Alexandria mdf-19 Page 8

  'I shall give you my conclusions now. You are welcome to ask questions.'

  Aeacidas, the big dissenter fidgeted abruptly. He was beside another, quieter man, also older than the students. 'Apollophanes,' whispered our young friend Heras, himself a much healthier colour now. 'The Head of Philosophy.' Aeacidas did not in fact interrupt; even his bumptiousness seemed to have been deflated by the clinical choreography.

  'Much of what I found was normal for a man of Theon's age,' pronounced Philadelphion. 'The rib cartilage, for example, is beginning to coalesce into bone, which we know happens as the years pass. But there was no sign of disease in the organs, nor any significant encroachments of age. The heart and lungs clearly failed, but it is not possible to determine whether that was a specific cause of death or part of the process. I found nothing worthy of comment in the brain.'

  There was laughter at that – not from Aeacidas, in fact, but from Apollophanes. His laugh was gentle, almost sympathetic. The Head of Philosophy enjoyed a joke, it seemed, but was not strident.

  Philadelphion himself smiled. He had not intended to be witty, but accepted that his straight remark could be taken two ways. 'The areas I consider significant are concentrated in the digestive system. The liver, for instance, is larger and heavier than it should be, and when I sliced it through, the internal structure suggested that Theon had been drinking hard recently. This could be an indication of anxiety. As his colleague, who knew him professionally and socially, I would not have described him as a devotee of Bacchus.'

  'More fool him!' commented Aeacidas. Philadelphion ignored it.

  'The condition of the liver was not enough to cause death. In fact, my observations failed to find any explanation for what we would consider a ''natural'' demise. We have, therefore, to determine an unnatural reason. No violence had occurred. So did he, in common parlance, eat or drink something that disagreed with him? It is known that Theon went out to dinner last evening. Those of you on the front rows are particularly aware that I found evidence of a large, rich and varied meal having been eaten; the food was consumed over a period of time, some hours before the Librarian died.'

  'How can you say the time?' demanded one of the note-taking students.

  'I could tell from the food's state of digestion and position in the organs. If everyone else is prepared to take my word for it, I can talk you through it later, young man; come and see me privately -' Most of us were quite prepared to skip the details. 'I shall be weary this evening; I suggest tomorrow morning at the zoo.'

  'How much can you ascertain about the meal?' one of the other young men asked. Philadelphion looked uneasy and shrugged.

  Aulus stood up. 'There is no need to speculate. Details of the meal are known, sir.' He gave a full breakdown of the menu, adding, 'It has been established that all dishes were eaten by more than one person, with no other diner suffering any ill-effects. Two of us, indeed, have a strong enough stomach today to watch your necropsy.'

  'And much wine was drunk?' the second student asked him.

  Grinning, Aulus scratched his ear. 'We drank the quantities you would expect at a meal of that kind, given that there were visitors from overseas and an important invited guest. I would say Theon kept up well, though he did not outpace the rest of us.'

  'As far as you remember?' quipped Philadelphion. Clearly he too had a sense of humour. Aulus acknowledged the comment with another relaxed grin, and sat down again. 'Since he was the honoured guest, we presume Theon would have been served as much as he wanted. A witness says his behaviour seemed unexceptional. So if he regularly over-drank,' Philadelphion suggested, 'this was done in private. Secret drinking, particularly when it has not been the drinker's prior custom, is to be regarded as significant. I referred earlier to Theon seeming preoccupied, and this would reinforce my remark that he may have been experiencing mental anguish of some kind. Why am I concentrating on this supposition? Because in his stomach and oesophagus were intriguing remains – something he had eaten or drunk later than his dinner. I have saved samples, which I shall be discussing with our botanist colleagues. It is plant material, apparently leaves, and perhaps seeds. I am qualified to comment on the circumstances, inasmuch as we at the zoo examine animals – our own or those that are brought to us – animals that die when they have eaten poisoned feed. I recognise similarities.'

  This caused a stir. Someone asked quickly, 'When you began the necropsy, were you anticipating poison?'

