The Book of the Dead

by Paul Davis

'Half a dozen customers and the wineseller opposite! Now get out!'

  Kaires smiled to himself, turned and headed back to the Museum. He needed to have another look at Zeno’s room; there was that something still niggling at the back of his mind.

  He walked through the main doors, now lying open. Groups of scholars were scattered about the hall. Passing them without a word, Kaires made his way back to the garden court. Ignoring the study rooms for the time being he went out through the opposite gateway, into a short corridor that led straight into the service quarters. The place was busy with kitchen staff quietly going about their business. Several of them looked up at him as he entered and one came over to offer help, assuming he was lost. Reassuring him, Kaires went out through a door to the left and found himself in the service alley that led alongside the study rooms. It was narrow and dingy, the path cluttered with old fruit boxes and broken amphorae piled against the walls. He followed it to its end, where it joined a small street that led back out to the main road.

  He retraced his steps and returned through the kitchen area. Once again several people acknowledged his presence, but this time no one approached. Anyone could get here from the road, but there was no chance of passing unnoticed through here to the Library complex.

  He returned to the garden court. Some of the rooms were occupied, but the one Zeno had used was empty. It was still shuttered and the door closed. Kaires looked around; the unshuttered windows of each of the other rooms gave clear views right across the court. He could see several pairs of eyes watching him now. All the rooms were well shaded. In this heat there was no good reason for closing the shutters. But Zeno had done so. Why? Obviously because he didn’t want to be seen. So what had he been doing?

  The body had gone, but otherwise the room was still untouched. Kaires stood just inside the door and looked around. What had bothered him? Everything looked normal.

  His eyes were drawn to the desk. The three papyri were still there, with the reed pen and cakes of ink, and the bowl of water, now almost all evaporated, leaving only a small pool in the bottom with salt rings above. The original copy was unrolled across the top of the desk, prevented from rolling back on itself with a glass paperweight. Below were the two copies Zeno had been making. But something was not right. Something was missing.

  Then he realised what it was. What should have been there, but wasn’t. And in a flash he could see what had happened. How Zeno had been killed and how the murderer had escaped unseen.

  -0-

  Sometime before dawn the next day a small procession made its way from the Greek Quarter towards the Canopic gate. Despite the early hour quite a few people were up and about, preparing for the day ahead. As the procession passed, those nearby paused from their business and stood respectfully back, some covering their heads, others looking away and making the sign to avert the evil eye.

  Zeno’s body rested on a board. Beneath his white shroud, his head wreathed and Charon’s obol in his mouth, he lay ready for his final journey across the River Acheron.

  He was carried by his friends from the Library. Chaeremon and Dexios took the front, Aristeon and Haemon the rear. Prokles and Mantios walked behind. Several others, of slighter acquaintance, followed on. Of the scholars who had been with him in the garden court on his final afternoon, only Thestor was absent; feeling unwell, he had excused himself.

  Finally came Myrine and Iola, supported by other women, who moaned and sobbed and tore at their hair. Myrine and Iola remained silent and solemn in their midst. Kaires supposed the women were hired professional mourners.

  He had joined the procession as it left Zeno’s home, and blended in at the rear of the male mourners. As he looked around he caught Iola’s eye. She could not speak to him, but from the way she looked he sensed she had something to say. He gave a slight nod and she looked away.

  Kaires looked at the men ahead. Was Zeno’s killer among them? All seemed calm and subdued, full of grief, with suitable funereal expressions. In a way they were all wearing masks. What was he expecting? A sudden breaking down, a confession? He doubted he would learn anything today. Everyone was on their best behaviour. He would get to know them all better over the next few days, as soon as the expedition started. When they all relaxed, let their guard down. That’s when he would see what he could find out.

  Once past the Canopic gate they continued some way out of the city to the place where Zeno’s grave had been prepared. A table lay alongside it, on which the bearers laid his body. They stood back as Myrine poured a libation to the gods into the grave. Then, taking a lock of hair, she placed it upon Zeno’s breast and poured a mixture of honey, milk, wine, water, and perfumed oils over him.

