Alexandria

colleagues in the past, who pointed out rich men to Nero; he had them hauled into court on trumped-up charges so he could plunder their assets - with the informers taking a cut, of course. Vespasian put an end to that scam - not that I ever dabbled. Nowadays it’s all small beans. Disputing wills for hopeful widows or chasing after runaway partners from debt-ridden small businesses. I help members of the public avoid pain, yet for the world at large my work still has the fragrance of a blocked drain.’

‘So what do you do for the Emperor?’ The Librarian would not let it go.

‘The public is correct. I poke a long stick into noxious blockages.’

‘That takes skill?’

‘Just a strong shoulder and knowing when to hold your nose.’

‘Marcus is being modest.’ Helena was my best supporter. I winked at her wickedly, implying that if we had been couched alongside, I would have given her a squeeze. Against convention - but convention never bothers me. She was wearing dark red, a colour that gave her a luscious glow, with a gold necklace I had bought for her after a particularly profitable mission. ‘He is a first-class investigator with exceptional skills. He works quickly, discreetly and with unfailing humanity’ And he’s all hands, said her dark eyes back to me across the half-circle of couches.

I sent over more private eye-messages to Helena. Theon had spotted something going on, but had not worked out that it was lechery. ‘The noble Helena Justina is not just my wife, but my accountant, business manager and publicist. If Helena decides you need an enquiry agent - good references and cheap rates - then she will prise a commission out of you, Theon!’

Helena then shot us all a beaming smile. ’Oh not this month, darling! We are in Egypt on holiday!’

‘All-seeing Argos never sleeps!’ Now it was Aulus pompously giving the game away. I was surrounded by idiots. No one had any discretion; well, except Cassius, who was so worn out by his exertions all day he had nodded off with his chin on his forearm. Protruding from a wide-sleeved robe of some African design, the forearm was extremely hairy.

‘Classical allusion? Oh really!’ Helena rapped her brother playfully with the end of a shellfish spoon. ‘Marcus promised he would be all mine. He has come away to spend time with me and the little ones.’

I tucked into my foodbowl, looking like an innocent domestic treasure.

Helena then swerved neatly and started polite Smalltalk about the Great Library. Theon ignored Helena. He favoured me with a professional grumble: ‘You might think the Library is the most important institution here, Falco, but for administrative purposes, it counts less than the observatory, the medical laboratory - or even the zoo! I ought to be feted but am harassed at every turn, while others take precedence. The Director of the Museion is by tradition a priest, not a scholar. Yet he includes in his title, ’’Head of the United Libraries of Alexandria”, whereas I - in charge of the most renowned collection of knowledge in the world - am merely its curator and secondary to him. And why should the Pharos be so famous - a mere bonfire at the top of a tower - when the Library is the true beacon, a beacon of civilisation?’

‘Indeed,’ Helena humoured him, ignoring in her turn his exclusion of women. ‘The Great Library, Megale Bibliothcca. should be one of the Wonders of the World. I have read that Ptolemy Soter, who first set out to found a centre of universal scholarship here, decided to collect not only Hellenic literature, but “all the books of the peoples of the world”. He spared neither expense nor effort -’ Theon was clearly unimpressed by her research. Women were not permitted to study in his Library and I reckoned he rarely mingled with them. I doubted it he was married. Helena’s attempts at flattery met only a downcast expression of bad temper and bad grace. The man was hard going. Probably desperate, she jangled an armful of bangles and asked the obvious question: ‘So how many scrolls do you have?’

The Librarian must have bitten on a peppercorn. He went white and choked. Fulvius had to pat him on the back. The disturbance woke Cassius from his nap, so he too was treated to Theon’s look of reproach and thought the food was being blamed. Catching up with the conversation as if he had never been asleep, Cassius muttered under his breath, ‘From what we hear of the famous Library, the freeloading scholars have a stinking lack of morality and all the staff are so disheartened they have almost given up!’ It was the first time I saw my uncle’s partner show his dyspeptic side. That’s dinner parties for you.

