Alexandria Part 17

'Then you are my kind of cynic ... So choosing the zoo for a secret liaison could have been a sweet act of revenge?'

I hated this kind of affair. Roxana saw Heras as a boy - and the selfish madam was about to make him a boy with a broken heart. Deliberate cruelty. Why did she need to do that?

'Heras was aware she wanted to make Philadelphion jealous. She made no secret of that.'

'What? Did she intend Philadelphion to come across them in each other's arms, while he was doing his nightly rounds?'

'Heras just thought his luck was in, so he didn't ask. He was so happy he didn't care.'

I remembered how solicitous Philadelphion had been to Roxana when he came upon the scene. I bet he took charge of her so firmly that night so he could get her away from other people and ensure she told the story he wanted. Until now, I had been imagining he was afraid of awkward questions about the lapse of security at Sobek's compound. But his solicitations could have been more personal. Why Why was Roxana so annoyed with him in the first place? was Roxana so annoyed with him in the first place?

'There's a lesson, my boy,' I told the downcast Camillus Aelia.n.u.s. 'Stay away from fancy women.'

'Like you do, Falco?'

'Absolutely.'

All the same, when we went to Uncle Fulvius' house, I left him to talk to Albia while I bounded up the stairs to the roof, all too eager to see my my fancy woman. fancy woman.

Late afternoon was verging on early evening. Across the bay, the Pharos was still hidden in the mist. The day's heat was just beginning to alleviate up here; it would be a wonderful night to eat out of doors with my family. Helena was relaxing in the shade. Favonia, our solemn, private one, was asleep alongside, pushing against her mother like a small dog, while Julia, our imaginative spirit, was playing quietly by herself, some long absorbing game that involved flowers, pebbles and intense conversations in her secret language. I ruffled her hair; Julia scowled at the interruption, half unaware she had done so but also half conscious that this was the father she tolerated. Father, the source of treats, tickles, stories and excursions; Father, who would kiss bruises better and mend broken dolls. Father, who in a few years could be blamed, cursed, despised for fuddy-duddyness, hated for meanness, criticised and quarrelled with, then nonetheless called upon to get her out of sc.r.a.pes, pickles and the inevitable love disaster with the lying wine waiter...

Helena Justina raised a hand vaguely. Helena was doing what she liked most, apart from private times with me. She was reading a scroll. It might be from her luggage; she could have been out and bought it. Or, since she got through so many, it was just as likely she had borrowed this one from a library in Alexandria. She looked up, saw me dreaming sentimentally, then escaped back hurriedly into the scroll.

I sat nearby, content to be among my own, not disturbing them.

x.x.xVII.

Mammius and Cotius came to see me next morning. Being soldiers, they had been up and about since dawn. They made sure they arrived while we were eating. They had already been fed at their barracks, but I knew the rules. I let them sit down for a second breakfast. Uncle Fulvius was never at ease with the military, so he escaped with Ca.s.sius. Pa stuck it out annoyingly. He had a way of listening in on private conversations that made my bile rise.

In return for our food and a sit-down, the lads would have told me anything. I suggested they stick to facts, however.

The centurion Tenax had sent them, following his conversation with me, because they were the pair who had responded to a request from the Great Library six months ago. Theon had called them in. 'About lost scrolls?'

Yes, but to my surprise, it was nothing to do with the eccentric old scholar Nibytas.

'Never heard of him. This was a strange upset. A heap of stuff from the Library had been discovered by a member of the public on a neighbourhood rubbish dump. The Librarian had gone incandescent. If you like volcanic explosions, it was pretty to watch. Then we all trogged along to pull the dump apart -' This was a strange upset. A heap of stuff from the Library had been discovered by a member of the public on a neighbourhood rubbish dump. The Librarian had gone incandescent. If you like volcanic explosions, it was pretty to watch. Then we all trogged along to pull the dump apart -'

Helena pulled a face. 'That cannot have been pleasant!'

