Death of an Eye

by Dana Stabenow

  Another unwelcome face materialized out of the increasingly crowded room. Aurelius Cotta, who smiled when he caught her eye and raised a glass of wine in salute. His eyes became fixed at a point over her shoulder and she turned to see Apollodorus standing a few paces behind her, at his most enigmatic. The two men exchanged a long, expressionless gaze, until a pretty young matron with delusions of seduction claimed Apollodorus’ attention. When Tetisheri turned back Cotta had joined Cassius and his sons in obeisance to the progenitor of their Diana.

  Really, all the reception was lacking was the presence of Caesar himself and the Roman quorum in Alexandria would be complete in this one room.

  She acquired a glass of chilled juice from Nike, who wore a bright blue silk tunic, sandals that laced to the knee, and a single bracelet above her left elbow with an etching of—yes, the Winged Victory, Nike’s namesake. Phoebe must have scoured the marketplace for it. But then anything could be had in the Alexandrian marketplace, for a price. Nike, chin ever elevated, dipped and swayed gracefully through the crowd, offering her tray filled with drinks with a slight graceful bow and a faint regal smile. Naevius snapped his fingers at her but she never seemed to come quite close enough to their part of the room to hear him.

  Tetisheri circulated, exchanging pleasantries with Neb’s regular customers and introducing herself to the unknowns. She was called upon for information on any number of various items on display and managed to educate without pedantry, an art form she had learned at Neb’s knee. Two Egyptian businessmen were exclaiming over two onyx statues of Bast sitting side by side on a marble pedestal, tails curled neatly around their feet.

  “It’s Bast come to life,” one of them said.

  “I wonder who the artist is?” The other reached out a hand to the figure on the right, perhaps to pick up the statue and look for the maker’s name on the bottom, when the figure came to life, clawed the back of his hand and leaped to the floor to vanish underfoot. The wounded man swore and his friend laughed.

  Tetisheri passed on, to intercept that oily old satyr, Nymphodorus, on a clear heading for Keren, who was conversing with three masters from the Library and a group of students who were to a man drooling down the front of her bodice. Tetisheri managed to divert him toward a group of Alexandrian matrons cooing over a display of very fine necklaces, earrings, and bracelets set with rubies, a gemstone that was not often seen this side of Punt. Davos, one of the city’s most talented young jewelers, had taken up station over the slabs of white jade like a lion guarding its kill, daring anyone to bid against him.

  General Thales came with his wife, Zoe, who greeted Tetisheri fondly, as their daughter had attended some of the same classes at the Mouseion with Tetisheri. Before they moved on Thales said under cover of the noise in the room, “My apologies, Tetisheri. Believe me when I say I would never have allowed the evening to conclude in the manner in which the king had intended.” He looked over her shoulder. “But there was no need.”

  She followed his eyes and saw Apollodorus a short distance away, watching the two of them. “No,” she said. “Thankfully not.” She didn’t know if Thales was telling the truth but she smiled at him and kissed Zoe on the cheek before they moved on. It never profited a trader to hold a grudge, but she made a mental note to add a ten percent handling fee onto anything he might bid on that evening.

  Sosigenes arrived late, as usual, and was taken in hand personally by Tetisheri to view the selection of books Uncle Neb had brought back from Berenike which were among the other treasures laid out on the massive display table. These included some fascinating texts in languages that none of them could read. In one, the text was cut into individual pages instead of a single continuous scroll and bound between heavy wooden covers with leather laces, and the progression of the illustrations seemed to indicate the complicated characters arranged in vertical rows should be read from back to front. Well, and Egyptian hieroglyphics could be read in either direction, too, but these characters were drawn with a brush in thick black ink.

  “The paper must have been treated with some substance that keeps the ink from bleeding,” Sosigenes said, his nose almost touching the page.

