The Archimedes Stratagem

by Gavin Chappell

  ‘I’m glad I’ll be of some use to you,’ Ozymandias said huffily.

  Flaminius gave him a weary look, then despatched a civic guard to bring this Egyptian into their presence.

  When he had spied upon the meeting of the gang with Apuleius Victor—before he knew which side the impresario was on—he had seen several Egyptians there, including a snake charmer. When Mycerinus was dragged into the chamber, clad in his tattered linen kilt and smeared kohl, Flaminius was sure he had seen the man before.

  He said so. The man looked scared.

  ‘No, sir,’ he said, speaking Greek with a thick Egyptian accent. ‘You never see me.’ His wary eyes travelled over to take in Ozymandias’ stony face and shot away to study the cellar ceiling minutely.

  ‘Look at me,’ Flaminius said. The eyes wavered back down to meet his own. ‘Is your name Mycerinus the Hermopolite?’

  Mycerinus nodded tentatively. His eyes wandered over to the interrogator, and again Flaminius noticed the fresh burn marks on the prisoner’s skin.

  ‘The officer told you to look at him!’ Ozymandias said. He added something in Egyptian. The man’s kohl smeared eyes widened. Then he looked down in shame.

  Flaminius leaned over to him. ‘What did you say?’ he whispered.

  ‘Nothing complimentary,’ said Ozymandias. ‘Just encouraging him to cooperate.’

  ‘Keep your comments in Latin or Greek, please,’ the Roman said. ‘Unless I tell you otherwise.’

  Ozymandias scowled but nodded unwillingly. Flaminius turned to smile at Mycerinus.

  ‘I saw you in a house in Rachotis, the Egyptian Quarter,’ he said, ‘about a week ago. You met with a Roman citizen named Apuleius Victor and a Nubian called Syphax.’

  ‘They betrayed us,’ Mycerinus snarled. ‘The man called Victor, he lead the civic guard to us. I saw him! He laughs at me as I was taken away! Where is he? I would carve out his heart and eat it before him.’

  ‘That’s enough of that,’ said Flaminius. ‘When did you join this gang?’

  Mycerinus looked abject. ‘I come to ‘Andria for work,’ he said. ‘No one gives me work. Then men of my nation, they helps me. They takes me from the gutter, gives me money for work.’ He shrugged. ‘They had much money.’

  ‘Money from illegal gambling,’ said Flaminius. ‘Did it not worry you that you were breaking the law?’

  ‘Roman law,’ said Mycerinus, with a sneer. ‘They did not break the laws of Menes. And with us was a holy man. We did no shame in Osiris’ eyes.’

  ‘A holy man,’ Flaminius repeated. ‘The snake charmer I saw playing magic tricks?’

  Mycerinus’ eyes widened again. ‘Are you a magician? You walk unseen?’

  Flaminius laughed. ‘I’m as good a magician as your friend the snake charmer,’ he told Mycerinus levelly. Producing a copper obol, he made it jump up and down on his fingers, a trick he had learnt as a student, to impress his friends. Ozymandias stared in surprise, while Mycerinus’ dark face paled.

  ‘It’s true,’ he gasped. ‘You’re as great a magician as the priest!’

  Ozymandias leaned forwards. ‘What is this priest called?’ he asked.

  ‘We don’t know his name,’ said Mycerinus, and Ozymandias groaned; no one in Arctos’ network was known by name, it seemed. ‘But he is a priest of On.’

  ‘On?’ Flaminius had never heard of the deity. ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘Not who,’ said Ozymandias, ‘but where. On is what the Greeks call Heliopolis. The city of the sun.’

  Flaminius nodded thoughtfully. ‘Send Mycerinus back to the cells,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve heard all I want to.’

  He led Ozymandias back up to the steps. In the main office they met with Gabinius Camillus. A scribe stood by carrying a sheaf of papyrus.

  ‘Here are the other interrogation reports,’ said the commander. ‘Do you want somewhere to read them? How did your own interrogations go?’

  ‘They went well enough,’ Flaminius said. ‘I’ll take the reports with me. Right now I could do with a bite to eat.’ He turned to Ozymandias. ‘Not wanting to invite myself, but your house isn’t far away.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ozymandias. ‘Yes, yes of course. Come with me.’

