We watched Apollonides and Eupraxis walk on. Pandion’s shrine stands alone at the furthest eastern point of the Acropolis. One of the lofty sanctuary’s most ancient buildings, it commemorates one of our earliest kings. Pandion ruled over Attica long before Agamemnon set sail for Troy. His memory is still honoured at this shrine, and as the patron hero of one of our city’s voting tribes.
That was presumably why a few other people had ventured this far, and why a lamp was burning in the pillared porch on the temple’s western side. Three men who had just come down those steps were heading back towards the festivities at the heart of the Acropolis. We saw them nod and smile, and presumably wish Apollonides and Eupraxis a joyous festival.
Our friends walked past the lamplit porch. The walls of the long building ran away into the gloom beyond that pool of golden light. Movement to our right caught my eye. A swift shadow emerged from the darkness between Athena’s temple and Pandion’s shrine. A moment later, Damianos broke into a run. A second dark figure followed, sprinting to catch up. Lysicrates had got behind the killer unobserved.
Apollonides and Eupraxis were alert for the slightest hint of attack. They spun round, ready to meet an assault. Something in their expressions must have warned Damianos. He turned to see Lysicrates was nearly on him. He sidestepped just in time to evade the actor’s grasp.
Now Ikesios, Menekles and I were running to join the fray. My gaze met the killer’s for an instant, and I saw recognition in his eyes. With the lamplight from the porch full on our faces, he remembered me and Menekles from the Pnyx.
Apollonides and Eupraxis were several long strides away. Lysicrates was close enough to try grappling the killer, but Damianos warded him off with a forceful hand. The blow sent the actor staggering back. The rest of us were still too far away to join battle. Damianos sprinted away with a turn of speed that none of us expected. Passing across the front of Pandion’s shrine, he vanished into the darkness beyond the sanctuary dedicated to Zeus.
I tried to see where he had gone, but all I could see was a mosaic of shifting light and shadow. Breezes set the flames of the lamps in the shrine porch flickering. The sacred fires on the altar burned higher, then sank back without warning. People crossed and recrossed the space all around, casting their own shadows to add to the confusion.
‘Where did he go?’ Ikesios was ready to run even if he had no idea which way to go.
‘Wait!’ Lysicrates barked.
‘Did he have a knife?’ Apollonides demanded as the other three hurried up to join us.
‘No.’ Eupraxis shook his head.
That was no great reassurance as far as I was concerned. Damianos looked strong enough to snap a man’s neck with his bare hands.
I raised a hand. ‘Listen.’
The glorious songs and music continued on the far side of Athena’s altar. Closer at hand, I heard something else. Shuffling hooves and muffled lowing offered a low counterpoint to the music. The sacred oxen had been quietly content as long as they were left on their own, but something had disturbed them.
‘Get around to the other side,’ I ordered Ikesios, Menekles and Lysicrates. ‘You two, come with me.’
The actors and the young poet hurried away to circle past the front of Zeus’ sanctuary. Apollonides, Eupraxis and I followed Damianos into the darkness on this side of the sacred enclosure. We moved more slowly as the building blocked the light from the altar fire. We had the lamplight from Pandion’s shrine at our backs, so that was no help to us either. A farmyard smell filled the air, and I could just make out the indistinct shapes of oxen shifting and stamping with irritation. What we couldn’t see was the killer.
‘Is there a path around the back of these pens?’ I wasn’t sure who I was asking.
‘I have no idea,’ Eupraxis said helplessly.
Apollonides didn’t say anything, so I guessed he’d never come looking around this end of the Acropolis either.
‘If there isn’t, be ready for anything,’ I warned.
The three of us kept pace, falling into step and guarding each other like hoplites in a phalanx. I would have given a lot to be holding a shield and spear as we advanced into the darkness.
Glancing to the sides in case the killer was trying to sneak past us, I saw Apollonides squinting into the gloom.
He pointed. ‘There is a way through. Look over there.’
He was right. A narrow and uneven path ran between the outer wall of the Acropolis and the sacred pens. It was wide enough to have offered Damianos an escape.
‘Let’s get after him.’ Eupraxis took the lead.
I followed and Apollonides came after me. As I rounded the dark bulk of Zeus’ sanctuary and the pen of shuffling oxen, the light from the altar fire illuminated the open space ahead of us. As we approached the end of the narrow path, we saw the killer striding towards the Temple of Erechtheus.
‘There he is!’ Eupraxis darted forward.
Before he’d gone five paces, he tripped over something and went sprawling to disappear into the shadows at our feet. Apollonides and I heard a groan. Two groans from two different voices. As Eupraxis scrambled up and dusted himself off, cursing under his breath, Apollonides and I advanced. Searching with our hands, we found a slumped figure on the ground. We quickly stepped over the man and dragged him out into the fitful firelight. He wore the plain tunic of a public slave. Priests on the Acropolis aren’t fools. They wouldn’t leave sacrificial beasts unattended, however docile the oxen might seem.
I saw blood running down the side of the slave’s grazed face. Damianos must have slammed his head against the stone wall when he encountered the unfortunate man. I didn’t see Zeus looking favourably on that.
‘Where are the others?’ Apollonides growled,