  Sosigenes had an untidy thatch of dark hair, a long drooping nose and stooped shoulders that made him look far older than he was. His dress at best could be described as rumpled and was entirely unbefitting someone so close to the throne. If he knew he didn’t care, and neither, evidently, did the queen. “Fascinating,” he said, turning pages with ink-stained fingers she cringed to see touch them, “just fascinating, Tetisheri. The queen would be happy to have this in her private collection, I’m sure.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Does that mean you’re bidding on it, or that is has just become a generous gift to our most gracious majesty from her most loving subjects?”

  He looked up, laughter lighting his angular features. “You know her so well, Tetisheri.”

  “I do, indeed,” she said with a sigh, and went to find Uncle Neb to let him know that one item he had selected for the evening’s auction would be withdrawn. He, as he always did, profaned the air with new and inventive curses before bowing to the inevitable. The pearl, however, retained its outraged tilt.

  She returned to Sosigenes to report although they both knew the result had been a foregone conclusion. In a voice scarcely above a murmur he said, “And the other business?”

  She cast a quick glance around to see if anyone was within earshot. “Nothing to report as yet.”

  He nodded, and resumed his adoration of the printed matter spread before them. They might even get a sale out of him that evening.

  Through it all she felt the continuing regard of Apollodorus, who seemed never to be very far away from whomever she spoke to next. It was unnerving. And, she had to admit, exciting.

  Cotta circulated, too, taking care to spend a few moments chatting with every single person there, almost as if he were co-hosting the event. After a while she saw another face she recognized from the previous evening, the long-nosed Greek who had been standing near Linos, Philo, and Thales. He and Naevius and Petronius clustered together, deep in conversation, while Cassius stood nearby with a scowl on his face, all four of them giving the impression they were doing their best not to rub elbows with a room filled with lesser beings.

  Naevius tugged at his father’s arm and nodded at the door and even from where she stood she saw his father’s one-word answer—“No.” It must have been very firm because Naevius shrank back, looking thoroughly squelched. And perhaps even frightened? Surely that had to be her imagination. They were staying, even after their unexpected hostess had done her level best to offer insults both implied and overt.

  She wondered why. She wondered if she ought to take another try at it.

  “Dub,” she said, catching his sleeve as he passed, “do you know who that man is? The one with Cassius Longinus and his two sons?”

  “Those puppies,” Dub said, “they’ve been to the Five Soldiers frequently since they arrived in Alexandria, and believe me when I tell you you could guarantee a win in any fight if you made their services available to your opponent. Their father at least knows one end of a gladius from the other, but…” He shrugged.

  “Yes, but the man with them? The Greek?”

  “Him? Oh. Him. That’s Polykarpus.” She raised her eyebrows and he grinned. “Come, come, Tetisheri, is your memory so short?”

  “He looks familiar but I can’t place him.”

  “Polykarpus, my dear Tetisheri, was Arsinoë’s closest advisor.”

  “Of course,” she said, “now I remember. How on earth is he still alive? And at large?”

  “No idea, although nowadays I hear he has some trouble inhaling, his nose is stuck so far up Ptolemy’s ass. Not a position I would enjoy, but we all do what we must to survive, I suppose.”

  The volume of conversation raised as the levels of wine and beer lowered and the crowd increased to where it spilled out onto Hermes Street. A beaming Uncle Neb ca
lled for more lamps. His reception was turning into the social event of the season, and when he caught her eye she smiled and mimed applauding. He looked proud enough to burst, the pearl nearly standing up in salute.

  At the Fourteenth Hour, when the crowd had imbibed enough to loosen their purse strings, Neb rang a little bronze bell he had liberated from a dealer in Etruscan antiquities in Rome. “Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, friends, neighbors and visitors from across the Middle Sea, welcome! It is wonderful to see you all here. I hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves as much as my partner and I—Tetisheri? There you are!—as much as Tetisheri and I have enjoyed having you here. To round off the evening we will be auctioning off just a few of the treasures I brought back from upriver—with a side trip to Berenike, where I assure you, my friends, the wonders of far-off Punt and Sinae are not underrepresented. To prove my point, we’ll begin with a lot of white jade, the purest form of that wondrous gemstone. It is translucent enough to capture light and yet still holds up under even the most intricate and elaborate carving. The finest statues, the most delicate jewelry, in all the world jade is unique, of which this, white jade, is the most rare and precious. Now then—”

