“After Aristogeiton died,” he said, “Hippias ordered Leana arrested. I don’t know how Hippias knew she was involved; perhaps she was seen during the assassination attempt, perhaps she was unlucky. One thing I’m sure of: Aristogeiton didn’t betray her. In any event, she was arrested and bound, hand and foot.
“Hippias put the same questions to her as he had to Aristogeiton. Who else had plotted against him?
“Rather than betray her fellows, Leana bit through her own tongue and spat it out. She died shortly after.”
I imagined what it must feel like, to press my teeth into that sensitive organ, and then to keep biting until I’d sliced it through, my mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood and the pain, and not stopping until I’d finished the self-amputation. My imagination carried me away and I gagged.
Callias continued in a calm voice, as if he were discussing some minor point of interest. “Have you ever noticed, Nicolaos, the sudden-death nature of Athenian politics?”
“It’s come to my attention.”
Callias said, “If you look in the lioness’s mouth, within the statue, you’ll see she has no tongue. The statue was ordered by the city authorities, but I commissioned it myself.”
A lioness seemed fitting. I said, “A statue upon the Acropolis … you did her great honor, Callias.”
“Not at all. One of the names she protected when she bit through her tongue was my own.”
“You?”
“Me. I was one of the young men Harmodius and Aristogeiton recruited to help them destroy the tyranny,” Callias said. The tears ran down his face. “You wanted to know who Leana was? Leana was my lover.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I left for Brauron next morning, before first light. I’d learned as much as I could in Athens, and been too long from whatever was happening at the sanctuary.
“What’s he doing here?” was the first thing Diotima asked when I returned to Brauron. She pointed at Socrates, who stood behind me.
“Don’t ask,” I said. “It’s a long story.”
Socrates grinned and said, “Hello, Diotima. I got expelled from school!”
I ignored his obvious attention-seeking gambit and asked, “How did the search for Ophelia go?”
Diotima frowned. “Melo took control of the temple slaves, as Thea agreed he could. He had them scouring the countryside in regular sweeps. I must say, what Melo lacks in intelligence he makes up in energy. But he didn’t turn up a thing. At least we know where she isn’t.”
“Which is?”
“Just about everywhere. It turns out Melo really does know this countryside. I watched the way he spread out the searchers, and I was impressed.”
“What does Melo think now?”
“I don’t know. After he turned up a blank, I made the same comment to him-about us knowing where Ophelia isn’t. He took it as a slight on the way he’d led the search and got offended, which I hadn’t meant, but I suppose I must have put it badly. He said he’d have to try something else and went away, and I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
“Maybe he’s given up and gone back to Athens.”
“Not him. But he might be sulking somewhere. Then again, I haven’t left the sanctuary, and his presence here isn’t exactly encouraged.”
We walked as we talked. The best security from eavesdroppers was to keep moving, the sanctuary being such a crowded place, with so many nooks and crannies. At that moment we came to something I’d been thinking about, and stopped before it.
“There’s one place we haven’t looked for Ophelia,” I said.
“Where?”
I pointed at the Sacred Spring. “In there.”
It was the obvious conclusion. If everyone who guarded the sanctuary swore that Ophelia could not have passed them-and they all swore by Artemis that it was so-and if a thorough search of the sanctuary failed to find her-and it had-and if Melo’s extensive search force had turned up nothing in the surrounding countryside-and I was prepared to believe he’d been thorough-then logically there was only one place left to look. We would have to dredge the Sacred Spring.
It didn’t take long for a crowd to appear. First we needed the permission of the High Priestess. Doris sent one of the girls to fetch Thea, who came at once.
“Absolutely not,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “This spring is the most sacred place in the entire sanctuary. It must not be polluted by swimming, particularly not by the body of a male.”
“What about a female, then?” I asked, and the priestesses looked at me in astonishment, even Diotima. Thea said, “You’re not suggesting a woman go in there, are you?”
No, I wasn’t. Not now that I thought about it. It was obvious who’d be the one to go in, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
I said, “Thea, this needs to be done. If Ophelia’s in there …” I trailed off, not wanting to say it. We all still hoped to find her alive.
Doris said into the uncomfortable silence, “Thea, think on this: Which is worse, to have a man swim in the spring, or to have the body of a child lie there forever? A child who, if she’s in there-may Artemis avert it-was probably murdered? Which is the greater sacrilege?”
We were clustered about the edge of the spring as we argued. This inevitably caused passersby to notice and stop to listen. The small crowd nodded after Doris spoke. Thea must have seen the sentiment among her people and, more to the point, the irrefutable logic of the words. The High Priestess hesitated for a moment, then she too nodded, but it was clear she didn’t like it.
It didn’t take long for news to spread that a naked man was about to swim in the Sacred Spring in search of a dead body. Before I had stripped off, the few men at the sanctuary, and every woman and child, had gathered to watch.
As I pulled off my exomis and tossed it aside, I said nervously to Diotima and Socrates, “I hope I don’t drown. I can swim, but not very well.”
“You don’t need to swim,” Socrates pointed out. “You need to sink.”
Terrific. But Socrates was right. I didn’t need to go sideways, I needed to go down, and going down would be all too easy.
I stepped to the edge and looked in. The water was clear to a certain depth, but beyond that I couldn’t see anything of interest-such as, for example, the bottom.
Standing around thinking about it didn’t make the job any easier.
I dived in.
I came up spluttering. “It’s freezing!”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Diotima called from dry land, wrapped in her warm chiton. “Can you feel anything?”
I called back, treading water, “No, I’m numb all over!”
“No, you idiot. Can you feel anything on the bottom?” And before I could answer, she added, “Don’t tell me about your bottom. Is there anything at the bottom of the spring?”
“My feet don’t reach the bottom. I’ll have to dive.” With that, I took a deep breath, turned tail like a duck, and aimed for the bottom.
Except I didn’t get there. Pressure kept pushing me back up. I couldn’t kick hard enough to make my way, and after struggling for a short time I ran out of breath and had to return to the surface.
“Dear Gods, how does anyone manage to drown?” I said after the third attempt.
“Is it because they’re weighted down?” Socrates suggested. “Maybe you could jump in wearing armor?”
“Thanks anyway.”
But Socrates had given me an idea. I scrabbled out of the spring and up onto the surrounding grass.
In the audience, one of the older girls whispered something to the others and pointed at my crotch. I looked down. In the cold water, my penis had shrunk to the size of a pea. The girls giggled behind their hands-Doris ordered them to hush, but she herself was smiling as she scolded them-and Gaïs appraised me with a contemptuous smile.
Dignity demanded that I ignore them all. I walked to the base of the hills directly south of the temple. I selected the largest stone that I could comfortably lift and hauled it back to the Sacred Spring. With the water dripping off me, I shook uncontrollably, not from the weight of the stone, but from the wind against my wet skin. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get back in the water.