Alexandria Page 4

  'So what's the big mystery?' I asked them, grinning.

  Their names were Mammius and Cotius, a long streak of wind with a broken belt-buckle and a short pot of pig's fat with his neck-scarf missing. They wriggled with embarrassment, but through mouthfuls of breakfast they inevitably told me.

  Theon, the Librarian, had been found in his office that morning. A garland of roses, myrtle and green leaves, the garland with which Cassius had bedecked all of us last night at dinner, was lying on his work-table. This garland was a special order, about which Cassius had been meticulous, personally selecting the choice of leaves and style. It had led their centurion to the flower-seller who made it - and she fingered Cassius from the address where she delivered the foliage. Egypt was a bureaucratic province so the house was on some register as rented by Uncle Fulvius.

  'What was up with Theon?'

  'Dead.'

  'Dead! But he never ate any of the pastry chef's poisoned cakes!' Helena laughed to Albia. The soldiers became nervous and pretended they had not heard her.

  'Foul play?' I asked, making it casual.

  'No comment,' announced Mammius with great formality.

  'Does that mean you were not told, or you never saw the body?'

  'Never saw it,' swore Cotius self-righteously.

  'Well, nice lads don't want to go looking at corpses. It might make you queasy ... So why was the army called in? Is that usual?'

  Because, the lads informed us (lowering their voices), Theon's office was locked. People had had to break the door down. There was no key, not in his door, on his person, or anywhere inside the room. The Great Library was stuffed with mathematicians and other scholars, who were drawn to the commotion nosily; these great minds deduced that someone else had locked Theon in. In the traditions of the academic world, they loudly announced their discovery. A rumour flew around that the circumstances were suspicious.

  The mathematicians had wanted to solve the puzzle of this locked room themselves, but a jealous philosophy student who believed in civic order, reported it to the Prefect's office.

  'The snitching beggar must have scampered there on very fast little legs!'As soldiers, my informants were fascinated to think anyone would ever involve the authorities voluntarily.

  'Perhaps the student wants to work in administration when he gets a real job. He thinks this will enhance his profile,' Helena sniggered.

  'Or perhaps he is just a nasty sneak.'

  ''Oh that would not debar him from government administration!' I could see Mammius and Cotius thought Helena an extremely exciting woman. Sharp lads.

  Anyway, the sneak had landed us in it. At this moment, the centurion was instructing Fulvius to produce yesterday evening's menu and confirm whether any of us had suffered ill effects. My uncle would be quizzed on whether Cassius or he had had any grudge against Theon.

  'Of course,' the soldiers admitted to us frankly, 'as visitors to the city, you people are bound to be the first suspects. When any crime happens, it helps public confidence if we can say that we have arrested a suspicious bunch of foreigners.'

  VI

  I left Helena and Albia to keep the soldiers occupied and hoofed downstairs. I found Fulvius and Cassius calm. Cassius looked slightly red in the face, but only because his qualities as a host were in question. Fulvius was as smooth as pounded garlic paste. Interesting: had these old boys had to answer to officialdom before? They operated in tandem and had a fund of tricks. They knew to sit wide apart, so the centurion could only look at them one at a time. They commiserated and pretended they were eager to assist. They had ordered up some very sticky currant pastries, which he was finding hard to eat while he tried to concentrate.

  They waved me away, as if there was no problem. I stayed.

  'I am Didius Falco. I may have a professional interest.''

  'Oh yes,'' said the centurion heavily. 'Your uncle has been explaining who you are.'

  'Oh well done, Uncle Fulvius!' I wondered just how he had described me - probably as the Emperor's fixer, hinting it should give Cassius and him immunity. The centurion seemed unimpressed, but he let me nose in. He was about forty, battle-hardened and well up to this. He had forgotten to put on his greaves when he was called out in a hurry, but otherwise he was smart, clean-shaven, neat - and he looked observant. Now he had three Romans pretending they were influential citizens and trying to baffle him, but he kept his cool.

  'So what do we call you, centurion?'

  'Gaius Numerius Tenax.'

  'Which is your unit, Tenax?'

  'Third Cyrenaïca.'Raised in North Africa, the next patch along from here. It was customary not to station troops in their home province, just in case they were too loyal to their cousins and neighbours. So the other legion at Nicopolis was the Twenty-Second Deiotariana: Galatians, named for a king who had been a Roman ally. They must spend a lot of their time spelling it for strangers. The Cyrenians probably watched and jeered.

  I made my pitch to win his friendship: 'My brother was in the Fifteenth Apollinaris - he was based here briefly before Titus collected them for the Judaean effort. Festus died at Bethel. I heard the Fifteenth were brought back afterwards, but temporarily'

  'Surplus to requirements,' Tenax confirmed. He stayed polite but the old-comrade routine had not fooled him.' Packed off to Cappadocia, I believe.'

  I grinned. 'My brother would think himself well out of that!'

  'Wouldn't we all? We must have a drink,' Tenax offered, making the effort though probably not meaning it. Fortunately he did not ask where I myself had served, or in what legion; if I had mentioned the disgraced Second Augusta and ghastly Britain, he would have frozen up. I did not push him now, but I intended to take him up on the friendly offer.