  The bearers carefully lowered the body down into the grave, and Myrine and Iola together made a final offering to his soul, of celery, grain, oil and fruit, and more wine, honey and milk. Myrine stood tall and straight, saluted her husband for the last time, then turned away. Iola, eyes wet with tears, did the same. The women gathered about them again, renewing their wailing, and escorted them back towards the city.

  The men remained behind to complete the burial, casting the earth down into the grave, before bidding final farewells and following, silent, after the women.

  -0-

  Kaires washed his hands in the bowl of water and hyssop that had been placed at the entrance to the apartment. Only a few had returned after the funeral to share in the food that had been prepared, but even so the apartment felt overcrowded. He had never been very good at funerals. What was there to say? Only platitudes and the usual condolences. No one really wanted to be there. He saw Iola break away from a group and come over to greet him. She must have been looking out for him, for which he was surprised to find himself grateful.

  ‘As I said yesterday, I’m deeply sorry –‘ he began.

  ‘Thankyou,’ she replied, cutting him off. A small smile softened the abruptness. ‘It’s good of you to come. Especially as you only knew my father slightly. We both appreciate it.’

  As she spoke she led Kaires to a space near the window, as far as possible from the other guests. She looked quickly up at him. ‘Do you have any news for us?’

  ‘Not yet. But I’ve hardly started. As soon as -‘

  ‘I know who the cameo is. The stone you had with you when you came yesterday.’ She stopped suddenly. ‘Sorry, I’m being rude. I keep speaking over you.’

  Kaires gestured for her to continue.

  ‘Mother recognised her too, but she didn’t want to say. You see –‘

  She paused, biting her lip, then spoke in a rush. ‘Assia. That’s who it was.’ She blushed. ‘Assia Alexia’.

  ‘I see. And why did your mother not simply say so? Zeno did work for her all the time, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. But I think mother thought... there might have been more to it. I’m sure she was wrong. Father would never have betrayed her, not for a moment. But I think she was surprised to think that he carried that stone around with him. I don’t think she’d seen it before. She was upset. I hope you’ll forgive her for not telling you.

  ‘Not at all. I understand. You’re sure there was no truth in your mother’s suspicion?’

  ‘Quite sure. It simply wouldn’t have been like him.’

  ‘I wish I had known him better. It’s so difficult to know what he was like, what was going through his mind, what his plans were.’

  ‘He was a good man. Clever, but not complicated. He believed the best of everyone. He didn’t deserve to die like he did.’ She turned away, but not before Kaires had seen the tears spring to her eyes. Her hand came to her mouth to muffle a sob.

  Myrine appeared, putting her arm around her daughter. Kaires left them to their shared grief, and walked back out to the life and light of the street.

  -0-

  Kaires knew where Assia Alexia lived. She knew his father and had consulted him on a number of occasions. She also had the largest private library in Alexandria, which she allowed Merisu to refer to from ti
me to time. Kaires himself had never met her, but he hoped his father’s name would gain him admittance.

  She lived not far from the Museum, in one of the grand houses near the Palace, overlooking the sea. The porter at her door superciliously looked Kaires up and down, appearing dubious, but consented to see if his mistress was in. While he waited Kaires looked over the sparkling waters of the Great Harbour to the Pharos, soaring high above Alexandria, one of the wonders of the Age. Built by Sostratus of Cnidus in the reigns of the first Ptolemies, it towered over the city, making everything below it seem like children’s building blocks. Even the Museum itself could not compete.

  Looking vaguely surprised the porter returned and brought Kaires into one of the most beautiful rooms he had ever seen. Light and airy, the furnishings were in the most restrained good taste, with couches and chairs all in the same pale blue colour, picking up the hues of the sky and sea, glimpsed through the lazily wafting gauze curtains that surrounded an exedra overlooking the harbour.