Mammius and Cotius, two born sensationalists, enjoyed themselves describing the joys of Egyptian rubbish dumps. Both pa.s.sed over the ordinary ma.s.s of combs, hairpins, pot shards, pens and inkwells, oil lamps - with and without oil spillage - the occasional perfect winecup, many an amphora, even more jars of fish-pickle, old clothes, broken brooches, single ear-rings, solo shoes, dice and sh.e.l.lfish detritus. They listed more eagerly the half-rotten vegetables and fish-ends, they spoke of bones, grease, gravy, mouldy cheese, dogs.h.i.t and donkey-do, dead mice, dead babies and live babies' loincloths. They claimed to have unearthed a complete set of currency-counterfeiting implements, perhaps discarded by a coiner who had had a fit of conscience. They had barked their shins and grazed their knuckles on spars, bricks and bits of roof tile. Then there were layers of love letters, written curses, shopping lists, laundry lists, fish-wrappers and discarded pages from lesser-known Greek plays. Amongst these doc.u.ments, which were clearly chucked out from private houses, had been a great jumble of tagged scrolls from the Library.

'So how had those ended up in a dump?'

'We never found out. Theon dug them back out himself, brushing off the dirt as if they were his personal treasures. He bundled them on handcarts from the Library and wheeled them back safely. To begin with everyone made a great fuss. There was supposed to be a full enquiry, but next day a message came for Tenax that the Librarian had uncovered what it was all about, so our intervention was not needed.'

The thought of these two lumpish red tunics poking around the sacred cupboards of the Great Library, fingering the Pinakes with their stubby, filthy digits, then noisily shouting dumb questions at bemused scholars and fraught staff, told me just why Theon had dropped it officially. But had he then pursued this incident himself?

'If venerable works have been walking off the shelves in murky circ.u.mstances, I can see, darling,' Helena suggested to me, 'why people at the Museion might have thought Vespasian was sending you to Alexandria to be an auditor.'

'But Theon would have been well aware he had not not b.u.mped up the issue to imperial level. He hadn't requested an official recount.' b.u.mped up the issue to imperial level. He hadn't requested an official recount.'

'Is that what you do, Falco?' Mammius asked, all sceptical innocence. 'Go into places and count things?'

'Is it, Marcus?' Helena ate a roll stuffed with goat's cheese in an extremely mischievous manner. I would get her for that later. She was still thinking about Theon. 'He was the one who choked with horror when I asked him how many scrolls there were.'

'Maybe he was very sensitive to criticism. Perhaps he was scared he would be blamed if other books had been lost ... So what did you think had been going on?' I asked the soldiers.

They were just square-bashers. They had no idea.

'Sounds like somebody weeded the cupboards and storage stacks without asking the Librarian first,' scoffed Aulus.

'And the Librarian did not like their choice,' agreed Albia.

I grunted. 'It sounds to me as if the Librarian asked some half-baked a.s.sistant to reshelve some outstanding returns that had been littering up the place for months. Instead of sorting out the mess, the a.s.sistant just filed the scroll mountain in the ''Not needed'' skip, to avoid doing any work.'

'You have such a jaded view of underlings,' Albia tutted.

'That's because I have known so many.'

Mammius and Cotius seemed to feel they were being got at. They stuffed a few last chunks of bread into their fists, saluted and made off.

My father had eavesdropped without interruption, but now he just had to weigh in. 'Seems you were brought here to dig out a swamp of corrupt practices.'

I served myself a new slice of smoked ham, a task that required silence and concentration lest I cut myself on the very sharp thin-bladed knife. While I was at it, to prolong the activity I did slices for Helena and Albia. Aulus held out his bread too.

'All right,' agreed Geminus patiently. He recognised my delaying tactics. 'You weren't brought here for that. I believe you. You came on an innocent holiday. Problems just float up to you, wherever you take yourself.

'If I attract problems, it's inherited, Pa ... What's your interest anyway?' As usual when talking to my father, I immediately felt like a surly teenager who thinks it is beneath his dignity to hold a civil conversation with anyone over twenty. I had been one once, of course, though I did not have the luxury of a father to be rude to at the time. Mine had run off with his lady love. When he reappeared, renaming himself Geminus instead of Favonius, he behaved as if all those intervening years never happened. Some of us would not forget.

Pa produced a sad smile and his personal brand of annoying forbearance. 'I just like to know what you are up to, Marcus. You are my boy, my only surviving son; it's natural for a father to take an interest.'

I was his boy, all right. Two days in the same house and I understood why Oedipus had felt that burning urge to strangle his kingly Greek papa even without recognising who the b.a.s.t.a.r.d was. I knew mine too well. I knew that behind any interest he took there must be a suspicious motive. And if I ever met him in a chariot at an isolated crossroads, Marcus Didius Favonius, known as Geminus, might disappear, complete with his chariot and horses, and no need to waste time on dialogue first...

