Ozymandias’ mouth hung open. Flaminius disengaged himself from the senior librarian’s grasp.
‘If I may interrupt,’ he said humbly, ‘Ozymandias’ disappearance is my own fault. I’m sorry if it caused you any trouble, but his assistance was of vital importance to me.’
The senior librarian looked from one to the other. His fellow Greek studied Flaminius with narrow eyes. The senior librarian put a hand to his brow. ‘You?’ he said. ‘But you said you didn’t know where he was. Vital importance? What is so vital that my assistant librarians are taken from me without warning?’
Flaminius hunted for the lancehead brooch that would identify him as an imperial agent until he remembered that he had left it with his tunic in the gladiator school before he set out across the Nile Delta.
‘It’s on a need to know basis, sir,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you understand. Here Ozymandias is, ready to take up his duties again. But that’s not why I came here. May I ask you a few questions?’
The senior librarian exchanged glances with his friend. People were now entering the Library through the main doors. Others appeared from side doors and took up positions at the desk and elsewhere. The Library was open now. ‘You,’ the senior librarian said, waving a hand at Ozymandias, ‘you’re on the main desk. We’ll discuss your future later. You, young man…’
‘Gaius Flaminius Drusus,’ Flaminius told him as Ozymandias scurried away.
‘Come with me to my office. We can discuss this need-to-know matter of vital importance in there.’ The senior librarian’s lips writhed sardonically.
‘What about the break-in?’ the other Greek asked. He was the man Flaminius had met while looking for Ozymandias.
‘Break-in?’ he inquired.
The senior librarian was looking harassed. ‘Will you join us, Hero?’ he asked his friend. ‘We can deal with both problems.’ He gave Flaminius a suspicious look. ‘For all we know, there may be a connection.’
As the Library began to fill up, the senior librarian, who introduced himself as Theopompus, took them into his office. Flaminius remembered the place from his previous visit but it was even more disordered than before. Papyrus scrolls had been scattered on the marble floor and a reed pen lay beside a spilt inkpot.
‘We seem to have suffered a break-in during the night,’ Theopompus explained. ‘Hero was here even earlier than I, and he discovered the evidence, meeting me with the tale when I came here. He must have been close to surprising the culprits red-handed—I saw some disreputable looking men near the Library as I approached, but thought nothing of it.’
Flaminius said, ‘Was one wearing a gladiator’s helmet?’
Surprised, Theopompus nodded. ‘You know of him?’
Flaminius paced up and down. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘I hoped to find him and his friends here. Theopompus, you were lucky; you too, Hero. If you had surprised Arctos when he was here, I think he would have had you killed. He doesn’t care for spies.’
‘Spies?’ said Hero, quick temperedly. ‘Are you calling us spies? Do you know this Arctos, as you call him?’
Flaminius nodded quickly. ‘I think I ought to explain,’ he said. ‘And my explanation will help explain Ozymandias’ absence, Theopompus,’ he told the senior librarian.
Theopompus invited his guests to find somewhere to sit and took his accustomed place behind the desk. ‘Pray explain,’ he said frostily.
‘I’m here on imperial business,’ Flaminius began. ‘I can’t tell you much more than that, except that I’m investigating something that, unchecked, may become a rebellion on the scale of the Judaean Uprising...’
Hero sat up. ‘That sounds serious,’ he said gravely, watching Flaminius closely. ‘If that is the case, we must give you all possible assistance. But where does the Egyptian Ozymandias fit into this?’
‘Is my assistant librarian working on imperial business too?’ asked Theopompus. ‘I’ve never heard such arrant nonsense in my life!’
Flaminius shrugged. ‘I’m afraid it’s true,’ he assured him. ‘Ozymandias is my agent.’
‘What has this to do with the break-in?’ Hero asked. ‘Were these intruders connected with this supposed rebellion? They weren’t thieves, we know that much; nothing is missing except a sheaf of papyrus.’
‘All I know is that Arctos was meeting someone else involved in the conspiracy,’ Flaminius explained, ‘here, in the Library. I followed him back from his hideout in the Delta, hoping to eavesdrop on the meeting and learn his future plans. Seems I got here too late. I can’t share much of what I know, it’s too sensitive, but the results could endanger the entire empire.’
