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The third book in the critically acclaimed series set in Classical Athens, featuring the historically-inspired amateur detective Nicolaos.
It is the Olympics of 460 BC. Nico's best friend, Timodemus, is a competitor in the pankration, the deadly martial art of ancient Greece. Timo is hot favorite to win. His only serious rival is Parmonos from Sparta. When Parmonos is found beaten to death, it is obvious Timodemus must be the killer. Who else could have killed the second-best fighter in all Hellas but the very best? The Judges of the Games sentence Timodemus to be executed in four days' time, as soon as the Sacred Games have finished.
Complicating everything is the fact that Athens and Sparta are already at each other's throats, in the opening stages of a power struggle for control of Hellas. If an Athenian is found to have cheated at the Games by murdering a Spartan, it will be everything the hawks in Sparta need to declare open war the moment the Sacred Truce is over. And that's a war Athens cannot hope to win.
Nico and his partner in sleuthing, the annoyingly clever priestess Diotima, have four days to save their friend and avert a war that would tear their world apart.
- Sales Rank: #112430 in eBooks
- Published on: 2013-05-21
- Released on: 2013-05-21
- Format: Kindle eBook
Review
Praise for Sacred Games
"Like its two predecessors, Sacred Games has an extremely well-orchestrated climax and a key revelation you’ll happily kick yourself for not having spotted earlier. And like all the best murder mysteries, these books don’t depend on revelation: they’re a joy to re-read."
—Open Letters Monthly
"[Corby's] best thus far ... Corby integrates the political intrigue of the day with fair-play plotting and welcome doses of humor. Fans of Steven Saylor's Gordianus novels will be enthralled."
—Publishers Weekly, STARRED Review
"A well-paced story that kept me turning the pages. It is extremely well-researched and taught me a lot about Greek culture and the Olympic Games. Read it for the history and the story."
—Historical Novel Society
"Dive into this book. Immerse yourself in the entire experience."
—Kittling Books
Praise for Gary Corby
"Corby has not only made Greek history accessible—he's made it first-rate entertainment."
—Kelli Stanley, award-winning author of Nox Dormienda and City of Dragons
"Those who like their historicals with a touch of humor will welcome Australian author Corby's promising debut... Corby displays a real gift for pacing and plotting."
—Publishers Weekly, STARRED Review
“Mix one part ancient history, one part clever and contemporary banter, and one part action, and you have a top-notch crime caper…. Highly recommended for those looking for humor with their crime detecting.”
—Library Journal
"Energetic.... Very entertaining."
—Kirkus Reviews
“Full of real historical figures and fascinating insights into Greek and Persian culture…. A delightful romp.”
—Shelf Awareness
“Filled with detail, atmosphere and history, but also humor. The characters feel like real people…. Complete with maps, a list of characters both real and made up and an afterword with historical information, this is a fun and funny as well as accurate historical.”
—Romantic Times
“A riotous romp through ancient Greece. Lovers of history, especially of the ancient world, will definitely want to read this mystery.”
—Gumshoe Review
“An entertaining read…. One does not need knowledge of classical history to enjoy this mystery, because details of culture, politics, and history as so deftly woven into the threads of the story that life in ancient Athens comes vividly alive.”
—Historical Novel Review
About the Author
Gary Corby lives in Sydney, Australia, with his wife and two daughters. He blogs at A Dead Man Fell from the Sky, on all things ancient, Athenian, and mysterious.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Day 1 of the 80th Olympiad of the Sacred Games
The procession wound past the Sanctuary of Zeus. They’d been walking two days, from Elis to Olympia.
“Will we get to see someone die?” Socrates asked. Like any boy, he looked forward to the violence of the struggle more than the beauty of the sport. Unlike me, Socrates had never seen death. To him, it was still a game.
“How should I know?” I said. “You can only hope.”
We stood in the crowd to watch the long line file past: the athletes, their fathers and uncles and brothers, the trainers and the Ten Judges of the Games. Socrates jumped up and down to see over the shoulders of the spectators in front. That’s what he got for being a twelve-year-old in a crowd of mostly men.
