by Paul Davis
He is a handsome man, thought Kaires. Well dressed, and powerfully built. How must he cope now, with only one useful leg? Kaires remembered seeing him stride through the library only a few months ago, the picture of health. Stepping in to the road one day at the main crossroads of the city, he had been run down by a runaway horse and cart. The encounter had left him with a severely broken leg, but he was lucky to have escaped with his life. As if he was thinking of it too, Prokles fingered his stick, a fine ebony shaft, the top carved in the shape of the djed pillar, symbol of stability.
‘What brings you on this trip?’ Kaires took the proffered seat.
‘Apart from the pleasure of travelling in such style? Haemon here wants to see if the girls of Upper Egypt are as beautiful as they say.’ He laughed as Haemon spluttered in protest. ‘He persuaded me to come. Seriously, though, it’s a great opportunity. I am here to see if I can add anything to the Museum's collection, of which I am the curator. Not manuscripts, you understand, that's the Library's business. But artefacts, curiosities, anything else of interest. Even animals for the zoo. We weren't expecting you to join us, though it is an undoubted pleasure. How is it that you’re here?
‘I was always keen, but it was only when Zeno was no longer able to come that I was offered the chance.’
‘Ah yes, poor Zeno. Terrible business. I begin to think that someone has a grudge against us unfortunate scholars.’
‘Why on earth should you think that?’
‘Well I may be imagining things, but I am almost certain someone pushed me into the path of that horse. I dismissed the notion at the time as being absurd, but now I wonder...’
Haemon started. ‘Heavens! Are you sure?’
Prokles shook his head. ‘Of course I'm not sure. It was just an impression. There was so much confusion around the accident that I hardly know what happened. I looked around, but I was in so much pain I was in no fit state to recognise anybody. On the whole, I think I must be mistaken.’
Kaires looked thoughtful. ‘Why should anyone want to do such a thing?’
‘As to that, I have no idea. But I could say the same of Zeno, yet he is undoubtedly dead. And that was certainly no accident.’
By this time the barge had moved well out from the quayside into the body of the lake, getting room to manoeuvre before heading across to the canal that lead to the Canopic branch of the Nile, down which they were to travel. It amazed Kaires how quickly Alexandria had been left behind. The city looked beautiful; all the smells and squalor of bustling humanity had gone, and all he could see was the majestic marble Temple of Serapis rising above the ordinary dwellings which swept down to the lake. Kaires felt a sudden surge of pride, and thought of his sister in the Egyptian Quarter, the grand Palace buildings, the Soma of Alexander, the Theatre, the Royal Harbour, and the Museum and Library which lay on its opposite, Mediterranean shore. The city was his life. Whatever he might see on his travels, he would be pleased, in the end, to come home.
Dexios and his brother Thestor had come across the deck to join them, and had heard the last remark.
‘Enough doom and gloom,’ said Thestor. ‘We're here for the trip of a lifetime, and I for one intend to make the most of it.’ He peered at Kaires, with the slightly disconcerting closeness of the short sighted. ‘Hello, Kaires. We were both glad to see you join the trip. Have you had a good look around our new home yet? It bodes well for the next couple of months. Cleopatra did herself proud. The dining room is huge. I hope the cuisine is up to the same standard - although I rather suspect that the Library's budget won't run to peacocks on gold platters and pearls dissolved in wine.’
‘As if our digestions could take that every night!’ replied his brother.
A flock of ducks, disturbed by the proximity of the barge, rose from the lake and flew along to the other shore. ‘I'll be happy with a nice roast duck every now and again. At least there should be no shortage of them!’
Although the brothers had a year between them, they could have been twins. Both had the same chestnut hair and deep green eyes; in their mid thirties, they looked younger. Both now smiling, they showed neat white teeth behind full lips, while their chins were dusted with a fine two days stubble. They held out their hands to greet the others.
‘We were just talking about poor old Zeno,’ said Haemon. ‘Dr. Kaires is here in his place.’
