Wrath of the Furies

XXVII

As soon as we had eaten, we returned to the room. From farther down the hall I heard the sound of a flute being played, and rather badly. I was thankful once again not to be sharing quarters with Gnossipus and Damianus.

As night fell, there was a knock at the door. It was only a slave who had come to light our lamps.

I sat on the bed and waited. Bethesda dozed beside me. We had worn ourselves out with lovemaking that day, and I would have slept, too, had I not been listening for another knock at the door, having no idea when it might come. With Bethesda close to me, I began to feel a stirring of arousal-I had not been drained entirely of desire, after all-but I didn’t care to be caught in the act when Samson came, so I let Bethesda sleep, and contented myself with gazing at her by the soft light and gently stroking her long hair.

At last, so softly that I wasn’t sure I heard it, there came a rapping at the door. I managed to get up without waking Bethesda. I opened the door. Samson slipped inside.

I sniffed the air, then saw the source of the musty odor that had entered the room with Samson. “By Hercules,” I whispered, “what are you wearing?”

His face brightened. “I wondered if anyone would notice,” he whispered. “Do you like it?”

Over his shoulders he wore a woolen cloak that fell a little past his waist. There were catches in front, but he left them undone. What could there be for anyone to like about such a garment? By the feeble light of my last burning lamp, the color appeared to have faded to a dull, reddish brown. The garment looked well-made, but the fabric was visibly worn and tattered in several places. It also had an odor, like the musty smell of a trunk that hasn’t been opened for a long time.

“It suits you,” I said, simply to move on to more important matters.

“Does it? Why, thank you. Can you imagine where it came from?”

I sighed, frustrated at the time and breath being spent on something so trivial. I wrinkled my nose. “From a tomb, perhaps?”

“Ha! Yes, it does have a bit of a smell, doesn’t it? It could use a good airing. But you’re not far off. It didn’t come from a tomb, but from a treasury. While you no doubt spent the day making love to that beautiful creature on the bed-”

“How could you know that?” I snapped.

He shrugged. “A lucky guess. Anyway, while you were doing that, I was finally allowed to have a look at the Jewish treasury seized at Cos, or at least what’s left of it. The hoard is being kept in a storehouse on the waterfront, surrounded by a small army of guards. No one would dare to break in. The guards are mostly there to watch one another, I think, and make sure no one carries anything off-”

“That’s wonderful news,” I said. “But what about-”

“Indulge me, Gordianus. We have a bit of time to kill. They’re not ready for us yet.”

“Who is not yet ready for us? Do you mean … Zoticus?”

“Patience, Gordianus! Now where was I? Oh, yes, I was finally allowed to have a look at the treasure, with several of the king’s courtiers as well as a number of armed guards watching me the whole time. Well, not surprisingly, a substantial portion of the treasury has already been carted off to be sold piecemeal, or else melted down to make coins.”

“How could you tell what was missing?”

“From the ledger, of course. A very careful list of every item in the treasury was kept both at Cos and in Alexandria. Oh, there were all sorts of gold and silver vessels, and candelabra, and candlesnuffers, and jewelry, and coins, and other items precious more for their history than for their intrinsic value. The whole collection should have filled a room about three times the size of the one we’re standing in now, but at least half the hoard was gone. That tells us two things.”

“Is one of those things about Zoticus?”

“Patience!” he said. “The first and most important thing it tells us is that King Mithridates never intended to return the treasury intact to the Jews of Alexandria.”

“Might he have done such a thing?”

“As a grand gesture, yes. It was a possibility much hoped for by the Alexandrian Jews. The king could have said he seized the treasury from Cos only because it would be safer elsewhere, and then, at some later date-perhaps arriving in Alexandria either as an ally or as a conqueror-imagine what a magnificent gesture that would make, to publicly restore to the Jews of the city the treasury they had thought was lost. Mithridates would have won the trust and good will of Jews everywhere, not just in Egypt but in all of Asia and Judea. But clearly, that was not his intention.”

“And the other thing the liquidation of the treasury tells us? Is it about Zoticus?”

