Alexandria

XXXIV

This was a mess. At risk of increasing the slurry, I went to the Prefect's palace and told the staff not to allow any movement on the Library appointment until my investigation finished.

'The Director is nagging us for an early announcement, Falco.'

I smiled serenely. 'Let him nag. You are the bureaucrats. Your prime task is to find convoluted systems that necessitate delay.'

Anything that avoided work seemed clever to the aides-de-camp.

'When the Director sent through his list, did he tick his preferred candidate?' I recommend you make additions.

'Philetus? Make a decision?' Even the senatorial wide-boys laughed.

They had passed the list in to the Prefect like a red-hot brick. Knowing how to take care of himself, he biffed it straight back out and asked them to brief him on what action to take. It was too important to remain in an in-tray. They were stuck. They asked me.

'If in doubt, consult the Emperor. 'That could take months. 'The list is a travesty, incidentally. I recommend you make additions.'

'Can we add names?'

'A Prefect can always call in extra candidates. He should do so. It demonstrates that he is exercising his judgement and experience, not just acquiescing weakly to whatever is put in front of him.'

'He will like that! Who should he call in?'

'Timosthenes, for one.' They wrote it down. Beneficiaries of fine educations, they could write. I was pleased to see it. 'When the old man asks why, say: ''Timosthenes is already holder of a similar post at the Serapeion. He runs that library well. He is not so academically eminent as the others, but a solid candidate, so in view of the Emperor's preference for appointments made on merit, you advise that Timosthenes should be considered''.'

They wrote that down too. One of them could do shorthand. 'Sounds good.'

'I am an informer. We earn our fees.'

'Anybody else?'

'If the Prefect – or his noble lady – has ever shown a particular interest in tragic drama, suggest a man called Aeacidas.' 'His wife enjoys lyre music. He follows gladiating.'

'Goodbye, sad tragedian then!'

The Palace was cool. Out of doors, the Khamseen had dropped but without the wind we had a stonking hot midday which made me just as stressed. Wherever I decided to go next, even home for lunch, I would find myself sweating and debilitated. I faced this prospect with mild depression.

Fortunately, I spotted Numerius Tenax, the centurion. I told him if he could find an excuse to go for lunch so I could pick his expert brains, I would buy him the drink he had offered to buy me when we first met. He pretended to be unravelling the clauses in my offer. But he appreciated drinking on my imperial expenses (as he thought). When he took me to his local bar, we raised a toast to Vespasian.

I relayed the latest developments. Tenax grimaced. 'I'm glad you're in charge, not me.'

'Thanks, Tenax! The gods know where I go next.'

We drank, and ate saucers of savouries, in silence.

Tenax had nothing to tell me about the intellectuals' feuds. However bitter their rivalries, it would be a war of words. Only if they started throwing punches would the military be involved; that was unlikely. 'They tend to fix things themselves. When I saw you at the Museion the other day, Falco, it was my first visit for ages. The Prefect leaves them alone. We never get involved.'

I mentioned my theory that there were financial difficulties. 'Anything cropped up on audit, do you know?'

'What audit? The Museion is given a big fat annual budget; it's from the imperial treasury now, of course. They can spend the money how they like. The Prefect doesn't have the staff to oversee an institution of that size. Not in any way that would be meaningful.'

I swirled my drink. 'Someone was afraid the Prefect – or higher – was about to start taking notice. They all seem scared stiff of my appearance on the scene.'

Tenax surveyed me. He pulled down the corners of his mouth. 'Scared of you, Falco?' he mused whimsically. 'Gods in Olympus, however could that be?'

I produced a dutiful grin and ate more olives. Maybe the salt would rebalance my tired body.

Tenax went on thinking about it. 'The way it looks from here, the current Director has a poor grip. You know from the army how that works.' How did he know I had been in the army? 'Once people get a hint supervision is a bit limp, everyone overspends madly. One tribune orders himself a new desk, probably because his is genuinely riddled with woodworm, then the next man along sees it and wants one, and next minute, gold-handled desks with ivory-inlaid tops are being sent halfway across the Empire in multiple quantities. Then headquarters asks a question. Immediately, there is a crackdown.'

'At the Museion, the crackdown hasn't happened yet?''

'I can't see that it will, Falco. The Museion is run by that miraculous system called self-certification.'

We both laughed hoarsely.

Tenax did remember some kind of incident involving the Great Library, maybe about six months ago. He had not bothered to involve himself. 'I never went down there. It faded out, as I recall. I can ask my boys…'

I did not wait around to hear what his legionaries might have to say. I had already seen Cotius and Mammius. Not much chance of obtaining a significant lead through them.

I thanked the centurion for his time and advice. Chatting with a like-minded professional did me good. I returned to my investigation feeling much more vigorous.

I entered the Museion complex on a route that took me near the Great Library. I passed through its pleasant colonnades, enjoying the shade and the beauty of the gardens. My attention was drawn when I noticed a man I recognised. He had passed out of sight by the time I remembered who he was: the trader who had called last night to visit Uncle Fulvius. I wondered idly whether he merely used this as a route elsewhere, or if he had had business here. Although he had fitted in well with my uncle's circle, he seemed an incongruous visitor to the Museion. Still, it could be on his way to the Forum.

Then as I came through to the open area in front of the porch, I stopped wondering about him. I spotted Camillus Aelianus, so I set off after him. Aulus must have subconsciously recognised my footfall, for once in the Library porch, he slowed and looked back over his shoulder. I caught him up on the threshold of the great hall. Concerned, I checked him over. He looked pale but calm.

We might have stepped back away from the study area to exchange greetings and news, but we became aware of excited activity in the reading hall. A crowd of scholars and library staff were milling around to our left, at the far end. Aulus and I exchanged a glance, then at once moved towards the commotion. Some of the staff were urging the others to move back. They seemed to need little encouragement. A small stampede occurred. As we arrived, we discovered the reason: a strong, distinctive smell. My heart sank.

Even before we could see anything, I realised we were about to encounter yet another corpse.