“That was Melo?”
“Yes. You may well be surprised. We certainly were. A young man rode in a few days later. He said he was Melo, the son of Thessalus, and that he was betrothed to Ophelia. Then, without even pausing for breath, he demanded to see his fiancée. In private.”
“Had they ever met before?”
“No.”
“Were they truly betrothed?” Diotima asked.
“Good question! We had no idea. We’d heard nothing from the girl’s father, but then, there was no requirement for him to tell us. I’m certain Ophelia herself didn’t know. She was standing right behind me when the young man announced their intended marriage. The look on the child’s face told me this came as news to her.”
“Tricky for you,” I said.
“Very. Thea decided that, in the absence of a formal note from Ophelia’s father announcing a contract, she couldn’t possibly allow the couple even to see each other, let alone be together in private.”
No, of course not. I nodded to show I was in total agreement with the High Priestess. If the man and the girl were alone for any appreciable time, it would call into question the girl’s virginity. Not necessarily a problem if the couple were to marry, but if Melo was there on a pretense then it would be a disaster for the girl. Thea had done the right thing.
“Melo refused to leave,” said Doris. “Never in my time at Brauron have I seen such rudeness. Thea told him to come back with the father’s permission, which he should have obtained in the first place. He pushed past her.”
“He laid hands on the High Priestess?” Diotima said. She couldn’t have been more surprised if Doris had said that Zeus had descended from Olympia.
“That was when Zeke hit him. Goodness, it’s been ages since I saw him move that fast.” Doris laughed. “Melo’s major concern seemed to be whether Ophelia was attractive.”
And fair enough, too. Who wants an ugly wife? But I kept that thought to myself; I was fairly sure neither woman would appreciate the point.
Doris said, “He repeated several times, in the hearing of every woman present, that he’d refuse a wife who wasn’t erotic.”
That probably wasn’t the most tactful way of putting it, especially to a temple full of women.
“Was Ophelia listening in?” Diotima asked.
“Probably!” Doris said, and she grimaced. “They’re normal children; I wouldn’t be surprised if every one of them returned and watched from around a corner.”
“So Ophelia heard that her future husband was there to check her out.” Diotima grimaced.
“She also saw her High Priestess order Melo off the sanctuary. The young man went away angry. And that was the end of that. The High Priestess wrote a note to Ophelia’s father and sent it with our fastest runner. After that ugly episode, I expected to hear that the marriage negotiations had fallen through. But we heard nothing.”
“Wait,” I said. “Did you tell this Melo which girl was Ophelia?”
“No, but when he announced the betrothal many of the girls gasped, and every eye turned to Ophelia. That and the expression on her face must have told him which girl was his bride. I’m sure he knew.”
“Then that explains how he knew to find Ophelia in the girls’ bedrooms, and not some other girl.”
“What’s this?” Doris said, startled.
I explained that the intruder the other night had been Melo-something we’d withheld from the sanctuary, telling them merely that someone had tried to break in and that Diotima had spotted them.
It was Doris’s turn to grimace. “Thea isn’t going to like it when she hears this.”
“Then don’t tell her,” Diotima said.
“Spoken like a true schoolgirl, my dear. Unfortunately, we adults have other standards. I fear …”
“Yes?”
“The thing is, Nicolaos, there’s another possibility. This is a man who wanted to know his future wife was erotic. Those were his own words. I fear Melo waylaid Ophelia at night, raped her, killed her, and then hid her body somewhere in the woods.”
We found Zeke in the fields to the northwest of the complex. The sanctuary owned land about the place and used it to grow crops for food, plus a few goats, a cow for milk, sheep, and a hen house for eggs. As small farms went, this one was highly productive, which was a good thing considering the number of mouths that had to be fed. Zeke was obviously an accomplished farmer; his darkened, dry skin certainly attested to the days he spent out here. At that moment he labored at the hen house, where the fencing had been damaged.
“Foxes,” he explained between grunts. “They didn’t get in, but it was a near thing. The night guard chased those four-legged bastards away.” Zeke had younger men to do the heavy work, but he insisted on resetting the posts himself. “ ’Cause they gotta be done right,” he said.
“Is there always a night guard out here?” I asked.
“That’s why we’ve still got our animals.”
“But setting guards around the entire sanctuary was a new thing, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Since Allike. The guards settled the girls right down, made ’em feel safe.”
I said, “The thing is, Zeke, we’re not sure the sanctuary guards were entirely effective.”
Zeke’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment I thought he would shout at me. Perhaps I could have put it more delicately, but if Melo had told us the truth, then on at least one occasion after the guards were placed, Ophelia had managed to creep out of the grounds to meet her betrothed, and then had crept back to her bed. That was if Melo was telling the truth, of course. If the security had been solid, it would cast doubt on his word.
“Perhaps you could tell us how you set the guards?” I said.
“By talking to them,” he said slowly, as if he were speaking to a village idiot.
“No, I meant where did you place the guards. How do you know someone couldn’t have slipped through?”
The last post dropped into its hole with a satisfying thud. Zeke nodded. He gave the young men detailed instructions how he wanted the holes filled in. Then he rubbed his dirty hands on his dirty tunic and said, “Come with me.” Without looking to see if we followed, he set off across the land. He led us to the stone bridge that crossed the river.
“This is the main road in and out of the sanctuary. In fact, it’s the only real road. All the other routes are tracks you couldn’t drive a cart down. I was short of men, but two guards I set here, both good men,” Zeke said.
“Why two guards, then?” Diotima asked. “The bridge is wide, but one is enough to see all of it.”
I knew the answer to that one, but I let Zeke answer.
“ ’Cause it’s the most obvious route. If one man gets knocked out, the other can call for help.”
I nodded. That’s what they’d taught me in the army.
The bridge was wider even than the distance across the river, so that it resembled a square.
“Does this road go any farther?”
“No, this is the end.”
The bridge was supported by long stone blocks that ran lengthways in the river. Those supporting blocks were two hands in width, and almost ten paces long! The stream ran smoothly between them. The road was made of heavy, thick pavers laid across the supports. Even the heaviest of wagons could have crossed with ease.
“This bridge would do credit to the main entrance of a major city,” I said, impressed. “You could get an army across it.”
Zeke shrugged.
“What in Hades is it doing on a dead-end road to a minor temple?”
“A major temple, Nico, thank you very much,” Diotima said.
“Mind if I look underneath?” I asked.
“I won’t stop you,” Zeke said.
I hitched up my exomis and stepped into the running water. Holding on to the top of the bridge, I pulled myself across, stopping at each gap between the underlying supports to peer beneath.