Dromeus considered Markos’s words. “All right,” he said. “After the ceremony, where my moron of a student made a complete ass of himself in front of everyone, I dragged the young idiot here to the gym. Well, you know that, Nicolaos, you turned up later.”
I nodded. I could still feel the bruises.
“No one hung around after you left. Timodemus had his rubdown. Then his uncle led him away.”
“Not One-Eye?” I interrupted.
“He wasn’t there. You know that.”
So I did. One-Eye had gone to see Pericles and then the judges.
“What about that night? Did you see Timodemus then?”
“Didn’t see him the entire evening.”
“What about One-Eye?”
“Didn’t see him neither.”
“Is that reasonable? You train his son, who was scheduled to fight in only a few days.”
“No, he isn’t. Timodemus is a prisoner. Remember?”
“You didn’t know that then.”
Dromeus shrugged. “All I can say is I didn’t see One-Eye nor his son nor his brother the whole night, and I stayed up late, let me tell you.”
“Oh?”
“I stayed at the gym to greet my friends. It was dark when we left here.”
“It took that long?” Markos asked.
“I have a lot of friends. Then we went out to dinner together.”
“All of you?”
“Most.”
“Anyone can vouch for you?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Dromeus nodded at Theo and Eosilos. They grinned back at me, or, rather, they bared their teeth.
“I saw Arakos,” Theo said. Every head turned, and Theo looked surprised at the attention his statement got him.
“What?” Dromeus said.
“When? Where?” I added.
“It was when I left you guys. After dinner. Remember, I said I was off to get a woman?”
Heads nodded. Everyone agreed Theo had been off to get a woman.
“Well, I was walking to the women’s camp, and Arakos passed me by.”
“Wait, when was this?” I demanded.
Theo scratched his head. “I dunno. To tell you the truth, I’m not too good at telling the time …”
“He means he was plastered,” added Eosilos helpfully.
Theo looked hurt. “That ain’t true, Eos,” he said. “I walked in a straight line all the way from here to the women, didn’t I?”
“You was walking in a straight line when you left,” Eos allowed. “All right, so you was mellow.”
“Mellow. Exactly.” Theo nodded. “Mellow’s fine. Means you can still get it up. Not like plastered, ’cause in that case with a woman you got to-”
“Could we get back to Arakos please?” I asked. “Can any of you remember when Theo left your company?”
They all looked blank.
“Was the moon still rising, or was it falling?” I asked in desperation.
“Rising,” said Dromeus. “I remember. Not long before it peaked.”
Close enough to midnight, then.
“Excellent. Now, Theo, think hard-”
He gaped at me with an open mouth.
“Where did you see Arakos?”
“We crossed the ford together.”
“Did he see you?”
“Sure. We spoke.”
“What!”
“I said I was going to get a woman, and he said he was, too, and then he was going to meet Timodemus to beat the little bastard senseless.”
“In the name of Zeus, why?”
“In revenge for what happened at Nemea.”
“What happened at Nemea?” Markos asked, looking confused. “What’s Nemea last year got to do with this?”
“Arakos lost. Timodemus won,” Theo said simply.
“I’ve heard there was some unpleasantness at Nemea,” I said.
Silence, but a few eyes turned toward Dromeus.
“Theo, why didn’t you tell me this before?” Dromeus said.
“You didn’t ask, Dromeus.”
“I would have stopped a fight.”
I asked the trainers, “Would it be cheating if two pankratists decided to batter each other in private, before the contest?”
They had to scratch their heads about that one. “I dunno,” said Eosilos. “I never heard of it happening, but there’s nothing in the rules against it, is there, Dromeus?”
Dromeus shook his head. “Nothing in the rules says no, but if my student agreed to meet Arakos in the woods, I’d kill the idiot before the judges did.”
“Dromeus, when I walked in, I heard you say, ‘I reckon it was one of those two what did it.’ Who were you talking about?”
“Never you mind.”
There was nothing I could do to force him to answer.
“What would you say if I told you someone-I won’t say who-has accused you of the murder?”
Dromeus laughed bitterly. “I’d say One-Eye was full of donkey crap.”
I gaped. “What makes you think it was One-Eye?”
“The look on your face, for one. But I know ’cause I can read people, and let me tell you that bastard would do anything to get Timodemus off. Do you know the most important skill of a pankratist?”
“Hitting people?”
Dromeus snorted. “If that’s all there was to it, any big man could be a champion. Look at Timodemus, he’s a small guy, but he can mix it up just fine. No, kid, the secret is in reading your opponent. Where he’s looking can tell you a lot. So can his body, which muscles are tense, which relaxed.”
“So you’re saying Timodemus can read people?” Markos said.
“Like a scroll. It’s why he’s the best. He’s never where the other guy’s about to strike. It’s almost impossible to hit the little bastard.”
It occurred to me, if Timo could read other people so well, then he knew Arakos was about to needle him before Arakos opened his mouth. Then how could he claim he was so enraged by Arakos that he acted without thought?
Markos said, “I take it you don’t like One-Eye.”
Dromeus shrugged. “I gotta train his son. I don’t have to like the father.”
“What about Timo himself?” I asked.
“Timodemus is all right,” Dromeus said. “Listen, kid, I like you. You took on Timodemus when you didn’t have a hope in Hades. You knew he was going to beat you to a pulp, didn’t you?”
“I told you we fought as kids. You said Timo needed to get the anger out of his system.”
He nodded. “I like that. A man ready to take a few lumps for a friend.”
“You said fighting me would get the anger out of Timo’s system. Did it work, Dromeus?”
“I think it did.”
“Then how can you think Timo killed Arakos?”
“You got it wrong, kid. You asked me before who the two were, the two I reckon did it.”
“Yes?”
“One-Eye and Festianos.”
The others in the room showed no surprise. It must have been common gossip. I said, “Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? They want their boy to win.”
“Festianos says you’re desperate yourself.”
Dromeus snorted. “I’m a professional. Sure I want my student up there. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna cheat for it. I told you I didn’t see One-Eye and Festianos that night, but I tried. I went around to their tent. Neither of them was there. I reckon they were off, seeing to Arakos.”
The moment we left the gym, Markos took my arm and led me to a quiet spot in the shade of the building. Quiet meant there were only ten other men sitting there, fanning themselves and talking sport. Olympia really was crowded.
Markos said softly, so the others wouldn’t hear, “Nico, this evidence of Dromeus agrees with the ostrakon I found, the one that demanded a meeting.”
“I know, Markos, but Timodemus denied writing it.”
“He’s your friend. I understand,” he said sympathetically. It was the tone of a man who spoke to the bereaved, or the soon to be bereaved.
“I don’t know, Markos. Give me some time. I need to think.”
Had Timo lied? I didn’t want to think about it, so instead, I wondered what Diotima was doing, whether she’d made any progress, and suddenly I was gripped by the empty feeling of not having her with me. So I said, “Come on, Markos. I want you to meet my wife.”
We found her at Petale’s tent. A queue of men waited outside. Diotima sat at a table beside the entrance with a stack of coins and a water clock dripping away the time.