First, Philadelphion did nothing.
'The first procedure is close visual examination.'
Aulus turned to me and we nodded: this was the genuine body of Theon. He was naked - no modesty cloths here. Even from several rows back, his thin frame was instantly recognisable and so were his features and beard shadow. Unlike the undertaker's false corpse, he still had his hair, thin, dark and lank. After their master's inspection of the front, Chaereas and Chaeteas stepped forward and rolled the body for inspection of the back, then laid it down face-up again. The top of the head and the soles of the feet were scrutinised. An eyelid was pulled up. The mouth was opened and peered into for some time. Philadelphion used a spatula to hold down the tongue and look closer.
'There are no wounds,' he eventually pronounced. 'I can see no bruises.'
'Any asp bites?' Aulus called out from our back row. He had a clear senatorial accent with a pristine Latin diction; his Greek had never been as fluent as his brother's or his sister's but he knew how to make himself heard well enough to start a riot. In the silence that fell you could have heard an asp slither. Every head in the room turned towards us. Everyone now knew there were two Romans in the room, just as insensitive as the cultured Egyptians and Greeks had always thought us. Aulus himself winced. 'Because of the locked room, I just thought snakes ought to be considered,' he mumbled, apologetically.
Philadelphion fixed the source of the crass interruption and replied with some coldness of tone that there were no snake, insect, dog or human bites. He continued methodically: 'This is the body of a fifty-eight-year-old man, somewhat underweight and with poor muscle tone, but unmarked by anything that would explain sudden death.' He touched the corpse. 'Temperature and coloration imply that death occurred within the past twelve hours. We know, in fact, that Theon was alive until late last night. So! There are no answers yet. It will be necessary to dissect the corpse, if light is to be shed on what killed our esteemed colleague.'
At the words 'esteemed colleague' an elderly man on the front row snorted loudly. A large, jerky figure with unkempt hair, he lolled over two seats, arms and legs flung wide. His manner was proud; he took no notes; even from the set of his head we could tell he was watching as if he expected no good to come out of this.
'Who is that?' I asked Heras.
'Aeacidas the Tragedian.'
Easy to get his measure. A long-time academic who did not expect to have to introduce himself and whose snide attitude had been apparent from the start. It was no surprise when he demanded, 'Do you have a reasonable expectation that opening the body will solve any mystery?'
'I have some expectation.' Philadelphion spoke firmly. He was courteous but not prepared to be bullied. 'I have hope.'
The tragedy expert did subside, which may have been unusual for him. It was clear he thought zoology a lesser discipline than literature; scientific experiments were just a low sport. But standing up to loudmouths often quells them, so Philadelphion still dominated the scene.
The second assistant had lifted away the cloth covering the instruments. Sharp knives, saws, probes and scalpels glinted; the last time I saw an array like it, an over-eager surgeon in an army hospital was threatening to amputate my leg. These were laid out amongst a pile of hemispherical bowls. Bronze buckets were also visible beside the plinth. Both assistants had quietly assumed aprons, though Philadelphion worked in his tunic, which was short-sleeved and unbleached.
He was handed a scalpel and, almost before the audience was ready, made a Y-shaped incision, cutting from both shoulders to the centre chest then straight down to the groin. He worked without drama. Anyone who expected flamboyance, and I fancied that included Aeacidas, would have been disappointed. I wondered how many times Philadelphion had done this before. In view of the questionable legality of these proceedings, I did not intend to ask. However, it was clear his two assistants were confident about their duties. He never needed to prompt them. Those zoo keepers knew just what to do.
The skin, then a layer of yellowish fat, was peeled back on both sides. Philadelphion explained that there would be little blood, because the flow ceases upon death. The incision must have pressed right down to the bone. Now, his assistants held back the flesh, one each side, while Philadelphion severed the ribs from the breastbone by sawing through the connecting cartilage. We could hear the saw. At this point there were gasps. Aulus was leaning forward with his hand pressed to his mouth, possibly to stifle cries of amazement; well, that was what he claimed afterwards. I did wonder if those discard-buckets were provided in case spectators threw up. Someone nearer the front did suddenly keel over in a faint; he was spotted by Chaeteas and unhurriedly laid out in an aisle to recover. When he came round, he stumbled from the theatre.
Squeamish or not, the rest of us were gripped. We watched Philadelphion carefully remove and inspect the heart and lungs, then other solid organs - the kidneys, liver, spleen and smaller items. He named each dispassionately as he handled it. Particular attention seemed to be paid to the stomach and the reams of intestine. Their contents were investigated, with predictable results. A couple more members of the audience remembered prior appointments and fled.
It was all dignified, all methodical. Anyone with a modicum of religious attendance had seen similar procedures with animals, though often conducted out of the direct line of vision of all except the gods. (When acting as a priest, you try to hide your mistakes.) The dissector here was completely open but he had the same manner - that formal reverence of an officiating priest as he inspects the innards of a sacrifice, looking for omens. His calm assistants pattered around as attentively as altar boys.
