‘As long as we can persuade him, yes,’ said Ozymandias. ‘With his aid we can get on the track of Skimbix and hopefully arrest him. And open that sarcophagus.’
‘What if it’s one of his ancestors?’ she asked with a giggle. ‘That will be embarrassing.’
Ozymandias gripped her hand. ‘This is serious,’ he reminded her. ‘You want to find Flaminius, don’t you?’
She nodded solemnly. ‘But everyone thinks he’s an assassin,’ she said.
‘We’re going to have to prove that he isn’t one,’ he told her. ‘But we can’t very well do that if he’s Skimbix’s prisoner. We must rescue him. And to do that, we’re really going to have to talk with Crassus Piso. Get him on our side. We’re frauds, but he’s the real thing. He can pull strings, call out the guard.’
‘But he wants to kill Flaminius,’ said Nitocris anxiously.
Ozymandias sighed. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘Although I don’t know why. I mean, obviously Flaminius killed his colleague, but even before that they were looking for him; someone told them that he was plotting against the emperor.’
‘Arctos must be behind it,’ Nitocris said darkly. ‘He must have deceived them somehow. Don’t you think that is the only explanation?’ She studied him.
‘You could be right,’ he told her. ‘It’s all going to be a bit awkward if our ally learns that we’re working against him. But maybe Flaminius will persuade him that the assassin is somebody else. We can all work together against Arctos and his cronies.’
Nitocris peered out of the litter. ‘Oh look,’ she said. ‘We’re passing the Library. Have you told the chief librarian you’re not going to be in work?’
Ozymandias didn’t reply. He had enough to worry about.
They reached the palace of the Ptolemies shortly afterwards. Passing the Ancient Egyptian obelisk that the magpie Greeks had set up in front of the pillared portico, they ascended the steps. A civic guard challenged them.
‘Who goes there?’ he asked, gripping his spear tightly.
‘We’re looking for the Praetorian Crassus Piso,’ said Ozymandias. ‘We wish to question him concerning a plot against the emperor.’
The guard peered at him. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ he asked. ‘You work for the commander, don’t you?’
Ozymandias nodded. ‘I used to,’ he said. ‘I’m currently working for the Commissary. Our investigations are following the same lines as those of Crassus Piso. We wish to compare notes with him.’ He showed the guard their authorisation from the prefect.
The civic guard gave Ozymandias directions and let them through. As they hurried down a marble walled corridor, Nitocris said, ‘You’re getting good at this. Maybe you should work for the Commissary full time.’
They reached the room where Crassus Piso was lodging. Ozymandias rapped on the door. After a moment it opened a little, and a suspicious face appeared in the crack.
‘What do you want?’ it growled. A livid bruise was visible on its broad forehead.
‘Are you Crassus Piso?’ Ozymandias asked. Flaminius had last seen this man unconscious in a dark alleyway.
‘Who wants to know?’
Ozymandias introduced himself and his sister. ‘We’re trying to find Gaius Flaminius Drusus,’ he added. ‘Word is, he’s vanished from the city.’
A pause. ‘You’d better come in,’ said the Praetorian.
He opened the door wider and they followed him into a small barracks-like cell. The Praetorian sprawled on the bed while the two Egyptians sat cross legged on the floor.
‘Flaminius has gone,’ said the Praetorian. ‘I know that much. Why do you want him?’
‘We’re agents of the Commissary,’ said Ozymandias. ‘We want to find him as much as you do. What have you done to locate him?’
‘He’s left town,’ said Crassus Piso dismissively. ‘Believe me, he’s no longer anybody’s concern.’
Ozymandias couldn’t understand the man’s attitude. ‘I thought he was suspected of plotting against the emperor,’ he said.
‘Yeah…’ said Crassus Piso. ‘But he’s out of sight and out of mind now. He’s not a threat.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ asked Nitocris.
Crassus Piso scowled at the girl. ‘He killed my mate,’ he said. ‘I want to find him, yeah, and get revenge, but right now he’s not top priority.’
‘So what is top priority, then?’ Ozymandias asked. ‘Look, we believe he’s gone east, down the Canopic Canal. If we could take a river patrol that way we could maybe catch up with him.’
