by Paul Davis
‘Do you think I could make a good healer?’ asked Iola, out of nowhere. ‘Could you teach me?’
Kaires was surprised. He had never heard of a woman doctor before, actually had never even entertained the idea. A helper, maybe. A midwife, certainly. But a doctor in her own right? Well, even if it was extraordinary, why not? She’d probably only have female patients, he couldn’t imagine a man coming to consult her. But she could specialise in women’s aliments; goodness knows there were a lot of them...
He demurred. ‘We can talk about it, if you’re really interested. But it’s a lot of hard work over a long time.’
‘I wouldn’t expect to become a doctor overnight. And I know there will be problems. But watching you, I know it is something I would love to do myself.’
‘I’ll have to talk to your mother. She’s you’re legal guardian.’
Iola looked at Kaires from under her eyelids. ‘Until I marry.’
Kaires returned her look. ‘Iola, I –’
‘Ouch!’ she said, hopping on one foot. ‘Hang on, I’ve got a stone in my sandal.’
She sat down on the bank and loosened the strap, shaking out the offending stone. She didn’t get up, so Kaires sat down beside her.
‘It’s all right,’ she said eventually. ‘I’m only teasing you. Not about becoming a doctor. I really want that. About the other thing.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Kaires. He sounded slightly put out. Was he actually disappointed? Iola picked a flower from the bank where they sat and twirled it absently in her fingers.
‘You know the Egyptian belief about our souls?’ she asked. ‘Only the body is visible, and it is that which you try and heal. Do you think the other parts, the invisible, ever need healing as well? Do you think they are capable of being harmed, or even doing harm to others?’
‘You are right, I heal only the body. But I believe in the power of the name, the ka and the ba, the heart and the shadow. It is the priests and philosophers you should talk to about them.’
‘If only we could learn to control them, what might we not achieve? To be able to move about while our bodies stay in one place. To fly, even. How wonderful it would be.’
Kaires looked back down the road. ‘I think we should get back to the barge, don’t you? Unless you’d prefer a chat with Strabo and Chaeremon? They’ve almost caught up.’ The two geographers were close behind, and Iola could hear that Strabo was in lecture mode. She needed no further prompting. They both jumped up.
Kaires himself was now keen to get back to the barge. Thank you, Iola, he thought. Another piece of the puzzle had slipped into place, and finally he was ready to confront a murderer.
-0-
‘Are you sure about this? Wouldn’t it just be easier to make an arrest and have done with it?’
Gallus reclined on one of the comfortable day beds in the Queen’s suite, looking for all the world like a budding monarch himself. All he needed was the diadem. Certainly he had a regal air about him as he talked to Kaires; that of a contented king who was well pleased with his subject and inclined to be indulgent. For Kaires had finally told him all he knew, and Gallus thought he deserved to play things his own way.
‘I don’t want to risk losing the map. I think I know where it will be, but what if I’m wrong? If our murderer has any chance to destroy it, or decides not to talk, it could be lost forever - along with any chance of finding Caesarion’s treasure, if it really exists.’
‘We have ways of persuading people to give up their secrets.’
‘But why go to the trouble if we can find out anyway? And it’s not as if there can be any chance of escape. We’ll get everyone up on the top deck, and your men can cover all the exits – including some good swimmers just in case they jump. But I doubt it. When it’s obvious the game is up, I think they’ll come quietly. Rightly or wrongly, they may think they have something to bargain with for their life.’
Gallus fingered Caesarion’s ring, still hanging securely around his neck.
‘Have you made any sense of this seal yet?’ he asked.
Kaires took out the scrap of papyrus which held the imprint of the seal.
‘Not really. I think it will only make sense once the two parts are together.’ He stared at the complex pattern of shapes, with Caesarion’s cartouche at the centre. ‘It was an extra level of security, in case the map was found, or, worse, if Caesarion was captured and the seal discovered. Both mean nothing on their own. When Octavian did capture Caesarion, the ring meant nothing to him. Why would it? Caesarion, of course, kept quiet about it. He knew that nothing could save his life, and he wasn’t going to give up his mother’s gold to his enemy.’
‘He could have bargained. Octavian is known to have been merciful.’
‘Now, maybe, secure in his power as he is. But then it was a different matter. What was it Arrius Didymus said? “Too many Caesars are not good...’” No, he never had a chance. And he had pride. Never forget who his father – and his mother – were. I’m sure he didn’t, right to the last.’
‘Yet Octavian took the children of Anthony – his mortal enemy - into his own household, and brought them up with all honour, treating them as his own.’
‘True, he is a noble and generous man. But at the start, I rather think they came into his household more as hostages than anything else.’
‘We shall agree to differ. After the deaths of Anthony and Cleopatra, what need had he of hostages? He was the undisputed master of the world. But you are probably right about Caesarion. Poor child never had a chance. He should have ignored his advisors and got away to India while he could. Forgot about Egypt altogether, led his own life. Perhaps he could have been happy.’
