Alexandria

XII

We found our own way back to the Museion, then set about trying to discover where this outlawed procedure was happening. Naturally there were no advertisements scrawled up on walls. At first all the halls seemed to be hosting ill-attended lectures and anaemic lyre recitals. Aulus spotted a young man who had befriended him in the refectory. 'This is Heras, son of Hermias, who is studying under a Sophist – Heras, have you heard anything about a dissection today?'

'On my way there!' A typical student, he was dawdling; he had no idea of time. As we tagged along, willing Heras to hurry, I learned that Sophistry was a branch of declamatory rhetoric that had been practised for tour hundred years; the Alexandrian version was famed for its florid style. Heras looked like a pleasant Egyptian from a wealthy family, well-dressed, with gentle features; I could not see him being florid. Aulus was studying judicial rhetoric of a more subdued variety with Minas of Karystos, though from what I had seen in Athens it mainly involved partying. Having brought money from his father to Aulus in Athens, I was aware that the senator hoped I would help restrict his son's expenditure. (How? Blameless example, tiresome speeches – or just thumping him?) I didn't ask Heras if Alexandrian Sophistry involved the good life. No one should give students bad ideas.

We found the place. They were not selling tickets to the public. We had to bluff our way past a couple of bored doorkeepers. Security was not their strong point, so luckily they were a pushover.

Just in time, we three sidled into the back of a demonstration theatre. It was old, purpose-built, with a smell of apothecary's apron. A gentle half-moon of seats looked down on a work-table, behind which stood a handsome man in his late forties, flanked by two assistants. It was obvious that a human body lay on the table, so far fully covered by a white cloth. A small plinth nearby probably held medical instruments, though they too were covered over. The room was packed with an eager audience, many with note-tablets at the ready; most were young students, though I noticed a proportion of older men, probably tutors. It was already warm here, and buzzing.

'The Head of Medicine?' I whispered.

'No, that post is vacant. Philadelphion – the Zoo Keeper.' Aulus and I both registered surprise.' He does regular dissecting,' explained Heras. 'Though of course, normally animals… Are you intending to stop this?' he asked, clearly aware of the legal position.

'Not diplomatic' Besides, I too wanted answers.

Philadelphion made a small gesture to indicate he would begin. Instant hush fell. I would have liked to move closer, but every seat was filled.

'Thank you for coming.' Modesty made a pleasant change. 'Before I start, a few words about the special situation today, which has drawn such a large crowd of you. For those who may be new to this, I shall first review the history of dissection in Alexandria. Then I shall explain why this body, which you all know is that of Theon, the Keeper of the Great Library, seems to require an examination. Finally I shall perform the necropsy, assisted by Chaereas and Chaeteas, my young colleagues from the royal zoo, who have worked with me here before.'

I liked his style. There was nothing florid here. He just had the knack of straightforward exposition, backed by a will to educate. Members of the audience were furiously scribbling down all he said. If what he intended to do was illegal, Philadelphion was making no attempt to do it furtively.

'When the Museion in Alexandria was first established, its far-sighted founders gave unprecedented freedom to scholars – a freedom that we still enjoy in many disciplines. Eminent men came here to use unrivalled facilities. They included two great medical scientists: Heraphilus and Erasistratus. Heraphilus of Chalcedon made profound discoveries in human anatomy, concerning the eye, liver, brain, genital organs, vascular and nervous systems. He taught us to appreciate the pulse of life which you will feel if you lay fingers across the wrist of whoever is sitting next to you. Heraphilus used direct investigation techniques – that is, dissection: dissection of human corpses.' There was a murmur among the audience, as if the pulses they had tested now raced faster. 'He was permitted to do that. His motive was benign. As a result of his greater understanding of the human body from examining the dead, he developed a regimen of diet and exercise to maintain or restore human health in the living.'

Philadelphion paused, to allow note-takers to catch up. While he spoke, his assistants stood completely still. Either he had rehearsed this, or they were already familiar with his approach. He spoke extempore. He was calm, audible and utterly compelling.

'Erasistratus of Ceos also believed in research. He carried further the work of Heraphilus, who had learned that the arteries carry blood, not air as had been wrongly thought previously. Erasistratus identified that the heart works like a pump, which contains valves; he believed the brain to be the seat of our intelligence and he identified its different parts; he disproved the false idea that digestion involves some kind of ''cooking'' procedure in the stomach, while showing that food is propelled through the intestines by smooth muscle contractions. In his investigations of the brain, Erasistratus demonstrated that damage to certain parts would have a direct consequence on movement. For that, you will realise, it was necessary to experiment on live brains, both human and animal. His human subjects were criminals who were taken from the city's jails.'