‘Why don’t you?’ Crassus Piso asked indifferently. ‘You might even find him.’
‘Why don’t we work together?’ Ozymandias asked. ‘You were sent here to capture him. We want to find him too. Use your influence to get a river patrol assigned to us, then go in search of him. The thaumaturge Skimbix has taken him prisoner. He’s thought to be hidden inside an old sarcophagus. All we have to do is find the boat, order them to heave to, then search the hold…’
‘How do you know you’ll find the right boat?’ Crassus Piso asked. ‘In the Delta during the inundation? They could have gone anywhere.’
‘At least we’d be trying!’ Ozymandias said hotly. ‘I thought that you Praetorians were the elite of the legions. It seems I’ve been misinformed.’
Crassus Piso rested his hands on his thighs and looked wearily down at the Egyptian.
‘Alright, we’ll do it,’ he said. ‘You two wait here and I’ll go and arrange for a river patrol to be assigned to my command.’
He vanished through the door. Ozymandias and Nitocris sat in silence for a while. Nitocris fidgeted.
‘He’s taking his time,’ she commented. She rose and went to the window.
‘Ozymandias,’ she said urgently. ‘Look at this!’
Ozymandias rose stiffly and went to her side. His face fell.
Hastening across the courtyard towards the palace gates was Crassus Piso. As Ozymandias watched, the Praetorians cast a look behind him, then increased his pace.
‘He seems very keen to help us suddenly,’ said Ozymandias. ‘He’s in a real hurry.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Nitocris said. ‘He’s running away!’
Startled, Ozymandias looked again. By now Crassus Piso was out of sight. But she was right. He had been running like a fugitive.
Now why was that?
—19—
‘Well, we’re not going to get any help from Crassus Piso,’ Ozymandias observed.
‘What a silly thing to say,’ Nitocris commented. ‘While you’re making your unfunny jokes, Gaius could be in danger.’
‘He very probably is,’ said Ozymandias, going to the door. ‘But we’ll not achieve anything lounging around in here. The best we can do is go down to the canal side and ask some questions ourselves.’
‘You’re not wondering why that man ran away from us?’ Nitocris joined him as he went down the corridor.
‘Of course I’m wondering,’ her brother told her. ‘But I’m not going to waste time mulling over it. We need to find Flaminius,’ he stressed the name, ‘and find him quick.’
As they left the palace the guard gave them both an odd look, but he said nothing.
The litter slaves took them back through the streets and into the Egyptian Quarter. They came out on the side of the Canopic Canal, whose slate grey waters ran east-west between the city and the reed infested, crocodile haunted Lake Mareotis. Warehouses and boatyards lined it. Ozymandias directed the slaves to halt outside the large red tiled building that was the customs station.
‘Wait here,’ he told them, helping his sister climb down from the litter. ‘We’ve got people to speak to.’
He led Nitocris to the doors. Here two guards stood; not civic guards, these, but customs guards, drawn from some auxiliary troop originating in the west of the empire. They had a lot of trouble understanding Ozymandias’ Egyptian accented Latin, but after a few drachmas had exchanged hands, they ushered Ozyma
ndias and his sister into the building.
A long queue crossed the courtyard, made up of native Egyptians, Greeks and Romans, Ethiopians, Arabs and many more. Automatically Ozymandias went to wait at the far end.
‘What are you doing?’ Nitocris hissed. ‘We’re here on imperial business, remember?’
She grabbed his hand and led him up to the door.
‘We’re here to speak with the official,’ said Ozymandias importantly. ‘Imperial business.’
‘No business is so important that the official has to be dragged away from his own work,’ a guard insisted, but he changed his mind when, after Ozymandias shook his hand, he found a tetradrachm nestling in his palm.
Getting to speak to the customs official proved to be a costly business. When they were finally let though into the office of the customs official, Ozymandias was mentally drafting the expenses claim he would file when all this was over.
‘I understand this is important imperial business,’ said the official, a short, stocky man of Roman blood with an Iberian accent. ‘But can you make it quick? I have received reports of cargoes of contraband in the area.’ He looked sceptically from the thin legged Egyptian scribe to his pretty companion. ‘The native Egyptian gangs have been having a field day during the Days of Hadrian.’
