‘And you came to me?’ Ozymandias peered out from behind the shelving. ‘You’d better not have led them here.’
Flaminius shook his head. ‘I got rid of them in Nicopolis,’ he said, ‘or they got rid of themselves. But this makes everything so much more urgent. We’ve got to find Arctos and smash his conspiracy. And we’ve got to get a message to Avidius Pollio about the rebels. I can’t do that, but they’ve no reason to suspect you.’
‘But how do you think you’ll be able to find Arctos?’ Ozymandias asked. ‘He could be anywhere, in the city or back in the Delta!’
‘Looking for someone?’
At a voice from behind them, Flaminius whirled round.
The scholar who Theopompus had called Hero stood there, a scroll in his hand, a genial smile on his face. ‘My apologies,’ he added. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing you. You seem anxious to find your friend.’
Flaminius nodded hastily. Ozymandias at his side was rigid. ‘It’s no problem,’ he said, ‘just a friend, as you say, who’s gone missing.’ He smiled broadly. ‘I’m sure he’ll turn up!’
Hero nodded ponderously. ‘I hope he does,’ he said. ‘I hope he does.’ He stroked his beard. ‘Of course, if you believe in the superstitions of the mob, you could do worse than to consult Skimbix of Heliopolis.’
Ozymandias stirred. Hero beamed. Flaminius looked searchingly at the tall Greek.
‘Who is this Skimbix?’ he asked. ‘Do you know of him, Ozymandias?’
‘I think my sister mentioned him,’ he said. ‘A thaumaturge, isn’t he, sir?’ he asked Hero. ‘Surely you don’t believe in that nonsense.’
Hero laughed quietly. ‘I’m an engineer,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe in anything I can’t measure. But Skimbix has something of a following, and a reputation as a miracle maker. He’s helped reunite loved ones, found buried treasure, even walked on water, they say. His temple is a miracle to behold. I’m just itching to take the place to pieces and find out how it works… I don’t believe in magic, do you?’
‘I’ve seen the so-called sorcery of the druids,’ Flaminius said, ‘up in Britain. Just a lot of magic tricks. I’m sure this Skimbix is another fraud.’
Hero nodded. ‘You’re probably right, young man. I’m a sceptic myself, as much as I adhere to any philosophy. I only mentioned it because you seemed so eager to locate this missing friend of yours. I spoke out of turn. I intruded. My apologies.’
He took his leave of them and wandered off down another set of stacks.
‘These Greeks,’ said Flaminius despairingly. ‘Still, we’ve got to find some way of locating Arctos. Do you know where this temple is?’
Ozymandias shook his head. ‘I don’t. But Nitocris will. I think she goes there with Clara.’
‘When do you get off from work?’ Flaminius inquired casually.
—11—
At siesta time, the city slept. Everywhere except for the amphitheatre in Nicopolis, where the gladiators Flaminius had met would be fighting, perhaps to the death, in the baking hot sun. All citizens wishing to show their support for the emperor would be watching from the shade of awnings as they had since the beginning of the Days of Hadrian. Flaminius was heartily glad he had got away from all that, even if he was on the run.
Although the Greek scholars in the Library were just too damn civilised to attend the Games of Hadrian (something Flaminius found a little suspicious), even the brightest of minds faded in the scorching sun of an Egyptian September, and the Library itself closed its doors until later in the afternoon. Ozymandias took the opportunity to slip away with Flaminius, back to his house.
Nitocris fanned her face as she sat in the cool of the colonnade looking out onto the peristyle garden. She greeted them listlessly and called a slave to bring wine.
‘How was your night at the waystation?’ she asked, then tripped on without waiting for Flaminius’ reply. ‘I’m sure you would have had a better time sleeping here! Waystations sound such awful places.’ She was playing the Roman lasy again today.
‘It certainly was pretty awful,’ said Flaminius ironically, sharing a sardonic grin with Ozymandias. ‘I was attacked.’
Her eyes grew wide. ‘Attacked! How terrible. Did you call the civic guard?’
‘No,’ said Flaminius. ‘I fought back. It turned out that my attackers were Praetorians.’
‘Praetorians?’ Nitocris said, baffled. ‘You’re an imperial agent. Why would they attack you?’
