'You asked?'

'I am thorough, Falco. I can see logical connections.'

'Keep your ringlets on ... I wish I knew whether Theon was looking at the Pinakes that night.'

'He was.' Aulus had an annoying habit of withholding information, then dropping it into the conversation as if I already ought to know.

'How can you tell?'

He stretched his st.u.r.dy legs. 'Because.'

'Come on; you're not three years old! Because what, you flitterbug?'

'I got to the Library before opening time this morning, talked my way in and found the little knock-kneed slave who always cleans the room.'

I kept my temper. I had dealt with Aulus for some years. When he gave me a report he always had to make himself look good. Simply relating the facts was too simple - yet it would generally be a good report. I gave my body some exercise, pulling my joints systematically and adding in a head-rub just to show I could be patient.

'One!'Aulus liked order. 'When he first turned up with his sponges that day, he says the room was locked. Two! He came back, after people had broken in and found the body. He was told to tidy up.'

'How long have you known this?' I thundered.

'Just today'

'How long have I been in this room and you didn't tell me?'

'Philosopher, does a fact take on substance only when Marcus Didius Falco knows it, or does information exist independently?' He had posed, gazing at the ceiling, and was speaking in a comic voice like a particularly tedious orator. Aulus enjoyed the student life. He stayed up late and went unshaved. In fairness, he enjoyed thought too. He had always been more solitary than his younger brother, Justinus. He had friends, whom his family thought unsuitable, but none were especially close. My Albia knew more about him than anyone and even that was a long-distance friendship. We let her correspond so that she could practise her writing. Presumably he answered her out of kind-heartedness. 'Anyway, I'm telling you now, Falco.' He had posed, gazing at the ceiling, and was speaking in a comic voice like a particularly tedious orator. Aulus enjoyed the student life. He stayed up late and went unshaved. In fairness, he enjoyed thought too. He had always been more solitary than his younger brother, Justinus. He had friends, whom his family thought unsuitable, but none were especially close. My Albia knew more about him than anyone and even that was a long-distance friendship. We let her correspond so that she could practise her writing. Presumably he answered her out of kind-heartedness. 'Anyway, I'm telling you now, Falco.'

'Thank you. Aulus. Who gave the order to tidy up?'

'Nicanor.'

'The lawyer. He should have known better!' He should have known better!'

'Nicanor had come over from the Academic Board meeting. He told the cleaner to straighten the room and said the body would be taken away later. The slave could not bear to touch the corpse. So he did everything else just as he would have done normally - swept the floor, sponged the furniture, threw out the rubbish - which included a dried-up dinner wreath. There were a few scrolls on the table; he replaced them in cupboards.'

'I don't suppose he can say which they were?'

'My first question - and no; needless to say, he cannot remember.'

In fairness to the slave, all the Pinakes scrolls looked similar. The situation was tantalising; if the scrolls were relevant, I would have given a lot to know which Theon had been reading. 'Did he find any other writing? Was Theon making or using notes?'

Aulus shook his head. 'None on the table.'

'So that's all?'

'That's all he said, Marcus.'

'You asked this slave, I presume, whether it was he who locked the door?'

'Yes. He's a slave. He doesn't have a key'

'So when Nicanor broke the door down, was he up to anything?'

'I can't see what. Thank Zeus you're the brains of our outfit, Falco, so I don't have to worry. The lock isn't broken now'

'It was, after the death - didn't you notice? They have a handyman. The Librarian's room 'will take priority for repairs.' I posed my next question as cautiously as possible: 'Do I need to interview this slave myself?'

'I can talk to a cleaning slave and be trusted to get it right!' he answered, with resentment.

'I know you can, Aulus,' I answered back gently.

XXIV.

I left Aelia.n.u.s and went to meet his sister. The Serapeion stood on the highest point of the city. This rocky outcrop in the old district of Rhakotis could be seen from all over Alexandria. It was a landmark for sailors. It would have made a fine Greek acropolis - so instead we Romans had installed a Forum, at the back of the Caesarium. Now there was a civic focal point of our choosing, while a huge shrine to the invented G.o.d Serapis occupied the heights. Uncle Fulvius had told Helena that the Egyptians paid little attention to Serapis and his consort, Isis; as a religious cult, the couple were held in more regard at Rome than here. That may have been because in Rome this was an exotic foreign cult, whereas here it pa.s.sed unnoticed amongst the mult.i.tude of old pharaonic oddities.

The precincts of the Serapeion did stand out. This site of pilgrimage and study was a large, gorgeous complex, with a huge and beautiful temple in the centre. Foundation tablets from the reign of Ptolemy III celebrated the establishment of the original sanctuary. Two series, set up in gold, silver, bronze, faience and gla.s.s, recorded the foundation in Greek letters and Egyptian hieroglyphics. 'Even now,' commented Helena thoughtfully, 'n.o.body has added Latin.'

