As Archimedes’ eyes became accustomed to the gloomy shadows of the alley, the yellow eyes and shadowy silhouette solidified into something with four legs. It paced back toward Archimedes, and he saw the ghostly animal coalesce into a hulking wolf.
Its muscled shoulders rolled side to side over its lowered head, treading toward Archimedes. He waited for the fangs, like the baboon in the marketplace, but the wolf kept its maw shut. A soft growl pulsated in its throat while it paused to sniff Archimedes, keeping its yellow eyes fixed on his face. He could feel the warm, moist breath in deep huffs on his legs. Then the shrill whistle jolted Archimedes again and the wolf pulled its large head away and continued past, back to where it came.
Another shape strode forward, a man, lifting his hand to his mouth. Too late, Archimedes realized his death would come not by the slashing fangs of a wolf, but by a sleek, silent dart puncturing his heart. He imagined his cold body splayed open on Herophilos’ wooden table. Oddly, he feared being the guest of honor at an autopsy more than the imminent death that would soon put him there.
The man continued forward, lavishly dressed in a purple robe, tapping his fist against his mouth.
“Remus Decimus,” Archimedes spit out in shock. “What in the name of Zeus is going on?”
“Ah, yes. Remus,” he echoed. In place of his usual smirk was a more serious look. He bent down and attached a leash to the wolf. “You should come with me, young scholar, if you wish to avoid a slit throat. The assassin who followed you will soon be back looking for you, or your corpse.”
Chapter 23
The undiluted wine burned slightly as it went down Archimedes’ throat. He coughed and wiped some wine off his chin with the back of his hand. He was accustomed to watered wine with his meals, but Remus gave it to him undiluted to help calm his nerves.
Archimedes did go with Remus back to his villa, somewhere south of the school. The two, along with the wolf, walked silently for many blocks, Archimedes lost track of exactly how many, making a couple turns before arriving at the villa.
Remus stopped their group twice to check if anyone was following. At one point the motley collection ducked in an alley because someone was following them. It turned out to be an inebriated sailor, stumbling back to his squalid lodgings.
The villa was unassuming, with several tall, narrow cypress trees gracing the front lawn. The fragrant trees were imported from Italy and they reminded Archimedes of his home in Syracuse. Four marble columns held up the front of the roof, which was covered in terra cotta tiles. Over the door frame was a wooden sculpture of Janus, the Roman god of doorways who was unique in that he had two faces looking in opposite directions. The dual faces represented not only beginnings and ends; it was also believed he could see the past and future. The home was small by Roman standards, but was appointed in traditional Roman style, with decorative blue and white tiled floors and an open courtyard in the center.
After the ordeal in the alley, Archimedes willingly followed Remus back to the villa, content merely to trust anyone at this point. Remus offered him a seat on a cushioned bench in the first room and left, returning a few minutes later with the goblet of wine.
“You have many questions, I am sure,” Remus said, “but give the wine some time to do its magic. You are safe here, young scholar.” The Roman sat opposite him, with a smile that conveyed either cruel humor or pleasant regard. Remus swirled his silver goblet of wine and sniffed it deeply. “An excellent vintage, this wine. Better than even your Greek product, I’m afraid.”
The grapes could have come straight from the vineyard of Dionysus himself, for all that Archimedes cared, it still burned his throat.
Next to Remus was the apparently tamed and quite obedient wolf. Archimedes could get a better view of it now. He had heard of wolves, but never had seen one. It was at least twice the size of any of the dogs that roamed the streets in Syracuse or Alexandria. The most distinct features were the yellow, almond-shaped eyes with a small black pupil in the middle, gazing intently at Archimedes. Much of its size was a thick, bristling white and black coat, ending in a long tail that was wrapped around its legs. Its muzzle was long and narrow and the animal sat motionless.
After several long minutes, where Archimedes alternated between sipping from his silver goblet and looking warily at the wolf, he finally asked, “What happened back in the alley, Remus Decimus? Who was that man?” Another sip, and then, “And what are you doing with a wolf?”