It was not gentle. Though not butchery, it was a muscular activity. Even to de-bone a chicken needs exertion. No one who had been a soldier would be surprised at the physical strength needed to open flesh and dismantle a human skeleton. Philadelphion had to hack and rip. Young men who had spent their lives poring over scrolls were visibly shocked.
They were more disturbed when we reached the part where the skull was sawn open and the brain removed.
Philadelphion completed the procedure fully without making pronouncements. He worked steadily. Once he had finished, he asked Chaereas and Chaeteas to replace the organs in the body and reassemble it for sewing up. While they did that, we all shifted in our seats, stretched our limbs and tried to recover our composure. Philadelphion washed his hands and forearms thoroughly then dried them on a small towel, as if politely preparing to eat dinner. Afterwards, he sat by himself, making notes.
This did not take long. His assistants removed the bowls and instruments, and pushed the table with the body to an exit door; I thought I glimpsed Petosiris the undertaker, with his mismatched assistants, Itchy and Snuffly, waiting outside to receive the cadaver. Chaereas and Chaeteas closed the door and took up positions there for the announcement of discoveries, still moving unobtrusively and as if they were minor guardian deities.
Philadelphion stood for his oration. He held his notes, though he only rarely referred to them. His manner remained calm and confident.
'I shall give you my conclusions now. You are welcome to ask questions.'
Aeacidas, the big dissenter fidgeted abruptly. He was beside another, quieter man, also older than the students. 'Apollophanes,' whispered our young friend Heras, himself a much healthier colour now. 'The Head of Philosophy.' Aeacidas did not in fact interrupt; even his bumptiousness seemed to have been deflated by the clinical choreography.
'Much of what I found was normal for a man of Theon's age,' pronounced Philadelphion. 'The rib cartilage, for example, is beginning to coalesce into bone, which we know happens as the years pass. But there was no sign of disease in the organs, nor any significant encroachments of age. The heart and lungs clearly failed, but it is not possible to determine whether that was a specific cause of death or part of the process. I found nothing worthy of comment in the brain.'
There was laughter at that - not from Aeacidas, in fact, but from Ap
ollophanes. His laugh was gentle, almost sympathetic. The Head of Philosophy enjoyed a joke, it seemed, but was not strident.
Philadelphion himself smiled. He had not intended to be witty, but accepted that his straight remark could be taken two ways. 'The areas I consider significant are concentrated in the digestive system. The liver, for instance, is larger and heavier than it should be, and when I sliced it through, the internal structure suggested that Theon had been drinking hard recently. This could be an indication of anxiety. As his colleague, who knew him professionally and socially, I would not have described him as a devotee of Bacchus.'
'More fool him!' commented Aeacidas. Philadelphion ignored it.
'The condition of the liver was not enough to cause death. In fact, my observations failed to find any explanation for what we would consider a ''natural'' demise. We have, therefore, to determine an unnatural reason. No violence had occurred. So did he, in common parlance, eat or drink something that disagreed with him? It is known that Theon went out to dinner last evening. Those of you on the front rows are particularly aware that I found evidence of a large, rich and varied meal having been eaten; the food was consumed over a period of time, some hours before the Librarian died.'
'How can you say the time?' demanded one of the note-taking students.
'I could tell from the food's state of digestion and position in the organs. If everyone else is prepared to take my word for it, I can talk you through it later, young man; come and see me privately -' Most of us were quite prepared to skip the details. 'I shall be weary this evening; I suggest tomorrow morning at the zoo.'
'How much can you ascertain about the meal?' one of the other young men asked. Philadelphion looked uneasy and shrugged.
Aulus stood up. 'There is no need to speculate. Details of the meal are known, sir.' He gave a full breakdown of the menu, adding, 'It has been established that all dishes were eaten by more than one person, with no other diner suffering any ill-effects. Two of us, indeed, have a strong enough stomach today to watch your necropsy.'
'And much wine was drunk?' the second student asked him.
Grinning, Aulus scratched his ear. 'We drank the quantities you would expect at a meal of that kind, given that there were visitors from overseas and an important invited guest. I would say Theon kept up well, though he did not outpace the rest of us.'
'As far as you remember?' quipped Philadelphion. Clearly he too had a sense of humour. Aulus acknowledged the comment with another relaxed grin, and sat down again. 'Since he was the honoured guest, we presume Theon would have been served as much as he wanted. A witness says his behaviour seemed unexceptional. So if he regularly over-drank,' Philadelphion suggested, 'this was done in private. Secret drinking, particularly when it has not been the drinker's prior custom, is to be regarded as significant. I referred earlier to Theon seeming preoccupied, and this would reinforce my remark that he may have been experiencing mental anguish of some kind. Why am I concentrating on this supposition? Because in his stomach and oesophagus were intriguing remains - something he had eaten or drunk later than his dinner. I have saved samples, which I shall be discussing with our botanist colleagues. It is plant material, apparently leaves, and perhaps seeds. I am qualified to comment on the circumstances, inasmuch as we at the zoo examine animals - our own or those that are brought to us - animals that die when they have eaten poisoned feed. I recognise similarities.'