“We’ll get to him, never fear. No, the other thing it tells us is that Mithridates has need of that wealth, or else he would have left it intact for his own use later. No matter how loyal they may be, armies have to be paid. They have to be fed, too, and properly equipped. It’s all very, very expensive. Running a royal household is also expensive, especially for a king as extravagant as Mithridates. You heard about the sum he was willing to pay Philopoemen, just to make Monime his mistress? Fifteen thousand pieces of gold! Simply on a day-to-day basis, imagine the cost of feeding and clothing all the courtiers and chamberlains and slaves-even the lowliest slave has to eat, and cannot go naked-and then the expense incurred every time the household moves from one city to another. It staggers the imagination.”

“I suppose it does,” I grudgingly admitted. “But when will-”

“So the precious treasury built up by generations of Jews in Egypt, buying and selling, saving whatever they could, year after year, surviving intact even when one Ptolemy threw another off the throne and heads rolled at the palace in Alexandria-half of that treasure is already gone, spent by Mithridates in a matter of months. Even so, I did manage to get my hands on a few items-”

“You were allowed to take some of the treasure?”

“Only a handful of items-literally a handful, or two, I should say, for I was allowed to take no more than I could carry, and each item I selected had to be approved by an assessor from the palace. The agreement was that I could take only items of historical or religious significance, things particularly precious to the Jews of Alexandria. Naturally, I grabbed the most expensive-looking objects I could find. Oh, you won’t believe your eyes when you see the jewel-encrusted cup they let me walk away with. That required some special pleading, but I wore them down at last. I told them it was a thousand-year-old drinking cup, presented as a gift to King Solomon by the Queen of Sheba.”

“Is it?”

“Who can say? But I tell you, the emeralds and rubies alone must be worth a fortune! That was the biggest prize, but I also left with some very nice pieces of silver. Still, compared to the entire treasure as listed in the ledger, I walked out with a mere pittance, only the feeblest gesture of goodwill from the looter to the looted.”

“And the cloak you’re wearing? That came from the treasury, too?”

“Ah, yes!” He looked down and touched a bit of the frayed hem to one side of his broad chest. “Well, there it was, lying amid some other pieces of cloth-elaborate wall hangings with golden threads and such-and I said, ‘May I take this, as well, so as to have something to wrap around the cup and the other items?’ The assessor hardly glanced at it, and when I held it closer, so that he could take a better look, he turned up his nose.”

“It has a smell, Samson. Like something from an old person’s house.”

“Does it? Well, at any rate, he let me take this cloak as well. It worked nicely as a sort of sack to carry the other items.”

I nodded. “So you’ve achieved one of your main objectives. The Jews of Alexandria sent you here to assess whatever remained of their stolen treasure, to negotiate for its return, and, failing that, to retrieve whatever token restitution Mithridates might offer.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Congratulations, Samson. But I, too, came here with an objective.”

“Ah, yes. To see your old tutor again.”

“I could have run after him earlier this evening, when I saw him in the dining hall-”

“And take him by surprise? Have him call out your real name, and then wait for you to answer? Cause any passersby to wonder how the two of you might know each other? No, Gordianus, that would never do. You realize that.”

I took a deep breath. “Yes. But when-”

“So you don’t think the cloak flatters me?”

“No!” I said, raising my voice, then biting my tongue.

“Is it too small for me? Perhaps it would look better on you.” He began to pull it off. “If I were to offer it as a gift-”

“Samson, no more talk about this old cloak! Will I see Antipater tonight?”

He looked at me shrewdly. “Antipater, you say?”

“I mean … Zot-” I stammered awkwardly on the Z. “Zoticus-of course.”

“Of course. Zoticus, Antipater-well, we all seem to have more than one name, don’t we? Except for that beauty.” He smiled at Bethesda, who slept on her side with her hands folded beneath her head, too exhausted to be awakened by our hushed conversation.

I looked at her peaceful face and shook my head. “I should never have brought her here. What a situation I’ve landed us in! I should have thought of some other way, or simply stayed in Alexandria. But I was selfish. I wanted to come, and I wanted her with me. I didn’t want to be parted from her…” I was saying more than I should. I had already let slip Antipater’s true name. “Please, Samson. No more jesting. I want to see Zoticus. If he’s here in the palace, I want to see him now.”