  'It was always a possibility. Those of you who are alert will have noticed the body was unclothed. Normally in such a case, examining the clothes worn at the time of death would be part of the initial procedure. On this occasion Chaereas and Chaeteas had removed the tunic for aesthetic reasons; there was vomit present. I examined it prior to the necropsy'

  'Did you find more plant material?'

  'Yes. Given that Theon had eaten well already, if he was poisoned I doubt he had unwisely picked and chewed some foliage he passed by, daydreaming. So, if he ingested this plant material while he sat at his table, and if he did so voluntarily, then we must decide he was so troubled in his mind, he committed suicide. Otherwise -' For the only time that afternoon Philadelphion paused dramatically. 'Otherwise someone else gave him the poison. If they knew what they were giving him – and why do it unless they knew? – then for reasons we cannot immediately say, our Librarian was murdered.'

  XIII

  The reaction lasted some minutes. During the uproar, as men turned to each other and exchanged ideas excitedly, I slipped from my seat and walked down to the central area.

  'Philadelphion, greetings and congratulations on your work today. My name is Didius Falco -'

  'The Emperor's man!'

  I raised an eyebrow. He must have seen there was a stranger in the audience – nothing wrong with his vision; those large, good-looking eyes could do both close focus and distance – but this was inside knowledge. 'You heard I was coming?'

  Silver-haired and svelte, the handsome lecturer smiled. 'This is Alexandria.''

  The noise was dying down. Questions were now being put to Philadelphion, including 'Why would Theon have been locked in?'

  Philadelphion raised his hands for hush. 'Answering this is not in my remit. But here is the Prefect's special investigator – Falco, do you mind? – who may be able to explain more.'

  I noticed he did not identify me as coming from Rome, Vespasian's agent. Nice courtesy.

  Philadelphion withdrew to a seat, leaving me unexpectedly with the floor.

  'My name is Didius Falco. As Philadelphion said, I have been asked to run the enquiry into Theon's death. You have all been sitting here a good while, and what we have seen was harrowing, so I won't prolong the agony. But I am glad to introduce myself. While we are all together here, may I ask that if any of you know anything useful about what happened, please see me privately as soon as possible.'

  There was some shuffling, as people who had never helped a law and order investigation before looked nervous. I dealt with some low levels of society where everyone knew all too well how it worked. I had to remind myself there were polite circles where the witnesses would feel uncertain what was expected of them.

  'One of you just asked: why would Theon have been locked in? His room, which I have seen, can only be locked from outside. So if he committed suicide, that locked door is odd. If he was murdered, it makes sense; it would ensure he could not seek help before any poison took effect. Philadelphion, did your examination give any clues to the length of time between ingestion and death?'

  He did not trouble to rise but answered, 'No; it depends what the poison was. I hope to find out more tomorrow. Plant poisons can take from minutes to several hours, or sometimes days.'

  'Long-acting ones are less attractive both to murderers and suicides,'' I commented.

  'Is there not another possibility?' asked a bright-looking youth at the side of the room. 'That the leaves and seeds could have been eaten by Theon in the hope they would be an antidote to
some other poison?'

  Philadelphion turned in his seat. 'That, too, will depend upon identification – assuming it is possible.'

  The lad was in his stride. 'Theon might not even have swallowed any poison, merely feared he had. The antidote leaves might then themselves have caused more reaction than he wanted -' This young man had a vigorous imagination, the type that likes things really complicated.

  'I shall bear those factors in mind,' replied Philadelphion patiently.