  I subsided and let Tenax run the show. He seemed competent. I myself would have begun by finding out how Fulvius came to know Theon, but either they had covered that already or Tenax assumed that any foreigner of my uncle's standing automatically moved in those circles. This begged the question: what standing? Just who did the centurion think my wily uncle and his muscular partner were? They probably said 'merchants'. I knew they engaged in procuring fancy art for connoisseurs; back in Italy my father had his sticky fingers in it. But Fulvius was also an official negotiator for corn and other commodities, supplying the Ravenna fleet. Everybody knows that corn factors double up as government spies.

  Tenax chose to start by asking what time Theon left us last night. After a few arguments, we worked out when it was; not late. 'My young guests were still tired after travelling,' scoffed Fulvius. 'We broke up at a reasonable hour. Theon would have had time to return to the Library. He was a terrible work-slave.'

  'The responsibility of his position preyed on him,' added Cassius. We all exchanged pitying glances.

  Tenax wanted to know what had been served at dinner. Cassius told him and swore that we had all tried all the dishes and drinks. The rest of us were alive. Tenax listened and took minimal notes. 'Was the Librarian drunk?'

  'No, no.' Cassius was reassuring. 'He won't have died of overindulgence. Not from last night.'

  'Any signs of violence?' I put in.

  Tenax shut off. 'We are looking into that, sir.' I could not complain about his avoidance tactics. I never gave out unnecessary details to witnesses.

  'So what's all this about a locked room?'

  Tenax scowled, irritated that his men had talked. 'I am sure it will turn out to be immaterial.'

  I smiled. 'Probably the key bounced out while they were battering down the door. It will have slithered under the floorboards -'

  'Ah, if only the Library was not such a handsome building, with great slabs of marble everywhere!' Tenax muttered, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.

  'No gaps?'

  'No bloody gaps that I could see, Falco.' He sounded glum.

  'So apart from the locked door - which may of course have an innocent explanation - does this death look unnatural in any other way?'

  'No. The
man could have had a stroke or heart attack.'

  'But now the scholars have raised the issue, you will have to come up with explanations? Or would the authorities like it discreetly hushed up?'

  'I shall carry out a thorough investigation,' replied Tenax coldly.

  'Nobody is suggesting a cover-up!' oozed Fulvius. He then made it plain that unless there was a good reason for further questions, he was terminating the interview. 'You can rule us out. The man was alive when he left our house. Whatever happened to Theon must have happened at the Library, and if you couldn't find answers when you looked at the scene, it may be that there are none.'

  The centurion sat staring at his note-tablet for a few moments, chewing his stylus. I felt sorry for him. I knew the scenario. Tenax had nothing to go on, no leads. The Prefect would never directly order him to drop the investigation, yet if he did drop it and there was an outcry, then he would get the blame, whilst if he carried on, he could not win either; his superiors would suggest he was time-wasting, over-pernickety and straining the budget. Still, some niggle kept him worrying at it.

  He did eventually leave, and he took his soldiers, but there was unhappiness in the way he loped off. 'It would not surprise me if he leaves a watch on our house,' I said.

  'No need!' Fulvius exclaimed. 'This is a city of suspicions - we already have official eyes on us.'

  'That fellow who sits on the kerb outside, waiting to harass people?'

  'Katutis? Oh no, he's harmless.'

  'What is he? A poor peasant who scrapes a living with offers of guiding visitors?'

  'I think he comes from a temple,' said Fulvius offhandedly.

  Well, now I knew I was in Egypt. You had not lived in this province until you were haunted by a sinister, muttering priest.

  Another curse landed on me that afternoon. Fulvius must have given me a seriously ornate curriculum, which Tenax reported back to base. I was summoned to the Prefect's office. There, I was greeted as some kind of high-ranking imperial emissary; I was inspected by a senior flunkey, given hearty best wishes from the Prefect (though he did not emerge to impart these effusions himself) and asked to take over the investigation into Theon's death. It was put to me that if they brought in an imperial specialist, this would calm potential agitation among the Museion elite lest they imagine the matter was not being taken seriously.

  I understood. My presence was handy. By making these arrangements, the Prefect and Roman authorities would look suitably concerned. The academics would be flattered by my presumed importance to Vespasian. If Vespasian heard I had been given the job, he would be flattered that his agent was so well thought of (the authorities were wrong about his views on me, but I did not enlighten them). Best of all, for them, this had the makings of a tricky case. If I bungled it, an outsider would be carrying the blame. They would look as if they had tried their best. I would be the incompetent.

  On my return to the house Helena heard what had happened and smiled with huge, loving eyes. 'So, this is well up to your usual work, my darling?' She knew how to deflate my self-satisfaction with a hint of doubt. She sipped mint tea a little too thoughtfully. A silver bangle flashed on her arm; her eyes were just as bright. 'A ridiculous puzzle, with no obvious way to clear it up, and everybody else just standing by to watch you make a mess of it? Dare I ask what they are paying you?'

