Alexandria

When Aulus and I had discussed it over our goat’s cheese, we agreed this was first-class informing. The bluff was justified. (It was a bluff; Aulus had in fact persuaded Heras’ father to go back sadly to Naukratis.) When dealing with unhelpful witnesses, small untruths that help to break them are acceptable, if not compulsory. Roxana had it coming. Putting the frighteners on her had results too: she did admit to Aulus that she had seen someone in the zoo that night, someone who must have been the murderer. Sadly, in the dark, she failed to recognise him - or so she maintained. According to her, her eyesight was poor.

Aulus and I had discussed whether we believed her. We put a marker to perhaps interrogate her again later. I reckoned she was holding out; for the right inducement, Roxana would suddenly find herself able to name the culprit after all. As a witness, her safety gave me some qualms. Still, Aulus had had the sense to warn her to tell no one that she saw the man. If the killer thought he had been identified, it could be dangerous.

I had congratulated Aulus on his diligent pursuance of our fine profession. What neither of us had expected was that once Aulus left (after whatever further formalities) (according to him, he never touched her), while brooding alone on her plump silken cushions, Roxana reconsidered her legal position. The ridiculous woman then bustled out and consulted Nicanor about the presumed compensation claim.

‘She is not as intelligent as she thinks herself,’ scoffed Helena. ‘And she is far dimmer than all her lovers believe.’

Helena burst out with this denunciation in front of Nicanor.

As he turned puce, I said to him pleasantly, ‘Don’t be insulted. Technically, according to your own witness statement, you are not Roxana’s lover - though I concede you may count as such, since so many other people have sworn that you wanted to be.’

The once-suave scholar threatened to burst a blood vessel. Emotions ran so high, he must have forgotten that I was supposed to have influence with the Prefect over the appointment he also coveted. ‘You bastard, Falco! What are you implying?’

‘Well, you are hardly suitable to give Roxana impartial advice.’

‘I can tell her she is the victim of a trumped-up charge! I can warn her it was certainly made for duplicitous reasons - thus rendering invalid any evidence she was induced to provide to your asinine assistant.’

‘Fear not,’ said Aulus, with his ugliest senatorial sneer. ‘The woman will never be made a witness. Any judge would denounce her as morally unreliable and - by her own admission - she is short-sighted.’

‘She says you threatened her with Minas of Karystos!’

‘I merely mentioned that the eminent Minas is my teacher.’

‘Eminent? The man is a fraud. What’s he teaching you?’ jeered Nicanor. ‘Fish-gutting?’

Apparently Minas had taught Aulus how to remain calm under brutal cross-examination. He smiled patiently and said nothing.

‘She wants compensation,’ Nicanor snarled. This just proved how muddle-headed it can be to set out on a legal course, even with the aim of squeezing a witness. One thing always leads to another. We had no time to mess about in lawcourts, and certainly no spare cash to cover it. ‘For nervous stress, slander and wrongful accusation.’

‘Of course,’ mocked Aulus. ‘And I shall make my counter-claim -for shock and bruises inflicted on a free Roman citizen’s body, when the lecherous madam jumped me.’

‘She what?’ shrieked Helena, in big sister mode.

‘She is shameless, but I fought her off-’

We then learned just how passionately the predatory Nicanor lusted for Roxana. He let out a roar, leapt from his seat, fell on the noble young Camillus, grabbed him around the throat and tried to throttle him.

XLVII

The commotion was so rowdy it drew Fulvius, Cassius and Pa from their hiding-places. They all recovered from their sulks enough to launch into the action, fists whirling. Aulus was outraged, so once I pulled Nicanor off I pi

Nicanor also refused to be subdued, but was pushed around and abused verbally by the pensioner gang. They hustled him down the stairs in fits and starts, then bullied him until he did reluctantly capitulate. I said sternly that nobody was taking any legal action. ‘Please remember, Nicanor, you have just proved yourself capable of violence to a young man who rejected Roxana’s advances - so any jury will know what you might have done if you had caught Heras actually in her arms.’ Pa sniggered. I think Nicanor was composed enough to hear me. To put us in the clear as non-aggressors, I sent the man away in my uncle’s palanquin.

That was a mistake, as it meant the palanquin was missing when I needed it.

Fulvius, Cassius and Pa then realised how much their heads hurt. They all went to lie down, while Helena and Albia ministered to them with cabbage broth. I was in charge, so when a shy messenger came for Fulvius, it was to me that the lad reported, ‘Diogenes is making your collection tonight as agreed.’ Fortunately, he was as timid as a wood mouse and whispered in a nice quiet voice. Only I knew he was there.

I was unable to reco

Of course the muttering man with the evil eye, Katutis, saw me leave.

The rendezvous was at the Museion. The shy boy had given me directions. Diogenes would be by the Library, not at the main building but a separate place alongside. Without transport, I had to walk there. I went fast. That was none too easy. It was evening; the streets were thronged with people, going home, going out, meeting friends or colleagues, just enjoying the atmosphere of this fabulous city. At this hour, the crowds were thicker than in daytime.

As usual, when I first set off I thought I was tailed by Katutis, though by the time I reached the Museion grounds, I had lost sight of him. There, strollers had gathered in considerable numbers, admiring the gardens and loitering in the colo

I went to the Great Library. It was of course locked up. Any faint hope of coming across Pastous faded. He would be long gone, home to wherever he lived and whatever life he had. I was on my own with this.

Behind the Library were various ancillary buildings; eventually I worked out which a

Here, at the back of the monumental complex and the elegant, formal grounds, hardly anybody was about. There were gravel paths and service rooms, delivery points and rubbish skips. If vagrants lurked in the Museion grounds at night, this would be where they bedded down. Not yet; it was still too early. Nor did the public come here. It was remote enough for loners or lovers, yet an unattractive venue. The quietness was unwelcoming, the isolation scary. I myself felt out of place, a trespasser.