  As he looked out, Kaires became aware of an exquisite scent – jasmine and lotus perhaps – and turned to see what appeared to be the epitome of classical Roman Matronhood standing behind him. Assia Alexia was not tall, nor was she beautiful; but her face, which Kaires instantly recognised from her cameo, certainly held a certain fascination. She had an assurance and confidence that the possession of vast wealth often bestowed. Here is power, she seemed to say.

  Like the porter, she gave him a leisurely appraising look, but her expression was much more appreciative. Under the intensity of her gaze, Kaires felt himself blush.

  Assia Alexia laughed. ‘So like your father. He’s such a handsome man. I’m glad to see his son does not disappoint. How is he?

  ‘Well, thank you. He sends his regards.’

  ‘Tell him to send more than his regards, and come and see me himself. What can I do for his son?’

  Accepting the offer of a seat, Kaires explained why he had come. Assia had heard of Zeno’s death, but was surprised at Kaires’s involvement.

  ‘And why have you come to see me?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t know him that well.’

  ‘Well, I know he often made copies for you –‘

  ‘True, for which I paid far too much. That rogue Adonis.’

  ‘And I wondered why he carried this around with him,’ said Kaires, producing the cameo.

  There was no mistaking Assia’s genuine surprise. ‘But how did he get that?’ she cried. ‘Let me see it.’ She looked at the stone carefully. ‘It was mine, it’s true. And I did give it to someone. But not Zeno.’

  ‘May I ask who?’

  ‘You may not, you impertinent child. Take it from me that this has nothing to do with Zeno’s death. A brief dalliance, that is all.’

  Kaires was not at all sure she was telling the truth. Were Myrine’s suspicions correct? If they had been having an affair, Assia was definitely not willing to talk about it.

  ‘When did you last see Zeno?’ he asked.

  Assia thought for a moment. ‘A few days ago. He was doing a copy for me of an Egyptian text. I’m studying the hieroglyphs and wanted to compare the Greek translation. When he came to see me I assumed that was what it was about.’

  ‘But it wasn’t?’

  ‘No. It seems silly now. Probably a lot of nonsense, but I always like to encourage people. I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now. It probably never would have come to anything anyway.’

  Kaires settled back to listen. Assia was a clever woman, with genuine literary and intellectual interests. Kaires was sure she would be able to hold her own with any of the finest minds in Alexandria. But like many with an active mind, she also liked to gossip.

  ‘I don’t really know the details, but Zeno claimed to have made an interesting discovery in the Archives. You know he was responsible for cataloguing them, and most of the stuff there hasn’t been looked at for years. He seemed to think it could make him very rich. However, he needed some... shall we say, financial backing. He intrigued me, so I agreed in principle to help him out in return for half the profits.’

  Assia Alexia was already fabulously rich, but like all wealthy people wasn’t averse to the possibility of making a bit more.

  ‘However, he said that a third person was involved, without whom his plan couldn’t succeed. So we agreed, in the end, on splitting the profits three ways. He seemed to think there would be more than enough for everyone. He was due to return – today, in fact – once he had sorted out all the details. Until then he refused to say anything more.’

  ‘Nothing? What his idea was, who the other person was?’

  ‘Nothing at all. If you do find out what he was planning to do, you will let me know, won’t you? I would still be most interested to be involved. It would be to your advantage.’ She sighed. ‘I will miss Zeno. He was a fine copyist.’ Looking straight at Kaires, she added: ‘He had a very good hand.’

  She put her own on Kaires’s knee.

  ‘Now, how about some lunch? You look hungry, and I know I am...’

  -0-

  Kaires had always enjoyed spending time at Alexandria’s docks. There was nothing that couldn’t be found there. The whole of the world’s life was represented in the rich chaos of the loading and unloading of fantastically diverse cargoes of cloths, silks, spices, fruits, animals, wines, and everything else under the sun both strange and familiar. Every language was shouted and exchanged by traders and crews from across the Roman world, and from further afield as well – Persia, Nubia, Arabia, even India. So many colours of skins, styles of dress, and different scents, both exotic and commonplace, and by no means all pleasant.

