he's up to - they're messages,
instructions, orders, threats ... He no longer even tries to disguise the fact that they're fake.
Reading myself
in the first person made me feel quite sick. To dispel the feeling, I tried to think of what I
really would have said.
I don't
think I would have 'moaned', as it puts it in the text. I'm sure I would have asked a lot more questions than the pathetic creature that was supposed to be me. He got it completely right about the crying though. I'm now starting on what I assume to be the real Chapter Eight. (T.'s N.)

VIII
⁶⁴

T
he final days of the Lenaea slowed the usual rhythm of the City. That sunny morning, a dense line of merchants' carts was blocking the Dipylon Gate; insults and orders filled the air, but movements remained heavy and clumsy. By the Piraeus Gate, the pace was even slower, and a complete turn of a cart's wheel could take a quarter of a clepsydra. Slaves carrying amphorae, messages, bundles of firewood and sacks of wheat through the streets shouted at one another to clear the way. People rose late. The Assembly at the Dionysus Eleuthereus was behind schedule. Since many of the
prytaneis
were absent, votes could not be held. Speeches flagged, and the few spectators dozed on the tiers. Let us now listen to the magnificent Janocrates. Owner of large estates on the outskirts of the City, Janocrates went with a shambling gait to the speaker's podium and began slowly declaiming, to general indifference. In the temples, sacrifices were delayed because the priests were busy preparing the last few processions. At the Monument to the Eponymous Heroes, heads bowed reluctantly over edicts and new regulations. The situation in Thebes was stable. The return of Pelopidas, the exiled Cadmean general, was expected. Agesilaus, King of Sparta, was opposed by almost all Hellas. Citizens, our support for Thebes is crucial to the stability of ... But, judging by the tired faces of those reading, nobody seemed to feel anything was 'crucial' just then.

⁶⁴
I'm working very slowly! Very, very
slowly
! I've got to work faster if I want to get out of here. (T.'s N.)

Two men stood peering at a tablet and exchanging leisurely words: 'Look, Amphicus, it says here that more volunteers are needed for a patrol to exterminate the wolves on Lycabettus.'

'We're so much slower and clumsier than the Spartans.'

'Peace has made us soft - we won't even sign up to kill wolves.'

Another man was gazing at the tablets with the same torpid interest as the rest. From the blank look on his face - set into a bald, spherical head - one might have thought that his mind was clumsy and slow. In fact he had hardly slept the previous night. Time to go and see the Decipherer, he thought. He walked away from the Monument, directing his slow steps towards the district of Escambonidai.

What was wrong with the day, Diagoras wondered. Why did everything around him seem to be sliding clumsily, slowly, like honey?
⁶⁵
The sun's chariot stood motionless in its furrow in the sky; time felt like thick mead; it was as if the goddesses of Night, Dawn and Morning refused to move and remained still, united, fusing darkness and light into a stagnant grey colour. Diagoras felt slow and confused, but his anxiety kept him going - it was like a weight in his stomach; it emanated slowly as
sweat on his palms; it plagued him like a horsefly; it drove him on despite his lethargy.

⁶⁵
It's eidesis, idiot, eidesis,
eidesis
! It changes everything, gets into everything, influences everything. Now we have the idea of 'slowness' which, in turn, hides another idea. ('I.'s
N
.)

The journey to Heracles Pontor's house seemed as endless as the distance from Marathon. The garden was quiet, the silence embellished only by the slow repetitive chant of a cuckoo. He knocked hard at the door and waited. He heard steps. The door opened, and he said: 'I've come to see Heracles Po—'

The young woman was not Ponsica. Her untidy, curly hair floated freely, framing an angular face. While not exactly beautiful, she was strange, mysterious, as challenging as a hieroglyph carved in stone - unblinking eyes as clear as quartz, thick lips, a slender neck. Her prominent bosom
filled her
peplos
and ... By Zeus, now he remembered who she was!

'Come in, come in, Diagoras,' said Heracles Pontor, poking his head over the girl's shoulder. 'I was expecting someone else, so that's why

'I don't wish to disturb you ... if you're busy' Diagoras' eyes went from Heracles to the girl and back again, as if seeking an answer from either.

'You're not disturbing me. Come in.' There was a slow, clumsy moment as the girl moved aside in silence. Heracles gestured towards her: 'You've met Yasintra. Come on. We'll be more comfortable on the terrace in the orchard.'

Diagoras followed
the Decipherer down a dark corridor. He
sensed
- he didn't want to look round - that
she
wasn't behind them, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Outside, the light of the sun was powerful, blinding. It was hot
, but not uncomfortably so. Among the apple trees, Ponsica was leaning over the parapet of a white stone well, struggling to draw water with a heavy bucket; her grunts of effort echoed faintly through the mask. Heracles invited Diagoras to be seated. The Decipherer seemed pleased, delighted even; he smiled, rubbing his fat hands together, his podgy cheeks flushed (flushed!). There was a new mischievous twinkle in his eyes that took the philosopher aback.

