Alexandria mdf-19 Read online

  'We regard Vespasian as stingy,' Heras confided. Uncle Fulvius kept a good cellar. Heras had drunk wine with us, perhaps more than he was used to and certainly more than made him wise. 'We call him the Salt-fish-seller. Because,' he thought it necessary to add, 'when he was here, it is said he did that.'

  'Better not insult the Emperor too loudly,' Aulus warned him quietly. 'You never know who may be listening. Do not forget: Marcus Didius works for the man.'

  'You are in his power?' Heras asked me. I chewed a date thoughtfully.

  'Who knows?' shrugged Aulus. 'Perhaps Marcus Didius also seeks reputation in order to earn money – or perhaps he has enough character to remain his own man.'

  Old and wise, I remained silent. Sometimes I had no idea myself how much I had capitulated and sold my soul to keep my family, or how much I simply played along and guarded my integrity.

  Helena's eyes were on me again, shadowed in the lamplight. Full of thoughts, full of private assessment; if I was lucky, still full of love.

  I rolled, grasped wine and water flagons one in each hand, and refilled beakers. Helena declined; I kept Albia's share minimal; I gave Aulus and Heras more water with it than they probably wanted. Then I took up the talk myself.

  'So tell me, lads -' I included Aulus, so it looked less like a grilling of Heras. 'What do you know about the running of the Library?'

  Heras had round eyes. 'You think there is a scandal there?'

  'Whoa! It was a neutral question.'

  'Neutral?' Heras considered the concept. He was as wary as if I had just landed a deep sea monster, never seen before.

  'This is empirical research,' I explained gently. 'I seek evidence then draw conclusions from it. In this system, you are not given a set answer to which you must frame oratorical delivery. The objective is discovery, without preconditions or prejudice. A simple How? What? Where? and Wo? All to be answered before you can even start on Why?'

  The lad still seemed worried. I was perturbed myself, by his narrow attitude. Far too many people shared it: the false belief that you could only ask questions when you knew the answers. I talked him through it gently: 'I use libraries in my work in Rome. We have grand ones – Asinius Pollio's public collection, the Library of Augustus up on the Palatine – and Vespasian is building a new overspill Forum in his own name, which is to have a Temple of Peace, alongside a matched pair of Greek and Latin libraries.' There seemed no harm in mentioning that. It was not a secret. Vespasian's programme of Roman beautification was to be world famous. 'Now here I am in Alexandria. Alexandria and Pergamum have the best libraries in the known world – but, let's admit this: who in Hades knows where Pergamum is? So for a man who is curious about all things, naturally in Alexandria I want to know about the Great Library'

  'This is independent of the suggestion that its Keeper was murdered? Even though you investigate such things?'

  'I cannot know whether the Library is relevant until I first find out what is normal there.'

  'So what are you asking me?' Heras quavered weakly.

  'What have you noticed? How well does it all work?'

  Heras looked shy and hung his head. No doubt he usually bluffed when he was quizzed by his tutor or his anxious father, but to me that night he told the sorry truth: 'I am afraid I am rather lax. I do not go to the Library as often as I ought to, Falco.'

  Well, he was a student. Helena sent me a look that said I should have known.

  XV

  Next morning, waking early was hard. But I had to beard the Head of the Museion and his colleagues at their morning meeting. It would be vital. I thought they were bound to discuss Theon's death.

  Besides, when I take against someone, I continue the pressure. I found Philetus, the Director, as savoury as steaming stable manure. I intended to fork him over until he squeaked.

  Aulus was still snoring. So were most other people in the house.

  Helena came with me. She was meeting Albia later to show the children the zoo, but as a thoughtful mother she would reconnoitre first.

  'Excellent woman. If Alcmene had been as careful, the infant Hercules would not have had that tricky moment jumping out of his cradle to strangle two snakes… I can offer you another kind of zoo,' I said. 'There will be unbelievable wild beasts – it's a human menagerie.'

  'The academics? They won't let me in, Marcus.'

  'Stick with me, fruit.' I took a linen napkin, made a sling, said I would claim I had damaged my hand and my wife was the only person I would trust to take notes faithfully or to keep it confidential afterwards. 'Walk behind me. Sit very still. Don't speak at any time.'