‘That's a bit of luck for you, if not for Zeno.’ Thestor smiled to soften the irreverence. ‘I don't suppose the authorities have got to the bottom of that yet? Personally I doubt they ever will.’
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Kaires
‘Our magistrates and their agents are all but useless. Unless they catch someone with bloody sword in hand, their victim dropping at their feet, they simply haven't a clue.’
‘And you, dear brother, could do much better?’
‘Of course! What better training for reasoning out the most intricate and complex problem could there be, than the discipline of Philosophy? Don't think I haven't been working on it. I dare say the answer will come to me sooner or later.’
‘Please don't hesitate to let us know,’ said Dexios. ‘As long as it wasn't you yourself, setting a puzzle so you can solve it and show off your brilliance. Although you would then have to hand yourself in...’
Everyone laughed while Thestor scowled at his brother. From the depths of the barge a deep gong sounded out. ‘Well peacocks and pearls or whatever we may be having for dinner, I'm getting hungry. There's the gong. Shall we go down?’
-0-
Despite the absence of the more exotic dishes, or perhaps because of it, Kaires thoroughly enjoyed his dinner. Boiled eggs in fish sauce were followed by pastries, boiled beef, and fruit. He reclined on the same couch as Gallus and Strabo, and, in contrast to the impression Gallus liked to give, found the Greek a fascinating companion. He was full of stories of the places he had been, and polite enough to say how impressed he was with what he had experienced of Egypt so far. His enquiries were thoughtful and to the point; he had a genuine desire to learn and understand as much about the land as he could. Kaires suspected Gallus had more patience than he pretended with Strabo’s endless questioning and was in reality greatly entertained and very fond of him.
As they ate and drank Kaires looked through the open windows to see the barge pass from the lake into the canal. Soon out of sight of the city, they passed Nicopolis and the suburbs, until there was only the odd mud brick house amongst the fields of wheat and clumps of date palm. Here and there one of the fellahin led his donkey, laden with produce, back to his dwelling along the bank.
As they progressed, Kaires began to see why some would find Strabo irritating. He constantly broke the thread of his conversation to make notes, jotting down reams of indecipherable scribble on scraps of papyrus he had fastened together, before continuing exactly where he had left off. He talked over Kaires’s replies in his eagerness to get the next question out, ignoring anything he thought irrelevant. It wasn’t rudeness, Kaires thought, he was just completely unaware of the social niceties in his haste to gather knowledge. More than once Strabo called for Nehesi to clarify some point or other. The captain answered succinctly and with endless patience. Kaires wondered whether this would still be the case by the time they reached Philae. He made a small bet with himself and gave it until the pyramids, at the most, before Nehesi cracked. Gallus himself, pointedly talking to Mantios on his other side, was beginning to show signs of indigestion.
Kaires was surprised to have been served by Iola, who had obviously taken it upon herself to become indispensible to the crew. She hovered by each of the couches in turn, pouring wine and water, ears no doubt flapping all the time. As she leant forward over the cups, she drew appreciative glances from several of the scholars, and Kaires realised for the first time that she was extremely attractive, very much a woman. Up until now he had seen her simply as Zeno's daughter. He remembered how she had fallen against him in the cabin, and the little thrill that had passed
through his frame. He had dismissed it at the time. Feeling somehow guilty, he forced himself to look away.
Over to his right, Aristeon was talking to Haemon. Kaires knew him as a nodding acquaintance, but had never spoken to him in depth. Very handsome, with a clean cut face, deep hazel eyes, and an athletic physique, he obviously took good care of himself. He was clearly more interested in Haemon than the charms of Iola. Haemon was flirting back, but Kaires suspected he was teasing. When Iola was near, his sidelong glances flickered in her direction. Once again Kaires questioned the wisdom of having allowed her to stay. He would have to constantly watch over her. He didn’t want to have to deal with broken hearts and all the rest.