The team from Sparta passed by, one of the few teams I could recognize without having to ask, because Spartans march in step where others walk. At the rear of the Spartans came one of the largest men I have ever seen, a towering hulk—he was half as tall again as me, with shoulders that could have hefted an ox. The chiton he wore had enough material to double as the sail for a small boat. The blacksmith who’d made his armor must have wept for joy at the challenge, then died of exhaustion trying to cover such a chest. Despite the two-day march the large man’s stride was brisk; he looked neither left nor right, and he swung his well-muscled arms in much the same style as the Titans once had done when they strode the earth.
The Athenians came next. Leading them, almost in the shadow of the huge Spartan, was Timodemus, son of Timonous, of the deme Archarnae. I waved at once and shouted, “Chaire Timodemus! Hail Timodemus!”
He smiled broadly and waved back. “Chaire Nicolaos!”
I raised my arms in a victory salute, meaning he would win his event. Other men, all Athenians, cheered for Timodemus too. Everyone knew he was one of the stars of this Olympics, a likely winner of the pankration, and Athens’ best hope of a victory.
The large Spartan, who had ignored everyone around him up to now, turned and said something to Timodemus. Timo’s smile disappeared in an instant. Perhaps the Spartan had complained of too much levity on what was supposed to be a solemn occasion.
Beside Timo walked a man who looked so like my friend I could have sworn the two were brothers had I not known better. They were both short men and wore their hair cut almost to the scalp, but by his weathered skin and destroyed left eye, I knew the other to be Timo’s father. A third man, stockier and noticeably taller, walked with them a half-pace behind. He looked like an older brother, and one more tired by the long march. This could be no one but Timo’s uncle, and the eldest of the three. The men of Timo’s family were all former athletes, and though they were too old to compete, the father at least had kept himself in decent condition.
Timodemus and the rest of the Athenians were followed by the Corinthians, then the Thebans, the men of Argos and Thessaly, and Rhodes and all the other cities with athletes whose excellence permitted them to compete at the 80th Games sacred to Zeus, King of the Gods.
The last of the contestants passed by, the forlorn and grimy men from Megara, who every step of the way had eaten the dust raised by those who'd gone before. We spectators waited for the tail to pass, then followed, as one large, milling crowd.
Though it was still early morning, already I sweated freely. The close mass of spectators added to the heat of this already hot midsummer day. There must have been ten thousand of us, from every part of Hellas, all at this one place called Olympia, here to bring glory to Zeus in the form of the greatest sport in the world.
We skirted the Sanctuary of Zeus, passed the newly raised temple—so new in fact I’d yet to look inside—and stopped at the Bouleterion, the Council House of Olympia. Men elbowed each other for the best positions to see and hear the ceremony to come. Those at the back would struggle to hear. Socrates and I were small enough to weave our way toward the front.
The hellanodikai—the Judges of the Hellenes—took the steps up the Bouleterion. They were dressed in formal chitons of bright colors, with long sleeves that covered their arms and hems that went all the way down to their ankles. . All ten wore expressions to match the gravity of their task. The judges were citizens of the city of Elis, within whose land Olympia lies. For the next five days the word of these men was law, and no man, not Pericles nor a King of Sparta, could gainsay them. All were chosen for their honesty and integrity.
Before the Council House stood a bronze statue of Zeus Herkios, who is Zeus of the Oaths. He was twice the height of any man, and he held in each hand a deadly thunderbolt, his right arm raised and ready to throw, a promise of retribution to any man who broke an oath made before him.
An enormous tripod stood to one side of the Zeus. It held aloft a wide brazier that had been polished till it gleamed, and from which orange flames leapt up in a futile attempt to touch Apollo’s sun. I could feel the heat of the fire upon my face, even from a distance. The men next to it must have sweltered, the more so because it was already a hot day in the middle of summer.