‘They seem to have got word of Arctos’ plot. I don’t know how, I’ve not had time to send a report back to Rome. It must have reached the emperor from independent sources. But the story’s been mangled somehow, and now they think I’m the arch conspirator.’
‘I hope you explained that they were wrong,’ Nitocris said firmly.
‘We had a lengthy debate,’ said Flaminius, ‘but I was unable to persuade them. Now I’m on the run.’
‘Oh, Gaius,’ she said softly, and her brother gave her a sharp look. ‘You’re always getting in trouble.’
‘Flaminius needs to find Arctos and find him fast,’ said Ozymandias impatiently. ‘If he can round up the conspirators and bring them to justice, he’ll no longer be under suspicion.’
‘So do that!’ she urged Flaminius. ‘Do what my brother says! You can’t have everyone thinking you’re plotting against the emperor.’
Flaminius nodded. ‘I intend to. Right now, though, we don’t know where Arctos is, and time is pressing. The only advantage is this: I have information that’s vital to his plot. But it’s not enough to save the empire.’
Nitocris looked troubled. Flaminius looked at Ozymandias. Ozymandias looked away.
‘We were talking to one of the scholars in the Library,’ he said airily. ‘He overheard what we were saying somehow. We’d taken all the usual precautions, but… Anyway, hearing that we were looking for someone he mentioned a name I’d heard before. Skimbix of Heliopolis.’
Nitocris almost dropped her wine cup in surprise.
‘Skimbix?’ she said. ‘What did he say about him?’ She frowned. ‘I thought all those stuck up scholars considered him a fraud.’
‘You know this thaumaturge?’ Flaminius asked.
She turned her gaze on him again. ‘Clara and I have been to his temple,’ she said, then she grew enthusiastic. ‘He’s a true miracle worker, Gaius. You should see him. He heals the sick, cures the lame, turns water into wine…’
‘I seem to remember the same claims made about another magician,’ Flaminius said with a wry smile. ‘That crucified Judaean.’
She pouted. ‘You know I don’t like to remember those people,’ she said. ‘But Skimbix is different. He’s an Egyptian born and bred, one of the priests of On. He’s come to Alexandria to help his people. You should attend his temple! The wonders that I’ve seen there. They’re true miracles of the gods!’
She turned to her brother. ‘You know, I told you about them!’
‘Yes, you did, didn’t you?’ said Ozymandias uncomfortably. ‘Remind me.’
‘Sometimes I wonder if you listen to a word I say,’ she said crossly. ‘His temple is down in the Egyptian Quarter, not far from where we grew up. It was a shrine of some minor godlet or other, but since Skimbix took up residence it’s seen some real changes.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Doors that open of their own accord. Trumpets that blow their own fanfare…’
‘Trickery,’ Ozymandias said, shaking his head. ‘I’m surprised you’d fall for it.’
‘Oh, is it?’ she said defiantly. ‘Explain it to me, if you’re so clever. I’ve seen statues come to life, even heard… the voices of the gods.’ Her own voice was even lower.
‘Do you think this Skimbix, this miracle worker, could help us?’ Flaminius asked. ‘All I want is to find Arctos. I don’t want to see the gods of Egypt do a song and dance routine.’
She pouted sulkily, then stuck out her tongue at him and giggled. ‘Skimbix is blessed by the gods,’ she said. ‘If anyone can do it, it’ll b
e him. You should ask him.’
‘Oh, but will such a great man stoop to aid us in such a minor matter?’ Ozymandias asked in tones of mock awe.
‘Gaius said the empire is threatened.’ Nitocris gave Flaminius a concerned look. ‘And besides, we can’t have him on the run from the prefect because of some silly misunderstanding.’
Flaminius shrugged. He doubted the power of this Skimbix. It seemed likely that it was indeed trickery as Ozymandias suggested. He’d seen temple miracles in his days; they made for an entertaining show as long as you didn’t fool yourself into believing they were the powers of the gods. If there were any gods, why would they put themselves at the beck and call of priests and magicians? If they were so powerful, why didn’t they do something about injustice and crime and corruption in the empire, instead of performing like trained animals?