The smile broadened. Now Archimedes knew there was some secret behind it. “Good questions, certainly. We have answers to those questions, and to several others you haven’t asked yet.”
We? Archimedes thought. Does the wolf talk too? Archimedes guessed the Roman was just a bit loony, keeping a wild wolf as a pet and including imaginary friends in the conversation.
“I should really be going,” Archimedes decided as he set down the silver goblet. “I should be back at school.”
Rather than detain him, Remus leaned back on the bench and smiled. The wolf followed him with his eyes. Archimedes started walking to the front door, but stopped and took a step back when something on the floor caught his eye. Under his sandals was a mosaic of black, cream, and terra cotta-colored tiles. Archimedes had to tip his head to view it better, but he could make out a simple scene showing two baby boys underneath a large wolf.
“It would appear you found the answer to one of the unknowns,” Remus said, smiling even more now and sipping some wine.
Archimedes looked from the mosaic, to Remus, and back to the mosaic. “Romulus and Remus,” Archimedes said to himself. That is how the ubiquitous Roman conjures himself everywhere at once. He turned to Remus. “You’re twins.”
According to tradition, Rome was founded by twins Romulus and Remus, who were abandoned in the Tiber River by their oblivious father. A she-wolf raised them, and the brothers eventually choose the Palatine Hill in western Italy to start a new city. Unfortunately, there was an argument between the brothers, with Remus ending up being killed by Romulus, who then named the new city after himself—Roma.
Bowing forward in his seat, the Roman introduced himself, “I am Romulus, who you met once or twice in the library.” He used his hand to indicate the seat Archimedes just vacated. “Please, have a seat. More answers than that await you.” He waited until Archimedes sat, then continued.
“You may have, as many people have, confused me with my identical twin, Remus. Our mother thought it quite clever to name us after the more famous twins of Roman legend. We thought it just as clever to continue the charade by adopting this stunning animal, Mars, to complete the trilogy. He is quite friendly, I assure you. Wouldn’t harm a soul…” he paused to rub Mars on the head, “unless, of course, we wanted him to.”
The wolf did not respond, but kept his eyes locked on Archimedes. “This whistle calls him back when he gets loose.” Romulus held up a wooden tube, which was the source for the piercing scream back in the alley that made his skin crawl. Romulus let the revelation sink in for a moment, and then said, “Ah, here is my handsome brother now.”
Remus entered the room with a flourish and an unpretentious white robe. “Greetings, Archimedes. Welcome to our modest dwelling. My brother informed me that you were our guest. Excuse my appearance; I have just finished a bath.” He tugged at the ends of the linen cords to cinch the robe tighter. “I do hope you are feeling better, after everything you have gone through this evening.”
The wolf, wagging its tail, walked over to Remus, who leaned over and petted it lovingly on its massive head. “I hope Mars did not give you undue shock. It seems he, or his prints, have been implicated in those ghastly lighthouse murders.”
Archimedes, awed by all the information, picked up the goblet and took a drink. “So let me get this straight. You,” pointing to Romulus, “are the man I saw at the library.” Romulus nodded, smiling happily. “And you,” he pointed to Remus, “are the man I met at the palace, the Roman ambassador.” Remus mirrored his broth
er’s smirk and was about to say something, when Archimedes held up his hand, then pointing it at the wolf and continuing, “And the wolf is your pet.”
Remus waited a moment to make sure there would be no more hands stopping him, and then smiled. “Correct, for the most part, certainly, Archimedes. However, Romulus at times, we find it convenient, fills in as ambassador. No one knows, of course, about there being two of us, it makes our job, shall we say, easier.” He gave his brother a quick wink. “There are inherent benefits to being in two places at one time.” The cat smile.
“You mean spying,” Archimedes said boldly, the wine helping him.
“Spying, ha-ha, well, spying is a strong choice of words,” Remus said, swiping his hand at Archimedes. “Quite accusatory, without knowing all the facts.”
The brothers were certainly identical, and if it were not for Romulus in a luxurious purple silk robe and Remus in white linen, he would not be able to tell them apart. Both had auburn hair cut short along the forehead, small brown eyes, and a slender build. Their mannerisms, Archimedes thought, were somewhat exaggerated and feminine.