Samson saw that my patience was exhausted. The smile vanished from his face. He nodded, and seemed about to speak when we heard a gentle rapping at the door. Bethesda turned in her sleep, but did not wake.

Samson cracked the door to peer out with one eye, then opened it just enough for the visitor to slip inside. It was not Antipater. The man was much younger, and slender, with chestnut hair. With a start, I realized it was Zeuxidemus, dressed not in his yellow robes but in a plain tunic and with his hair neatly combed.

I was so surprised I almost spoke, but caught myself. Samson saw my consternation. He smiled. “It’s all right, Agathon-Agathon, I say, because it will be simpler if we can all stick to one name, though we no longer have anything to hide from Zeuxidemus. You can speak, Agathon.”

Never had I trusted Samson less, and never had I needed to trust him more. A priest of Artemis was in the room, and Samson seemed ready to give me away, if he had not done so already. At last I found my tongue. “What does this mean? Why have you let this man into the room?”

“Things are moving very fast now,” said Samson. “Almost too fast for even me to keep up. As of yesterday, you had every reason to keep your secrets from Zeuxidemus. But today, all that has changed. Zeuxidemus has been vouched for, at the very highest level.”

“The highest level of what?”

“I understand your confusion, Agathon. But everything will soon be made clear to you-what is being asked of you, and what is being offered.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Something tells me this bargain will be lopsided.”

Samson cocked his head. “Indeed, it will be. What will be asked of you is as nothing compared to what may result.”

“What is that?”

Zeuxidemus spoke. “A chance, however slim, to save the lives of many people. Tens of thousands of people.”

“I came here to save only one.”

“You may yet be able to do that, as well,” said Samson.

“Something tells me there’s a risk involved.”

“Yes,” said Samson. “A terrible risk. But then again-no. None at all. If you accept what we offer, and things do not go precisely as we hope, then yes, you will almost certainly die. But if you don’t accept the role we offer, we shall expose you as a fraud, and then you will most certainly die, without question.”

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. What was this talk of dying? I had been thinking only of somehow helping Antipater-if indeed he needed my help-and then contriving some way to get Bethesda and myself out of Ephesus, perhaps by relying on Samson, who seemed to understand every situation and had access to money and other resources from Rome. The idea that I might be killed-indeed, would probably be killed, no matter what, as so starkly stated by Samson-had not been in my mind.

The two of them saw the look on my face. They looked at each other.

“Will they be coming here?” asked Samson.

“No. Too risky,” said Zeuxidemus. “We’ll go to them.”

Samson nodded. “I see you’ve changed out of your yellow robes. A good idea. Less conspicuous that way.”

“Yes, but I’ll also have less authority to override anyone who questions us.”

“A headdress does give one perquisites,” said Samson.

“You, on the other hand, might wish to take off that … what is that thing you’re wearing over your shoulders, anyway?”

“Oh, this?” Samson touched the frayed hem of the cloak and smiled.

I gnashed my teeth at the prospect of being made to endure the same conversation again. “Let him wear the old cloak if he wants to,” I said. “If we’re going somewhere, why don’t we get started?”

Zeuxidemus raised an eyebrow. “He really can speak, can’t he? But by Artemis, that Roman accent! I hear accents like that every day, from all those Romans at the temple, but it’s a bit of a shock, hearing such a thing under this roof.”

“His accent isn’t as bad as some,” said Samson in my defense.

Zeuxidemus looked dubious. “It’s pretty thick. Say something else, Agathon.”

“I’ll call down some curses on you in Latin, if I don’t get some answers soon.”

Zeuxidemus pursed his lips. “Yes, I suppose we should go. That lamp is almost burned out. No point in the three of us standing here in the dark.”

“What about Bethesda?” I asked.

“The girl?” said Zeuxidemus. “Don’t worry. She’s quite safe here. Leave her sleeping.”

“Will I be back before she wakes?”

“If you come back at all,” said Samson.