Within the temple, we found a monumental statue of the synthetic G.o.d - a seated male figure sporting heavy drapes. His barber must be bursting with pride. Of hefty build, Serapis was lavishly equipped with hair and a flowing primped beard, with five fancy screw-curls lined up across his broad forehead. As a head-dress he wore the characteristic inverted quarter-bushel measure that was his trademark - symbolic of prosperity, a memento of Egypt's abundant corn fertility.

We paid a guide a bunch of coins to tell us how a window was arranged high up, through which sunlight streamed at break of day, falling so the sunbeam seemed to kiss the G.o.d on the lips. It was a device created by the inventor, Heron.

'We know of him,' I said. Aulus and I once did a job where I had him in disguise as a seller of automaton statues, all deriving from the crazy imagination of Heron of Alexandria. 'Is the maestro still practising?'

'He is full of ideas. He will continue until death stops him.' I muttered under my breath to Helena, 'I wonder if Heron does magic with door locks? Might be worth exploring.'

'You boy, Falco! You just want to play with toys.' You just want to play with toys.'

We were told that beneath the temple ran deep underground corridors, used in rites connected with the G.o.d's afterlife aspect. We did not investigate. I keep out of ritual tunnels. Down there in the dark, you never know when some angry priest is going to run at you wielding an extremely sharp ritual knife. No good Roman believes in human sacrifice - especially when the sacrifice is him.

Outside, glorious sunlight filled the elegant enclosure over which the G.o.d presided. The precinct was surrounded internally by a Greek stoa - a wide colonnade, double height, its columns topped with fancy capitals in the Egyptian style that characterised Ptolemaic building. In a standard Greek market, there would be shops and offices around the stoa, but this was a religious foundation. Nevertheless, the sanctuary was still used by some citizens in the traditional manner as a place of a.s.sembly, and being Alexandria it was lively: we were told that this was where the Christian called Mark came ten years ago to set up his new religion and denounce the local G.o.ds. Unsurprisingly, it was also where the mob then gathered to put a stop to that. They set on Mark and had him torn to pieces - rather more persuasive than intellectual chastis.e.m.e.nt, though well in the spirit of hot-headed Greeks whose G.o.ds had been insulted by upstarts.

Generally, the stoa had a loftier, more peaceful purpose; there was ample s.p.a.ce for the book-loving public to stroll with a scroll from the Library. They could already read a first-rate translation of the Hebrew books treasured in the Jewish religion, which was called the Septuagint because seventy-two Hebrew scholars had been closeted in seventy-two huts on Pharos Island and instructed by one of the Ptolemies to produce a Greek version. Maybe one day browsers would read something by the Christian Mark. In the meantime, people were happily devouring philosophy, trigonometry, hymns, how to build your own siege warfare battering ram, and Homer. Sadly, in the Serapeion Library they could not borrow The Spook Who Spoke, The Spook Who Spoke, by Phalko of Rome. by Phalko of Rome.

Don't think I was so immodest. Helena asked for me. That way we learned our first hard fact about the Daughter Library: it contained over four hundred thousand works, but they were all cla.s.sics or bestsellers.

When we met Timosthenes, we congratulated him on the flourishing academy he ran here. He was younger than some of the other professors, slim and olive-skinned; he wore a shorter beard than the old fellows, had a square jaw and neat ears. He told us he had reached his high position after working on the Great Library's staff. From the look of him, despite his Greek name, he might actually be Egyptian in origin. There was no suggestion that this would make him more sympathetic to our task or likelier to betray confidences, however.

I let Helena talk to him first. Settling your interviewee is a good trick. Lulling him into a sense of false security would only work if he did not realise what was going on, but either way, it allowed me to watch him silently. I knew Helena thought I was subdued because we had not found my play. The truth was, I always enjoyed watching her in action.

'I know you must be asked the same questions all the time, but tell me about the Daughter Library,' Helena urged. She looked bright-eyed and curious, yet her cultured senatorial voice made her more than a mere tourist.

Timosthenes willingly explained that his Library at the Serapeion acted as an overflow, carrying duplicate scrolls and offering a service to the general public. They were barred from the Great Library, originally because using it was a royal prerogative then because it was the select preserve of the Museion scholars.

Mention of the scholars led to a distraction, though I put it down as accidental. 'Someone told me,' Helena said, 'there are a hundred accredited scholars. Is that right?'

'No, no. Closer to thirty - at the most fifty'

'So my young brother, Camillus Aelia.n.u.s, was fortunate indeed to be allowed to join them!'

'Your brother is an influential Roman, connected with the Emperor's agent. I heard, too, he came with a very good reference from Minas of Karystos. The Board is happy to grant temporary accreditation for someone with such pulling power.' Timosthenes was wry; not quite rude - yet close.

Helena's heavy eyebrows had shot up. 'So was Aelia.n.u.s approved by the Academic Board?'