On the other side of Zeus lay a thick altar stone, where a boar squealed and struggled, his legs held down by two assistants whose chitons were soaked with sweat.
The Chief of the Judges stepped away from his fellows to stand before Zeus and address the crowd. He delivered a prayer—a loud one over the squeals of the waiting sacrifice—then recited the oath of the judges, in which he promised to be fair and honest in all his decisions, to take no bribes and to respect the rules of the Games.
An assistant handed a knife to the Chief Judge, who took two steps to the writhing boar. He pushed back its head with his left hand to expose the neck to the sharp blade in his right. As he did the animal twisted so much its hind legs came free, the body rotated and almost fell. The men swore and their knees sagged under the weight as they struggled to prevent the squirming, screeching sacrifice from hitting the ground.
Men about me drew in their breath; if the animal escaped it would be a disaster. The assistant who’d presented the knife jumped in and got his arms underneath at the last moment, and together they hauled the sacrifice back up. The Chief Judge didn’t wait for anything else to go wrong. He plunged his knife into the boar’s throat at once and sawed across the flesh. The blood spurted over everyone clustered about the altar. As sacrifices go, it had been as bad as you could get, but it was a death offered to Zeus, and that was the most important thing.
The crowd resumed breathing.
A man beside me said, “The sacrifice didn’t go willingly. It’s an ill omen.” Men around him nodded, and I could only agree.
“Not so,” said another man. “The boar struggled to live as the competitors will struggle to win. Zeus favors us with a tough contest this Olympiad.” It was a middle-aged man who spoke, and balding, but his voice held authority and a melodious tone that carried well. Many heard him and the crowd settled at his words.
The way the man had controlled us with his voice reminded me of Pericles. Curious, I studied this stranger from aside. He had the look of a priest about him. But no priest I’d ever seen had such a piercing way with his eyes, nor such intensity of expression. His head turned at that moment and our eyes locked. He must have known I’d been staring, but he didn’t seem upset so much as resigned, as if he was used to such rudeness. I was embarrassed and turned back to the action before I felt forced to say something.
The Butcher of the Games stepped forward with his meat cleaver. He dismembered the thighs of the still-quivering boar and cut the meat into thin slices. The Chief Judge took the first slice, and with bloody fingers tossed it into the brazier, where the offering could be heard to sizzle as the meat roasted to charcoal. They were not cooking the flesh, but giving it to Zeus, because meat on which an oath has been made may not be eaten by mortal man.
Each Judge in his turn repeated the actions of the Chief, until all ten had made their oaths and reinforced them with the blood and meat of the sacrifice.
Next it was the turn of the athletes. They stepped forward, one by one, and made their oath—a different one to that of the judges—to obey the rules, to neither cheat nor bribe, and in addition they swore they had trained for at least ten months. To the men who would compete in the boxing and the pankration, after each made his oath, the Chief Judge added, “Mighty Zeus absolves you, athlete, from the charge of murder if you kill your opponent in the contest.” Each athlete to whom the Chief Judge said this thanked him and stepped away.
The trainers and the fathers, brothers and uncles of the athletes too were required to make their oaths, but without the need to affirm they had trained. For them, the oath was required merely to ensure they did not cheat in favor of their relative.
As they waited their turn in line, I saw the Spartan turn once more to Timodemus and say something. It must have been an insult, because Timo scowled and started forward. As one Timo’s father and uncle grabbed Timodemus by the shoulders and dragged him back. The Spartan laughed and turned his back on them.
Timo’s father spoke to Timo, and even at a distance I could see they were harsh words. He’d probably ordered Timo not to let the man provoke him. What was going on? It was an act of utmost arrogance for the Spartan to insult a man and then expose his back.
I nudged the man next to me. “The big man to the side over there, the one among the Spartans. Do you know who he is?”
He looked where I pointed and nodded. “That’s Arakos. He fights for the Spartans in the pankration. They say to face him is like fighting a rock.”
The pankration was Timo’s own event.
Dear Gods, Timo would have to fight that monster? Timo was a dead man.