Again a pause for catching up – and for the reaction to subside. Aulus and his friend sat frozen in their seats. They saw themselves as tough young men. They went to the gym; they were up for an argument. Aulus had been an army tribune – though on peacetime duties. Still, as the bodily descriptions became more vivid, they grew more subdued. Everyone in the room was now envisaging old Erasistratus sawing open the head of some live convict and, while his victim screamed and squirmed, calmly observing what happened.

Undeterred by his audience's cringes, Philadelphion continued: 'Aristotle – the teacher of Alexander the Great, of Ptolemy Soter and of Demetrius Phalereus, the founder of the Museion – had taught that the body was a shell, housing the soul, or psyche. That did not excuse vivisection. But many of us believe that when the soul departs, the body loses all we regard as human life. That makes dissection after death legitimate, where there are reasons. I myself prefer not to countenance vivisection – experiments on the living, whether human or animal. Since that brief period when Heraphilus and Erasistratus flourished, all such experiments are seen as regrettable, or outright repulsive, by right-thinking people. Distaste for any kind of necropsy also rules. Cutting up our fellow-humans, we feel, lacks respect for them and may dehumanise ourselves. It is, therefore, a long time indeed since anyone conducted a ''See for yourself'' on a human corpse at the Museion.'

One or two people cleared their throats nervously. Philadelphion smiled. 'If anyone feels he would rather not see for himself, leaving the room will be no disgrace.'

Nobody left. Some people may have wanted to.

'So why is this case exceptional?' asked Philadelphion. 'We all knew Theon. He belonged to our community; we owe him special regard. He was physically fit, a lively debater, good for more years in his post. Perhaps of late he had seemed preoccupied. That could have had many causes, including illness, either known or unrecognised. But his complexion was good, his manner still zestful. I was startled to hear he had died, and I suspect so were many of you. Witnesses noted odd features when he was found. We can either bury him and think no more about it – or we can do him the service of trying to discover what happened to him. It is my decision to undertake a necropsy' The two assistants stepped forward quietly. 'We shall proceed,' Philadelphion instructed, 'always with respect and with gravity. Our actions will be conducted in a spirit of scientific curiosity as we enjoy the intellectual prospect of discovering answers.'

One of the assistants gently removed the cloth that had covered Theon s body.

First, Philadelphion did nothing.

'The first procedure is close visual examination.'

Aulus turned to me and we nodded: this was the genuine body of Theon. He was naked – no modesty cloths here. Even from several rows back, his thin frame was instantly recognisable and so were his features and beard shadow. Unlike the undertaker's false corpse, he still had his hair, thin, dark and lank. After their master's inspection of the front, Chaereas and Chaeteas stepped forward and rolled the body for inspection of the back, then laid it down face-up again. The top of the head and the soles of the feet were scrutinised. An eyelid was pulled up. The mouth was opened and peered into for some time. Philadelphion used a spatula to hold down the tongue and look closer.

'There are no wounds,' he eventually pronounced. 'I can see no bruises.'

'Any asp bites?' Aulus called out from our back row. He had a clear senatorial accent with a pristine Latin diction; his Greek had never been as fluent as his brother's or his sister's but he knew how to make himself heard well enough to start a riot. In the silence that fell you could have heard an asp slither. Every head in the room turned towards us. Everyone now knew there were two Romans in the room, just as insensitive as the cultured Egyptians and Greeks had always thought us. Aulus himself winced. 'Because of the locked room, I just thought snakes ought to be considered,' he mumbled, apologetically.

Philadelphion fixed the source of the crass interruption and replied with some coldness of tone that there were no snake, insect, dog or human bites. He continued methodically: 'This is the body of a fifty-eight-year-old man, somewhat underweight and with poor muscle tone, but unmarked by anything that would explain sudden death.' He touched the corpse. 'Temperature and coloration imply that death occurred within the past twelve hours. We know, in fact, that Theon was alive until late last night. So! There are no answers yet. It will be necessary to dissect the corpse, if light is to be shed on what killed our esteemed colleague.'

At the words 'esteemed colleague' an elderly man on the front row snorted loudly. A large, jerky figure with unkempt hair, he lolled over two seats, arms and legs flung wide. His manner was proud; he took no notes; even from the set of his head we could tell he was watching as if he expected no good to come out of this.

'Who is that?' I asked Heras.