'You may not believe it, but that young woman has helped me a great deal!'

'Of course I believe it.'

Surprised, Heracles suddenly understood Diagoras' suspicions.

'Please, it's not what you think, good Diagoras. Allow me to recount what happened last night, when I returned home after satisfactorily completing my task ...'

By the time Heracles arrived home, Selene's gleaming sandals had trodden more than half of the celestial furrow that she ploughed each night. He entered the familiar darkness of his garden. The thick foliage of the trees, silvered by the cold emanations of the moon, waved soundlessly without disturbing the light sleep of the cold little birds dozing on the heavy branches, densely packed into their nests.
⁶⁶

Then he saw it: thrown into relief by the moon, a shadow among the trees. It stopped suddenly. He regretted not carrying a dagger beneath his cloak - in his profession it was sometimes needed.

⁶⁶
I'm sorry, but I can't stand it. Eidesis has now slipped into the descriptions, and Heracles' meeting with Yasintra is being recounted at an exasperatingly slow pace. In an attempt to speed things up, I'm going to take advantage of my position as translator and condense the text, including only the essentials.
(T.'s N.)

But the shape - a dark pyramid, with a wide base and rounded apex topped by silver-streaked hair - was still motionless. 'Who is it?' he asked. 'Me.'

A young man's voice, possibly an ephebe's. But there was something ... He was sure he'd heard it before. The figure stepped towards him.

'Who's 'me'?'

'Me.'

'Who are you looking for?' 'You.'

'Come closer, let me see you.' 'No.'

He felt uneasy. The stranger seemed afraid, yet not afraid; dangerous, yet harmless. It occurred to him suddenly that such opposing qualities were characteristic of a woman. Who could she be? Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed torches and heard dissonant singing. Perhaps the survivors of one of the last processions of the Lenaea, returning home inspired by the songs heard or sung during the ritual, driven by the anarchic will of the wine.

'Do I know you?'

'Yes. No,' said the figure.

Paradoxically, it was the enigmatic answer that yielded her identity at last. 'Yasintra?'

The figure didn't answer immediately. The torches approached, yet they didn't seem to move.

'Yes.'

'What do you want?' 'Help.'

Heracles decided to come nearer, and his right foot took a step forward. The song of the crickets seemed to subside. The torch flames waved sluggishly, like heavy curtains drawn by an old man with a trembling hand. Heracles' left foot advanced by another Eleatic segment. The crickets resumed their chirruping. The torch flames changed shape imperceptibly, like clouds. Heracles raised his right foot. The crickets fell silent. The flames reared, petrified. The foot descended. Sounds no longer existed. The flames did not move. The foot paused on the grass .. .
⁶⁷

Diagoras felt as if he'd been listening to Heracles for a very long time.

⁶⁷
I can't go on. The rest of this lengthy paragraph consists of an agonisingly slow description of each step Heracles takes towards Yasintra, though, paradoxically, he never reaches her - putting one in mind of Zeno of Elea's paradox of Achilles and the tortoise (which is where we get the expression 'Eleatic segment'). All this, and the frequent repetition of the words 'slow', 'heavy' and 'clumsy', together with all the ploughing metaphors, suggests the labour of the Oxen of Geryon, the cattle Hercules has to steal from the monster Geryon. The 'shambling gait' mentioned is from Homer for, according to the author of the
Iliad,
oxen are animals of 'shambling gait' . . . And talking of heavy and slow, I must just mention that I've managed to empty my bowels
at last, and it's put me in a good mood. The end of my constipation may be a
good omen, a sign that I'm going to speed up and achieve my goals.
(T
.'s N.)

'I've offered her my hospitalit
y and have promised to help her’
Heracles was explaining. 'She's just been threatened and she's very frightened. She didn't know who to turn to - our laws aren't kind to women of her sort, as you know.' 'Who has threatened her?'

'The same people who threatened her before we found her. That's why she ran away when she saw us. Please don't get impatient, I'll explain everything. We have plenty of time. We now simply have to wait for news ... Ah, the final moments in the solving of an enigma are particularly enjoyable! Would you like a cup of undiluted wine?'

'Yes, today I would,' muttered Diagoras.

Once Ponsica had left, having placed a heavy tray with two cups and a krater of undiluted wine beside him, Heracles said: 'Listen and please don't interrupt, Diagoras. My explanation will take longer if you distract me.'

He began pacing up and down with a slow, shambling gait, addressing first the walls, then the gleaming orchard, as if practising a speech to the Assembly. He accompanied the words with leisurely gestures of his fat hands.
⁶⁸

Tramachus, Antisus and Euneos meet Menaechmus. When? Where? Who knows? It doesn't matter. The fact is, Menaechmus suggests they pose for him and perform in his plays. He falls in love with them and invites them to his licentious gatherings together with other ephebes.
⁶⁹