  There were two main areas of this activity – the Great Harbour, which was the most magnificent in the entire Mediterranean, the envy even of Rome, and the smaller (but equally vital) port on the lake, which connected with the Nile and thus the whole of Egypt and the East.

  It was here, at the Lake Port, that Kaires found himself early the next morning, making his way through the hustle and bustle with his luggage on a donkey cart, aided by Remi and the driver. Pushing their way through the crowds and fending off the hawkers, they were looking for the Isis, now renamed Gloria Aegyptae, the former State Barge and his home for the next goodness knows how long. It did not take them long to find her. Even though she had been stripped of much of her finery, she still far outshone any of the other craft that lay alongside the quay. She was perhaps the finest vessel Kaires had ever seen; not just in size, but in her structure and detail. Her proportions drew the eye and demanded approval; everything about her seemed not just to impress, but to please. Regal in every sense, a work of art. They stood for a moment, admiring her.

  Outside a popular tavern a group of well known musicians were playing. Kaires tossed them a coin, to Remi’s disapproval.

  ‘Don’t waste your money on the Quartet. They can never play a simple tune. All that impenetrable noise. Can’t listen to it. You shouldn’t encourage them.’

  Kaires, who thought the music beautiful, shrugged and smiled.

  They watched a couple of sailors struggling to manoeuvre a particularly heavy chest up the gangplank. Kaires thought it looked familiar and his heart sank for a moment. Surely he wouldn’t...

  They waited until the way was clear, then Remi helped the driver unload the chests from the cart before sending him off. He called over some of the sailors from the barge, and left them to it. He was sulking a bit, because he had wanted to come along too; but Kaires knew Hotepet wouldn’t manage too well without his help, despite her assurances to the contrary. Remi had had the grace to accept this, but still felt it necessary to let Kaires know he wasn’t happy. He frowned as the chests were taken on board by the crew and tried to appear aloof, but the warmth of his farewell embrace gave him away.

  ‘Don’t go getting in to any trouble,’ he said, still attempting to look wronged. ‘Come back in full working order, or I’ll have your sister to answer to. And don’t be tempted to do too much si
ghtseeing. Some of those places aren’t safe. You might disappear down some forgotten shaft and never reappear. Just come back as soon as you are able. I really don’t know what Gallus expects you to do, anyway. The whole thing’s a waste of time. What do I say to your patients in the meantime? It’s good of your father to stand in for you but some of the fussy ones still aren’t going to be happy.’

  He grumbled on in the same vein for a few moments, until Kaires cut him off with a brisk kiss to both cheeks. ‘Off you go, or Hotepet will think I’ve taken you with me after all. There’s no shortage of crew and servants on board. I’m sure they can look after me almost as well as you.’

  Kaires noted a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Well, adequately, anyway. And I’ll be back in a few weeks.’

  He watched Remi go with mixed feelings. He would miss him, but on the other hand, he was really beginning to look forward to this trip. He had never been far from Alexandria before, and had often dreamt of seeing the pyramids. Could they really be as big as people said? Maybe it was all blown up out of proportion, and in reality they were only a bit bigger than the ones above some of the tombs lining the roads out of Alexandria. He shouldn’t be surprised. Some of those were quite big.

  All the gold leaf, precious stones, and incense burners may have gone, but the woodwork of the Gloria Aegyptae had been kept in excellent condition, and the raised upper deck, with its cover and billowing fine linen hangings, looked cool and inviting in this heat, even here in the port. He saw that a group of his fellow travellers had already gathered there, but he was keen to see his cabin before joining them. He strolled up the gangplank and introduced himself to a smart looking elderly Egyptian who seemed to be in charge of the crew.

  ‘Yes, I’m the captain,’ the man replied to his enquiry. ‘Been on the Isis since the time of the Queen.’ Kaires noticed he still used the old name for the barge.

  ‘Started as a boy,’ he continued. ‘Nehesi’s the name. You must be Dr. Kaires, I should think. Welcome aboard. You’re in the Lapis Room.’ He called to a passing crewman. ‘Ipi, show Dr. Kaires the way.’