'Aeacidas the Tragedian.'

Easy to get his measure. A long-time academic who did not expect to have to introduce himself and whose snide attitude had been apparent from the start. It was no surprise when he demanded, 'Do you have a reasonable expectation that opening the body will solve any mystery?'

'I have some expectation.' Philadelphion spoke firmly. He was courteous but not prepared to be bullied. 'I have hope.'

The tragedy expert did subside, which may have been unusual for him. It was clear he thought zoology a lesser discipline than literature; scientific experiments were just a low sport. But standing up to loudmouths often quells them, so Philadelphion still dominated the scene.

The second assistant had lifted away the cloth covering the instruments. Sharp knives, saws, probes and scalpels glinted; the last time I saw an array like it, an over-eager surgeon in an army hospital was threatening to amputate my leg. These were laid out amongst a pile of hemispherical bowls. Bronze buckets were also visible beside the plinth. Both assistants had quietly assumed aprons, though Philadelphion worked in his tunic, which was short-sleeved and unbleached.

He was handed a scalpel and, almost before the audience was ready, made a Y-shaped incision, cutting from both shoulders to the centre chest then straight down to the groin. He worked without drama. Anyone who expected flamboyance, and I fancied that included Aeacidas, would have been disappointed. I wondered how many times Philadelphion had done this before. In view of the questionable legality of these proceedings, I did not intend to ask. However, it was clear his two assistants were confident about their duties. He never needed to prompt them. Those zoo keepers knew just what to do.

The skin, then a layer of yellowish fat, was peeled back on both sides. Philadelphion explained that there would be little blood, because the flow ceases upon death. The incision must have pressed right down to the bone. Now, his assistants held back the flesh, one each side, while Philadelphion severed the ribs from the breastbone by sawing through the connecting cartilage. We could hear the saw. At this point there were gasps. Aulus was leaning forward with his hand pressed to his mouth, possibly to stifle cries of amazement; well, that was what he claimed afterwards. I did wonder if those discard-buckets were provided in case spectators threw up. Someone nearer the front did suddenly keel over in a faint; he was spotted by Chaeteas and unhurriedly laid out in an aisle to recover. When he came round, he stumbled from the theatre.

Squeamish or not, the rest of us were gripped. We watched Philadelphion carefully remove and inspect the heart and lungs, then other solid organs – the kidneys, liver, spleen and smaller items. He named each dispassionately as he handled it. Particular attention seemed to be paid to the stomach and the reams of intestine. Their contents were investigated, with predictable results. A couple more members of the audience remembered prior appointments and fled.

It was all dignified, all methodical. Anyone with a modicum of religious attendance had seen similar procedures with animals, though often conducted out of the direct line of vision of all except the gods. (When acting as a priest, you try to hide your mistakes.) The dissector here was completely open but he had the same manner – that formal reverence of an officiating priest as he inspects the innards of a sacrifice, looking for omens. His calm assistants pattered around as attentively as altar boys.

It was not gentle. Though not butchery, it was a muscular activity. Even to de-bone a chicken needs exertion. No one who had been a soldier would be surprised at the physical strength needed to open flesh and dismantle a human skeleton. Philadelphion had to hack and rip. Young men who had spent their lives poring over scrolls were visibly shocked.

They were more disturbed when we reached the part where the skull was sawn open and the brain removed.

Philadelphion completed the procedure fully without making pronouncements. He worked steadily. Once he had finished, he asked Chaereas and Chaeteas to replace the organs in the body and reassemble it for sewing up. While they did that, we all shifted in our seats, stretched our limbs and tried to recover our composure. Philadelphion washed his hands and forearms thoroughly then dried them on a small towel, as if politely preparing to eat dinner. Afterwards, he sat by himself, making notes.

This did not take long. His assistants removed the bowls and instruments, and pushed the table with the body to an exit door; I thought I glimpsed Petosiris the undertaker, with his mismatched assistants, Itchy and Snuffly, waiting outside to receive the cadaver. Chaereas and Chaeteas closed the door and took up positions there for the announcement of discoveries, still moving unobtrusively and as if they were minor guardian deities.

Philadelphion stood for his oration. He held his notes, though he only rarely referred to them. His manner remained calm and confident.

'I shall give you my conclusions now. You are welcome to ask questions.'

Aeacidas, the big dissenter fidgeted abruptly. He was beside another, quieter man, also older than the students. 'Apollophanes,' whispered our young friend Heras, himself a much healthier colour now. 'The Head of Philosophy.' Aeacidas did not in fact interrupt; even his bumptiousness seemed to have been deflated by the clinical choreography.