Theopompus looked tired. ‘I’ve no idea what you are talking about,’ he said, ‘Rebellions and conspiracies, it’s all a bit much. What has the Library to do with sedition? Surely you have the wrong place.’ He frowned. ‘You said you wanted to ask me some questions.’
Flaminius bit his lip ruefully. ‘I wanted to ask you if you knew anything of this meeting,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You’ve told me all I think I need to know.’
‘What do you intend to do now?’ Hero asked. ‘All we can tell you is that there was a break-in, for what reason we don’t know, and that men were seen departing. Papyrus has been stolen but otherwise we know no reason why they should choose to make this break-in. And papyrus is dirt cheap in Egypt.’
‘Thank you,’ said Flaminius. ‘All information is useful, as long as you know how to interpret it. Unfortunately I’m as puzzled as you. At least I know that Arctos is at large in the area.’ He rubbed his chin.
‘Personally, I’m at a loss,’ said Theopompus. ‘You barge in here making wild claims—I have yet to see any proof you are who you say you are—after dragging one of my hirelings off on a wild goose chase through the marshes, by your own account. As far as I’m concerned, this break-in means nothing except that we will have to increase security at night. Your histrionics and mysteries are something I need not concern myself with.
‘Is there anything else I can help you with? If not, I’m afraid I do have a library to run.’
‘My apologies,’ said Flaminius. ‘I’m trespassing on your valuable time. I’ll be going now.’ They all rose. He paused in the doorway. ‘Just one request,’ he said, ‘May I borrow your assistant librarian? His usefulness to me is not yet at an end. I’ll make suitable recompense once I’ve finished my work here, I promise you.’
Theopompus looked at Hero resignedly. ‘Old friend,’ he said, ‘I know you are eager to return to your work at the Museum, but it seems that the empire needs my assistant librarian. Will you help me a few days more?’
Hero smiled. ‘By all means. I shall not move from this spot.’ He turned to Flaminius. ‘Let me show you out.’
He accompanied Flaminius across the marble floor towards the main desk where Ozymandias was speaking in respectful undertones to a white bearded old scholar. ‘Please forgive Theopompus’ curt manner. I’m sure he’s as willing as I am to help the emperor’s representatives, but he can become impatient with barbarians.’
‘I’m a Roman,’ said Flaminius curtly. ‘Not a woad painted Caledonian warrior.’
Hero smiled again. ‘Theopompus, alas, sometimes fails to see any difference... Here’s your friend! Ozymandias, may I take over here?’
Surprised, Ozymandias let Hero take his place.
‘Come with me,’ Flaminius told the Egyptian. With a nod of farewell to Hero, he led Ozymandias from the Library.
—2—
‘What’s going on?’ Ozymandias demanded as they hurried down the steps. ‘Have you lost me my job again?’
Flaminius shook his head irritably and they made their way up a street leading away from the harbour. ‘You’ve just been given a short holiday,’ he said.
‘Did you find out anything about this secret meeting?’ Ozymandias asked. ‘Oh, you know what I realised when we were on the patrol ship coming here?’
‘Yes, I did find something out,’ said Flaminius; ‘
that we had missed it. What did you realise?’
Ozymandias looked over his shoulder and moved closer to Flaminius. ‘Someone at the Library must be implicated,’ he said. ‘One of my colleagues is working with the rebels.’
‘How do you work that out?’ Flaminius followed his gaze. Two men in rough homespun tunics were watching them from the corner of a street. Were they being tailed? If so, who by? Arctos? The civic guard? The legate’s men, even? It could be anyone, with any agenda.
Ozymandias looked surprised. ‘Why else would they be meeting at the Library?’
‘The senior librarian said there’d been a break-in,’ Flaminius said. ‘Why would the rebels have to break in if they were meeting with one of your colleagues?’
Ozymandias looked pensive. ‘Good point,’ he admitted. ‘But why choose the Library as a meeting place anyway, if they’ve got no connection with anyone working there?’
‘Also a good point,’ Flaminius admitted. The men in the homespun tunics were following, barely trying to hide it. ‘Where is all this getting us?’
‘Nowhere,’ said the Egyptian, with a shrug. ‘Where are we going now?’