Archimedes quickly surmised that this was going to be a game of semantics, with the odds two against one. “Earlier you said Mars was implicated in the lighthouse murders. How did his paw prints get there?”
The brothers looked at each other for a moment, seeming to communicate by expressions. “Mars is a creature of the wild, similar in nature to a dog, but still yearning for the freedom of the forest. He suffers bouts of abandonment…” Romulus began.
“And will take off on a run when given the opportunity,” Remus finished. “Strangely, he prefers to go to Pharos Island, possibly the closest he can get to howl at the woods of his native Italy. He must have sensed the dead bodies, carrion to him, and inspected them.” The twins seemed please with the vindication and changed the subject.
“As we understand it,” Romulus said, “the Pharaoh himself has appointed you to solve those terrible crimes. We can assure you Mars is no suspect; you would have known if he chose to end the lives of those poor laborers. The scenes, shall we say, would have been a bit more grisly. You can remove him from your list of suspects.” Romulus put his hand to his mouth and giggled.
Archimedes continued his investigation. “So why not go to the authorities and explain the animal prints? The large wolf prints along with the peculiar deaths had people believing it was the deadly work of Anubis.”
Again the twins conferred through thought. Romulus chose to answer. “That’s where it gets…. problematic. You see…”
“…any attention brought to us would not only uncover our innocent ruse as doubles,” Remus said.
“…it could cause complications in our,” Romulus looked to Remus, “in our official capacity of envoys of the Republic of Rome.” Remus smiled and nodded to him.
Archimedes looked suspiciously at each of the brothers. “How is your diplomacy affected?” Archimedes tried to go deeper. “Is there something you know about the murders?”
“Which murders?” Remus asked.
What in the name of Hades? Archimedes thought. “The ones we were just talking about!” he yelled in frustration. “Do you always obscure the course of a discussion?”
“Obscure?” Romulus said, somewhat affronted “Why, on the contrary, I would think we are trying to elucidate the facts.”
“What my brother means,” Remus interjected, “is that you have some of the facts to the two murders, and so do we.”
Archimedes shook his head to clear it. He wasn’t sure if the wine got to his head or these crazy twins spoke in fruitless riddles. “Wait, wait. I don’t understand. Two murders? You mean the twelve lighthouse murders.” Either they couldn’t count or they weren’t aware of the extent of the tragedies. Archimedes feared it was the first.
“There, you see,” Remus, or was it Romulus, it was getting difficult to keep track of the twins and the word riddles, “you don’t know what you hold in your hands.”
“The princess, Berenike, we believe, is also investigating a murder. With your own inquiry ordered by Pharaoh Ptolemy, that makes two,” Romulus said.
Archimedes sat back against the cool plaster wall. He ran his hand through his hair and asked, “Berenike’s mystery? What does that have to do with the lighthouse murders? How do you know what she is doing?”
“Please,” one of the twins said, pushing his palms down in the air, “please, Archimedes, give us a moment. We will answer all your questions, with your answers.”
“There you go again,” Archimedes jumped up. “How come you keep saying I have answers to my own questions? Why would I have a question if I also possess the answer? You create quite a philosophical paradox!” Untying the Gordian knot would be easier than dealing with these two. The legend of the Gordian Knot stated that whoever could untie the knot would rule all of Asia. During his conquests, Alexander the Great came to the knot, which was impossible to untie, and simply sliced it open with his sword.
The twins looked at each other, it was like a mirror, and Romulus said, “You attend the most prestigious school in the world, young scholar, to learn new things. Could you not hold something in your hand and still not wonder what it was? Be patient with us. We want to establish some facts, and then we can answer all of your questions, your inquests, your enigmas, your problems.”
Romulus paused while slowly sipping some wine, lingering with the goblet before continuing. “You found a scroll, I believe, by an Egyptian doctor. It made mention of a beautiful lady, did it not?”
