Alexandria

by Lindsey Davis

  'It would not be usual. Since I am here,' I murmured, 'the Prefect may appoint me as a consultant.' There was not a chance in Hades that the Prefect would allow me near this decision - but I had fooled Philetus. He had thought he controlled the Librarian's post. Perhaps he did. Unless he tried to appoint a three-legged nanny-goat from the low end of town, most prefects would be happy to sit back and allowwhatever the Director wanted. Now he believed I had muscled in on him; he never suspected I had no power to do so.

  'I shall have to consult the Academic Board, Falco.'

  'Fine. Tell me when and where.'

  'Oh! We never normally allow strangers to hear confidential discussions.'

  'I very much want to meet your Board.' Normally I flee from committees but I wanted to meet this group, because if anything odd had happened to Theon they must be the men who stood to gain from it professionally. 'Is it daily? Shall I attend tomorrow morning? You mentioned they meet early - I can manage that.'

  Panic showed on Philetus' face.

  Looking casual, I kept pressing: 'Now, were you responsible for Theon's body being removed from his office? Can you tell me which funeral director has the corpse?'

  This caused more anxiety. 'You surely do not wish to view it?'

  'We may just look in on the undertaker,' Aulus weighed in with a mollifying tone. 'Didius Falco always likes to mention names in his report. It gives a good impression if Vespasian believes we carried out a full personal check.'

  Aulus managed to imply we probably would not really go there. He played the dozy and unreliable student so successfully that before the Director knew it, he squeaked out the information for us.

  As we were leaving, I turned back unexpectedly - that old tired trick, but it has been known to work. 'Just one last point, Philetus – routine question: can you tell me where you were and what you were doing yesterday evening?'

  He was furious. But he was able to say he had been at a long poetry recital. Since it was apparently hosted by the Roman Prefect, I could check. And much as I would have liked to make the Director my chief suspect, if the Prefect - or more likely some minion on his staff - confirmed this, I would have to believe the story.

  X

  The Director had named a local undertaker. His embalming salon was close to the Museion. One of the secretaries took us, leading us outside the complex, through early afternoon streets full of Alexandrian flatbed carts, each with its mound of green fodder for the horse or donkey. The beasts all had nosebags. The drivers all looked half asleep, until they spotted us to stare at.

  There was fine dust everywhere. We walked through a small market, teeming with pigeons, rabbits, ducks, geese, chickens and bantams; all were for eating and were either caged or kept on pallets with their feet tied together. Behind the market, which remained highly audible, lay the dim premises we sought. Curious locals watched us going in, just as they would back home on the Aventine.

  The head of the outfit was called Petosiris.

  'I am Falco.'

  'Are you Greek?'

  'No fear!'

  'Jewish? Syrian? Libyan? Nabataean? Cilician? -'

  'Roman,' I confessed, and watched the undertaker lose interest.

  He catered for all tastes, except Jewish. The jews had their own quarter, alphabetically called Delta, near the Gate of the Sun and the Eastern Harbour. They conducted their own rituals, which Petosiris assumed were unpleasantly exotic, compared with good Nilotic tradition. Likewise, he spoke disparagingly of Christians, whose dead were kept for three days in the deceased's house while their own friends and family washed and clothed them for burial - all deeply unhygienic - before mysterious ceremonies were performed by a priest amidst sinister lights and chanting. Christian priests were viewed askance in Alexandria, since a certain Mark the Evangelist had denounced Egyptian gods fifteen years ago: he was set upon by the mob and dragged by horses through the streets until he needed a grave himself. Petosiris saw this as a fine moment in history. He had not asked if we were Christians, but we thought it advisable to indicate a firm negative.

  Otherwise Petosiris was extremely versatile. He could do you a nine-day mourning and cremation Roman-style with a full feast at your family tomb. He could fix up a respectful two-day Greek viewing, ashes in a traditional urn and enough ritual to ensure your soul would not hover between this world and the next as a disrespected ghost. Or he would bandage you up as a mummy. If you opted for mummification, once your brain had been hauled out through your nose with a long hook and your body organs were drying out in natron in a decorative set of soapstone jars, he could hire an artist from the south to paint your face extremely realistically and put it on a wooden plaque over your bandaging to identify you inside your coffin. Needless to say, for all of these systems there were numerous kinds of sarcophagus to choose from, and an even greater variety of memorial steles and statues, most of them horrendously expensive.

  'Will Theon's family foot the bill?'

  'He was a public official.'

  'The state will bury him?'

  'Of course. He was the Librarian!'

  'Excellent,' said Aulus. 'So let's have a look at him, may we?'

  I thought there was a pause. However, Petosiris soon led us to a body, which he displayed quietly enough. Assistants stopped their ministrations and stood back for us.

  Aulus walked up to the top of the bier, cocking his head slightly as he considered the dead man's facial features. I stayed halfway down. Aulus stuck his thumbs in his belt. I kept my arms folded. We were thoughtful, but I concede that the way we posed may have looked unduly critical. Petosiris did not know we had met Theon when he was alive.