But what other option did he have? Arctos was prepared for Hadrian’s visit, even if he didn’t know the exact date. If Hadrian came ashore to find the province in the midst of an uprising, he would be unhappy to say the least. Parts of the province remained in ruins even eight years after the last uprising, the one whose suppression they were celebrating in these Days of Hadrian.
‘I suppose it’s worth a try,’ he said at last. ‘The Egyptian Quarter is a bit of a way to go, and the civic guard will be on the lookout for me. We’ll have to go by the backstreets. Do you know a way?’
Nitocris looked thoughtful. ‘My brother will be able to help. He knows all the most disreputable backstreets shockingly well.’
‘Now might be the best time to go,’ said Ozymandias gruffly. ‘When no one’s about.’
‘No one except civic guards,’ said Flaminius. ‘I want to find Arctos before the emperor comes here, but I think we’d better wait until the city is busier.’
‘You’ll be staying?’ said Nitocris in delighted. ‘How nice. Let me show you round the garden!’
‘Thank you,’ said Flaminius gently. ‘But I was thinking about finishing off those reports. No knowing what else I could learn from them. Also I have a report for the legate that I want to convert into cipher, plus another one for the Chief in Rome. As soon as you get the opportunity, Ozymandias, I’d like you to take them to the camp and request the signal corps send them.’
Nitocris looked put out. ‘Please yourself.’
They set out several hours later, when it was cooler and afternoon shoppers thronged the main thoroughfares. The civic guard was out in force as well, and Ozymandias took them down a series of winding back alleys. To get to the Egyptian Quarter they had no option other than to cross the Canopic Way, the bustling main boulevard of the city that led from the Gate of the Moon in the west to the Gate of the Sun in the east. An alleyway in the Greek Quarter ended at the Canopic Way and they halted in its shade, scanning the busy street beyond.
‘We could just run across,’ said Nitocris after a long silence.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Ozymandias.
Flaminius ignored the married siblings’ bickering and concentrated on studying the road. Elephants and camels, chariots and carriages made up the majority of the traffic in the middle of the road, while throngs of people of every colour and description walked in the shade of the columns and the palm trees that lined either side. The air was hot and dry, and heavy with the stink of incense and sweat, animal dung and perfume. A group of civic guards thrust their way through the heterogenous crowd. They were heading in the direction of the alleyway.
‘We’d better get back out of sight,’ said Ozymandias, seeing them approaching.
But Flaminius was studying the roadway. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’ll do what Nitocris suggested.’
He led them at a dash, out from the shade of the alley, through the passers-by, and into the heat and dust of the roadway. Coming towards them from the left were a couple of elephants carrying dark skinned men in high howdahs.
‘You! Stop where you are!’ came a bellow from behind them. When they kept running, the same voice said, ‘After them!’
Flaminius reached the far side of the boulevard. The passing elephants were stirring up dust in clouds and the civic guards could barely be seen, coughing and choking as they tried to follow.
‘Good thinking, Roman,’ said Ozymandias approvingly. ‘Now get up this lane before they can follow.’
Nitocris laughed gleefully as they shot down the alley, passing the gaping mouths of open doors leading into shaded houses and yards, past a rug seller’s shop and then up a narrow alley.
‘That was fun,’ she said breathlessly.
‘We’re in serious danger here,’ Ozymandias said. ‘Don’t be a little idiot. This isn’t fun at all.’
‘I know we’re in danger,’ Nitocris told him. ‘But it’s still fun. Maybe the danger adds something.’
They turned a corner. Flaminius had no idea where they were, and Nitocris seemed equally uncertain, but Ozymandias led them expertly.
‘When you’re a married woman,’ Nitocris added, ‘and spend your days housekeeping and gossiping, this kind of life is a real eye opener.’
‘Personally,’ panted Ozymandias, ‘I’d rather be back at the Library.’
They reached a junction. Mudbrick buildings towered over them.
‘Where now?’ Flaminius asked.
Hearing a clatter from back down the passage he wheeled round to see armoured figures looming out of the gloom.
‘This way!’ Ozymandias led them down a narrow alley to the right.
—12—
Some time later they came out into a busy street in Rachotis, the Egyptian Quarter. ‘We seem to have shaken our tails,’ said Flaminius.