“Yes,” Archimedes wondered which of Meti’s scrolls they were talking about. “Yes, it was about the last days of Alexander the Great, if that’s what you mean.”
“And the last line…? Remus asked, tilting his head.
He had to think for a moment, and then remembered Berenike. Do not betray a beautiful lady. An enchanting image of Berenike drifted in his head and he wondered what she would think of all this. He could probably guess: ‘Tell those two fools to shut their flapping jaws and get the Hades out of there!’ But Archimedes did not have the spirit of Berenike. “Atropa bella donna,” he finally answered. “I was told it is a lethal poison, deadly nightshade.”
“It can mean that…” Romulus said.
“..or it can mean a vengeful woman,” Remus finished. The twins looked at each other in collusion. “We have already seen that scroll, Archimedes, so you are not divulging any secrets to us. But you also found the missing piece, the smaller scroll of Meti.” Remus got up and walked to a window. “Oh, now don’t be coy, we know you found it. Do not worry; we don’t intend to take it from Berenike. But tell us…”
“What did Meti write on the second scroll?” Romulus leaned forward anxiously.
Archimedes wasn’t sure how much he should tell these two. They seemed harmless, if not eccentric; and they did save him from the thug in the alley. “It talked about…” Archimedes cleared his throat. “Could I please get another goblet of wine? But watered, lots of water, please. My throat is dry.”
“By all means!” Remus paced out of the room with Mars following closely behind.
There were a few moments of awkward silence until Romulus finally broke it. “You need to trust us, Archimedes,” he hissed. “Your two murder investigations, the lighthouse and Alexander, are linked more closely than you can imagine. Much more.”
Remus returned and Archimedes took a bigger sip than he intended. “Linked? How could two events nearly 50 years apart be linked?”
“The second scroll, Archimedes,” Remus intoned. “What did it say?”
“He wrote about the sun rising in the west, and taking Orion’s belt.”
“The sun…” Romulus began. “It was in demotic, was it not?” He continued after a nod from Archimedes. “Then it would be son, the boy, the child of Alexander…”
“Rising in the west,” finished Remus.
“A boy,” Archimedes said. “That’s how Berenike interpreted it. But there was more,�
�� Archimedes said. “There were holes. Stars, indicating constellations.”
Romulus got up and walked to his brother. “A crafty, inventive man, this Meti.” He turned to Archimedes and was tapping his fist against his mouth. “What did you construe from the stars he charted?”
“Meti circled Merope, from the constellation Pleiades. He also indicated Orion’s belt—or a crown according to Egyptian astronomy.”
As if on cue, both men let out a long, heavy sigh, followed by somewhat disturbing grins.
“What? What does that all mean?” Archimedes set down the goblet.
“What it means,” Romulus said, “is that Meti named Alexander’s murderer. We promised you answers if you gave us answers,” he continued, rising from the bench. He patted Mars on the head, who then lay down, contented. “Merope is the littlest star in the Pleiades, is it not?” he directed it at Archimedes.
“Yes.”
“Little star, in Persian, is Roxanne,” Remus said. “You know who Roxanne was.”
“Yes,” Archimedes answered solemnly.
“So there is the answer for the Princess.” Remus smirked. “When Alexander returned to Babylon, he was married to Roxanne, who was carrying Alexander’s child. Well, Alexander decides to marry a young princess, Statira…”
“Which of course,” Romulus interrupted, “set Roxanne in a terrible rage. Roxanne, feeling betrayed by Alexander, poisoned him with deadly nightshade. That is your dual reference to atropa bella donna.” Romulus looked at his brother for confirmation and received a reaffirming nod.
Remus sat next to Archimedes on the bench. There was a strong fragrance of rose oil from him and Archimedes shuffled a few inches away. Remus continued. “Although many people suspected poisoning, including Meti, the generals wanted to cover it up. No one suspected Roxanne because they were too busy divvying up Alexander’s empire. She returned to Macedonia and gave birth to a son, Alexander IV, hoping he would take the crown of Alexander. That is the reference to Orion’s belt.” Remus smiled satisfactorily at his brother for explaining all the puzzle pieces so efficiently.
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