“What are you looking for, Nico?” Diotima asked.
“Dead bodies,” I said. “But no luck.”
“You’d call that luck?”
“I guess not.”
Zeke walked north along the river bank. He said, “The river’s fordable for a man. I doubt a girl could cross it, not without risking drowning, anyways, so if you’re thinking Ophelia crossed the water at night, you can stop thinking it.” He stopped a hundred paces north of the bridge. “I set the next guard here. Everyone carried a torch. I walked it myself to make sure either the guards at the bridge or this one here could see me no matter where I stood. No blind spots, you see?”
I saw.
“This guard along the river was alone?” Diotima asked.
Zeke nodded. “Not enough men,” he explained. “But I ran the same system all round the rest of the sanctuary.”
I said, “An attacker could take down one of your guards, then get to the girls.”
“But that ain’t what happened,” he pointed out.
“Did you set guards at the rowboat?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we were keeping a killer out, no one thought we needed to keep a child in.”
That sounded all too reasonable.
“So Ophelia could have rowed away.”
“No. The boat’s too heavy for a girl to pull. Besides, the row-boat’s still in place.”
How obvious. So Ophelia didn’t leave that way.
Zeke knew his business. I said as much to him.
He shrugged. “I’ve been here many years. I’ve seen every way the girls have found to get in and out without being seen. There ain’t no way a stranger’s going to get in that I ain’t already walked myself.”
We thanked Zeke for his time. As we left, I said to Diotima, “One thing’s for sure: Zeke’s no ordinary maintenance man. There’s military in his background.”
“Yes,” Diotima said. “Thea told us he served during the Persian Wars.”
“That was in the ranks as a common soldier. I mean more than that. At one time or another, Zeke’s been an officer.”
“The way he set those guards?” Diotima asked.
I nodded. “There are camp commanders who are slacker than him.” I hesitated, then asked, “Do you think he’s trustworthy?”
“Zeke?” Diotima looked surprised. “He was here when I was a child. He was probably here when the gods walked the earth. If Zeke was going to do anything wrong, he’d have done it years ago. I can’t imagine not trusting him. Why?”
“Just asking.”
There was something about Zeke that made me doubt him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Gaïs approached us from the other direction, going to the north. It was one of those long and embarrassing moments when people who barely know each other are forced to stare and wave for ages before they’re finally able to say anything.
Gaïs carried a wicker basket, the contents of which were covered with a small cloth. I guessed she was on her way to feed the men working in the field. Her hair was still straggly, but at least it was pulled back and held with a silver clasp. She may even have combed it, but if so it hadn’t had much effect. She wore clothes now, one of the standard, highly conservative priestess chitons; on her slim frame it resembled nothing so much as a sack. Her bare feet poked out from beneath the material. It was clear that Gaïs didn’t go naked to flaunt her body; to her, clothes were merely an impediment. As she passed by, Gaïs gave us a cool look and said, “Ajax pulled Cassandra from the temple.” She didn’t break her stride but disappeared through the narrow gap between temple and stoa.
I said to Diotima, “What was that supposed to mean?”
Diotima looked upset. “In the legends, after Troy falls, Cassandra goes to the temple sanctuary to seek refuge.”
“So?”
“Ajax drags Cassandra from the sanctuary and rapes her.”
CHAPTER SIX
There were too many things to do and not enough people we trusted to do them.
I made ready to depart for Athens, because tracing the scroll was a top priority. Diotima was to remain at the sanctuary to organize a search across the countryside, because Ophelia might still be alive, and finding her was another top priority.
Thea agreed to release the temple slaves to the search, though as Zeke pointed out, somewhat acidly, he’d already led a search party days ago. Zeke gave his opinion that Diotima (an inexperienced young woman, in his view) and Melos (a foolish young man) had no hope of doing better than him. This view was met by everyone with embarrassed silence.
We’d had to report what Melo had told us, of Ophelia sneaking in and out of the sanctuary, in order to persuade Thea. That too had raised Zeke’s ire. We’d made him look bad, because security was his business.
Zeke said, “You saw yourselves how I set those guards. There’s no chance a man could have gotten past.”
“But Ophelia was meeting Melo outside the grounds,” I said. “It seems Ophelia had a regular route out.”
“It’s as you said before, Zeke,” Diotima added. “You set guards to keep evil out, not to keep children in.”
“Do you trust the word of that arrogant young man?” Zeke asked in a tone that suggested that if we said yes, then we were idiots.
Diotima and I looked at each other and wondered what to say. Because we weren’t all that sure we trusted Melo either.
Diotima temporized. “It’s not your fault if the girl knew how to beat the guards, Zeke.”
“Do as you will with this search. It’s obvious I’m too old to be of any use.” Zeke turned on his heel and walked away.
“You must forgive Zeke,” Thea said in the uncomfortable silence that followed. “He feels this situation extremely. He holds himself responsible for what’s happened. The gods know he’s not as young as he once was, to bear these shocks.”
“How long has Zeke been here?” Diotima asked. “I remember thinking he was old when I was here.”
Thea stifled a laugh. “That was only six years ago, young lady,” she said. “That’s less than one tenth his years.” She paused. “At least, I think it is. I doubt if even he himself knows his own age.”
“Was he here before you, High Priestess?” I asked.
“I was a young woman when Zeke arrived. I remember every detail of that day.” Thea sighed. “These days I struggle to recall the names of the new girls, and every year everything seems to get harder, and I become more forgetful. Age does terrible things.”
“Zeke’s older than you, yet you came to Brauron first. Isn’t that surprising?”
“It’s no surprise at all, young man. I was raised at this temple. I was left here as an orphan, like Gaïs.”
Doris showed no surprise at this news. I guessed it was common knowledge.
It struck me that Doris was much younger than Thea. Thea was well-grayed and small and carried a sense of serene tiredness. Doris had gray hair too, though more of it, and a stout, healthy demeanor. Thea and tall, thin Zeke were the only ones here who remembered the time before the sacking.
“Where’s Zeke from?” Diotima asked.
“You’d have to ask him.”
“He didn’t say?”
“Zeke’s grown old in this sanctuary. Perhaps he’s a bit set in his ways because of it. He resents outside interference, no matter how well meant. I’ll talk to him later. Meanwhile, the slaves are yours to use in a search. It would help me to mollify Zeke if you could make sure you find Ophelia.”
The investigation had thrown up many leads that could only be answered in Athens. Not least of these was the strange attitude of Polonikos. Why wasn’t he worried about his missing daughter? Why, in fact, was he anxious for us to not find her?
I thought about this as I bounced on Blossom’s back. Every now and then, he would skid on gravel and my head would jerk back and forth. Without the cart he was able to carry my weight, but only a masochist could have enjoyed such a ride. Diotima’s attempts to feed the donkey were having some effect-at least he didn’t look like he was about to expire-but he still resembled a refugee from a slave camp. His spindly legs were sturdy, but there was something wrong with his muscles, and every step felt like a kick up my behind. I thought longingly of the smooth stride of a high-performance racehorse.