‘My brother must have played in some very strange places when we were children!’ said Nitocris. ‘Those winding alleyways were disgusting. I never want to go that way again!’
Ozymandias looked somewhere between flattered and ashamed, but all he said was, ‘The chances of the civic guard coming down here aren’t high, but if they’re looking for a dangerous man like Flaminius here, it’s a lot more likely. Now I don’t know where this Skimbix has his temple, so you’re going to have to guide us, sister. But keep us off the busier streets if you can.’
She gave him an arch look. ‘I certainly don’t know any dirty alleyways,’ she said impudently. ‘Well, come on. This way.’ They made their way down the busy street.
Flaminius kept his eyes out for civic guards. He knew from experience that they seldom came into the Egyptian Quarter, but when they did, they came in large groups—for their own safety. And now Crassus Piso had persuaded the prefect that Flaminius himself was an enemy of the state, they might be more willing to come here. The civic guards they had evaded had last seen them heading south.
This Heliopolitan thaumaturge had better prove worthwhile. It was an indication of how desperate Flaminius felt that he was even willing to consider him. He had nothing but contempt for wonder workers and magicians. It was all trickery, just as Ozymandias had said.
They came out into a small square. ‘Where now?’ Ozymandias asked his sister.
She put a hand to her brow. ‘Wait, wait!’ she said, flapping at him. ‘I’ve only been to the temple a couple of times. It’s a shame we don’t have Clara with us. She has a better sense of direction.’
Ozymandias fumed. ‘Surely you brought a slave with you on these jaunts.’ Anyone would have thought he had never grown up in the gutter or spent several years as a slave himself. ‘We should have brought him with us.’
She shook her head. ‘Clara’s slave accompanied us,’ she told him. ‘And we went in her palanquin, anyway. We should ask someone.’
Ozymandias shook his head, frustrated. ‘You must remember the way. You said you did. Come on, think. Didn’t you look out at the street ever, or were you too busy listening to Clara’s endless jabber?’
Nitocris scowled. ‘Just what do you mean by that?’ she asked. ‘Insulting your own wife’s friends now, is it? That’s nice…’
Flaminius we
nt up to a group of Egyptian youths sitting by a well in the shade of palm trees. ‘Do any of you fine gentlemen know where I might find Skimbix of Heliopolis?’ he asked.
‘Who wants to know?’ The response, coming in a thick Alexandrian accent from a cross eyed youth, was so easily anticipated, Flaminius already had an answer.
‘I’m a seeker after mysteries,’ he said, gesturing about him mystically. ‘I have come from faraway Rome because the stories I heard that Skimbix is the greatest magician the world has ever known.’
‘Why do you want a magician?’ asked another youth. ‘Is it something to do with that hairdo? You’d need a magician to fix that.’
Flaminius’ hair was the height of fashion back in Rome. It was hardly his fault that these provincials were out of date.
He kept his temper despite this assault on his vanity. ‘It’s my one true love,’ he told them. ‘She’s been stolen away by pirates, and I know not where she is. Only a magician such Skimbix will be able to tell me where the pirates have taken her.’ He silently acknowledged the popular Greek novelists whose plots he’d plagiarised.
‘Pirates, is it?’ asked the biggest youth, who was still small and skinny by Roman standards. All of them had thin brown arms that resembled twigs Flaminius could break with ease. ‘How do you know we’re not pirates ourselves?’
Flaminius smiled broadly and shook his head. ‘You’re all true Egyptian warriors, sons of Rameses; anyone can see.’ He produced a drachma and danced it up and down his fingers. ‘There’d be money in it. For the likely lad who could tell me where the magician Skimbix is to be found.’
He beckoned them closer. ‘I’m learned in the dark arts myself,’ he hissed. ‘Tell me true and this drachma is yours. Tell me false, and you’ll find it becomes an obol in your purse.’
The second youth reached out to snatch it, but Flaminius raised his arm and the coin danced out of his way. ‘Now, now,’ he remonstrated. ‘Information first, payment second.’
The youth pointed down the street. ‘Skimbix’s temple is down there, second left, then up the Alley of the Blue Ibis. Now give me my payment.’ One of the other youths sniggered. The rest were looking a little too straight faced.
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