‘I need to go to the gladiators’ school in Nicopolis,’ Flaminius said. ‘I left my insignia there, my lancehead brooch. I had a lot of trouble convincing the senior librarian that I was an agent of the empire.’
‘Why did you leave it there?’ Ozymandias asked. ‘It’s a long walk to Nicopolis, and it’s getting hot.’
‘I left it,’ Flaminius said patiently, ‘because I could hardly go into the lion’s den with a brooch that identified me as an imperial agent. Look, you don’t have to go to Nicopolis with me. And you’d really better see Nitocris. She was worried about you when I called in on her.’
‘You called in on her, did you,’ Ozymandias said resentfully. ‘While I was away?’
‘Yes, I did,’ said Flaminius. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping away now we’re back in Alexandria.’ Ozymandias had always been suspicious of his sister-wife’s feelings for him. ‘You go home and reassure her that you’re still alive, I’ll go and get my brooch. Then we can work out just where we’re going to take our investigation.’
‘You know we’re being followed?’ Ozymandias said.
Flaminius nodded without looking back. ‘Two big men in homespun?’
Ozymandias nodded. ‘And we’re being watched from the alley over there.’
Flaminius cursed inwardly. They kept walking. ‘I didn’t spot that one,’ he said. ‘I’m getting rusty. Without looking at him again, describe him.’
‘Another big man.’ To the Egyptian, most men were big. ‘Old though. Looks like a Greek athlete gone to seed. Oh, he’s vanished.’
Flaminius made a covert glance to see that indeed, no one was standing at the alleyway. The two men in homespun tunics were still following. He halted, and it amused him to see them stop and pay rapt attention to the political graffiti on the nearby wall.
‘We’ve got no time to play children’s games,’ said Ozymandias wearily. ‘You’re right, I’d better go and see Nitocris. Look, it’s on your way if you’re going to Nicopolis. Why don’t you come with me? It might be easier to explain my absence if you back me up.’
Flaminius was surprised. Ozymandias must truly dread his homecoming if he was willing to risk his wife and Flaminius being in the same room. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But I’m interested to see what will happen to our tails when we split up.’
‘I don’t think they’re following me,’ said Ozymandias as they started walking again.
‘Who knows,’ said Flaminius. ‘News travels fast in Egypt. It’s possible that your part in the attack on Arctos’ encampment has become known.’
They made their way through the Greek Quarter in the direction of Ozymandias’s townhouse. After a few twists and turns they seemed to have lost their followers or discouraged them. Flaminius was disappointed. He had been hoping that he would have a chance to identify them. Arctos had been accompanied by two henchmen, big gladiators about the size of the two men who had been trailing them. But their tails had been too far off for him to recognise.
‘It makes sense,’ said Ozymandias. ‘Arctos would want to keep an eye out for you. He knows that you know when the emperor will be coming here. He obviously needs that information, or he wouldn’t have tortured you. And he must still need it.’ The street was crowded, and it was impossible to be certain if anyone behind them was following, but certainly there was no more sign of the two big men in homespun. ‘Don’t you see it? You’re in danger, Roman. We came here hunting Arctos, but you could be stepping into a trap. Coming here after him was the most foolish thing you could have done. He can’t act without the knowledge that’s in your thick Roman skull. The hunted will become the hunters now. Maybe I shouldn’t let you out of my sight.’
It was a sobering thought, but Flaminius tried to laugh it off. ‘You think you could protect me against two strapping gladiators?’ he said with a scornful expression. But he knew that the scrawny, gutter bred Egyptian could handle himself in a fight.
‘Two are better than one,’ said Ozymandias. They turned into a wider street. The Egyptian’s townhouse was conveniently located only a couple of blocks away.
‘Very well,’ said Flaminius, ‘Arctos wants to know something only I know, but he’s also busy organising an uprising which involves rebel gladiators, renegade Egyptians, and river pirates, unless Kalasiris has won them all over.’
‘We should have asked Kalasiris to spare us a few of his Bucolics to back us up.’ Ozymandias had to raise his voice as a two-horse carriage galloped around the corner and shot down the street like a chariot in the Hippodrome.
‘Intelligence work is best done by a single man,’ Flaminius replied. ‘It doesn’t do to attract attention to yourself.’