  They walked from the building. ‘You don’t seem overjoyed at the idea of popping back home,’ Flaminius commented.

  Ozymandias gave him a wretched look. ‘I was glad you’d been abducted, you know,’ he began. Then he frowned. ‘No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, it gave me a reason to get away.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Flaminius. Domestic troubles as well as everything else. ‘Is Nitocris giving you a hard time?’

  Ozymandias nodded. ‘I should have warned her that I’d be away,’ he said, ‘but it all seemed too important to waste time. I knew where I would be likely to meet Kalasiris’ people, and I just got up and went in the middle of the night. I thought it better she didn’t know, really, in case it got out.’

  ‘You could have told me, too,’ said Flaminius. ‘So going back home isn’t a good idea?’

  ‘It’ll have to do,’ said Ozymandias. ‘We need somewhere to talk things over and work out our next move. Besides, I’m not letting you out of my sight again. It could be Arctos’ people abducting you next time.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘We’re being followed again,’ he commented.

  A man was watching them from the corner. ‘Undercover civic guard?’ Flaminius said. ‘Or someone working for the Arctos gang?’

  ‘I think we’d better shake him off,’ Ozymandias said. ‘Just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘He’s not doing anything.’ Flaminius walked on, and the man followed, making no attempt to conceal himself. Flaminius rested a hand on the pommel of his dagger. ‘Now I’ve got this, I’m feeling a lot more prepared to face up to any number of enemies. Besides, it might be worth letting them take me prisoner. That would be a way of finding Arctos.’

  ‘You’re not trying that one again,’ Ozymandias said. ‘Last time they almost killed you.’ He shook his head. ‘I know we’re dealing with very cunning people, but it’s possible to be too devious.’

  They reached his house a couple of minutes later. The porter let them in and they came through into the atrium, where Nitocris sat. She looked up resentfully at their approach. Then her eyes fixed on Flaminius.

  ‘You’re back,’ she said. ‘This time will you stay?’ She had nothing to say to her brother.

  ‘Flaminius was feeling hungry,’ said Ozymandias. ‘He invited himself here for lunch.’

  ‘Don’t be so rude,’ said Nitocris. ‘Gaius is always welcome in our house.’ She eyed the sheaf of papyrus he carried. ‘You have work to do. Would you like to use our study?’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Flaminius awkwardly. ‘That would be very helpful.’

  At her urging he took a seat beside her, resting the reports on the nearby table. Ozymandias sat down across from them and sat scowling. Nitocris clapped her hands and slaves brought in food. Flaminius, not having eaten since reaching the city, ate ravenously, as did Ozymandias.

  ‘My brother is very cagy about where exactly you went,’ Nitocris said, sipping at a glass of wine. ‘I suppose it’s all on a need to know basis.’

  Still chewing, Flaminius nodded. He swallowed and said, ‘We’re in the middle of the investigation. That’s what all this paperwork is about. It’s not all sword fighting and dashing about, you know.’ She had worked as an agent herself in the past, of course.

  ‘I thought you had my brother to do your paperwork,’ she said. ‘Why else do you need a scribe? Oh, but he’s mistaken himself for a man of mystery recently, hasn’t he?’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Ozymandias snapped.

  Nitocris began a long and involved story about a temple in the Egyptian district and a thaumaturge she had seen there with her friend Clara. Flaminius allowed his mind to drift.

  ‘Will you be staying here?’ Nitocris was asking suddenly. He snatched back his mind from the labyrinthine complications of th
e case and stared at her.

  ‘My sister is asking you to stay the night,’ said Ozymandias. ‘In a bed of your own, I imagine.’

  Nitocris ignored him. ‘You would be very welcome,’ she said. ‘We have any number of rooms. It would be nicer than staying at the legion camp.’

  Flaminius looked from one to the other, from sister to brother. There was a definite atmosphere in the atrium. These two Egyptians with their adopted Roman ways suddenly seemed very alien. It was contrary to Roman law for brother and sister to marry, yet the barbarians of this land considered it to represent the closest kind of love.