Then, just as Aulus was forcing a beaker of water down the Librarian - with a grip that showed our boy really had been in the army - two pathetic little barefoot figures appeared in the doorway: Julia and Favonia were bawling their eyes out, having woken in a strange house all alone.

Uncle Fulvius growled. Helena and Albia jumped up and rushed from the room, carrying the children back to bed. Albia must have stayed with them. By the time Helena returned to the dining room, the third course had been brought and the slaves had withdrawn. We men had redoubled the pace of our wine intake and were talking about horse-racing.

V

Horseflesh, surprisingly, was the Librarian’s best topic. Aulus and I could hold our own, while Fulvius and Cassius spoke of legendary contests run by noble beasts in international hippodromes, using colourful and sometimes off-colour anecdotes.

Helena commandeered the wine flagon, to forget us being sports bores. Roman men magnanimously take their women to dinner parties, but that doesn’t mean we bother talking to them. But Helena would not tolerate staying in the women’s quarters like a good Greek wife, letting her man go out to be entertained by a professional party girl. She had had a husband once, before me, who tried to go solo: she served him with a divorce notice.

We were a team: she refrained from nagging me, and when the party broke up, I made sure I found her buried among a pile of cushions and hauled her to bed. I can undress a woman who says she is too sleepy. Anyone can see where sleeve-buttons are. Helena was sober enough to flop around in the right directions. She just liked the attention; it was good fun for me too.

I spread her red dress neatly on a chest, placing ear-rings and so forth upon it. I threw my tunic on a stool. I crawled into bed beside Helena, thinking how good it would be to have a lie-in next day, before another of my uncle’s leisurely all-morning breakfasts on his gently sunlit roof terrace. Afterwards, perhaps, now that I had met him, I might go and annoy Theon by poking around his Library and asking him to show me how the catalogue system worked . . .

No luck. First, our daughters found out where our room was. Still feeling neglected, they made sure we knew it. We were woken by two hard artillery rocks plummeting at our prone bodies then squirming between us. Somehow we had produced children with iron heads and fast-kicking powerful rabbits’ feet.

‘Why do you not have a nursemaid to look after them?’ Uncle Fulvius had asked, in genuine bafflement. I had explained that the last slave I bought for that purpose found Julia and Favonia such hard work she announced she would be our cook instead. It added to his incomprehension. Fulvius should have known all about family chaos; he grew up on the same crazy farm as my mother. His brain seemed to have blanked out the misery. Perhaps mine would one day.

The next horror was a disturbed breakfast.

Barely had we slumped under the pergola, than we heard footsteps thumping loudly up the stairs. I could tell they meant trouble. Fulvius also seemed to recognise military boots. Given that his house rules were firm about not attracting this kind of attention, it was remarkable how fast he reacted. He struggled to get up, intending to take the newcomers downstairs somewhere private, but after his night of revelry was just too sluggish. Three men stomped out on to the terrace.

‘Ooh - soldiers!’ Helena murmured. ‘What have you been up to, Fulvius?’

As far as I remembered from desultory checks before we left Rome, there were two legions in Egypt, though supposedly they exercised control with a light hand. Having the Prefect in Alexandria meant troops had to be permanently stationed here to show he meant business. Currently, those who were not up-country occupied a double fort at Nicopolis, the new Roman suburb on the eastern side that Augustus had built. Geographically, this fort was in the wrong place - right in the north of a long, narrow province while the brigands were a long way south, preying on the Red Sea ports, and any over-border incursions from Ethiopia and Nubia were even further away. Worse, during the Nile floods, Nicopolis was inaccessible except by punt. Still, the Alexandrian mob had a rowdy reputation. It was useful to have troops close by to cover that, and the Prefect could feel big, going around with armed escorts.

Apparently the militia also carried out certain law enforcement duties that in Rome would fall to the vigiles. So