“Bethesda,” I whispered.
“Only she’s gone missing, too,” said Melmak.
“Has she?” Lykos frowned. “Too bad.”
Hopelessness engulfed me. And yet, chance and sheer persistence had led me this far. Might they lead me to Axiothea, as well?
I stared into the shadows. “There must be a way,” I whispered, thinking aloud.
Then I thought of the two eunuchs.
I turned and left the tavern without another word.
An hour later I was in their apartment, seated between the two of them. Kettel took up more than half the couch, with Berynus and I wedged into the remaining space. They refused to let me state my business until they had plied me with almond-stuffed dates and flatbread smeared with pomegranate jam, washed down with a very good wine from Cos. (“The last of the vintage to escape the island before that monster Mithridates invaded!” said Berynus.)
At last they allowed me to describe the litter I had seen at the mime troupe’s performance, with its lotus-column poles and midnight-black bearers.
“Tafhapy,” said Kettel.
“Without a doubt,” agreed Berynus.
“That’s the owner of the litter?” I said. “You’re sure?”
“Oh, yes,” said Kettel, dabbing a bit of jam from the corner of his mouth. “Tafhapy bought both the litter and the bearers at the same time, a few months ago, from a business rival he drove to bankruptcy. What a ruthless fellow! What is it you want to know about him, Gordianus?”
“Where he lives, for a start.”
“On the Street of the Seven Baboons, in a big saffron-colored house with a balcony overlooking the street. You can’t miss it. But please, tell us you have no business with this fellow.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a scoundrel! Completely unscrupulous. Highly dangerous.”
“A criminal?”
Berynus sniffed and drummed his long, bony fingers on his knee. “Tafhapy has never been arrested, if that’s what you mean, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t cracked a few heads and made a few business rivals disappear in his time. Men like Tafhapy don’t submit to royal judges, they bribe them. No one can call you a criminal if you’re above the law. Now he’s one of the wealthiest men in Alexandria, so rich and powerful, they say he has the ear of the king himself.”
“Where does his money come from?”
“He inherited a shipping business from his father. Owns a fleet that traffics all sorts of goods up and down the Nile and across the sea. For all I know, it was one of his ships that delivered this very fine wine from Cos. More, Gordianus?”
“No, thank you.”
“What is your interest in Tafhapy?” asked Kettel.
I saw no reason not to tell them. “You may remember, when I last called on you, I was looking to find the members of a certain mime troupe. Among them there’s a young actress called Axiothea. Tafhapy seems to have taken a liking to her.”
“Taken a liking, you say?” Kettel looked past me, to Berynus, who returned his skeptical gaze.
“Why not? Axiothea is very attractive. Beautiful, really. She looks like…” I swallowed hard.
Berynus nodded. “She should be beautiful, considering her name.”
“How so?”
He laughed. “Gordianus, I know your Greek is charmingly rudimentary, but surely even you can work it out. Axiothea: ‘worth looking at.’ Probably a stage name.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” For a beautiful performer who ran through the streets practically naked, attracting as much attention as possible, the name Axiothea certainly fit. “But the two of you exchanged a look a moment ago, when I mentioned Tafhapy’s attraction to her.”
Berynus cleared his throat. “Well, from what I know of Tafhapy, it seems more likely that he would take a liking to you, Gordianus, than to this young actress, no matter how ‘worth looking at’ she may be. Tafhapy has never taken a wife. Nor has he any children, as far as I know.”
Kettel pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. I squirmed a bit, feeling trapped between Kettle’s rolls of fat and Berynus’s bony elbows.
“Nonetheless, the leader of the mime troupe seems quite certain that Axiothea is staying with this Tafhapy right now. And I need to talk to her-urgently.”
“Good luck getting in to see her, if she’s at the house on the Street of the Seven Baboons,” said Berynus. “That place is like a fortress.”
“Perhaps I can talk my way in, if I can think of some pretext.…” I frowned.
“Yes, you’re a clever boy,” said Kettel, squeezing my thigh with one of his big, sweaty hands. “You’ll think of something. Would you care for another date?” He plucked one of the delicacies from the tray on a nearby table and, keeping his little finger extended, held it to my lips.
I waved it away and sprang up from the couch. “I have to be off now.”
“But where are you going?” Berynus made a long face. Kettel looked at me, then at the date he was holding in mid-air, which he popped into his mouth. He appeared to expand, filling the vacant space I left behind on the couch, so that it was hard to see how I could ever have fit between them.
“I’m off to the Street of the Seven Baboons,” I said. “There must be some way I can speak to Axiothea.”
Berynus unfolded like a stick insect and followed me to the door. With considerable difficulty, Kettel rose from the couch, grabbed another date, and waddled after him.
As I was stepping out the door, Berynus grabbed my elbow. “Gordianus, whatever you do, take care! Don’t do something to offend Tafhapy. As I told you-he’s a dangerous man.”
VII
The Street of the Seven Baboons was only a few blocks long. Its name came from a circular fountain situated at one end. Seven baboons sculpted from red marble stood at the center, all facing out, with jets of water pouring from their gaping mouths.
The house of Tafhapy was the largest on the street, with saffron-colored walls that towered above the surrounding houses. It was indeed a veritable fortress, as Berynus had said. Before I even dared to approach the entrance-two high wooden doors with a heavy iron lock clasping them shut-I surveyed the structure from all the angles and vantage points available to me. I saw at least two guards patrolling the rooftop, and no easy means of ingress, only high walls and inaccessible windows. No neighboring building offered a means of leaping onto the roof. No adjacent palm tree could be scaled to gain access to a balcony. I would have to enter by the door.
How might I get inside, or get Axiothea to come outside to see me? Should I pretend to be a relative, desperate to see her? She might resent such a ruse, or worse, her patron might resent it. “Unless it’s unavoidable,” my father had taught me, “one should not lie outright to powerful people. They don’t like it.”
Might I simply bang on the door, wait for the peephole to open, and then tell whoever answered the plain truth-that I was Gordianus of Rome and that I wanted to speak to the actress Axiothea, whom I thought to be residing inside the house? “Sometimes the most straightforward approach is the best,” my father had taught me. But the impregnability of the house made me wary, and the warnings of the two eunuchs raised my guard. To simply ask for what I wanted seemed too easy.
Eventually I screwed up my courage, approached the door, and knocked, using a large iron ring that also served as a handle. A moment later the peephole slid open and a dark face peered out at me. It was one of the litter bearers I had seen in the square.
“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked, speaking Greek with a heavy, unfamiliar accent.
“My name is Gordianus-”
“A Roman?” The name always gave me away.