'Settle down, Pa. I don't know what you're wheedling for. I'm here because Helena Justina wants to see the Pyramids -' She favoured us with her own little knowing smile. 'You go and get on with whatever tricks you are up to with Fulvius. Don't fret about any convoluted Egyptian schemes that have been going on at the Library. I can sort out a few book fiddles. Their days are numbered.'

'Is that so?'

Pa consulted Helena with a sceptical look. Her word was law with him. He had convinced himself that a senator's daughter was above practising deceit, even for the usual family reasons.

'That's right,' she confirmed. She was extremely loyal - and hilariously inventive. 'We expect to have the full facts any day now. A report for the authorities will be cracked out straight away. Marcus is on to it.'

Helena had just imposed a time constraint, though I did not know it yet.

x.x.xVIII.

Aulus and I went to the Museion together. When we first left my uncle's house, we found Mammius and Cotius were still in the street, giving a shake-down to the muttering man who always lurked outside. On the excuse of routine public order enquiries, they had him pinned against a wall and were scaring him silly. 'What's your name?' 'Katutis.'

'A likely tale! Pat him down, Cotius -' We grinned and quickly walked on. Pat him down, Cotius -' We grinned and quickly walked on.

By now the familiar route to the Museion seemed much shorter. I said little on the way, planning my next moves. I had a number of lines I was eager to pursue, and a job in mind for Aulus. As we walked through a colonnade together he suddenly asked, 'Do you trust your father?'

'I wouldn't trust him to squash a grub on his lettuce. Why do you ask?'

'No reason.'

'Well, let's have a pact: I won't dwell on any deplorable relatives you may have - and you can keep your high-cla.s.s disapproval away from mine. Geminus may be an auctioneer, but he has never actually been arrested, even for pa.s.sing off fakes - and you are not a praetor yet. You won't be either, until one day you trudge your n.o.ble boots back to Rome and levitate yourself like a demiG.o.d, up through the cursus honorum cursus honorum to the dizzy heights of the consulship.' to the dizzy heights of the consulship.'

'You think I could make consul?'Aulus could always be sidetracked by reminding him he had had political ambition once.

'Anyone can do it if enough cash is spent on them.'

He was a realist. 'Well, Papa has no money at present, so let's go and earn some!'

At the Library, we found Pastous, looking anxious.

'You asked me to preserve the papers Nibytas was working with, Falco. But the Director sent across this morning and asked for everything. I'm told he wants to send personal effects to the family.'

'What family did Nibytas have?'

'None I know of.'

'You let those notebooks of his go?'

Pastous had discovered a liking for intrigue. 'No. I claimed you had taken everything. I decided that if they were so urgently in demand, they must be significant...'

'Is the stuff here?' Everything off the table where the old man worked had been secreted in a little back room. 'I want Aelia.n.u.s to go through it. 'The n.o.ble youth pulled a very ign.o.ble face. 'If you have free time, Pastous, maybe you can help. You don't need to read every line, but decide what Nibytas thought he was doing. Aulus, just give us an overview, as rapidly as you can. Pull out anything significant, then the residue can be dispatched to Philetus. Jumble it up a bit to keep him busy.'

Before I left them to it, I asked Pastous to tell me what he knew about scrolls being found on rubbish dumps. It was clear the a.s.sistant was uneasy. 'I know that it once happened,' he admitted.

'And?'

'It caused much unpleasantness. Theon was informed, and he managed to reclaim all the scrolls. The incident made him extremely angry'

'How had the scrolls got there?'

'Junior staff had selected them for disposal. Unread for a long time, or duplicates. They had been instructed that such scrolls were no longer needed.'

'Not by Theon, I take it! What do you think of the principle, Pastous?'

He stiffened up and sailed into a heartfelt speech. 'It is a subject we discuss regularly. Can old books that have not been looked at for decades, or even centuries, justifiably be thrown out to increase shelf s.p.a.ce? Why do you need duplicates? Then there is the question of quality - should works that everyone knows are terrible still be lovingly kept and cared for, or should they be ruthlessly purged?'

'And the Library takes what line?'

'That we keep them.' Pastous was definite. 'Little-read items may still be requested one day. Works that seem bad may be rea.s.sessed - or if not, they are still needed to confirm how bad they were.'

'So who ordered the staff to clear the shelves?' asked Aulus.

