He made a scoffing noise. “Do you really think a diplomat would be put downstairs to dine with acrobats?”
“Perhaps. If the king wishes to show just how little he values your mission.”
The furrow across his brow deepened. “Very well,” he finally said. “It’s just as you said. My role-one of my roles-here in Ephesus is to speak on behalf of the Jews of Alexandria.”
“Because Mithridates seized their treasury on Cos.”
“Yes.”
“And they want to get it back.”
He hesitated. “Some of it. If we can.”
“Why would Mithridates give any of it back?”
“There are certain items not of great monetary value, but of … sentimental … value.”
“Here’s something I don’t understand,” I said. “Why on earth would the Jews of Alexandria keep their treasury anywhere but in Egypt, where they could easily lay hands on it?”
“Because of the uncertainty there. I don’t have to explain the situation in Alexandria to you, Gordianus.”
“But why Cos?”
“We had knowledge of the Cosian treasurers, because of their longstanding service to the Ptolemy family. We felt we could trust them. And we thought that Cos would be a safer place for our gold and silver than Alexandria, where one Ptolemy or another might seize it to pay for troops. Civil wars are expensive.”
“All wars are expensive,” I said. “Mithridates has to pay his soldiers, too. You thought Alexandria was unsafe, so you moved your treasure to Cos-and promptly lost it to the king.”
“Yes, Gordianus, I appreciate the irony.”
“How great was this treasure, anyway?”
“The total value was calculated at eight hundred talents.”
“Since I’ve never possessed even a single talent of silver myself, that amount means nothing to me.”
“Consider this: the cost of building the Pharos Lighthouse was also said to be eight hundred talents.”
I had not only seen the great lighthouse, but had been inside it, more than once, so I had some idea of its size and grandeur. “Yes, that must be a great deal of silver,” I said.
“Or put it this way. You know what amphorae are, those big clay jugs used to transport wine?”
“Of course. They have handles on each side, because it takes two men to carry one.”
“One talent equals the mass of water required to fill an amphora, or about one cubic foot. Now, imagine eight hundred amphorae all filled with silver.”
I whistled. “That would be an awful lot of silver. No wonder the Jews of Alexandria are so pained at the loss.”
“I’ve let you ask a great many questions, Gordianus. Now you answer mine. Have you seen the king?”
“No.”
“Or someone else high up in the palace? One of his trusted generals?”
“His queen, actually.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? The beautiful Monime?”
“It seems the king charged her with making certain arrangements for this ritual that’s being planned, the one that I’m to witness but not talk about.”
“Not talk about?”
“Because I’m mute, of course. I am the mute witness.”
“What sort of ritual?”
“The sacrifice of a virgin. Both the Magi and Megabyzoi are playing roles.”
“When is this sacrifice to take place?”
“I’m not sure. Soon, I think. But my role is not yet confirmed.”
“No?”
“I’m to go to the Temple of Artemis tomorrow, and beg the goddess to restore my voice. Only if she refuses will I be deemed appropriately mute.”
“I see.”
“I’ve half a mind to let the goddess cure me.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that, considering-”
“I’m only joking, Samson. Of course I won’t give myself away, if only for Bethesda’s sake. And the sake of … Zoticus.”
“Ah, yes, your old tutor. Have you spotted him yet?”
I hesitated.
“Well, have you?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.”
“Here in the royal palace?”
“Yes. If it was him, which it probably wasn’t.”
He nodded. “Have you had any contact with the others you were to watch for? Chaeremon, or Rutilius, or-”
“By Hercules, Samson!” I said, and then laughed, for how often does one say those two names in a single breath? “I’ve been in Ephesus less than a day, and I’ve already met the queen.”
“Yes, that’s something,” he said, without much enthusiasm. The queen was not on the list of those I was to watch for. But someone else was. I had been holding back on telling Samson that I had seen Prince Ptolemy, not wanting to give him this information too cheaply. But since he had answered all my questions, I decided to tell him.
“There was someone else, with the queen.”
“Yes?”
“The young Ptolemy. The prince who was living on Cos.”
“Ah, yes. He was with the queen, you say?”
“They seem to be friends.”
“So he wasn’t in shackles, or-”
“Nothing of the sort. He and Queen Monime were like…” I thought for a moment. “Like brother and sister.”
“Did they squabble?”
“Quite the contrary. They were like a brother and sister who like each other perhaps a bit too much.” I wasn’t sure if young Ptolemy had any sisters, but everyone knew there were many instances of incest in the Ptolemy lineage. Perhaps a sort of fraternal flirtation was the only way he knew to relate to a young woman. As for Monime, finding herself in a court of grizzled warriors and gray-bearded priests, was it any surprise that she was drawn to one of the few people her own age, and the only one close to her in status? Having been born royal instead of ascending to royalty by marriage, Ptolemy was perhaps a sort of role model for the callow queen.
“Their relationship struck me as rather … complex,” I said.
“Does the king have cause to be jealous?”
“I didn’t see them kiss, if that’s what you mean.”
“Is the queen as beautiful as everyone says?”
“Beautiful? Yes, in the way that certain dangerous animals are beautiful. I didn’t desire her, if that’s what you mean.”
Samson smiled. “I think you’re the sort of man who settles on one woman to desire. You’re lucky that woman is so beautiful. She’s probably missing you now, stuck as she is in a room full of social climbers and actors-and a few minor diplomats, like myself.” I heard him unlatch the door. “I’ll let you go back to her now. I’ll leave first. When I see the way is clear, I’ll knock on the door and you’ll know it’s safe to come out.”
“When will I see you again?”
“You’ll see me when you see me,” he said, then slipped out the door.
A few moments later I heard a single knock, and stepped into the hallway. Samson was nowhere to be seen. Like Antipater-if it was Antipater I had seen-he seemed able to vanish at will.
XVII
“You can’t possibly wear that,” said the chamberlain, studying me with a glum expression. “Here, put this on.”
He handed me a spotless tunic that appeared to be made of the same fine yellow fabric as the robes of the Megabyzoi. I dutifully stripped off my own tunic, though I could see nothing wrong with it, and put on the new one.
He looked me up and down. “I suppose you’re presentable. You may wash your face and comb your hair.”
From behind the chamberlain two servant girls slipped inside the room, one carrying a basin of water, the other a fine comb that appeared to be made from ivory. While I washed the sleep from my eyes, the girl with the comb set about untangling my hair. She even combed my beard, which hardly needed such attention.
Bethesda also took advantage of the basin of water. But when she took the comb and began running it through her hair, the chamberlain became impatient. “You may bring your slave with you, if you wish. Come along!”
Bethesda and I followed him out the door.
“Good luck!” Gnossipus called after me. The sun was barely up, and he remained in his bed. Damianus, oblivious to the knocking that had awakened me and the noise made by my visitors, continued to snore beneath the coverlet pulled over his head.