Despite the Prefect's best attempts, Strabo had succeeded in capturing him in conversation, and Kaires was free to let his mind wander. He thought back to his meeting with Myrine, Zeno's wife and Iola's mother. Now he paused to consider it, she was also beautiful. She hadn't looked her best with tear-swollen eyes, but it was easy to see where Iola had got her good looks from. She had seemed very much in love with Zeno, if a bit exasperated at the same time. She had been about to tell him whom the cameo portrayed, but then had thought better of it and suddenly looked sad. If she suspected Assia Alexia of having designs on her husband, how afraid was she of losing him? Could she have killed him herself rather than see her husband with her rival? Surely that was reading too much into it. In her place, Kaires would certainly rather have killed Assia Alexia. Iola seemed sure her father wasn’t having an affair, but in that case, why was he carrying around her cameo?
He moved his thoughts back to the study room. What about the two original manuscripts that Mantios had seen on Zeno's desk? There had certainly only been one when his body was found, along with the two copies. It was the key to the whole affair. What had happened to it? Was it now here on the barge, in the possession of his killer? Or was he on the wrong track entirely? And what had happened to the murder weapon? Despite a thorough search Sergius's men had been unable to find it. Kaires had his own ideas about that, but it hadn’t really got him anywhere. Too many questions...
Kaires became aware of a pause in the babble of background conversation, and saw that Strabo was looking at him expectantly. He had evidently asked him something and was waiting for a reply. Kaires looked a little confused.
‘I'm sorry...’
‘Away dancing with the nymphs, were you? I was just asking if you'd been to Arabia Felix. Gallus here is planning another expedition, to swell Rome's coffers even more, after his last foray proved a little disappointing.’
‘I've never been, but I've heard it's very exotic, filled with all manner of rare and precious things. We get many of our best incenses and spices from there. But apparently the people are very fierce and uncivilised. I don't think they welcome strangers.’
‘I don't suppose they'll welcome Aelius, either, when he turns up with his army once more. I think I'll go along as well.’ Behind him, the Prefect rolled his eyes. ‘If Herodotus visited, I can't leave it out, can I? He got around, Herodotus. Much of what he wrote is complete tripe, though. That’s why it’s so important for me to do the job properly. I'm looking forward to stopping at the Temple at Naucratis – rumour has it that they still have a cup he left there as an offering. I'll have to see if I can do a bit better. Maybe a bowl of some sort. Bigger, anyway.’
Kaires laughed, although he wasn't sure that Strabo was joking. The Prefect had risen, and several of the other diners were now following his lead, stretching themselves and heading back to the upper deck. They were now passing Eleusis, and the branch of the canal that led up to Schedia, where the Gloria Aegyptae was usually moored. Nodding at them, he suggested to Strabo that they do the same. But Strabo had brought out his notebook and called for Nehesi again.
Before leaving, Kaires caught Iola's eye. Hoping for a word, he headed first of all back to his cabin.
-0-
Kaires had only been in his room a few moments when there was a soft knock at the door, and Iola entered. A gleam in her eye told him that she had something to say, but first there was something that Kaires wanted to discuss. He indicated a chair, and Iola made herself comfortable, while he himself sat on the bed.
‘Did you get on well with your father, Iola?’ he asked.
Iola reddened, surprised at the question. ‘Of course I did. Why do you ask?’ Her tone suggested she was offended.
‘It's not such an unusual question. Many girls of your age go through a stage of, um, asserting their independence, which doesn't necessarily go down well with their fathers. It's important that I know what sort of man Zeno was, not just as a scholar, but as a husband and father.’
‘Well I can assure you I feel very lucky to have had him. A kinder man you could not hope to meet. We had our moments, like everyone else, but he was tender and loving and I always felt safe when he was around. He never lifted his hand to me, not once.’
‘And he loved your mother?’
‘They'd been together a long time. They’d argue and bicker like any married couple. Lately the strain had begun to show a little. But under it all you could see they loved each other dearly.’
‘What strain?’
‘I think father was really overstretching himself with the new apartment. He thought he would get the directorship, but it was by no means certain. One way or another, he always said he would make us rich. Mother didn't believe it for a moment. Neither did I. She used to get annoyed about it. Sometimes it would all get too much for her and she'd take herself off to her sister's for a few days. But never for long. She knew he depended too much on her.’
