'You're a clever fellow; nimble with your fingers. Did you also learn to do conjuring tricks when you were a boy in Syracuse?'
'What do you mean?'
'Those boys on the waterfront in Syracuse who accost visitors to sell them trinkets-sometimes their nimble fingers go where they shouldn't. A Sicilian urchin stole my coin purse once, and right after I'd been paid handsomely for a bit of work. That purse was heavy, bulky-yet he lifted it so skillfully, I never felt a thing.'
Apollodorus shrugged. 'There's a trick to it.'
I nodded. 'And a trick to doing the opposite, as well?'
'What do you mean?'
'Nimble fingers can snatch a purse without the owner feeling a thing. Nimble fingers can plant such a thing upon a man as well-and the victim is never the wiser.'
Apollodorus stood and shook the mane of hair from his face. He stepped closer, looming over me, until I felt his breath on my forehead. The smell was sweet, as if he had been chewing cloves.
'I think I've had enough of your questions.'
'Come, now. Did the queen not tell you to be candid with me, at Caesar's behest?'
'I'll walk you up the steps. Find Caesar's men and tell them to row you back.'
'I thought you might do that.'
'I'll see you drown, first.' He bumped against me, hard enough to make me trip on the first step. As I ascended, I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck.
He escorted me as far as the terrace, then headed back.
'Apollodorus!' I said.
'Yes?' Some paces from me, he turned back, scowling.
'I'm not offended that you should display the fullness of your loincloth to me in such a brazen fashion, but I'm not especially impressed, either. It's a pity you feel compelled to augment that which nature gave you.'
'What are you babbling about?' He beetled his brow and looked down between his legs, where his scanty loincloth sagged and bulged in an impossibly exaggerated fashion. 'What in Hades? I never-'
He reached into the pouch and drew out the carved lion's head, then glared at me darkly, baring his teeth.
I flourished my fingers. 'Over the years, I've picked up a few conjurer's tricks myself. If I could place that object in such an intimate location, without your awareness, then I think it entirely possible that the alabaster vial was planted upon Meto's person by someone who was here on this terrace, in plain sight of everyone present and without Meto's knowledge. The only question is: Was that conjurer you, Apollodorus? Or was it someone else? And what was that person playing at?'
Apollodorus raised his arm. I ducked and heard the lion's head whistle past one ear. The trajectory carried it well beyond the terrace. It landed in the water with a splash.
' 'From driftwood it came, to driftwood it returns,' ' I said. The line was from Euripides, as I recalled. I watched the little lion's head bob on the water, and felt a sudden thrill of intuition, as if I had arrived, unexpectedly and without preparation, on the cusp of a great revelation. What association did that bobbing piece of driftwood recall to my mind, and why was it significant? Like a will-o-the-wisp, some insight hovered, tantalizingly near but out of reach. If only I could grasp it, I felt certain I would understand everything to do with the poisoning of the cup that morning. I almost had it-and then the insight receded, just as the bobbing driftwood was suddenly lost to sight amid the waves.
I looked over my shoulder, and saw that Apollodorus had disappeared.
CHAPTER XXIV
The army headed by Achillas arrived at the city that night. The people of Alexandria opened their gates to the soldiers with mixed emotions. Many thought that the Roman intruders, now greatly outnumbered, would surely be expelled. But at what cost, and with what result? A city is the very worst arena in which to wage a battle. Close quarters thwart strategy; every engagement is reduced to the level of a street fight. Fire and destruction would threaten the people and their city; no one wanted to see Alexandria in flames. And if, after much bloodshed and devastation, Caesar and his men could be annihilated or driven out, what would the Egyptians have gained? They might simply find themselves back where they began, with their country still split between the royal siblings, and the siblings at one another's throats.
Having withdrawn into a defensible portion of the royal precinct, with King Ptolemy and his retinue essentially being held captive, Caesar's forces now ceded the task of maintaining order in the city to Achillas and his motley army. From all indications, rioting and looting continued in many parts of Alexandria. Achillas's attention was split between preparing to lay siege to Caesar's forces and establishing control of the populace. As for the unruly Alexandrian mob, some eagerly welcomed Achillas's troops and even took up arms with them, while others, loyal to Cleopatra, viewed them as an occupying army hardly preferable to that of Caesar and openly defied their authority at every opportunity.
Violently wrenched between all these conflicting powers, volatile even at the best of times, Alexandria seemed poised to fall into utter chaos.
What did the crisis mean for Meto? It seemed, for the time being, at least, that Caesar was distracted from exercising judgment on my son-a good thing, for as yet I had no idea of how to prove Meto's innocence.
With the new impetus of a threatening army, events moved swiftly. To the surprise and relief of many in the palace, Caesar announced that a fresh accord had been reached between the king and queen. A banquet to celebrate the event would be held in the great reception hall. I was called upon to attend. The room resounded with the music of pipes, horns, drums, and rattles. No doubt it was one of the Piper's tunes that the little orchestra was playing when the guards showed me to my place in a corner quite distant from the dining couches gathered upon the dais, where Caesar sat flanked by the queen on one side and the king on the other. Near to Ptolemy sat Pothinus. Next to Cleopatra was Merianis, with Apollodorus standing watchfully not far off.
There were guards posted all around the perimeter of the room; all the guards were Roman. By mutual consent, both the king's guards and the queen's had been banished. Caesar alone would provide for their protection; Caesar, in a sense, held them both captive. The queen and king had both placed their trust in him, at least for the time being, and the fate of all three hung together.
Girls strolled from couch to couch, pouring wine for the guests. Boys traversed the room with silver platters, offering delicacies. A singer joined the musicians and recited a long ballad in Greek about a band of explorers who sailed up the Nile in search of the river's origin, encountering many wonders along the way.
All around me, people engaged in conversations, leaning forward on couches pulled into circles or reclining with their couches pulled close together, head-to-head, but no one spoke to me. The Egyptians saw my Roman toga and regarded me with suspicion; the Roman officers, knowing who I was, shunned me for fear of picking up Meto's bad fortune. Sitting alone, I pricked up my ears and listened to what others were saying to one another.
'He's obviously scared half out of his wits,' said one Egyptian courtier to another. Both appeared quite young, though age is sometimes hard to judge with eunuchs. 'Do you recall how cocky he was when he first arrived, all bloated with pride over his victory at Pharsalus, thinking he could remake Egypt with a wave of his hand? Then he saw Pompey's head in a basket, and he's been struggling to keep his own head above water ever since. Now Achillas has arrived, and Caesar knows the game is over. He just hopes to get out of Alexandria alive!'
A Roman officer, overhearing them, interrupted. 'You know, you couldn't be more mistaken.'
'How's that?' asked the courtier, curling his lip.
'About Caesar. This banquet is just another demonstration of his total mastery of the situation. Think of it as a wedding celebration. Egypt is Rome's new bride, to be put in her place with a sound thrashing if she's naughty, or, if she's sweet and obedient, with a sound-'
'You vile Roman!' snapped the eunuch. The unpleasantness of the encounter seemed about to escalate.
The officer scowled. 'You're pretty when you're angry. Maybe you're the one in need of a good, sound-'
Both of the eunuchs shrieked with laughter. The Roman threw back his head and joined them. I realized they knew one another already, and were on friendly terms, at the very least. Thus had the confined, uncertain life in the