  'I am not a Greek woman, Falco.'

  'Don't I know it! You are a handful, my darling, but the woolly intellectuals need not be told. If you can bear to keep your mouth shut, they may never realise.' The chances were slim. She would burst out with indignation the first time they waffled unworldly twaddle. I beamed at her as if full of confidence. Helena knew herself; she looked wry.

  'They still won't let me in.'

  They would. Philetus had not arrived yet. This was a typical large organisation. The others were keen to do anything to get up their Director's nose.

  There was a good reason Philetus had not arrived. He was keeping aloof from unpleasantness: unpleasantness that he had caused. He had reported Philadelphion to the Prefect. Tenax and his sidekicks had come to arrest the Zoo Keeper for conducting an illegal human dissection. We found them on the steps of the Director's building. The culprit was with them, standing with his handsome head thrown back, daring them to march him off.

  I greeted the centurion easily. 'Gaius Numerius Tenax! And Mammius and Cotius, your excellent operatives. Smart turnout, boys!' They had burnished their breastplates for this formal occasion. I do like to see trouble taken. The centurion had his greaves on this morning and gripped his swagger-stick as if he was afraid some naughty monkey might jump down from a gutter and snatch it from him. The monkeys were the ones wearing the Greek beards here, I was beginning to think. 'Are we filling cells on this beautiful morning?'

  'There has been a complaint,' complained Tenax. For once the complaint was not about me. (That could yet change.) Tenax spoke to me in an undertone, sharing his disgust with a fellow-Roman. 'The prick in charge could have had a quiet word with me about it, but he just had to go straight to the Old Man, didn't he?'

  'He's a priest. No idea of form. Well, if you arrest the zoologist, Tenax, you must arrest me too. I was there when he sawed up Theon's corpse.'

  Tenax was fascinated. 'So what did you think, Falco?'

  Lindsey Davis

  Alexandria

  'I thought it was justified. It produced results – the Librarian had taken poison. We wouldn't have known without unravelling his guts. I reckon you can assure the Old Man this necropsy was a one-off; view it as intended to be helpful. Also, go against it, and there may be bad feeling at the Museion, due to Theon's popularity-'

  'What popularity?'

  Helena giggled. 'His colleagues will praise him like mad, hoping the same is done for them one day.' Tenax took it well. He liked Helena.

  'Besides,' I warned darkly, 'this could escalate.'

  'What?' Tenax still stood at Philadelphion's shoulder, as if arresting him.

  'You know the Alexandria mob – taking a man into custody could blow up into a public order issue in five minutes.'

  'So what can I do, Falco?'

  'Go back and tell the Old Man you came down and assessed the situation. It's your belief you should just caution the perpetrator, explain to him that such experiments are alien to the Roman tradition, get him to promise to be a good citizen – and effect a strategic withdrawal.'

  Strategic withdrawal was not supposed to be the Roman army way, but Tenax saw Egypt as a soft posting, where the army kept out of trouble. 'Can I say you concurred?'

  'Say whatever you like,' I allowed graciously. 'He will not re-offend.'

  Tenax looked at Philadelphion. 'Got that, sir? Caut
ion, tradition, promise – and don't do it again. Please don't, or the Prefect will mince my nuts for offal gravy!'

  Philadelphion nodded. He showed no reaction to the lewd remark, perhaps because he and his little dissecting knife were no strangers to testicles, of all types. The soldiers marched off smartly. We went indoors.

  Philetus bumbled up soon afterwards. He looked astonished to see Philadelphion still at large. Of course he could say nothing, without admitting it was he who had grassed.

  He found something else to be indignant about: 'Do I spy a woman?'

  'She's with me. Director, meet my wife. As a senator's daughter, Helena Justina represents the glorious best of Roman womanhood. She has the rectitude and acumen of a Vestal Virgin. She is a confidante of Vespasian and holds the long-term admiration of Titus Caesar.' Vespasian might be called a salt-fish salesman here, but his son and heir, Titus, was a golden boy in Alexandria. Good-looking young generals, hot from triumphs in the East, reminded them of their founder. Implying that Helena was the hero's moll could only gild her prestige. I waved my sling. 'She has my admiration and will take my notes.'