Arakos the Spartan stepped forward to take his turn at the altar, along with his trainer, but no father or family. Arakos made his oath, and the Chief Judge absolved him of murder in the coming contest.
Then it was Timo’s turn to take the oath, to promise not to cheat, and to sacrifice a thin slice of the boar.
Arakos of Sparta spoke once more as Timodemus came down the steps. Timodemus froze, then snarled in rage. Every man present heard that snarl. Every head snapped in their direction. My friend Timodemus, in full view of the judges and the crowd, launched himself off the steps, hands stretching to strangle the Spartan.
Most helpful customer reviews
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Criminal investigations as an Olympic event
By TChris
Nicolaus, an Athenian investigator featured in two earlier novels, is charged with babysitting his friend Timodemus, a fierce fighter in the pankration and Athens' best hope for a medal in the eightieth Olympiad of the Sacred Games -- assuming that he isn't disqualified for pre-event tussling with his strongest competitor, the Spartan Arakos. Nico makes the mistake of leaving his friend alone for the night. The next morning, when Arakos is found murdered, Timodemus is the prime suspect. Nicolaus has five days, until the end of the games, to prove that Timodemus is innocent and thus prevent his execution. For the first (and presumably last) time, criminal investigation becomes an Olympic event.
The stakes are high for Nico, given the possibility that the murder, if committed by Timodemus, might be used as an excuse for war between Sparta and Athens. Nico has a full load of problems even without bearing the added weight of Timodemus' (and possibly Athens') fate. He regards Diotima as his wife, and in fact has already "soiled" her (often and with enthusiasm), but neither his father nor her stepfather has consented to their marriage. Ultimately, Nico's ability to have his marriage recognized by the two families may depend upon Nico's success in catching the killer.
Fortunately, as the creative problem solver in his family, Nico is well-suited to the task of criminal investigation. Even more fortunately, when Nico needs the benefit of a logical mind, he can consult with his younger brother, Socrates, who has a bit of Sherlock Holmes in him. Other well-known historical figures who appear as characters include the statesman Pericles, Sparta's King Pleistarchus, the poet Pindar, and a baby named Hippocrates (whose father, of course, is a doctor).
Given what's at stake, a reader might expect Nico to feel a greater sense of urgency than the story conveys. Nico is easily distracted by pleasures of the flesh and spends a fair amount of time chit-chatting with philosophers and poets who do little to assist his investigation. He even helps one of them sculpt an ox from bread dough. That would be a problem if this were a more serious novel, but Sacred Games isn't intended to be a thriller. Gary Corby has a keen sense of humor that shines through in the story's lighter moments, particularly in Nico's interaction with the willful Diotima (who will certainly be wearing the toga in the family). There's also a chuckle-inducing moment when Nico warns young Socrates not to go anywhere near hemlock. Gags of that sort pop up every now and then, and all of Nico's encounters with ancient thinkers are amusing. Despite the digressions, the plot is tightly constructed, proving enough suspects and red herrings to keep a mystery lover guessing.
The Spartan and Athenian characters in Sacred Games have some interesting discussions about the advantages of monarchies over democracies, but this isn't a political novel. For that matter, I wouldn't call it an historical novel. I don't know how accurate the details are of Athenian life in ancient times (Corby appends a lengthy author's note about the history from which he draws, although I'm pretty sure women in 460 B.C. didn't use expressions like "Are you hitting on me?"), but given the novel's light-hearted nature, I don't much care. The story seems to be well researched, and in any event, the plot is clever, the resolution of the mystery is satisfying, and the story is entertaining. The poignant, "feel good" ending might be too obviously manipulative, but it works. If I could, I would give Sacred Games 4 1/2 stars.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
You won't every look at the Olympics the same way again
By Randee Baty
I told myself that I would finish Sacred Games during the Winter Olympics but during the Olympics I was, well, watching the Olympics so I didn’t finish this until the week after. This book about the ancient Olympics is a great companion to the modern Olympics. Definitely makes you think about them in a different way.