‘Don’t we know it!’ said Ozymandias. ‘I’m just back from a secret Delta encampment which was a centre for robbery and sedition. With the aid of friendly Bucolics we managed to break things up, although the leaders got away. But that’s another matter. A report from the prefect says that you saw the thaumaturge Skimbix making his getaway. Might I ask why you didn’t make any attempt to intercept him?’
The official was unfazed. ‘I was not under orders to arrest the man,’ he said, ‘although I’d have liked to. He seems to have captivated several women I’d counted as paramours. I can’t see why. A skinny little wretch, typical Egyptian in fact. I…’ He broke off suddenly.
Ozymandias gave him a cold smile. ‘You were misinformed. Skimbix’s arrest should be your top priority. Now, can you tell me any more about what you witnessed?’
The official shrugged. ‘It was earlier today. I was inspecting a goods in from the desert when Skimbix and his cronies appeared, wanting to take a boat out straightaway.’
‘Up the canal?’ Ozymandias said.
‘Of course up the canal,’ said the official impatiently. ‘Only canal traffic is under my jurisdiction.’ He looked at Ozymandias curiously, as if his interrogator was familiar from somewhere.
‘I mean,’ said Ozymandias patiently, ‘were they going towards Canopus or towards the Eunostos Harbour?’
‘Towards Canopus,’ said the official, ‘if that has any bearing on the matter. I would hardly have considered reporting it, although it’s unusual for such trips to be made without prior arrangement. We don’t want the canal waters too busy, though our local merchants always want their own ventures to be given priority.’
‘What made you report it to the prefect?’ asked Nitocris, her voice low and pleasant.
The official looked askance at this slim young woman. ‘Partly because it was curious to see a local celebrity leaving in such a hurry,’ he said. ‘I suspect him to be a fraud, swindling the women who fall for his charms, so his hasty departure didn’t come as a surprise.’ Ozymandias looked at Nitocris, who coloured and looked downwards suddenly. ‘But such things are not for me to judge.’
‘No,’ said Ozymandias, ‘It’s a matter for the city magistrates. The prefect said your report also mentioned something about a… sarcophagus?’
The official’s bearded face took on a puzzled expression. ‘An old one, too,’ he said. ‘Not your modern, state of the art sarcophagus with a realistic painting of the departed, one of those clunky affairs you get in ancient tombs. They say the grave contains its secrets…’
‘How do you know so much about ancient tombs?’ Nitocris asked curiously.
The official smiled. ‘I used to command an auxiliary troop,’ he said. ‘On desert patrol we were often called on to apprehend tomb robbers. You’re a strange people, you Egyptians. In the old days you worked wonders to build mausoleums that put Alexander’s tomb in the shade. And these days it’s the self-same Egyptians who are ransacking them up and down the country. Clearly this can’t be tolerated. But it’s up to the Romans to ensure such sacrilege is stopped…’
‘Both my sister and I are Roman citizens,’ said Ozymandias in a voice as cold as the desert night.
The official gave another of his shrugs. ‘I’m just saying,’ he replied, then looked long and hard at Ozymandias. ‘If you’re Romans, why are you in native dress?’
‘We work for the Commissary,’ said Nitocris spiritedly. ‘Obviously that involves disguise.’
‘The Commissary?’ The official stared at her again. ‘You’re imperial agents?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And you are his sister?’ He jerked his head in Ozymandias’ direction, then turned to peer thoughtfully at him.
‘We are imperial agents, yes,’ said Ozymandias. ‘And we sometimes adopt Egyptian dress, to better facilitate our movements in places like Rachotis. But…’
‘I’ve been trying to remember where I know you from,’ the official said slowly. ‘And just now it’s come back to me. It was years ago, when I was with the auxiliaries. We’d received a tip off about a planned raid on a tomb on the far side of Memphis…’
‘Thank you, we don’t want to listen to your military reminiscences,’ Ozymandias said, trying to ignore a feeling of mounting alarm. ‘We’ve finished our inquiries here. We want to go on the trail of Skimbix, so maybe you could see your way to providing us with a river patrol to take us down the canal…’
‘Might I see your authorisation?’ the official said suddenly. ‘I know you say that you’re imperial agents, but to be frank you look like nothing more than a couple of rather suspicious natives…’
‘I told you, we’re Roman citizens,’ Ozymandias insisted.