  We were starting to go around in circles. I intervened. 'Now listen – it's late, we are all exhausted. I am satisfied that Philadelphion's excellent examination has isolated a substance that could well have killed Theon. Without proper identification, further speculation this evening is pointless. Know when to let things take their time,' I warned, taking the role of a hoary professional. 'Let me say this. Even if Theon killed himself, somebody else locked the door on him. I want to know who, and why. I need any information you can give me. Who saw it happen? Who saw anybody going to see Theon? It has been suggested he was anxious recently. Who knows why? Who talked to him and heard him let slip some worry about his health, his work, his private life? And, if there was foul play here, who was his enemy? Who was jealous? Who wanted his research, his written treatise, his unique collection of black-figure vases, the mistress he kept secretly or the mistress he stole from somebody else and flaunted openly?…'

  Philadelphion gave me a bright look, as if he was shocked by the suggestion. Aeacidas and Apollophanes were half laughing; Theon was definitely not a ladies' man. 'Who wanted his job?' I asked in a neutral tone. Now that could be more than one person present.

  Nobody volunteered answers. That would come later, if I was fortunate. I knew they would hotly debate the questions. I knew people might start sneaking up to me from tomorrow – possibly even tonight. Some would want to help, some would want attention, some would undoubtedly be keen to dish dirt on their esteemed academic colleagues.

  Philadelphion and I made it clear the meeting was to break up. I invited him home with me to dinner; he said he had a prior engagement in a private house. It must have been with established friends because he invited me to go along with him. By then I needed to go home to reassure Helena. Aulus and I took his young friend Heras with us.

  When we left the Museion building, we had lost all sense of time and space. The necropsy had been so intense we felt we had been in another world.

  Out of doors, the sky still retained some light, but darkness was steadily falling. It increased our feeling that we had been rapt for much longer than a few hours. We were drained. We were hungry. We were overwhelmed.

  The audience dispersed quickly. Many of the others were hurrying off to the refectory. Some were in small groups, though a surprising number went alone. Scholars seemed to huddle into themselves more than people in most large groups.

  Aulus, Heras and I walked back from the great Museion complex, through the well-lit streets of Brucheion to my uncle's house. We made our way together in silence, with a great deal to remember and to think about.

  Alexandria was alive and vibrant at night, though to me did not seem threatening. Businesses were still open. Families were in their shops or strolling through their neighbourhoods. This was the largest port in the world, so sailors and traders were inevitably roistering, but they were close to the wharves and the Emporium, not so much in the broad avenues. There, daily life continued long after dusk as half a million people, of many nationalities, hailed one another, ate street food, chattered and dreamed, worked and gambled, picked pockets, exchanged goods, held assignations, complained about Roman taxes, insulted other sects, insulted their in-laws, cheated and fornicated. As the restive wind came off the sea, it brought the tug of the Mediterranean. We passed a temple and heard the shiver of a sistrum. Soldiers marched by us, with the familiar legionary tramp. We were in Egypt, yet only on the northern edge of it. We caught glimpses of its strangeness, yet were half in the world we thought we knew.

  The necropsy had affected me. I was glad to step into the blaze of my uncle's house, to be met by the howls of my children, who had had a fractious day. Then I was enfolded in Helena Justina's warm embrace. She leaned back, quizzing me silently. She would be eager for news of today, and in the hearing, she would soften its inhumanities with her gentle sanity.

  XIV

  Fulvius and Cassius were out pursuing some business interest, so our meal that night was a family occasion. That suited me.

  We dined on the roof, but the servants had made a cosy area under awnings. We three men slumped weakly at first on baggy cushions and the rich but worn coverlets that adorned the ancient couches. To me, Fulvius and Cassius had a rich but worn look too. I wondered whether the furnishings came with the house or were theirs. Julia and Favonia were at the meal, but after a hard day of squabbling, the tear-stained twosome soon fell asleep. Albia sat by Aulus, punching him awake when he forgot to be sociable. I ate and drank slowly, thinking.

  Helena patted the couch beside her. 'Come and talk to me, Heras!'

  The friendly young man took up the offer at once. He had excellent manners, was probably the product of a good mother, and looked flattered by the attention. He cannot have known that the nice Roman lady, at sight so safely married and pregnant, was a dangerous witch. Helena would pick his brains as adroitly as she had already picked the flesh from shellfish and the seeds from pomegranates. 'Tell me about yourself,' she smiled.