  'The usual government rates - which means, I am just expected to be honoured that they place so much faith in me.'

  She sighed. 'No fee?'

  I sighed too. 'No fee. The Prefect assumes I am on a retainer already for whatever Vespasian sent me out here to do. His official did not ask what that was, incidentally'

  Helena put down her tea bowl. 'So you said you were insulted by their offer?'

  'No. I said I assumed they would pay my expenses, for which I claimed a large advance immediately.'

  'How large?''

  'Large enough to fund our private trip to the Pyramids, once I've sorted out this case.'

  'Which you are confident you can?' asked Helena with her usual gentle courtesy.

  I kissed her, with my normal air of bluff.

  VII

  Aulus came in from the Museion, not long afterwards, eager to recite the strange fate of our dinner guest. He was annoyed that we already knew. He calmed down when I told him not to unbuckle his boots; he could come back out with me to inspect the crime scene. If it was a crime.

  As a courtesy, Cassius had sent Theon home last night in the litter he and Fulvius used for getting about. Cassius now called up the bearers and we ordered them to take us to the Library, or as near as they could go, by the exactly same route. Retracing Theon s steps brought us no clues, but we convinced ourselves it was expert sleuthing. Well, it kept us out of the sun.

  The head bearer, Psaesis, had a name that sounded like a spit but he was fairly pleasant for a man who was stuck with transporting rich foreigners to earn his bread and garlic. He spoke enough Greek to get by, so before we set out we asked him if the Librarian had seemed himself last night. Psaesis said Theon struck him as a little moody; in a world of his own, maybe. Aulus reckoned that sounded normal for a librarian.

  My uncle's conveyance was a florid double palanquin with purple silk cushions and a heavily fringed canopy. It would have made passengers feel like pampered potentates, had the bearers not been different heights so as they got up speed the unstable equipage rocked around wildly. Cornering was treacherous. We lost three cushions overboard as we clung on. This must be routine, because the bearers stopped to retrieve them almost before we shouted. When they dropped us off, they grinned triumphantly as if they thought filling us with terror was the point.

  Aulus led the way. A thickset figure, he marched off boldly across the Museion grounds. He wore a white tunic, a stylish belt and expensive boots, all with the grace of a young man who believed himself a born leader - thereby persuading everyone else to treat him as if he was. I always marvelled how he did it. He had no sense of direction, yet he was the only man I knew who could lure road-sweepers into telling him the way without mischievously sending him straight to the local midden. As my assistant in Rome, he had been slapdash, ignorant, lazy and too well spoken, but when a case interested him, I had found he bucked up and became reliable.

  Approaching thirty, Aulus had behind him all the necessary moments of hard drinking, unsuitable friends, loose women, flirtations with religion and dubious political offers; he must be ready to settle down into the same kind of pleasant life on the fringes of high society that his easygoing father led. Once he tired of study, Rome would welcome him back. He would have a few good friends and no other close associates. Presumably a well-behaved wife would be found for him, some girl with a half-decent pedigree and an only slightly scathing attitude to Aulus. She would run up bigger dress bills than the Camillus estates could cover, though Aulus was so inventive he would somehow cope.

  I had no idea what kind of intellectual he was. Still, he had chosen to study, so he may have applied himself better than young men who are forcibly sent to Athens just to get them out of trouble in Rome. In Greece I had met his tutor, who seemed to think well of him, though Minas was worldly - a heavy drinker. He might say anything to keep his fees. How had Aulus become accredited to the Museion? Perhaps through sheer bluff.

  'This centre,' said Aulus, disparaging the Egyptian jewel like a true Roman, 'was founded by the Ptolemies to enhance their dynasty. It is a huge learning complex that forms part of the royal district of Brucheion.' I had seen yesterday that the Palace and Museion complexes took up almost a third of the city - and it was a large city. Aulus continued briskly: 'Ptolemy Soter started it about three hundred and fifty years ago. A career soldier, Alexander's general - fancied himself as a historian. Hence his big ambition: not just to create a Temple of the Muses to glorify his culture and civilisation, but to have in it a Library which contained all the books in the known world. He wanted to be tops. He set out deliberately to rival Athens. Even the catalogue is a thi
ng of wonder.'

  Aulus had walked me through some of the gardens where Helena and I sauntered yesterday He did not stop to smell the flowers. He was athletic and moved fast. His guided tour was succinct: 'See the pleasant outside areas: cool pools, topiary, colonnades. Inside: marbled lecture halls with speakers' podia, rows of seats, elegant couches. Excellent acoustics for music and reading recitals. A communal refectory for the scholars -'

  'Tried the food?'

  'Lunch. Edible.'

  'Scholars don't come to pamper themselves, lad.'

  'We have to feed our busy brains, though.'

  'Hah! So what else have you found?'

  ''Theatre.Dissecting rooms. Observatory on the roof. The biggest zoo in the world.' This zoo made its presence felt. Any walk among the shady porticoes was orchestrated by disconcerting animal roars, squawks and bellows. They sounded quite close by.