‘…all a tribute to your disguise, of course,’ the official went on, ‘but it was rash of you to disguise yourself so well that you look the image of the notorious tomb robber Ozymandias of Rachotis, who I arrested a decade ago.’
Ozymandias studied him. ‘It’s these beards that are so fashionable these days,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t recognise you… Marcus Atilius?’
‘That’s right!’ Marcus Atilius roared with delight. ‘How are you these days, you old thief, you? I thought you had been a slave these ten years!’
‘Freed,’ said Ozymandias proudly, ‘by my master, the previous commander of the civic guard.’
‘So you really are a Roman citizen? If only a freedman.’ Marcus Atilius beamed. ‘And this is your…?’
‘Wife, yes,’ said Ozymandias quickly.
‘You said she was your sister,’ Marcus Atilius said.
‘Wife, sister, it’s all the same to us Egyptians.’ Ozymandias gave a nervous laugh.
‘You said you were a Roman citizen,’ said Marcus Atilius, frowning ever deeper.
‘We keep some of our native customs,’ Ozymandias explained.
Marcus Atilius stared absently at a document on his desk. ‘And you’re an imperial agent now,’ he said. ‘Requisitioning river transport.’
‘That’s right.’ Ozymandias was eager to depart for several reasons. ‘Can you get that done as soon as possible?’
Marcus Atilius looked up. ‘Of course, old friend.’ His face hardened. ‘Just as soon as I’ve seen your identification.’ He was smiling, but his eyes were cold. ‘Just a formality, you know. We officials become sticklers for these minor details. But as imperial agents you must carry the usual insignia.’
Nitocris flung Ozymandias a wide-eyed look. ‘We don’t have any,’ she said. ‘We’re retained by an agent called Gaius. He’s gone missing. We think Skimbix took him. When we bring him back, you can ask him…’
Ozymandias tried to stem the stream of babble, but Marcus Atilius held up a hand for silence. H
e smiled cunningly at Nitocris. ‘Go on, my dear,’ he said pleasantly. ‘This is all fascinating.’
‘I think we should go,’ said Ozymandias, rising.
‘Sit down!’ Marcus Atilius barked.
A guard poked his helmeted head in. ‘Anything the matter, sir?’ He gave Ozymandias a hostile stare. ‘Can I help you with these natives?’
‘Remain outside the door,’ Marcus Atilius instructed him. ‘Close it behind you. I’ll call you if I need you.’
As the guard shut the door, Marcus Atilius swung round to Ozymandias. ‘I’d hate to think a young fellow I once arrested had gone back to his bad old ways,’ he said, ‘but this is worse than robbing the dead! Impersonating imperial representatives?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll see you crucified for this one, lad, and your pretty sister too. Unless you’ve got a good explanation for me.’
—20—
Flaminius strode through the grounds of the villa, mind in tumult. What in the name of Almighty Jove had he thought he was doing, opening his heart up to the first friendly face? He had told the magistrate everything, even that most sensitive piece of intelligence, the emperor’s plans that had been entrusted to him by Avidius Pollio. And then had come that terrible moment of recognition—the senatorial signet ring worn by “Servius Arcadius”.
He had last seen that signet ring on Arctos’ hand.
There could be not two rings alike; that was the whole point of a signet ring, unless it was a forgery. And why should Arctos wear a forgery of the signet ring of a senator who was magistrate in a tiny island like this one? It was that ring that had told him that their faceless enemy was a member of the Senate. Now Flaminius had seen that face, albeit half hidden behind a bushy white beard. And that face had listened to him pouring out all his troubles.
Shortly afterwards, Servius Arcadius—Arctos—had called one of his men, then dismissed Flaminius with the explanation that he had important duties to carry out. It had not come at a better time. Flaminius would have given the game away if he had been expected to spend another second talking to the man. But Arctos showed no sign of knowing that Flaminius had recognised him. This gave him hope.
The Archimedes Stratagem Page 14