  The white jade went to Davos, who by his expression considered that he’d gotten a bargain. He hadn’t, and Tetisheri mentally revised their tax payment upward. A matched set of elephant tusks went to a local shipper known for his fetish for mounting heads, hides, and claws of dead animals on his walls. Tetisheri wouldn’t be surprised if in the privacy of his own home he imitated the Pharaohs by draping a leopard skin over his chair, although it would never do to let the queen hear of it. The trappings of royalty remained royalty’s prerogative.

  Neb’s expression was so smug that Tetisheri knew they had paid the expenses for the side trip on this one sale. One of the ruby necklaces went to the matron with the least room for it around her neck, and a beautifully carved sandalwood box filled with peppercorns went for twenty-five times its weight in silver.

  Tetisheri helped Uncle Neb sweep the coins into the cashbox and took it to lock away in the office. When she returned to the warehouse, Neb was at the doors, bidding farewell to everyone as they left. She and Aurelius Cotta arrived at the door at the same moment, Cassius and his two sons in tow with Polykarpus trailing behind. “A most successful occasion,” Cotta said.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “We’re pleased you enjoyed yourself.”

  He gave her an appraising glance. “Hosted, appropriately, by the most attractive woman in the room.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and unexpectedly, he grinned. “You are so very easy to vex, Tetisheri. It makes the wish to do so well nigh irresistible.”

  He made his way out into the darkness, leaving her nothing to say, which was always annoying. And of course the first person to meet her eyes after that was Apollodorus, which was even more so. He did not look happy.

  The other three Romans departed in Cotta’s wake, Cassius sharing the most minuscule of nods between host and hostess. His sons took no notice of their existence at all, which, given the amount of food and drink they had consumed at Neb and Tetisheri’s expense, seemed ungrateful in the extreme. Polykarpus muttered something that might have been thanks but probably wasn’t and scuttled out behind them. Tetisheri stared after him.

  “Arsinoë’s spider,” Apollodorus said, and she looked around to find him standing next to her. “All legs and arms and I’ll-eat-you-if-I-catch-you purpose.”

  “How,” she said, repeating the question she had asked Dub, “is he still alive and at large? Arsinoë is still in prison in Rome, isn’t she? Nobody let her out when I wasn’t looking?”

  “Oh, she’s still in prison, never fear, and scheduled for a prominent place in Caesar’s triumph when he returns. Always supposing the Senate allows him to have one.”

  She stared at him. “Is there any doubt of that?”

  He looked down at her. “You’re not quite up to speed on politics, are you, Tetisheri?” Without waiting for an answer he went on. “There is a very large faction in Rome who think Caesar is acquiring far too much power far too quickly. A lot of that can be put down to jealousy, obviously, of his abilities and victories and the treasure he has accumulated. Not to mention the pretty impressive collection of queens he has seduced, our own being only the most recent. Speaking of enemies…”

  She followed his glance, to where the Romans and the spider were just vanishing between two buildings. “Cassius? I thought he was one of Caesar’s allies. And what is he doing here if he isn’t?”

  “I think the Senate sent him to be their watchdog.”

  “He was with Caesar at the palace yesterday,” Tetisheri said. “Would Caesar really bring an enemy into the queen’s presence?”

  He looked at her. “Much better your enemy under your nose than behind your back.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” Suddenly she yawned so widely tears came to her eyes. It had been a very long day, following on from a very long night.

  He smiled. “You’re exhausted, and no wonder. What time shall we meet tomorrow to—”

  Uncle Neb was closing the big wooden doors. Apollodorus moved to help him. The first floor bolt had dropped when they heard someone call their names. “Wait, please, wait! Apollodorus!”

  Apollodorus pushed the door open again and stepped outside. Tetisheri peered around him and saw a man she recognized as one of Aristander’s deputies. He was talking rapidly in an undertone. Apollodorus heard him out with a slowly gathering frown. He asked a question. The man answered. Apollodorus nodded and the man rushed off back the way he had come.