'A management decision. Or so the juniors thought. Changes are always happening in large organisations. A memo comes around. New instructions appear, often anonymous, almost as if they fell through a window like moonbeams.' Or so the juniors thought. Changes are always happening in large organisations. A memo comes around. New instructions appear, often anonymous, almost as if they fell through a window like moonbeams.'

What Pastous said seemed all too familiar.

Aulus had less experience than me of the madness that infects public administration. 'How can such things happen? Surely someone would have double-checked? Theon cannot have allowed such important and controversial instructions to be given to his staff behind his back?'

Four days had pa.s.sed since Theon died. In an organisation, that counted as eternity. His loyal staff, once completely tight-lipped, were already prepared to criticise him. Pastous himself seemed more confident today, as if his place in the hierarchy had changed. He admitted to Aulus, 'Theon had not been much in evidence. He was going through a bad patch.'

'Illness?'

The a.s.sistant gazed at the ground. 'Money worries, it was rumoured.'

'Did he gamble on the horses?'

I had asked this before, when we first met Pastous, and he had avoided the question. This time he was more forthcoming. 'I believe he did. Men came here looking for him. He disappeared for a few days afterwards. But if there was trouble, I a.s.sumed he cleared it up, because he was back at his post when a civic-minded member of the public came to report finding the dumped scrolls.'

'So how did Theon tackle that?'

'First priority was to reclaim them. Afterwards, he confirmed that Library policy was to keep all scrolls. And I think - though of course it was done very discreetly - he had a terrific argument with the Director.'

'Had Philetus Philetus sent the scrolls to the rubbish dump?' Pastous answered my question only with a weary shrug. Staff had given up any hope of loosening the Director's grip. Philetus was stifling their initiative and their sense of responsibility. sent the scrolls to the rubbish dump?' Pastous answered my question only with a weary shrug. Staff had given up any hope of loosening the Director's grip. Philetus was stifling their initiative and their sense of responsibility.

Aulus could always be relied upon to give delicate subjects a big thumping push. 'Was there any crossover between Theon's personal money worries and Library finances? I mean, did he -'

'Certainly not!' cried Pastous. Fortunately, he liked us enough now not to flounce off in horror.

'That would have been a terrible scandal,' I remarked.

I was thinking it was the kind of scandal I had come across too many times - the kind that could have fatal results if it got out of hand.

Leaving Aulus and Pastous to wade through the mora.s.s Nibytas had bequeathed to us, I decided to try to tackle Zenon once more about the Museion's accounts.

He was in the observatory on the roof again. He seemed to hide up there as often as possible, tinkering with equipment. Remembering how he went for me last time, I made sure I kept his sky-scrutinising chair between us. He noticed.

'Getting anywhere, Falco?'

I sighed dramatically. 'In my dark moments, my enquiries here seem particularly futile. Did Theon kill himself or was he killed? Did Nibytas die of old age? Did young Heras die by accident and if not, who killed him, was he the real target or did they intend to murder someone else? Are any of these deaths linked, and do they have any connection to how the Museion and the Great Library are run? Does it matter? Do I care? Would I ever let a child of mine come here to study in this crazy home of warped minds, with its once-fine reputation apparently now hanging in tatters due to incompetence and maladministration on a monumental scale?'

Zenon looked slightly taken aback. 'What maladministration have you found?'

I let him wonder. 'Tell me the truth, Zenon. The figures are a mess, aren't they? I am not blaming you - I imagine that however hard you struggle to impose sound business practice and prudence, still others - we know who - constantly thwart you.' He was letting me talk, so I pressed on. 'I haven't seen your accounts, but I hear that at the Library things have got so bad, even penny-pinching measures like clearing out old scrolls have been attempted. Somebody is desperate.'

'I wouldn't say that, Falco.'

'If funds are tight, you need a concerted effort to economise. This can't be co-ordinated properly during a full-blown disagreement about holdings policy. What? - The Director sneaks in behind Theon's back to clear out old scrolls he he reckons are not worth keeping. Theon violently disagrees. The spectre of the Librarian on hands and knees in a rubbish dump, retrieving his stock then wheeling it back here through the filthy streets in handcarts, is quite unedifying.' reckons are not worth keeping. Theon violently disagrees. The spectre of the Librarian on hands and knees in a rubbish dump, retrieving his stock then wheeling it back here through the filthy streets in handcarts, is quite unedifying.'

'There is no financial crisis calling for the Director's measures,' Zenon protested.