  Before us lay a body, naked, with its head shaven. The nose was hooked, the cheeks rotund, the chin treble. A linen cloth had been placed across its middle for reasons of ritual or modesty. Beneath it, the belly rose abundantly, even with the man lying on his back. His fleshy arms lay at his side, his legs were short and sturdy.

  People change in appearance when they die. But not that much.

  Aulus turned and looked at me, puzzled. I signalled agreement. We nodded our heads as we counted to three, then we leapt into action. Aulus shoved Petosiris up against a wall, crushing his windpipe with one forearm. I indicated that the assistants should not intervene. 'My young friend who is attacking your leader has a kind nature. If I did it, I'd rip that lying bastard's head off.'

  I grinned at the frightened embalmers, making it bloodthirsty.

  Aulus then put his mouth right up to Petosins' left ear, and yelled: 'Don't mess with us! We asked to see Theon - not some poor three-days-dead cucumber-seller from Rhakotis!' The undertaker squawked. Aulus lowered his voice, which only stepped up the terror: 'Falco and I met the Librarian. The man is an aesthete - he's all skin and bone. Whoever it is you're washing with Nile water for his trip to eternity in the beautiful fields of reeds, we know this is not Theon!

  XI

  For a moment it went wrong. There were two mortuary assistants; Aulus subsequently named them Itchy and Snuffly - a dark, pudding-faced, slow-moving dreamer and an even darker, thin-featured, jumpy fellow. While Petosiris stood trapped, once they got over their surprise they reacted. Itchy stopped scratching and squealed with hysteria. It was annoying but harmless. Snuffly was the trier. He leapt on me, knocked me over and sat astride my chest. A gleeful leer said he was going to demonstrate how they removed dead men's brains with their nose-hook.

  While he waved this extractor, he foolishly left my arms free. I parried the hook as it threatened my nostrils, then punched him in the throat. These fellows were used to passive customers. He was taken aback. I bucked violently, forced him aside, struggled upright and when he refused to surrender, I hit him harder. Snuffly went out like a pinched wick. I laid him on the bier beside the body of the man Aulus had called a cucumber-seller, leaving him to recover in his own time.

  Itchy was wondering feebly whether he too should be an action man. I pointed to him, pointed to his unconscious c
olleague and shook my head slowly. This proved to be international sign language.

  Wincing, I examined the nose-hook.

  'Nasty!' remarked Aulus to me. 'How much not to tell my sister you were nearly mummified?'

  We both then tackled Petosiris. It was short; we were irritated and brutal. After pretending he had no idea he had shown us the wrong corpse, he admitted that Theon's body was expected here later, but had yet to be brought to him.

  'Why did you need to lie about it?'

  'I don't know, sir.'

  'Somebody told you to?'

  'I can't say, sir.'

  I asked where Theon really was. As far as Petosiris knew, still at the Museion.

  'Why would that be?'

  Petosiris reluctantly admitted why, and then we understood the reason people had wanted him to try to bamboozle us: 'They are conducting a ''See for yourself''.'

  Aulus scoffed. 'An autopsy? I don't think so, man!' He became the self-righteous legal scholar: 'Under Roman Law. the medical dissection of human remains is illegal.'

  'Well, this is Egypt!' countered Petosiris proudly.

  XII

  We found our own way back to the Museion, then set about trying to discover where this outlawed procedure was happening. Naturally there were no advertisements scrawled up on walls. At first all the halls seemed to be hosting ill-attended lectures and anaemic lyre recitals. Aulus spotted a young man who had befriended him in the refectory. 'This is Heras, son of Hermias, who is studying under a Sophist - Heras, have you heard anything about a dissection today?'

  'On my way there!' A typical student, he was dawdling; he had no idea of time. As we tagged along, willing Heras to hurry, I learned that Sophistry was a branch of declamatory rhetoric that had been practised for tour hundred years; the Alexandrian version was famed for its florid style. Heras looked like a pleasant Egyptian from a wealthy family, well-dressed, with gentle features; I could not see him being florid. Aulus was studying judicial rhetoric of a more subdued variety with Minas of Karystos, though from what I had seen in Athens it mainly involved partying. Having brought money from his father to Aulus in Athens, I was aware that the senator hoped I would help restrict his son's expenditure. (How? Blameless example, tiresome speeches - or just thumping him?) I didn't ask Heras if Alexandrian Sophistry involved the good life. No one should give students bad ideas.

  We found the place. They were not selling tickets to the public. We had to bluff our way past a couple of bored doorkeepers. Security was not their strong point, so luckily they were a pushover.

  Just in time, we three sidled into the back of a demonstration theatre. It was old, purpose-built, with a smell of apothecary's apron. A gentle half-moon of seats looked down on a work-table, behind which stood a handsome man in his late forties, flanked by two assistants. It was obvious that a human body lay on the table, so far fully covered by a white cloth. A small plinth nearby probably held medical instruments, though they too were covered over. The room was packed with an eager audience, many with note-tablets at the ready; most were young students, though I noticed a proportion of older men, probably tutors. It was already warm here, and buzzing.

  'The Head of Medicine?' I whispered.