'Much of what I found was normal for a man of Theon's age,' pronounced Philadelphion. 'The rib cartilage, for example, is beginning to coalesce into bone, which we know happens as the years pass. But there was no sign of disease in the organs, nor any significant encroachments of age. The heart and lungs clearly failed, but it is not possible to determine whether that was a specific cause of death or part of the process. I found nothing worthy of comment in the brain.'

There was laughter at that – not from Aeacidas, in fact, but from Apollophanes. His laugh was gentle, almost sympathetic. The Head of Philosophy enjoyed a joke, it seemed, but was not strident.

Philadelphion himself smiled. He had not intended to be witty, but accepted that his straight remark could be taken two ways. 'The areas I consider significant are concentrated in the digestive system. The liver, for instance, is larger and heavier than it should be, and when I sliced it through, the internal structure suggested that Theon had been drinking hard recently. This could be an indication of anxiety. As his colleague, who knew him professionally and socially, I would not have described him as a devotee of Bacchus.'

'More fool him!' commented Aeacidas. Philadelphion ignored it.

'The condition of the liver was not enough to cause death. In fact, my observations failed to find any explanation for what we would consider a ''natural'' demise. We have, therefore, to determine an unnatural reason. No violence had occurred. So did he, in common parlance, eat or drink something that disagreed with him? It is known that Theon went out to dinner last evening. Those of you on the front rows are particularly aware that I found evidence of a large, rich and varied meal having been eaten; the food was consumed over a period of time, some hours before the Librarian died.'

'How can you say the time?' demanded one of the note-taking students.

'I could tell from the food's state of digestion and position in the organs. If everyone else is prepared to take my word for it, I can talk you through it later, young man; come and see me privately -' Most of us were quite prepared to skip the details. 'I shall be weary this evening; I suggest tomorrow morning at the zoo.'

'How much can you ascertain about the meal?' one of the other young men asked. Philadelphion looked uneasy and shrugged.

Aulus stood up. 'There is no need to speculate. Details of the meal are known, sir.' He gave a full breakdown of the menu, adding, 'It has been established that all dishes were eaten by more than one person, with no other diner suffering any ill-effects. Two of us, indeed, have a strong enough stomach today to watch your necropsy.'

'And much wine was drunk?' the second student asked him.

Grinning, Aulus scratched his ear. 'We drank the quantities you would expect at a meal of that kind, given that there were visitors from overseas and an important invited guest. I would say Theon kept up well, though he did not outpace the rest of us.'

'As far as you remember?' quipped Philadelphion. Clearly he too had a sense of humour. Aulus acknowledged the comment with another relaxed grin, and sat down again. 'Since he was the honoured guest, we presume Theon would have been served as much as he wanted. A witness says his behaviour seemed unexceptional. So if he regularly over-drank,' Philadelphion suggested, 'this was done in private. Secret drinking, particularly when it has not been the drinker's prior custom, is to be regarded as significant. I referred earlier to Theon seeming preoccupied, and this would reinforce my remark that he may have been experiencing mental anguish of some kind. Why am I concentrating on this supposition? Because in his stomach and oesophagus were intriguing remains – something he had eaten or drunk later than his dinner. I have saved samples, which I shall be discussing with our botanist colleagues. It is plant material, apparently leaves, and perhaps seeds. I am qualified to comment on the circumstances, inasmuch as we at the zoo examine animals – our own or those that are brought to us – animals that die when they have eaten poisoned feed. I recognise similarities.'

This caused a stir. Someone asked quickly, 'When you began the necropsy, were you anticipating poison?'

'It was always a possibility. Those of you who are alert will have noticed the body was unclothed. Normally in such a case, examining the clothes worn at the time of death would be part of the initial procedure. On this occasion Chaereas and Chaeteas had removed the tunic for aesthetic reasons; there was vomit present. I examined it prior to the necropsy'

'Did you find more plant material?'

'Yes. Given that Theon had eaten well already, if he was poisoned I doubt he had unwisely picked and chewed some foliage he passed by, daydreaming. So, if he ingested this plant material while he sat at his table, and if he did so voluntarily, then we must decide he was so troubled in his mind, he committed suicide. Otherwise -' For the only time that afternoon Philadelphion paused dramatically. 'Otherwise someone else gave him the poison. If they knew what they were giving him – and why do it unless they knew? – then for reasons we cannot immediately say, our Librarian was murdered.'