  ‘Thank you, Nitocris,’ he said, ‘but I’ll not presume upon your hospitality.’ He finished eating and rose. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind,’ he went on, ‘I’d like to take the opportunity to study these reports. If I could requisition your study, Ozymandias…’

  ‘Be my guest,’ Ozymandias said with elaborate politeness. He led him down a passage to a room lined with shelves that were filled with scrolls. ‘Will you be needing my help?’

  ‘Not right now,’ Flaminius said. ‘You could get back to the Library if you want. I’ll be investigating this mausoleum, if I can find it, and I could do with your help then, but you’re free until then.’

  Ozymandias looked back down the passageway. Nitocris was watching them. ‘I think I’ll stay around,’ he said. ‘Call me if you need me.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Flaminius. He looked helplessly at Nitocris, then entered the study, sat down at the table, and unrolled the first papyrus scroll.

  Time to get to work.

  —6—

  Flaminius didn’t normally enjoy reading reports, although he much preferred it to writing the things, especially in code—which reminded him, he really ought to send a report back to the Chief, in Rome. But after the exertions and excruciations of the last few days, not to mention allowing his investigation to become mired in the domestic problems of his agent, it was pleasant to sit down in some peace and quiet, to take the weight off his sandaled clad feet, and have nothing more troublesome to do than peruse the execrable prose of the civic guard scribe and keep his mind from drifting off. Getting away from the bad atmosphere that permeated the rest of the house was also a blessing.

  Again he read through the report. His tutor had rapped his knuckles whenever he wrote in the “ornate and opulent Asian style” of Greek, demanding a strict adherence to plain Attic. Someone should rap this scribe’s knuckles. Jove, it was hard going. Wait a minute, what was this?

  …met with the aforementioned Bear in the Necropolis, off the Avenue of Elysium. At this juncture, prisoner maintained his involvement in the iniquity had been due to coercion on the part of...

  The Necropolis. The City of the Dead. Another mention of Arctos—surely? ‘The Bear’ must mean Arctos—and he was mentioned in connection with the City of the Dead. The hideout that Bikilis had mentioned. Flaminius remembered his previous trip to the City of the Dead with Ozymandias, when they had watched the evisceration of a murder victim by a group of embalmers. The embalmers lived and worked on the outskirts of the City of the Dead, but some areas were as quiet as a tomb, to coin a phrase. The Avenue of Elysium… where was that?

  He went to find Ozymandias, who was sitting by the fish pond in the peristyle garden.

  ‘You know Alexandria better than me,’ he said. ‘Where’s the Avenue of Elysium?’

  ‘Never heard of it,’ Ozymandias said, not looking up. He flicked some gravel into the water and ripples spread out in rings to lap like waves upon the little shore.

  Flaminius sat down beside him. ‘It’s in the City of the Dead,’ he said.

  Ozymandias looked up. ‘Contrary to Roman opinion, we Egyptians aren’t all necrophiles,’ he said waspishly. ‘I don’t go to the City of the Dead all that often.’

  ‘Anything the matter?’ Flaminius asked.

  Ozymandias looked away and sighed. ‘You slept with her, didn’t you?’ he said in a choked voice. ‘In the temple crypt.’

  Flaminius stared at him. ‘With Nitocris?’ he asked.

  ‘Last year,’ said Ozymandias. ‘When you were investigating those Christians. You were there with her at the agape. The orgy. How could you not have slept with her? You were both naked when we found you.’

  Flaminius folded his arms and turned away. He saw that Nitocris was watching them from the colonnade. When she saw him looking her way, she vanished into the house.

  He really didn’t need all this. The fate of the empire hung in the balance but all anyone cared about were their own petty concerns! If any Epicurean needed to demonstrate the maxim that love causes only pain, here it was. This brother and sister husband and wife couple… It was obvious that Nitocris loved her husband as a brother, but no further. As for Ozymandias, he was jealous and possessive, but of a wife or a sister, Flaminius couldn’t tell. Yes, they had slept together. And Nitocris had been no stranger to that game. But there had been mitigating factors, much the ones that Ozymandias had provided.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said frankly. ‘As you say, we had no option. Now, can we…?’

  Ozymandias sprang up. ‘I knew it!’ he said and stalked away.

