Alexandria

by Lindsey Davis

  When we left the Museion building, we had lost all sense of time and space. The necropsy had been so intense we felt we had been in another world.

  Out of doors, the sky still retained some light, but darkness was steadily falling. It increased our feeling that we had been rapt for much longer than a few hours. We were drained. We were hungry. We were overwhelmed.

  The audience dispersed quickly. Many of the others were hurrying off to the refectory. Some were in small groups, though a surprising number went alone. Scholars seemed to huddle into themselves more than people in most large groups.

  Aulus, Heras and I walked back from the great Museion complex, through the well-lit streets of Brucheion to my uncle's house. We made our way together in silence, with a great deal to remember and to think about.

  Alexandria was alive and vibrant at night, though to me did not seem threatening. Businesses were still open. Families were in their shops or strolling through their neighbourhoods. This was the largest port in the world, so sailors and traders were inevitably roistering, but they were close to the wharves and the Emporium, not so much in the broad avenues. There, daily life continued long after dusk as half a million people, of many nationalities, hailed one another, ate street food, chattered and dreamed, worked and gambled, picked pockets, exchanged goods, held assignations, complained about Roman taxes, insulted other sects, insulted their in-laws, cheated and fornicated. As the restive wind came off the sea, it brought the tug of the Mediterranean. We passed a temple and heard the shiver of a sistrum. Soldiers marched by us, with the familiar legionary tramp. We were in Egypt, yet only on the northern edge of it. We caught glimpses of its strangeness, yet were half in the world we thought we knew.

  The necropsy had affected me. I was glad to step into the blaze of my uncle's house, to be met by the howls of my children, who had had a fractious day. Then I was enfolded in Helena Justina's warm embrace. She leaned back, quizzing me silently. She would be eager for news of today, and in the hearing, she would soften its inhumanities with her gentle sanity.

  XIV

  Fulvius and Cassius were out pursuing some business interest, so our meal that night was a family occasion. That suited me.

  We dined on the roof, but the servants had made a cosy area under awnings. We three men slumped weakly at first on baggy cushions and the rich but worn coverlets that adorned the ancient couches. To me, Fulvius and Cassius had a rich but worn look too. I wondered whether the furnishings came with the house or were theirs. Julia and Favonia were at the meal, but after a hard day of squabbling, the tear-stained twosome soon fell asleep. Albia sat by Aulus, punching him awake when he forgot to be sociable. I ate and drank slowly, thinking.

  Helena patted the couch beside her. 'Come and talk to me, Heras!'

  The friendly young man took up the offer at once. He had excellent manners, was probably the product of a good mother, and looked flattered by the attention. He cannot have known that the nice Roman lady, at sight so safely married and pregnant, was a dangerous witch. Helena would pick his brains as adroitly as she had already picked the flesh from shellfish and the seeds from pomegranates. 'Tell me about yourself,' she smiled.

  Heras was all obedience. So Helena discovered he came from Naukratis, an old Greek city; his father was rich, and anxious for his boy to make his way successfully. Heras had been sent on his own to Alexandria, to find a study course. The results had caused discomfort in his relations with his father. 'So does your father disapprove of your tutor or your subject?'

  'Pretty much both, madam.'

  Heras explained that Sophistry was required study for anyone who hoped to be a leader of society here. Learning to be a persuasive public speaker was a vital skill; it would fit him for the highest levels - to be a senator, magistrate, diplomat, public benefactor. Unfortunately, Sophist teachers had become far too aware of their value to the wealthy - who were by definition their best source of students. Sophists charged high fees. Very high, in most cases, since to demand less than a rival might imply mediocrity. 'Their teaching is supposed to encourage virtue, a selfless ideal; so some people take the view that to charge fees at all is wrong. My father can pay -'All adolescents think that. I glanced at my little daughters, wondering how soon these sleeping cupids would be expecting a bottomless purse from me. Not long. Julia could already price a toy. 'But Father is shocked how much my tutor wants.'

  'Socrates always spoke in public, for all comers.' Helena surprised Heras with her knowledge and her easy confidence in sharing it. I knew how widely she read. Senators' daughters are not normally educated to the standard of senators' sons, even where the daughters are brighter. But when Helena was growing up, with two younger brothers, there were schoolmasters in the house, not to mention a private library. She had grabbed every opportunity. Nor was she discouraged. Her parents both took the view that she would be responsible for the upbringing of future senators. Their only misjudgement was that Helena chose me instead of a stuffed patrician. Our children would be middle-rank. I had no objection to her teaching them anything valuable, but if the baby she was expecting was a boy, and if he survived birth and childhood, I would not send him overseas to pick up bad habits and serious diseases in a foreign university. Born plebeian, I wanted returns on my cash. I had earned the money myself. I was capable of wasting it myself too.

  'So tell me about your studies, Heras.' Helena was talking to the student and simultaneously watching me. I hid a smile. I liked my women versatile. I liked this one much more than others I had known.

  'We learn the rules of rhetoric, good style, voice training, and correct stance. Part of the regimen is declaiming model speeches in the classroom. My father says these involve false, sterile subjects, divorced from life - he sees it as no more than oral trickery. We also observe our master giving public orations, through which he wins the admiration of the city - and my father is just as suspicious of that. He argues that teachers now cultivate the art of virtuoso rhetoric for incorrect reasons. Their lifestyle offends against the good qualities they are supposed to be teaching: they make orations to gain reputations; they want reputation only in order to earn more money.'

  I leaned on my elbow. 'To say knowledge cannot be bought and sold like corn or fish sounds virtuous. But philosophers have to put clothes on their backs and food in their bellies.'

  'Not in Alexandria,' Helena reminded me. 'The Museion promises them ''freedom from want and taxes''. Even in Rome, our Emperor, Vespasian, has sought to encourage education by granting immunity from municipal obligations to grammarians and rhetoricians. And he provides schoolteachers' salaries.'

  Heras laughed shyly. 'This is the same emperor who, at the beginning of his office, exiled all philosophers from Rome?'

  'All except the esteemed Musonius Rufus,' agreed Helena.

  'What was special about him?'

  'My father knows him slightly, so I can answer that - he is a Stoic, who argues that the pursuit of virtue is a philosopher's aim. Nero sent him into exile - which is always a sign of quality. When Vespasian's armies were advancing on Rome at the end of the civil war, Musonius Rufus pleaded with the soldiers to exercise peaceful behaviour. What I particularly like about him is that he says men and women possess exactly the same capacity for understanding virtue, therefore women should be taught philosophy equally with men.'

  Both Aulus and Heras guffawed at that. I could not see it going down well with the academic establishment in Alexandria. Come to that, few Roman women would take up the idea, especially if it required the pursuit of virtue. That does not mean I disapproved of the equal-education principle. I was prepared to sneer at bad philosophers of either sex.

  '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?'

  '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? Caution, 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.'