This caused a stir. Someone asked quickly, 'When you began the necropsy, were you anticipating poison?'
'It was always a possibility. Those of you who are alert will have noticed the body was unclothed. Normally in such a case, examining the clothes worn at the time of death would be part of the initial procedure. On this occasion Chaereas and Chaeteas had removed the tunic for aesthetic reasons; there was vomit present. I examined it prior to the necropsy'
'Did you find more plant material?'
'Yes. Given that Theon had eaten well already, if he was poisoned I doubt he had unwisely picked and chewed some foliage he passed by, daydreaming. So, if he ingested this plant material while he sat at his table, and if he did so voluntarily, then we must decide he was so troubled in his mind, he committed suicide. Otherwise -' For the only time that afternoon Philadelphion paused dramatically. 'Otherwise someone else gave him the poison. If they knew what they were giving him - and why do it unless they knew? - then for reasons we cannot immediately say, our Librarian was murdered.'
XIII
The reaction lasted some minutes. During the uproar, as men turned to each other and exchanged ideas excitedly, I slipped from my seat and walked down to the central area.
'Philadelphion, greetings and congratulations on your work today. My name is Didius Falco -'
'The Emperor's man!'
I raised an eyebrow. He must have seen there was a stranger in the audience - nothing wrong with his vision; those large, good-looking eyes could do both close focus and distance - but this was inside knowledge. 'You heard I was coming?'
Silver-haired and svelte, the handsome lecturer smiled. 'This is Alexandria.''
The noise was dying down. Questions were now being put to Philadelphion, including 'Why would Theon have been locked in?'
Philadelphion raised his hands for hush. 'Answering this is not in my remit. But here is the Prefect's special investigator - Falco, do you mind? - who may be able to explain more.'
I noticed he did not identify me as coming from Rome, Vespasian's agent. Nice courtesy.
Philadelphion withdrew to a seat, leaving me unexpectedly with the floor.
'My name is Didius Falco. As Philadelphion said, I have been asked to run the enquiry into Theon's death. You have all been sitting here a good while, and what we have seen was harrowing, so I won't prolong the agony. But I am glad to introduce myself. While we are all together here, may I ask that if any of you know anything useful about what happened, please see me privately as soon as possible.'
There was some shuffling, as people who had never helped a law and order investigation before looked nervous. I dealt with some low levels of society where everyone knew all too well how it worked. I had to remind myself there were polite circles where the witnesses would feel uncertain what was expected of them.
'One of you just asked: why would Theon have been locked in? His room, which I have seen, can only be locked from outside. So if he committed suicide, that locked door is odd. If he was murdered, it makes sense; it would ensure he could not seek help before any poison took effect. Philadelphion, did your examination give any clues to the length of time between ingestion and death?'
He did not trouble to rise but answered, 'No; it depends what the poison was. I hope to find out more tomorrow. Plant poisons can take from minutes to several hours, or sometimes days.'
'Long-acting ones are less attractive both to murderers and suicides,'' I commented.
'Is there not another possibility?' asked a bright-looking youth at the side of the room. 'That the leaves and seeds could have been eaten by Theon in the hope they would be an antidote to some other poison?'
Philadelphion turned in his seat. 'That, too, will depend upon identification - assuming it is possible.'
The lad was in his stride. 'Theon might not even have swallowed any poison, merely feared he had. The antidote leaves might then themselves have caused more reaction than he wanted -' This young man had a vigorous imagination, the type that likes things really complicated.
'I shall bear those factors in mind,' replied Philadelphion patiently.
We were starting to go around in circles. I intervened. 'Now listen - it's late, we are all exhausted. I am satisfied that Philadelphion's excellent examination has isolated a substance that could well have killed Theon. Without proper identification, further speculation this evening is pointless. Know when to let things take their time,' I warned, taking the role of a hoary professional. 'Let me say this. Even if Theon killed himself, somebody else locked the door on him. I want to know who, and why. I
need any information you can give me. Who saw it happen? Who saw anybody going to see Theon? It has been suggested he was anxious recently. Who knows why? Who talked to him and heard him let slip some worry about his health, his work, his private life? And, if there was foul play here, who was his enemy? Who was jealous? Who wanted his research, his written treatise, his unique collection of black-figure vases, the mistress he kept secretly or the mistress he stole from somebody else and flaunted openly?...'
Philadelphion gave me a bright look, as if he was shocked by the suggestion. Aeacidas and Apollophanes were half laughing; Theon was definitely not a ladies' man. 'Who wanted his job?' I asked in a neutral tone. Now that could be more than one person present.
Nobody volunteered answers. That would come later, if I was fortunate. I knew they would hotly debate the questions. I knew people might start sneaking up to me from tomorrow - possibly even tonight. Some would want to help, some would want attention, some would undoubtedly be keen to dish dirt on their esteemed academic colleagues.
Philadelphion and I made it clear the meeting was to break up. I invited him home with me to dinner; he said he had a prior engagement in a private house. It must have been with established friends because he invited me to go along with him. By then I needed to go home to reassure Helena. Aulus and I took his young friend Heras with us.
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