  Furious, Helena was about to speak, but our unborn baby gave a fearsome lurch. I knew it from her expression so put an arm around her kindly. (It had to be a boy; he was on my side.)

  'Bear up, dear girl… Do not fret, Philetus. She will be invisible and silent.' She would slam me with plenty of vocals once we were home, but Helena took the hint temporarily.

  Philetus enthroned himself like a particularly uninspiring magistrate. The others slunk into a circle of armchairs that were like the marble seats assigned to senators in amphitheatres. I managed to get one for Helena. A folding stool was fetched for me. Needless to say, it had unequal legs and kept trying to refold itself. As an informer I was used to this trick. It was better than being made to stay standing like a slave.

  'Didius Falco will observe proceedings.' Philetus pecked at the announcement spitefully. Any good nature he had ever possessed had wizened like a diseased plant. 'We must keep the Emperor's man happy!'

  While I was busy stabilising my stool, Helena Justina took notes. I still have her documents, headed by who was present. Nobody had introduced us – manners were not on the curriculum at this institution – but she concocted her own cast list:

  Philetus: Director of the Museion

  Philadelphion: Zoo Keeper

  Zenon: Astronomer

  Apollophanes: Head of Philosophy

  Nicanor: Law

  Timosthenes: Curator of Serapeion Library

  Normally there would have been two more: the Head of the Great Library and the Head of Medicine. Theon was detained at the undertaker's. Heras had said the medical post lay vacant for some reason. Helena scribbled queries as to why literature and mathematics were unrepresented; subsequently she arrowed all branches of literature, along with history and rhetoric, to the Head of Philosophy while the Astronomer had a remit for mathematics; I saw her scowl. For a start, she loathed the demotion of literature.

  One thing struck me immediately. None of the names were Roman, or even Egyptian. They were all Greek.

  As the morning wound on, Helena added opinions and pen-portraits. An 'L' meant Helena considered that man a candidate for the job at the Great Library. Those were the ones I watched most carefully. I had every faith in Helena's judgement on them. If Theon had been murdered, the shortlist would be my suspects.

  Philetus: MDF's bugbear. And mine! Priest and poltroon.

  Philadelphion: cheekboned charmer; ladies' man? No, just thinks he is. L

  Zenon: Never speaks. Dumb or deep?

  Apollophanes: Lofty. Director's toady.? L

  Nicanor: Pompous. Thinks himself a cert for L – no chance.

  Timosthenes: Too reasonable to survive here. Should be L

  The agenda for the most part followed the pattern it must have had most days, which at least allowed those who hated meetings to nod:

  Director's report: potential VIP visits

  Faculty matters

  Budget

  Acquisitions: Librarians' reports (deferred from yesterday)

  Discipline: Nibytas (deferred)

  Progress on new Head of Medicine

  New item: appointment of Chief Librarian

  AOB: drama performance

  It was typical of the Director's unfitness for office that he thought it more important to panic about the possible appearance in two months' time of a deputation of town councillors, on a spree from some Greek island, than to tackle Theon's demise yesterday. His only expressed interest in that incident was wittering about a replacement. The Library could have been full of bloodthirsty assassins and all Philetus wanted to do was put the next victim in a position to be attacked. He was a psychopath's dream. I did consider the possibility he might himself be a psychopath. (Was he uninterested in Theon's fate because he already knew what had happened?) Philetus certainly failed to understand or relate to other people. But I decided he lacked precision, compressed energy and the cold desire to kill.

  Faculty matters were as boring as you think and went on twice as long as you imagine is possible. The Museion had no set teaching programme, which at least saved us endless wrangling between hidebound devotees of an Old Syllabus and thrusting exponents of some New; nor did they nitpick about removing the works of one old minor philosopher nobody had ever heard of in favour of another nonentity whose name would make the scholars groan. Philadelphion indulged in a ramble about how they ought to try to deter scholars' parents from approaching them full of unwise hopes. 'Better if they just send gifts!' commented Nicanor, the lawyer, cynically. The Director bemoaned the low standard of students' handwriting; he beefed that too many were so wealthy they were submitting theses that had been copied out for them by scribes – which increasingly meant that the scribes had really done the work. Philetus cared less that the students were cheating than that the scribes – mere slaves – were being permitted to acquire knowledge. Apollophanes boasted snidely that his scholars could not cheat because they had to declaim philosophy in front of him. 'If what they have to say is interesting enough to keep you awake!' scoffed Nicanor, implying with legal subtlety that it was not just the students in the philosophy faculty who were tedious.