‘Did you know Assia Alexia?’
‘Only by repute. I never met her. I know father did some work for her, and she paid well.’
‘Sorry to say this, but you know the rumour...’
‘Yes, I do know. Father always denied there was anything else going on, and I believed him. They had a few rows. I think mother was a bit jealous, but after all she helped pay the bills. And frankly, she was no beauty. Mother didn’t have to worry about any competition in that department.’
‘I thought you said you'd never seen her?’
‘I said I'd never met her. I saw her at Adonis's bookshop once or twice. I used to collect and deliver things there for father.’
‘Oh yes, which is why you could recognise her portrait on the stone. Why do you think Zeno was carrying it around with him?
‘Well, if she gave it to him he could hardly refuse it. She was his patron. He was probably just being polite. He would have hated to have offended anyone, especially someone he respected. I’m surprised I hadn’t seen it before, though. It’s not the sort of thing he would have tried to keep hidden. Maybe he’d only just been given it. Didn’t you ask Assia Alexia about it?
‘Yes, but she gave the impression she’d given it to someone else.’
Iola clasped her hands together. ‘And I might know who that someone was!’
‘Who?’ asked Kaires.
She looked irritatingly smug. ‘Wait till it’s my turn. You haven’t let me have my say yet.’
Kaires refused to rise to the bait.’ Assia Alexia was involved in this grand scheme of your father's. You really have no idea what it was?’
‘No. He was very secretive about it.’
‘Well maybe something will turn up.’ He knew Sergius had someone going through the archive, looking at everything Zeno had worked on. ‘What's your news?’
‘Oh, I didn't think you were interested,’ Iola said innocently. She had decided to goad Kaires a little as punishment, but he was in no mood.
‘Come on, out with it!’ Kaires, with an effort, tried not to look impatient.
Iola’s enthusiasm to tell overruled her desire to tease. ‘Well, I've found out that both Chaeremon and Mantios are almost broke, and they only brought their servants along so they could get free food and lodging for them. They have rooms at the Museum but both of them have dependent family members to look after,
and both Apollonius and Nakht have been with them since the year dot, so they are responsible for them. They like their masters, but fortunately they’re both terrible gossips. Once they'd started I could hardly get a word in. Nakht says the directorship is now between Mantios and Dexios, and Mantios is desperate to get it.’
She looked very pleased with herself. ‘Now listen to this bit. As soon as Chaeremon heard that my father had been murdered, he went straight round to Assia Alexia and spent a couple of hours with her, with Nakht waiting outside. Apparently he has visited her often. I think he is her lover, not father, and I bet she gave the cameo to him. I don’t know how father got hold of it – maybe he was playing a joke on Chaeremon.’
Kaires was silent for a moment while he took all this in, and Iola took this as a cue to carry on. ‘I've volunteered to help make up the cabins tomorrow morning, so I'll have a good look round and see if I can find out anything else.’
Kaires felt worried. He was grateful for what she had found out, but he realised he not only felt responsible for Iola, but that he cared very much about what happened to her.
‘Don't go taking any risks. I don't want to have to answer to your mother.’
‘Don't worry about my mother. This will all be over before she even realises I'm not at my aunt's.’
Kaires muttered a silent prayer that it would be so.
-0-
The light was fading fast as the barge approached the city of Canopus, where they were to moor overnight. Kaires stood on the upper deck, watching the crew furl the sails and let the rowers take over for the final approach to the dock. The sun had set but there was still light enough to see the cluster of white public buildings hugged closely by the brown tiled roofs of the private houses, and beyond them the sea. Nothing like the scale of Alexandria, its harbour was nevertheless something of a rival. It had a fine Temple of Serapis, and another of Osiris; Kaires had visited them both with his father some years before. His father had called the city by its old Egyptian name, Pikaut. Kaires remembered the strange cult statue of Osiris, in the form of a jar with a human head, and the wise priest who had helped so much with his studies. He wondered if he was still there. It must have been at least six years. And the quails! Canopus was famous for its quails. Hopefully the cook would get some. He'd mention it.