  Heras was all obedience. So Helena discovered he came from Naukratis, an old Greek city; his father was rich, and anxious for his boy to make his way successfully. Heras had been sent on his own to Alexandria, to find a study course. The results had caused discomfort in his relations with his father. 'So does your father disapprove of your tutor or your subject?'

  'Pretty much both, madam.'

  Heras explained that Sophistry was required study for anyone who hoped to be a leader of society here. Learning to be a persuasive public speaker was a vital skill; it would fit him for the highest levels – to be a senator, magistrate, diplomat, public benefactor. Unfortunately, Sophist teachers had become far too aware of their value to the wealthy – who were by definition their best source of students. Sophists charged high fees. Very high, in most cases, since to demand less than a rival might imply mediocrity. 'Their teaching is supposed to encourage virtue, a selfless ideal; so some people take the view that to charge fees at all is wrong. My father can pay -'All adolescents think that. I glanced at my little daughters, wondering how soon these sleeping cupids would be expecting a bottomless purse from me. Not long. Julia could already price a toy. 'But Father is shocked how much my tutor wants.'

  'Socrates always spoke in public, for all comers.' Helena surprised Heras with her knowledge and her easy confidence in sharing it. I knew how widely she read. Senators' daughters are not normally educated to the standard of senators' sons, even where the daughters are brighter. But when Helena was growing up, with two younger brothers, there were schoolmasters in the house, not to mention a private library. She had grabbed every opportunity. Nor was she discouraged. Her parents both took the view that she would be responsible for the upbringing of future senators. Their only misjudgement was that Helena chose me instead of a stuffed patrician. Our children would be middle-rank. I had no objection to her teaching them anything valuable, but if the baby she was expecting was a boy, and if he survived birth and childhood, I would not send him overseas to pick up bad habits and serious diseases in a foreign university. Born plebeian, I wanted returns on my cash. I had earned the money myself. I was capable of wasting it myself too.

  'So tell me about your studies, Heras.' Helena was talking to the student and simultaneously watching me. I hid a smile. I liked my women versatile. I liked this one much more than others I had known.

  'We learn the rules of rhetoric, good style, voice training, and correct stance. Part of the regimen is declaiming model speeches in the classroom. My father says these involve false, steril
e subjects, divorced from life – he sees it as no more than oral trickery. We also observe our master giving public orations, through which he wins the admiration of the city – and my father is just as suspicious of that. He argues that teachers now cultivate the art of virtuoso rhetoric for incorrect reasons. Their lifestyle offends against the good qualities they are supposed to be teaching: they make orations to gain reputations; they want reputation only in order to earn more money.'

  I leaned on my elbow. 'To say knowledge cannot be bought and sold like corn or fish sounds virtuous. But philosophers have to put clothes on their backs and food in their bellies.'

  'Not in Alexandria,' Helena reminded me. 'The Museion promises them ''freedom from want and taxes''. Even in Rome, our Emperor, Vespasian, has sought to encourage education by granting immunity from municipal obligations to grammarians and rhetoricians. And he provides schoolteachers' salaries.'

  Heras laughed shyly. 'This is the same emperor who, at the beginning of his office, exiled all philosophers from Rome?'

  'All except the esteemed Musonius Rufus,' agreed Helena.

  'What was special about him?'

  'My father knows him slightly, so I can answer that – he is a Stoic, who argues that the pursuit of virtue is a philosopher's aim. Nero sent him into exile – which is always a sign of quality. When Vespasian's armies were advancing on Rome at the end of the civil war, Musonius Rufus pleaded with the soldiers to exercise peaceful behaviour. What I particularly like about him is that he says men and women possess exactly the same capacity for understanding virtue, therefore women should be taught philosophy equally with men.'

  Both Aulus and Heras guffawed at that. I could not see it going down well with the academic establishment in Alexandria. Come to that, few Roman women would take up the idea, especially if it required the pursuit of virtue. That does not mean I disapproved of the equal-education principle. I was prepared to sneer at bad philosophers of either sex.