out unnecessary details to witnesses.
‘So what’s all this about a locked room?’
Tenax scowled, irritated that his men had talked. ‘I am sure it will turn out to be immaterial.’
I smiled. ‘Probably the key bounced out while they were battering down the door. It will have slithered under the floorboards -’
‘Ah, if only the Library was not such a handsome building, with great slabs of marble everywhere!’ Tenax muttered, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.
‘No gaps?’
‘No bloody gaps that I could see, Falco.’ He sounded glum.
‘So apart from the locked door - which may of course have an innocent explanation - does this death look unnatural in any other way?’
‘No. The man could have had a stroke or heart attack.’
‘But now the scholars have raised the issue, you will have to come up with explanations? Or would the authorities like it discreetly hushed up?’
‘I shall carry out a thorough investigation,’ replied Tenax coldly.
‘Nobody is suggesting a cover-up!’ oozed Fulvius. He then made it plain that unless there was a good reason for further questions, he was terminating the interview. ‘You can rule us out. The man was alive when he left our house. Whatever happened to Theon must have happened at the Library, and if you couldn’t find answers when you looked at the scene, it may be that there are none.’
The centurion sat staring at his note-tablet for a few moments, chewing his stylus. I felt sorry for him. I knew the scenario. Tenax had nothing to go on, no leads. The Prefect would never directly order him to drop the investigation, yet if he did drop it and there was an outcry, then he would get the blame, whilst if he carried on, he could not win either; his superiors would suggest he was time-wasting, over-pernickety and straining the budget. Still, some niggle kept him worrying at it.
He did eventually leave, and he took his soldiers, but there was unhappiness in the way he loped off. ‘It would not surprise me if he leaves a watch on our house,’ I said.
‘No need!’ Fulvius exclaimed. ‘This is a city of suspicions - we already have official eyes on us.’
‘That fellow who sits on the kerb outside, waiting to harass people?’
‘Katutis? Oh no, he’s harmless.’
‘What is he? A poor peasant who scrapes a living with offers of guiding visitors?’
‘I think he comes from a temple,’ said Fulvius offhandedly.
Well, now I knew I was in Egypt. You had not lived in this province until you were haunted by a sinister, muttering priest.
Another curse landed on me that afternoon. Fulvius must have given me a seriously ornate curriculum, which Tenax reported back to base. I was summoned to the Prefect’s office. There, I was greeted as some kind of high- ranking imperial emissary; I was inspected by a senior flunkey, given hearty best wishes from the Prefect (though he did not emerge to impart these effusions himself) and asked to take over the investigation into Theon’s death. It was put to me that if they brought in an imperial specialist, this would calm potential agitation among the Museion elite lest they imagine the matter was not being taken seriously.
I understood. My presence was handy. By making these arrangements, the Prefect and Roman authorities would look suitably concerned. The academics would be flattered by my presumed importance to Vespasian. If Vespasian heard I had been given the job,
On my return to the house Helena heard what had happened and smiled with huge, loving eyes. ‘So, this is well up to your usual work, my darling?’ She knew how to deflate my self-satisfaction with a hint of doubt. She sipped mint tea a little too thoughtfully. A silver bangle flashed on her arm; her eyes were just as bright. ‘A ridiculous puzzle, with no obvious way to clear it up, and everybody else just standing by to watch you make a mess of it? Dare I ask what they are paying you?’
‘The usual government rates - which means, I am just expected to be honoured that they place so much faith in me.’
She sighed. ‘No fee?’
I sighed too. ’No fee. The Prefect assumes I am on a retainer already for whatever Vespasian sent me out here to do. His official did not ask what that was, incidentally’
Helena put down her tea bowl. ‘So you said you were insulted by their offer?’
‘No. I said I assumed they would pay my expenses, for which I claimed a large advance immediately.’
‘How large?”
‘Large enough to fund our private trip to the Pyramids, once I’ve sorted out this case.’
‘Which you are confident you can?’ asked Helena with her usual gentle courtesy.
I kissed her, with my normal air of bluff.
VII
Aulus came in from the Museion, not long afterwards, eager to recite the strange fate of our dinner guest. He was annoyed that we already knew. He calmed down when I told him not to unbuckle his boots; he could come back out with me to inspect the crime scene. If it was a crime.
As a courtesy, Cassius had sent Theon home last night in the litter he and Fulvius used for getting about. Cassius now called up the bearers and we ordered them to take us to the Library, or as near as they could go, by the exactly same route. Retracing Theon s steps brought us no clues, but we convinced ourselves it was expert sleuthing. Well, it kept us out of the sun.
The head bearer, Psaesis, had a name that sounded like a spit but he was fairly pleasant for a man who was stuck with transporting rich foreigners to earn his bread and garlic. He spoke enough Greek to get by, so before we set out we asked him if the Librarian had seemed himself last night. Psaesis said Theon struck him as a little moody; in a world of his own, maybe. Aulus reckoned that sounded normal for a librarian.
My uncle’s conveyance was a florid double palanquin with purple silk cushions and a heavily fringed canopy. It would have made passengers feel like pampered potentates, had the bearers not been different heights so as they got up speed the unstable equipage rocked around wildly. Cornering was treacherous. We lost three cushions overboard as we clung on. This must be routine, because the bearers stopped to retrieve them almost before we shouted. When they dropped us off, they grinned triumphantly as if they thought filling us with terror was the point.
Aulus led the way. A thickset figure, he marched off boldly across the Museion grounds. He wore a white tunic, a stylish belt and expensive boots, all with the grace of a young man who believed himself a born leader - thereby persuading everyone else to treat him as if he was. I always marvelled how he did it. He had no sense of direction, yet he was the only man I knew who could lure road-sweepers into telling him the way without mischievously sending him straight to the local midden. As my assistant in Rome, he had been slapdash, ignorant, lazy and too well spoken, but when a case interested him, I had found he bucked up and became reliable.
Approaching thirty, Aulus had behind him all the necessary moments of hard drinking, unsuitable friends, loose women, flirtations with religion and dubious political offers; he must be ready to settle down into the same kind of pleasant life on the fringes of high society that his easygoing father led. Once he tired of study, Rome would welcome him back. He would have a few good friends and no other close associates. Presumably a well-behaved wife would be found for him, some girl with a half-decent pedigree and an only slightly scathing attitude to Aulus. She would run up bigger dress bills than the Camillus estates could cover, though Aulus was so inventive he would somehow cope.
I had no idea what kind of intellectual he was. Still, he had chosen to study, so he may have applied himself better than young men who are forcibly sent to Athens just to get them out of trouble in Rome. In Greece I had met his tutor, who seemed to think well of him, though Minas was worldly - a heavy drinker. He might say anything to keep his fees. How had Aulus become accredited to the Museion? Perhaps through sheer bluff.
‘This centre,’ said Aulus, disparaging the Egyptian jewel like a true Roman, ’was founded by the Ptolemies to enhance their dynasty. It is a huge learning complex that forms part of the royal district of Brucheion.’ I had seen yesterday that the Palace and Museion complexes took up almost a third of the city - and it was a large city. Aulus
