two of them sufficiently unmanly to begin with, so that no further degradation was deemed necessary to make them ready to be displayed for the scorn and contempt of the Roman people.
'Ganymedes, who are these men?' Arsinoe drew alongside the much taller eunuch and stared up at me.
Ganymedes delicately wiped a tear from one eye, careful not to smear the kohl. 'Friends of Hieronymus,' he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. 'Dear Hieronymus!'
'My name is Gordianus. My son, who does not speak, is Rupa,' I said. 'Your Majesty,' I added, and even made a slight bow, elbowing Rupa to do the same.
I could see she appreciated the gesture, however perfunctory. 'You may be the last mortals on earth to call me that and acknowledge me with a bow,' she said wistfully.
'Not true, Your Majesty,' said Ganymedes, overcoming his tears. 'I shall address you by your title and bow before you until the very end.'
'Of course you will, Ganymedes,' said the princess. 'Not counting you, I mean. What's this about Hieronymus, then?'
'I'm very sorry to tell you that he's dead.'
She drew a breath. 'How?'
'He was murdered; stabbed to death.'
'When?'
'Five nights ago, on the Palatine Hill.'
She shook her head. 'Is there no end to the wickedness of this world? Poor Hieronymus.'
I decided that her plumpness was not unbecoming. She was prettier than her older sister, and the softness of her features made it more difficult to imagine her as a rapacious crocodile. Behind me, I heard Ganymedes weeping.
'I understand that Hieronymus managed to visit you here, Your Majesty, on more than one occasion.'
'Yes, he was one of the very few visitors we've received, other than our jailors. He sent a message first, explaining where he came from and who he was, and saying he was curious to meet me. The curiosity was mutual.'
'How so, Your Majesty?'
She walked toward the balcony and stepped up to the parapet. I followed at a respectful distance. 'Massilia and Alexandria both were founded by Greeks near the mouth of a great river,' she said. 'Both became centers of culture, learning, and commerce. Alexandria is by far the greater city, of course, but Massilia is older. Hieronymus was chosen to serve as Scapegoat for Massilia, a sacrificial victim to bear away the suffering that might otherwise consume the whole city-suffering inflicted by Caesar. Am I not the Scapegoat of Alexandria? Caesar came. Caesar imposed his will upon us by brute force. The city surrendered. And now there must be a victim to display to the bloodthirsty people of Rome. I am that victim.'
She gazed at the city below. 'Vile place! Vile people! And to think that a Ptolemy should be paraded before them like a criminal, and put to death like a dog. The gods will have much to answer for when I join them in Elysium!'
She turned around and transfixed me with a smoldering gaze. She seemed much older than her nineteen years, and projected a presence beyond her stature. 'But Hieronymus eluded the Fates. He was the Scapegoat who escaped! We were hoping that some of his good fortune would rub off on us-eh, Ganymedes? Alas, his luck must have rubbed off on something, if he was murdered, as you say. How well did you know him?'
I briefly explained my relationship with Hieronymus, and gave a reason for coming. 'Since his death, I've been reading his personal papers. He said very kind things about you.' In truth, he had written very little about Arsinoe. Yet he had visited her more than once. Why had he come back to see her, if there was nothing of interest to report? Hieronymus had not even mentioned Ganymedes, which seemed odd, given the eunuch's obvious infatuation with him.
Had Hieronymus been so embarrassed by Ganymedes' attentions that he kept silent about them, even in his private journal? I thought not. Hieronymus was not easily flustered, and not easily silenced. If he had considered the eunuch's infatuation absurd, he would have said so; it was not like Hieronymus to miss a chance to ridicule someone. But such was not the case.
This left a curious possibility: that the attraction had been mutual. I tended to think of Hieronymus as a voluptuary with an appetite for beautiful boys or girls; such were the pleasures that had been offered to him when he was the pampered Scapegoat. Plain-faced Ganymedes hardly seemed a likely recipient for his passions. But there is nothing as unpredictable as the attraction of one mortal for another.
What did I know about Hieronymus's most secret longings, or about Ganymedes, for that matter? No doubt there was more to the eunuch than met the eye, I thought-and winced at the cutting pun Hieronymus could have extracted from that observation. Ganymedes had risen to a position of power in one of the most competitive royal courts in the world, amid the most elegant and sophisticated surroundings imaginable. His learning and wit had served him well; he had lived the sort of life that Hieronymus should have lived, had Fortune not turned against him when he was young. Then Fortune turned against Ganymedes, at a time when Hieronymus seemed to be living a charmed existence. Each might have served as a mirror image to the other. Could that have been the root of a mutual attraction?
If Hieronymus had indeed felt drawn to the eunuch, it was perhaps not surprising that no mention of the fact appeared in his papers. He would not have told Calpurnia, considering it none of her business, and I suspected he would have kept such feelings out of his personal journal, which was more a repository for scathing observations and witty wordplay than for heartfelt confessions.
I turned to the tearful Ganymedes. I looked long and hard into his glittering eyes, and knew that my supposition was right. Hieronymus, Hieronymus! Will you never cease to surprise me? Even in death, you throw up new puzzles.
Had Arsinoe known? Had she allowed the two of them privacy, when Hieronymus came to visit? His visits could not have lasted long; the guards would not have allowed it. It might be that the intimacy of the Scapegoat and the eunuch extended to no more than a touch or a fleeting kiss. Some relationships are all the more intense for being limited by tragic circumstance.
'Wait a moment!' Arsinoe walked up to me and stared at my face. 'I knew you looked familiar, and I now I know why. You were with Caesar in Alexandria! Do you deny it?'
'It's true, Your Majesty. I was in the royal palace when Caesar was there. But I don't recall that you and I ever met-'
'I remember you, nonetheless. I recognize your face. You were among the Romans in the grand reception hall that day-the morning after Cleopatra smuggled herself into Caesar's presence and into his bed. Caesar gathered all the royal siblings and proceeded to apportion our father's kingdom among us. Cleopatra and Ptolemy were to share the throne in Alexandria. I was to be given Cyprus. Of course, that arrangement lasted as long as a drop of water in the Egyptian desert.' She looked me up and down. 'Who are you? One of Caesar's officers?'
'Certainly not.'
'One of his political advisers? Or one of those merchants who came to Egypt with Caesar to pillage our grain supply?'
'I didn't arrive in Alexandria with Caesar, Your Majesty. I traveled to Egypt on personal business. I happened to find myself in the royal palace only because-'
'How well do you know my sister?'
I came to a halt in mid-speech, my mouth open.
Arsinoe locked her eyes on mine. 'No ready answer for that question, eh? When did you last see Cleopatra?'
The crocodile had stirred within her. The menacing edge in her voice sent a chill up my spine, never mind that it came from a plump, teenaged girl who at that moment was a helpless captive. This was the conquered enemy whom Caesar considered formidable enough to be paraded in his triumph, and dangerous enough to be put to death.
If I lied, she would know. 'I saw your sister this morning, Your Majesty. I've just come from visiting her, as a matter of fact.'
'Did she send you to spy on me? Is she afraid I might yet escape? I would if I could! And then I'd go straight to the villa where Caesar is keeping her, like his personal whore, and strangle her with my bare hands!'