Timosthenes smiled at her acuteness. 'He was admitted by Philetus. Someone put it on the agenda afterwards.'

Helena tossed in, 'Raised a complaint, I imagine!'

'You have seen how things work here.'

'Who called Philetus into question?' I asked.

Timosthenes clearly regretted mentioning this. 'I believe it was Nicanor.' Aulus did study law. So their legal head objected? 'Nicanor was being difficult on principle.'

Helena said stiffly, 'My father, the senator Camillus Verus, is set against corruption. He would not want my brother to use unfair influence. My brother himself is unaware that special pressure was applied.'

Timosthenes soothed her. 'Be calm. The admittance of Camillus Aelia.n.u.s was discussed and retrospectively agreed by all.'

'Tell me the truth,' ordered Helena: 'Why?' 'Why?'

Helena could be forceful. Timosthenes looked taken aback and fought it with frankness. 'Because Philetus, our Director, is terrified of whatever the Emperor sent your husband here to do.'

'He is s.h.i.t scared of me?' I interrupted.

'Philetus is accustomed to run in circles after his own tail.'

That was something. We had induced the man to reveal an opinion.

Timosthenes was a good educator. He was eloquent, content to discuss things with women, revealed no burning grudges. At the same time, he did not tolerate fools gladly - and he obviously put Philetus in that category.

Helena dropped her voice: 'What makes Philetus so frightened?'

'That,' replied Timosthenes in a mild tone, 'he has not shared with me.'

'So you do not work in harmony?'

'We co-operate.'

'He sees your worth?'

I chuckled. 'He fears fears it!' it!'

'I exercise toleration towards my Director's defects,' Timosthenes informed us, po-faced. A short lift of the hand instructed us not to trespa.s.s further. Continuing would have been impolite. Saying 'my' Director emphasised that this man was bound by professional loyalty.

I decided to be formal. I asked about his hopes for Theon's post. Timosthenes admitted at once that he would like it. He said he had got on well with Theon, admired his work. But he saw his own chances of being referred for the post by Philetus as so slim that this could not have been a motive to harm Theon. He expected nothing from the man's death.

'As Librarian at the Serapeion would this not be a natural career progression? Why does Philetus despise your qualities so much?'

'It is,' said Timosthenes heavily, 'because I achieved my post through the administration route, as a member of the Library staff, rather than as an eminent scholar. Although Philetus is himself a priest by background - or perhaps because of that - he is imbued with sn.o.bbery about ''professors''. He feels it adds to his own glory if the chief of the Great Library is famous for his academic work. Theon was a historian, of some note. I am self-taught and have never published any writings, though my interests are in epic poetry. I am primarily an administrative librarian, and Philetus may feel my approach is at odds with his.'

'In what way?' asked Helena.

'We might place different values on books.' He shrugged off the problem, however. 'It has never arisen.'

Clearly he was reluctant to continue. I then asked where Timosthenes was when Theon died.

'Here in my own Library. My staff can confirm it. We were conducting a scroll count.'

'Any particular reason for this inventory, or is it routine?'

'Checks are carried out from time to time.'

'Do you lose books?' Helena asked him.

'Sometimes.'

'Many?'

'No.'

'Enough for concern?'

'Not in my Library. Since works are available for public consultation, we have to be rigorous. Members of the public have been known to ''forget'' to return things, though of course we always know who has borrowed what, so we can remind them tactfully. We find scrolls mis-shelved occasionally, though I have a proficient staff.' Timosthenes paused. He had been conversing with Helena, yet he looked at me: 'You are interested in scroll numbers?'

I played bored. 'Tallying and ticking off lists? Sounds dry as desert dust.'

Helena pursed her lips at this interruption. 'And how did the count go, Timosthenes?'

'Good. Very few were missing.'

'Was that what you expected?'

'Yes. Yes,' replied Timosthenes. 'That was as I expected.'

XXV.

Sometimes during an investigation, Helena and I just stopped. When the flow of information became overwhelming, we turned away. We fled the scene. We bunked off to the country for a few hours, without telling anybody. Students of rational science might find the fact odd but forgetting all about the case for a time could, by a mysterious process, clarify the facts. Besides, she was my wife. I loved her enough to spend time alone with her. This was not the traditional way to view a wife, but as the n.o.ble Helena Justina often said, I was a surly beggar who just loved to break the rules.

Of course I was never surly to her. That's how traditional husbands let themselves down. We two had a union of l.u.s.trous tranquillity. If Helena Justina saw a moment of uncharacteristic surliness coming on, she would stalk from the room with a riffle of skirts and a sneer. She always knew how to get in first.

We both pursed our lips over Timosthenes. We agreed he was high quality and almost certainly ethical, but we thought he was keeping things back. 'Men who take refuge in scrupulous good manners can be hard to break, Helena. I can't put the Serapeion Librarian up against a wall and mutter threats in his ear.'

'I hope you don't generally work like that, Marcus.'

'I do when it gets results.'