  Timosthenes wanted to talk about hosting public lectures, but they all pooh-poohed that.

  The budget was dispatched briskly. The astronomer, Zenon, with his watching brief over mathematics, presented the accounts to the meeting, without any explanations. He just handed them round, then gathered them straight back in. Nobody else understood the figures. I tried to snaffle a set, but Zenon whipped all the copies away fast. I wondered if there was a reason. Helena wrote Money??? on her notes. After a moment she drew a circle around it for added emphasis.

  Acquisitions had to be deferred because Theon was dead. However, Timosthenes reported on book matters at the Serapeion, which we deduced was an overspill library; it sounded well run. He offered to cover Theon's responsibilities at the Great Library on an ad hoc basis, but Philetus was too suspicious to let him. It was clear from Timosthenes' understated way of speaking, and his grasp of his own report, that he would have been a good stand-in. Philetus therefore feared him as a threat to his own position; nor would he appoint anybody else. He preferred to leave everything in limbo. Apollophanes made some flattering comment that it was 'wise not to over-react, wise not to be precipitous' (these carefully balanced lumps of sycophancy helped Helena and me to identify Apollophanes as the Director's toady). Everyone else at the meeting slumped despondently. It looked habitual.

  They skipped discipline, so we never found out who Nibytas was or what he had done. Well, not that day.

  There was absolutely no need to have the Head of Medicine appointment on the agenda every day, other than to allow Philetus to fidget pointlessly over a matter that had already been resolved. Philadelphion stifled a yawn and Timosthenes let himself close his eyes briefly in despair. A candidate had been chosen and appointed
. He was on his way by sea. I asked where he was coming from: Rome. That seemed a radical move, until I heard he had trained in Alexandria: Aedemon, who worked for the well-to-do in Rome. Amazingly, Helena and I knew him, though we kept quiet. Association with us could damn the man before he stepped ashore.

  When they reached the appointment of a new Librarian, everyone sat up. Waste of effort: Philetus only mumbled half-hearted regret over Theon. He made much of his own important role in composing a new shortlist for the post. He had no timescale. He had no finesse either. He enjoyed himself by saying, 'Some of you will be considered!' with a mischievous twinkle that made me feel ill. 'Others may be surprised to find themselves omitted.' He managed to suggest that those who slighted him need entertain no hopes.

  Philetus sent out a clear invitation to engage in gruesome flattery and to give him expensive dinners. It stank. Still, Helena reminded me that in most of public life, in Rome too, that is how things work.

  The discussion of the Librarian's post took less time than an endless wrangle under Any Other Business about some students wanting to produce a version of Aristophanes' play Lysistrata. The Board's objections were not to its saucy language or its dangerous theme of ending war, nor even to its portrayal of women organising themselves and debating their own role in society. There was serious doubt about the wisdom of allowing the actors, all male, to dress in women's clothes. No one mentioned that the play turned on withholding sex as a way for the female characters to influence their husbands. I overcame some of my boredom by looking around the board and wondering which of them even knew what sex was.

  I might also have wondered whether any of these cultured beings was familiar with the play. But implying they might discuss a text they had not even read would of course be sacrilege.

  The meeting broke up. It achieved nothing tangible. I had the impression that this daily torture never did.

  Philetus sailed off to his room to be served mint tea. Apollophanes found an excuse to beg fawningly for a few words with his master. I was disappointed with this philosopher, who had seemed reasonable yesterday at the necropsy. That's how it goes. Decent men demean themselves in the hunt for career advancement. Apollophanes must have known that Philetus had an inferior mind and reprehensible ethics. Yet he sucked up to the man openly, in the desperate hope of the Librarian's job.