  “What was all that about?” Uncle Neb frowned at Tetisheri. “A question I seem to be asking often of late.”

  Apollodorus walked back to the door but ignored Neb’s invitation to step inside. Behind Neb and Tetisheri the other four of the Five Soldiers gathered to listen. “Hunefer is dead,” Apollodorus said bluntly. “Murdered, on his own doorstep. Tetisheri, you must come with me.”

  Neb’s face darkened. “If you’re implying anything, Apollodorus—”

  “I’m implying nothing, Neb,” Apollodorus said steadily, not looking away from Tetisheri. “You know she’ll want you to report back to her on this personally, Tetisheri.”

  “She?” Uncle Neb said. “Who—” He stumbled to a halt and turned to look at his niece and partner. “Tetisheri—”

  “I have to go, Uncle,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’ll change and be right with you, Apollodorus.”

  “Hurry!” he said to her back.

  9

  on the First Day of the Third Week

  at the Sixteenth Hour…

  Hunefer’s house was as close to the palace as it could physically get without actually being on the palace grounds, and there were those who would say—and had—that the exterior ornamentation was the most lavish since Ptolemy Euergertes covered the walls of the Serapeum with the entire history of the cults of Apis and Nemwer and then applied gold leaf to every single figure, including all of the hieroglyphics, of which there were many.

  Hunefer’s house might not be quite that ornate but it didn’t lack ambition. It was completely lacking in taste, however. The main entrance, double doors of gilded cedar, stood ajar, a light flickering from within. As they approached Tetisheri saw Aristander standing on the broad front step with a group of his men. From inside could be heard a woman shrieking. Citizens of Alexandria in their nightclothes under hastily donned cloaks stood in groups of two and three up and down the street, whispering among themselves.

  They came to the gate that barred the path to the front doors and in spite of herself Tetisheri’s step faltered.

  Apollodorus rested his hand on the small of her back, not urging her forward but a simple reminder that she was not alone, that this visit was nothing like the last time she had been beneath this roof. She squared her shoulders, raised her chin in a fair imitation of Nike, and walked through the gate.

  Aristander saw them coming
and waved them through. His face was grim. “Thank you for coming so quickly, both of you.”

  “What happened?”

  “See for yourself.” Aristander stood back.

  Hunefer’s body was sprawled across his doorstep. His eyes were open and blank, his jaw agape. He’d fallen half on his side, with one arm stretched out, an attempt to touch something now forever out of his reach.

  Tetisheri could see no wound. “How—”

  Aristander went to stand at Hunefer’s head, and turned it. It moved easily. Even in the flickering light of the night watch’s torches they could see the dark, ugly wound that matted the hair on the back of his head. There was also some gray, glutinous stuff mingled in the dark strands. Tetisheri, with no cause to have any sympathy for the dead man, still felt nausea tickle the back of her throat. The pungent smells of spilled blood and expelled urine and feces saturated the air. She tried to breathe shallowly through her mouth.

  “Struck from behind,” Apollodorus said. He and Aristander exchanged a grim look.

  Like Khemit, she thought, interpreting that look correctly. She saw that Hunefer was wearing the same sandals he had worn at Ptolemy’s court the night before, the ones made of copper links set with carnelians.

  I don’t know how he managed to walk in sandals so encrusted with gemstones.

  In a moment of realization that quite subsumed her nausea, she made a mental note to ask Tarset what kind of gemstones, precisely, encrusted the sandals of the young noble who had visited Khemit’s shop. And then she remembered Khemit’s weaving. She pointed.

  “What?” Apollodorus said.

  “His sandals. They look like the ones in Khemit’s weaving.”

  Aristander stood and wiped his hands on a rag one of his men handed to him. “It looks as though they waited until he was on his doorstop with his hand on the latch, and then they rushed him.”

  “They?”

  Aristander shrugged. “They. He. She.”

  “She?”

  “Armed with a club, even a woman could do this.” Aristander gave Tetisheri a somber look.