  Flaminius gritted his teeth. He glanced round at the house and gardens, remembering the hovel Ozymandias had lived in when they had first met. All this was because Flaminius had made the man his agent. Ozymandias was well paid, and he had spent it well, giving himself and his sister a lifestyle they could only have dreamt of.

  He would have to investigate this mausoleum on his own, Flaminius decided. He went back inside.

  It was deathly still. Glancing into the atrium, he saw a slave sweeping up. ‘Tell your master and mistress I’ll be away for a few hours,’ he told the girl. She bobbed him a curtsey.

  ‘On your own?’

  Flaminius turned to see Nitocris in the doorway. He shrugged. ‘Ozymandias has gone off in a sulk,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ll have to go alone.’

  ‘Sulking?’ she said. ‘Typical of him. Never mind. I’ll come with you.’

  Flaminius laughed. Her hurt expression told him that she had been serious. ‘No offence,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think you’ll be much use in a street fight.’

  ‘You’re going to fight someone?’ she asked anxiously.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m going to have a look at a mausoleum,’ he said. ‘It seems to be where the Arctos gang has its headquarters in Alexandria.’

  ‘How morbid,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll help you investigate.’

  Flaminius smiled again, patiently. Her mouth became a hard line.

  ‘I was an agent before you even came to Egypt,’ she reminded him. ‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I’m just a sweet little girl. If my brother has abandoned you, I’ll come.’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ said Flaminius, tired of arguing. ‘At the first sign of trouble, though, you run. Is that understood?’

  Half an hour later they were walking together down a street of tombs in the City of the Dead. Nitocris’ eyes were wide, her face flushed with excitement. It was late afternoon, when the city of the living rose from its siesta, but nothing would awaken the inhabitants of the Necropolis. The avenues of cypresses swayed in a cool breeze, but nothing else moved except the occasional snake or scorpion.

  ‘People come down here,’ she said, ‘on the birthdays of the dead, or at festivals like the Greek Anthesteria[2]. Sometimes they have banquets in the tomb.’

  It all sounded a lot better than getting up in the middle of the night to chuck beans around, bang pots and pans and give the ancestors their marching orders[3]. Flaminius looked up and down the street. ‘Where do you think the Avenue of Elysium might be?’

  ‘Further on,’ said Nitocris, and led him across an intersection. As they passed it, Flaminius saw that they were not entirely alone in the City of the Dead—figures were crossing further up a side street, at another intersection between lines of tombs. He caught only a brief glimpse of two men in Roman dress before t
hey vanished from sight, but it seemed that they were moving in a parallel line to him and his companion.

  ‘Have you ever been there?’ Flaminius asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s on the far side. Very run down and ruinous. Nobody with descendants still living has their tombs there. It’s a very sad place. I liked to go there once, and try to read the inscriptions, and wonder why no one else went. In this district of the City of the Dead,’ she gestured at the well-kept tombs around them, ‘everything is looked after and loved, but around the Avenue of Elysium it is only desolation. Grass grows in the streets and the scorpion lairs in the broken tombs.’

  ‘And this is where you went for a day of fun, is it?’ Flaminius murmured.

  She glanced at him, laughed, and struck him softly in the chest. ‘Oh, you…’ she giggled. ‘I was young then! Death fascinated me.’

  ‘I’m sure you were a lovely little girl,’ he told her and they crossed another intersection. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Looking round, he could see nothing and no one.

  ‘What is it?’ Nitocris asked looking up the side street after him.

  ‘I thought I saw movement from beside those tombs,’ he said. ‘There were two men, Romans, who I saw before. They were walking parallel to us.’

  She shared an anxious look with him. ‘You don’t think…?’

  ‘We’re being tailed?’ Flaminius completed her question grimly. ‘It’s happened before.’ He rested his hand on his dagger. ‘This could turn nasty. Which is why I didn’t want you to come with me.’

  She whirled round at movement from behind them. Flaminius followed her gaze. She crept closer. ‘Someone ducked into that doorway,’ she said, pointing at a gleaming marble tomb half a stade from where they stood.

  ‘Put your hand down,’ he murmured from the corner of his mouth. ‘Don’t let them know we’ve seen them.’ He drew away from her and ducked into the cover of another tomb entrance. ‘Keep talking to me,’ he hissed, ‘as if I’m still with you.’