Nicolaus, back from his adventures in The Ionia Sanction, is at Olympus with Diotima, his almost fiancé/wife. A murder most foul occurs before the Games even start and Nicolaus is tasked to prove that his best friend, the leading pankratist competitor, is innocent. The future of all Greece could hang on this investigation because, of course, Nicolaus and his friend are Athenian and the victim was Spartan. A Peloponnesian war could be in the offing!
Gary Corby does a wonderful job of making the Games come alive for us. I’ve studies Ancient Greece and the Games to some degree and this is exactly what I would expect them to look like. It all played out beautifully in my mind just like a movie. The description of the chariot race was particularly good. Nicolaus’ little brother Socrates (yes, that Socrates) makes interesting little cameos and I hope as the series moves on he will contribute more and more. I did not know whodunit until Nicolaus revealed it to me and the Olympic judges though looking back I can see that the clues were there.
Since this is Ancient Greece, where acceptable behavior is quite different than today, there is a lot of open talk of sex and prostitutes. It’s not graphic, it’s just part of their world but be aware if that is not something you want to read and it may affect who else you let read it.
This the third in this series and I had read the second one. You can read this as a stand-alone, you won’t have any trouble following the story. I need to find the first and the fourth because I am really enjoying these characters. Thanks to Gary Corby for giving us mystery fans something a little different to enjoy.
I received this from the author through a giveaway on booklikes and I really appreciated the opportunity to give it an honest review.
4 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Wonderfully written tale of murder during the Olympic Games of 460 BC
By Cathy G. Cole
First Line: The procession wound past the Sanctuary of Zeus.
The procession consists of athletes, trainers, priests, officials, and spectators who are gathering for the Olympic Games of 460 BC. The most important contest is the pankration, the deadly martial art of ancient Greece. Nicolaos's best friend, Timodemus of Athens ("Timo"), is the favorite to win the pankration. When Timo's only serious rival, Arakos of Sparta, is found beaten to death, it's obvious to everyone that Timo has to be the killer. Timo is sentenced to be executed when the Sacred Games have finished. However, there is a political angle to this crime. Athens and Sparta are spoiling for a fight, and Arakos's death could very well be the catalyst. The politically savvy Athenian Pericles tells Nicolaos that he has four days to find the real killer of Arakos. To prevent a war, Nico and the priestess Diotima have to work fast.
I was sent this book by the publisher, and I have to admit that I came within a whisker of deciding not to read it. I really haven't dealt much with ancient Greece since my college days. I have no idea why I changed my mind, but I'm glad I did. I would have missed out on an excellent story otherwise.
Diving into this series at book number three wasn't confusing. The further I read, the more I wanted to read the previous two books because I was enjoying the story and the characters so much. Author Gary Corby knows his stuff. The time period and the culture came to life right before my eyes. However, Sacred Games isn't just a history lesson. The investigation kept my interest throughout, and when I wasn't figuratively sweating buckets under the Greek sun, I was falling under the spell of his two main characters, Nicolaos and Diotima, a beautiful, intelligent young woman who's Nico's wife in all but the eyes of their parents (and the law). As a team, they work together quite well-- especially since Diotima provides most of the brain power. Corby didn't let things bog down in historical detail and seriousness, either. There are wonderful bits of comedy throughout, and several of them are provided courtesy of Nico's little brother, Socrates. (Yes, that Socrates.)
Have you ever read a work of fiction that is set solidly in history, that has real historical figures as members of the cast and wondered just how much of it is true? I felt this way with Sacred Games. Everything felt so right, but I still wondered. Corby was prepared for people like us. Included in the book are a cast of characters with pronunciations of their names, historical facts about the Olympic Games of 460 BC, a fascinating Author's Note, and a glossary. I don't always pay attention to such things in the books I read, but I was curious, so I read every bit of them. They add so much to the story that I would suggest that you read them all, too. Dive into this book. Immerse yourself in the entire experience. Chances are, you'll enjoy it every bit as much as I did.
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