‘Or perhaps he is just a nasty sneak.’

“Oh that would not debar him from government administration!’ I could see Mammius and Cotius thought Helena an extremely exciting woman. Sharp lads.

Anyway, the sneak had landed us in it. At this moment, the centurion was instructing Fulvius to produce yesterday evening’s menu and confirm whether any of us had suffered ill effects. My uncle would be quizzed on whether Cassius or he had had any grudge against Theon.

‘Of course,’ the soldiers admitted to us frankly, ‘as visitors to the city, you people are bound to be the first suspects. When any crime happens, it helps public confidence if we can say that we have arrested a suspicious bunch of foreigners.’

VI

I left Helena and Albia to keep the soldiers occupied and hoofed downstairs. I found Fulvius and Cassius calm. Cassius looked slightly red in the face, but only because his qualities as a host were in question. Fulvius was as smooth as pounded garlic paste. Interesting: had these old boys had to answer to officialdom before? They operated in tandem and had a fund of tricks. They knew to sit wide apart, so the centurion could only look at them one at a time. They commiserated and pretended they were eager to assist. They had ordered up some very sticky currant pastries, which he was finding hard to eat while he tried to concentrate.

They waved me away, as if there was no problem. I stayed.

‘I am Didius Falco. I may have a professional interest.”

‘Oh yes,” said the centurion heavily. ‘Your uncle has been explaining who you are.’

‘Oh well done, Uncle Fulvius!’ I wondered just how he had described me - probably as the Emperor’s fixer, hinting it should give Cassius and him immunity. The centurion seemed unimpressed, but he let me nose in. He was about forty, battle-hardened and well up to this. He had forgotten to put on his greaves when he was called out in a hurry, but otherwise he was smart, clean-shaven, neat - and he looked observant. Now he had three Romans pretending they were influential citizens and trying to baffle him, but he kept his cool.

‘So what do we call you, centurion?’

‘Gaius Numerius Tenax.’

‘Which is your unit, Tenax?’

‘Third Cyrenaïca.’ Raised in North Africa, the next patch along from here. It was customary not to station troops in their home province, just in case they were too loyal to their cousins and neighbours. So the other legion at Nicopolis was the Twenty-Second Deiotariana: Galatians, named for a king who had been a Roman ally. They must spend a lot of their time spelling it for strangers. The Cyrenians probably watched and jeered.

I made my pitch to win his friendship: ‘My brother was in the Fifteenth Apollinaris - he was based here briefly before Titus collected them for the Judaean effort. Festus died at Bethel. I heard the Fifteenth were brought back afterwards, but temporarily’

‘Surplus to requirements,’ Tenax confirmed. He stayed polite but the old-comrade routine had not fooled him.’ Packed off to Cappadocia, I believe.’

I grinned. ‘My brother would think himself well out of that!’

‘Wouldn’t we all? We must have a drink,’ Tenax offered, making the effort though probably not meaning it. Fortunately he did not ask where I myself had served, or in what legion; if I had mentioned the disgraced Second Augusta and ghastly Britain, he would have frozen up. I did not push him now, but I intended to take him up on the friendly offer.

I subsided and let Tenax run the show. He seemed competent. I myself would have begun by finding out how Fulvius came to know Theon, but either they had covered that already or Tenax assumed that any foreigner of my uncle’s standing automatically moved in those circles. This begged the question: what standing? Just who did the centurion think my wily uncle and his muscular partner were? They probably said ‘merchants’. I knew they engaged in procuring fancy art for connoisseurs; back in Italy my father had his sticky fingers in it. But Fulvius was also an official negotiator for corn and other commodities, supplying the Ravenna fleet. Everybody knows that corn factors double up as government spies.

Tenax chose to start by asking what time Theon left us last night. After a few arguments, we worked out when it was; not late. ‘My young guests were still tired after travelling,’ scoffed Fulvius. ‘We broke up at a reasonable hour. Theon would have had time to return to the Library. He was a terrible work-slave.’

‘The responsibility of his position preyed on him,’ added Cassius. We all exchanged pitying glances.

Tenax wanted to know what had been served at dinner. Cassius told him and swore that we had all tried all the dishes and drinks. The rest of us were alive. Tenax listened and took minimal notes. ‘Was the Librarian drunk?’

‘No, no.’ Cassius was reassuring. ‘He won’t have died of overindulgence. Not from last night.’

‘Any signs of violence?’ I put in.

Tenax shut off. ‘We are looking into that, sir.’ I could not complain about his avoidance tactics. I never gave out unnecessary details to witnesses.

‘So what’s all this about a locked room?’

Tenax scowled, irritated that his men had talked. ‘I am sure it will turn out to be immaterial.’

I smiled. ‘Probably the key bounced out while they were battering down the door. It will have slithered under the floorboards -’

‘Ah, if only the Library was not such a handsome building, with great slabs of marble everywhere!’ Tenax muttered, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.

‘No gaps?’

‘No bloody gaps that I could see, Falco.’ He sounded glum.

‘So apart from the locked door - which may of course have an innocent explanation - does this death look unnatural in any other way?’

‘No. The man could have had a stroke or heart attack.’

‘But now the scholars have raised the issue, you will have to come up with explanations? Or would the authorities like it discreetly hushed up?’

‘I shall carry out a thorough investigation,’ replied Tenax coldly.

‘Nobody is suggesting a cover-up!’ oozed Fulvius. He then made it plain that unless there was a good reason for further questions, he was terminating the interview. ‘You can rule us out. The man was alive when he left our house. Whatever happened to Theon must have happened at the Library, and if you couldn’t find answers when you looked at the scene, it may be that there are none.’

The centurion sat staring at his note-tablet for a few moments, chewing his stylus. I felt sorry for him. I knew the scenario. Tenax had nothing to go on, no leads. The Prefect would never directly order him to drop the investigation, yet if he did drop it and there was an outcry, then he would get the blame, whilst if he carried on, he could not win either; his superiors would suggest he was time-wasting, over-pernickety and straining the budget. Still, some niggle kept him worrying at it.

He did eventually leave, and he took his soldiers, but there was unhappiness in the way he loped off. ‘It would not surprise me if he leaves a watch on our house,’ I said.

‘No need!’ Fulvius exclaimed. ‘This is a city of suspicions - we already have official eyes on us.’

‘That fellow who sits on the kerb outside, waiting to harass people?’

‘Katutis? Oh no, he’s harmless.’

‘What is he? A poor peasant who scrapes a living with offers of guiding visitors?’

‘I think he comes from a temple,’ said Fulvius offhandedly.

Well, now I knew I was in Egypt. You had not lived in this province until you were haunted by a sinister, muttering priest.

Another curse landed on me that afternoon. Fulvius must have given me a seriously ornate curriculum, which Tenax reported back to base. I was summoned to the Prefect’s office. There, I was greeted as some kind of high-ranking imperial emissary; I was inspected by a senior flunkey, given hearty best wishes from the Prefect (though he did not emerge to impart these effusions himself) and asked to take over the investigation into Theon’s death. It was put to me that if they brought in an imperial specialist, this would calm potential agitation among the Museion elite lest they imagine the matter was not being taken seriously.