The carriage screamed to a halt beside them, and two men jumped down and grabbed Flaminius, dragging him inside. Ozymandias snatched a knife from where he kept it concealed beneath his kilt but before he could do anything, the driver whipped up the horses and the carriage disappeared round the nearest corner.
Ozymandias hurried down the street, his long thin legs working frantically, but by the time he had rounded the bend, there was no sign of the vehicle. He put a hand against the corner of a building and stood there panting. People were staring at him, others were moving hastily away. He dabbed at the sweat on his brow and looked around him.
He had warned Flaminius. Hadn’t he just been warning him now?
Serapis damn the man, Flaminius was an imperial agent, he was with the Twenty Second Legion. He had had no need to creep about like that, risking capture or death at the hands of mysterious enemies. And yet he had done just that. And what of Ozymandias himself? He looked nervously about him and straightened his clothes, replacing his knife in its sheath beneath his kilt. Respectable Alexandrian citizens were still staring at him. He was a Roman now, he reminded himself, and that meant gravitas at all times.
There was nothing he could do here other than attract attention himself. He would report Flaminius’ abduction to the civic guard at the Palace of Hadrian. But first, he must go and see his wife and reassure her that he had not gone to join Osiris. He turned up the next street and hurried in the direction of his townhouse.
The porter’s jaw dropped as his master swept into the vestibule. ‘Yes, what is it?’ Ozymandias snapped.
‘Nothing, sir,’ the porter said. ‘But ma’am has been worried about you.’ He was trying not to stare at Ozymandias’ travel stained clothes. ‘She will be glad to see you have come back.’
Ozymandias gave a deep sigh. ‘Where is she?’ Now he would have to explain everything.
The porter directed him into the atrium. ‘She is with a guest,’ he added.
Ozymandias hurried from the vestibule, jealousy stabbing at him. Who was Nitocris entertaining in his absence?
He swept into the atrium to find his wife and another woman sitting by the fishpond. They turne
d at his entrance. Nitocris looked as surprised as the porter. Streaks of tears were visible on her cheeks.
‘Ozymandias! Brother!’ she cried. ‘I’ve been so worried.’
She raced up to him and flung her long slim arms around his neck. Fondly he embraced her, then drew back to look enquiringly at the woman who had been his wife’s guest. She had the olive skin and dark hair of a Judaean but wore a Roman woman’s stole.
‘Oh!’ said Nitocris. ‘You know Clara, surely?’ She laughed. ‘Ozymandias! You’re hopeless. Clara is Paulus Alexander’s widow.’
Ozymandias nodded. ‘Of course! My old patron’s wife. I last saw you at the funeral.’
‘Yes,’ Clara said quietly. ‘After my husband’s sad passing.’ Paulus Alexander, the man who had freed Ozymandias from slavery and made him a Roman citizen, committed suicide after his part in a murder was exposed. ‘We were worried about you,’ she added, ‘when you went missing.’ She gave a high laugh. ‘We thought perhaps we were two widows together!’
Ozymandias shook his head. ‘I’m still alive,’ he told her. ‘My apologies for vanishing, but it was very important. So important I can’t talk about it.’
‘Gaius came here,’ Nitocris said suddenly. ‘He was looking for you too.’
‘He found me,’ said Ozymandias curtly. ‘And brought me back. But now, he’s gone…’ He looked awkwardly at their guest.
‘I really must be going too,’ Clara said softly, taking the hint. She looked at Nitocris. ‘I told you he’d turn up,’ she said. ‘They usually do. With or without the help of Skimbix.’
Nitocris told a slave to bring her husband wine and accompanied Clara to the door. Ozymandias sat down and sipped his drink and tried to assemble his confused thoughts. So much had happened so quickly. He wondered what Clara had been alluding to
‘Where have you been?’
He looked up to see Nitocris had returned. She didn’t look happy.
In the gloom of the carriage, Flaminius was in the grip of two burly guards. The interior was unlit, enclosed, and stiflingly hot, and every time they passed over a pothole in the street, it rose and fell with a spine jarring thump. Flaminius’ mind seethed: he had fallen back into the hands of Arctos, and the man’s followers would not stint themselves in wresting the truth from his lips.
The Archimedes Stratagem Page 2