"It's something like the sacrificial axe the flamine's assistant uses to stun the larger sacrificial animals," Julia noted.
"Ours aren't quite that deeply curved on the edge," I said.
"In parts of the Orient," Asklepiodes said, "axes of this very form are still in use for religious purposes."
"Have you seen any here in Alexandria?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "No. But there is certainly at least one such axe in the city."
We took our leave of him and returned to our litter, where we found the bearers sound asleep, a defect I quickly remedied. We crawled into the litter and lay back on the cushions.
"Why would anyone murder a scholar like Iphicrates?" Julia wondered sleepily.
"That's what I intend to find out," I told her. "I hope it isn't anything as common as a jealous husband."
"Your superiors won't like you taking a hand in this, you know. It could complicate their work."
"I don't care," I said. "I want to find out who did this and see that he's punished."
"Why?" she demanded. "Oh, I know that you're bored, but you could cure that by escorting me on a boat trip down the Nile to the Elephantine Island, showing me the sights along the way. You have no real interest in Alexandria and you certainly didn't like Iphicrates. What is it?"
I always hated it when she was so penetrating and insightful. "It's nothing you need to bother yourself about," I insisted.
"Come on, tell me." She sounded amused. "If I'm to be your assistant, I want to know."
"Well," I said uneasily, "it's something about the place. Not the Museum or Library so much, but the Temple itself."
"And?" she prodded.
"And it's wrong to commit murder in a temple. Even the place where Iphicrates was killed is a part of the Temple complex."
Her eyebrows went up. "Even a foreign temple?"
"The Muses are legitimate goddesses," I maintained. "We worship them in Rome."
"I never thought you all that pious, Decius," she said.
"This Temple is different," I stubbornly insisted.
She lay back on the cushions. "I'll accept that. But I want you to show me this Temple." She said nothing more the rest of the way back to the Palace.
I had more than enough to occupy my mind.
Chapter IV
"What's all this about a murder?" Creticus demanded.
So I told him all about it, at least what little I knew so far. We were taking breakfast in the shaded courtyard of the embassy: flat Egyptian bread, dates, figs in milk and honey.
"Local matter, then," he said when I'd finished. "Nothing to concern ourselves about."
"Still, I want to look into it," I said. "It's bad form to kill someone when royalty and Romans are present. Especially Romans. They ought to show more respect to a Senator and two visiting patrician ladies."
"I'm sure the slight was unintended," Creticus said, spreading honey on a scrap of bread, to the delight of the hovering flies. "Still, if it amuses you, I see no harm in it. It can't amount to anything, though. He was just a scholar."
"Thank you, sir. These Egyptians are a touchy lot where their supposed authority is concerned, though. If they give me trouble, may I count on you for support?"
He shrugged. "As long as it doesn't cause me too much difficulty."
After breakfast I hurried to the royal quarters, where my toga and senatorial insignia quickly got me admitted to the royal presence.
I found Ptolemy enjoying a far more substantial breakfast than I had just left. There were whole roast peacocks and Nile fish the size of pigs, oysters by the bucket and a roast gazelle. Those were only the main courses. How he could face any sort of food in his condition was something of a mystery.
When I entered he looked up from his platter with eyes like ripe cherries. His nose looked as if it had been carved and lovingly polished from the finest porphyry. The rest of his face was veined somewhat less luridly. He had once been a fine-looking man, although a certain leap of imagination was required to discern this.
"Ah, Senator: Metellus, is it?"
"Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger, your Majesty. I am with the Roman embassy."
"Of course, of course. Come, sit down. Have you eaten yet?"
"Just minutes ago," I assured him.
"Well, have some more. More than I can eat here, anyway. Have some wine, at the very least."
It was early to be drinking, but you don't get to sample a king's private stock every day, so I partook.
"You've heard about the murder at the Museum, sir?" I began.
"Berenice mentioned something about it earlier, but I was still a little fuzzy. What happened?" So I gave my account yet another time. I was used to this sort of repetition. When dealing with the Senate and its committees, you render your report in full to the lowest committee chief, who listens with a serious expression until you've finished and then sends you to the next higher-up to do it all over again, and so forth until you address the full Senate, most of whom snore through it.
"Iphicrates of Chios?" the king said. "Designed cranes and water wheels and catapults, didn't he?"
"Well, he said he didn't work on war machines, but that was the sort of work he did. The others seemed to think it was undignified, doing truly useful work like that."
"Philosophers!" Ptolemy snorted. "Let me tell you something, Senator: My family owns that Museum and we support everyone in the place. If I want costumes and masks designed for my next theatricals, I send an order there and they put their artists to work on it. If I want a new water-clock, they design it for me. If I need a new
Nile barge, they will design and have it built for me, and if one of my officers comes back from a campaign with an arrow lodged in him, those physicians will damned well come and get that arrow out, even if they have to get their philosophical fingers bloody in the process."
This was illuminating. "So their philosophical detachment from the real world is a pose?"
"Where I and my court are concerned it is. They may think they're some sort of Platonic sages, but to me they're just workmen in my employ."
"So if you tell them to cooperate in my investigation of this murder, they'll be sure to comply?"
"Eh? Why should you investigate?" The old sot was a bit sharper than I had anticipated.
"For one thing, I was present, as were two patrician ladies, and therefore Rome is involved." This was a stupendously tenuous connection, but I needed something. "And, in Rome, I have a certain reputation for getting to the bottom of these matters."
He squinted at me with his reddened eyes. "You mean it's your hobby?"
"Welclass="underline" yes, I suppose so." This was truly lame. "Why didn't you say so in the first place? A man ought to be allowed to indulge his hobbies. Go ahead."
I couldn't believe it. "You mean you'll give me your official authorization?"
"Certainly. Have your secretary draw up the proper document and send it to my chamberlain for my lesser seal."
"Thank you, your Majesty," I said.
"Odd sort of hobby, looking into who killed somebody. Well, a man finds his pleasures where he can. Sometime I must tell you about the satrap of the Arsinoene Nome and his crocodile."
"Perhaps another time," I said hastily, finishing the excellent wine and getting to my feet. "I'll have the requisite document here shortly."