  'No, that post is vacant. Philadelphion - the Zoo Keeper.' Aulus and I both registered surprise.' He does regular dissecting,' explained Heras. 'Though of course, normally animals... Are you intending to stop this?' he asked, clearly aware of the legal position.

  'Not diplomatic' Besides, I too wanted answers.

  Philadelphion made a small gesture to indicate he would begin. Instant hush fell. I would have liked to move closer, but every seat was filled.

  'Thank you for coming.' Modesty made a pleasant change. 'Before I start, a few words about the special situation today, which has drawn such a large crowd of you. For those who may be new to this, I shall first review the history of dissection in Alexandria. Then I shall explain why this body, which you all know is that of Theon, the Keeper of the Great Library, seems to require an examination. Finally I shall perform the necropsy, assisted by Chaereas and Chaeteas, my young colleagues from the royal zoo, who have worked with me here before.'

  I liked his style. There was nothing florid here. He just had the knack of straightforward exposition, backed by a will to educate. Members of the audience were furiously scribbling down all he said. If what he intended to do was illegal, Philadelphion was making no attempt to do it furtively.

  'When the Museion in Alexandria was first established, its far-sighted founders gave unprecedented freedom to scholars - a freedom that we still enjoy in many disciplines. Eminent men came here to use unrivalled facilities. They included two great medical scientists: Heraphilus and Erasistratus. Heraphilus of Chalcedon made profound discoveries in human anatomy, concerning the eye, liver, brain, genital organs, vascular and nervous systems. He taught us to appreciate the pulse of life which you will feel if you lay fingers across the wrist of whoever is sitting next to you. Heraphilus used direct investigation techniques - that is, dissection: dissection of human corpses.' There was a murmur among the audience, as if the pulses they had tested now raced faster. 'He was permitted to do that. His motive was benign. As a result of his greater understanding of the human body from examining the dead, he developed a regimen of diet and exercise to maintain or restore human health in the living.'

  Philadelphion paused, to allow note-takers to catch up. While he spoke, his assistants stood completely still. Either he had rehearsed this, or they were already familiar with his approach. He spoke extempore. He was calm, audible and utterly compelling.

  'Erasistratus of Ceos also believed in research. He carried further the work of Heraphilus, who had learned that the arteries carry blood, not air as had been wrongly thought previously. Erasistratus identified that the heart works like a pump, which contains valves; he believed the brain to be the seat of our intelligence and he identified its different parts; he disproved the false idea that digestion involves some kind of ''cooking'' procedure in the stomach, while showing that food is propelled through the intestines by smooth muscle contractions. In his investigations of the brain, Erasistratus demonstrated that damage to certain parts would have a direct consequence on movement. For that, you will realise, it was necessary to experiment on live brains, both human and animal. His human subjects were criminals who were taken from the city's jails.'

  Again a pause for catching up - and for the reaction to subside. Aulus and his friend sat frozen in their seats. They saw themselves as tough young men. They went to the gym; they were up for an argument. Aulus had been an army tribune - though on peacetime duties. Still, as the bodily descriptions became more vivid, they grew more subdued. Everyone in the room was now envisaging old Erasistratus sawing open the head of some live convict and, while his victim screamed and squirmed, calmly observing what happened.

  Undeterred by his audience's cringes, Philadelphion continued: 'Aristotle - the teacher of Alexander the Great, of Ptolemy Soter and of Demetrius Phalereus, the founder of the Museion - had taught that the body was a shell, housing the soul, or psyche. That did not excuse vivisection. But many of us believe that when the soul departs, the body loses all we regard as human life. That makes dissection after death legitimate, where there are reasons. I myself prefer not to countenance vivisection - experiments on the living, whether human or animal. Since that brief period when Heraphilus and Erasistratus flourished, all such experiments are seen as regrettable, or outright repulsive, by right-thinking people. Distaste for any kind of necropsy also rules. Cutting up our fellow-humans, we feel, lacks respect for them and may dehumanise ourselves. It is, therefore, a long time indeed since anyone conducted a ''See for yourself'' on a human corpse at the Museion.'

  One or two people cleared their throats nervously. Philadelphion smiled. 'If anyone feels he would rather not see for himself, leaving the room will be no disgrace.'

  Nobody left. Some people may have wanted to.

  'So why is
this case exceptional?' asked Philadelphion. 'We all knew Theon. He belonged to our community; we owe him special regard. He was physically fit, a lively debater, good for more years in his post. Perhaps of late he had seemed preoccupied. That could have had many causes, including illness, either known or unrecognised. But his complexion was good, his manner still zestful. I was startled to hear he had died, and I suspect so were many of you. Witnesses noted odd features when he was found. We can either bury him and think no more about it - or we can do him the service of trying to discover what happened to him. It is my decision to undertake a necropsy' The two assistants stepped forward quietly. 'We shall proceed,' Philadelphion instructed, 'always with respect and with gravity. Our actions will be conducted in a spirit of scientific curiosity as we enjoy the intellectual prospect of discovering answers.'

  One of the assistants gently removed the cloth that had covered Theon s body.