‘Perhaps he preferred to die rather than forget Egypt. I know I would. As the son of Cleopatra, he was Egypt. How could he have lived apart from it?’
‘Despite your young age, you’re a sentimental old fool, Kaires. All right, we’ll do things your way. Let’s get the barge moving. Send Captain Nehesi to me on your way out, would you?’ Gallus leant forward and reached behind himself to plump up a cushion.
-0-
Kaires had to find Iola. On the way back Strabo and Chaeremon had caught up with them, after all, and Iola had left Kaires to it and run ahead to her mother. Kaires, finally having seen the light, had gone to report to Gallus as soon as he had got back to the barge, and had been with him for the best part of an hour. Now Iola seemed to have disappeared. He’d checked the room she shared with Myrine, the dining room, salons, and upper deck. No sign of her. Her mother, back at her embroidery on the top deck under the awning, thought she had gone down below somewhere. Despite her disapproval, she had not been able to stop Iola keeping friendly with the servants.
He couldn’t just leave things as they were. He had realised, sitting there on the banks of the Nile, talking about her desire to become a doctor, that he had behaved rather badly. Not really encouraging her because she was a woman. Despite recognising that she certainly had a genuine interest, he hadn’t really believed she was serious. And then the other thing – his gradual awareness that he was falling in love with her. It had been too much for him to take in. Thanks to Iola, he had had a sudden, blinding revelation of the problem that had been perplexing him for so long; and at the same time it dawned on him that he had lost his heart. She had been teasing him, and he had fallen for it. But in truth he really did want to take her in his arms and tell her. He was just terribly afraid that she would dissolve into laughter if he did.
He wanted to get out of the sun but the only shade was underneath the awning and he couldn’t face talking to Myrine. Not at the moment, not until he’d sorted things out in his own head and talked to Iola. He had enough to cope with already, without trying to work out if Myrine was already viewing him as a prospective son-in-law. They said mothers always knew before anyone else, and he couldn’t bear it if she disapproved. So he went downstairs, and sat in a corner of the salon, next to one of the windows on the shady side of
the barge, and gave himself up to equal measures of hope and misery.
He missed his sister Hotepet. She was the only woman he had ever really been able to talk to in any depth. He would have given anything to hear her balanced view on the turmoil inside his head, her calm advice, reassurance. Why did all this have to happen now? He should put it all out of his head until this whole business was over, when they were back in Alexandria, when things were in perspective, when he was back in his familiar and regular routine. Then he could see how Iola might fit in to that life. The opportunity of taking on an apprentice had often presented itself to him, especially from the sons of grateful parents with more money than sense, but he had always resisted. He worked much better on his own, and it was only in the past year or so that he had felt truly knowledgeable enough to teach. It was too much responsibility. And taking on Iola, when he might be – was falling – no, had fallen in love with her just might be more than he could cope with. And he had no idea how she felt about him. Somehow he must stop himself from making any advances that later he might regret.
Damn this distraction! There were other things he had to get straight in his head first. Like how on earth he was going to deal with this evening. After dinner, mid-river, once the heat had gone out of the sun. That’s what he had agreed with Gallus. But now he thought maybe it would have simply been better to get Gallus’s soldiers to make an arrest and worry about things afterwards. He thought he was sure in his mind who was responsible for all the deaths, but what if he was wrong? He would be made a laughing stock in the face of everyone – the Prefect, Strabo, the scholars, Myrine, even the crew, but most of all Iola. Iola, the woman he loved.
No longer able to sit still, he got up and walked around the salon. Feeling suddenly thirsty, he went out and found the deck steward, whom he asked for some water.
As he turned back to the salon, Iola must have come up the stairs from the crew’s quarters behind him. She had heard his request and was turning back down below again.
‘Don’t move. I’ll bring you some,’ she said.
-0-
Dexios was outraged. ‘What do you mean I can’t leave? I have just buried my brother.’ He was pacing up and down the saloon of Gallus’s suite, too worked up to sit down. Gallus, on the other hand, sat calmly in a chair by his desk.
‘You have more to gain by staying with us. Please don’t cause a fuss.’
‘Fuss? I –’
‘Think about it for a minute. We all grieve for your loss. But you never thought Thestor committed suicide, and now neither do we. How can you leave before the matter is at an end? What would you leave for? Your parents have sadly passed away. Thestor is your only brother. I am sending a messenger to Alexandria, and you are welcome to use him to communicate your sad news to anyone you desire. But you would gain nothing by leaving now yourself.’
Dexios paused, and considered the justice of this. ‘His affairs in Alexandria –’
‘Can be dealt with in due course. It is of greater importance that you see to the conclusion of his affairs here.’
Dexios slumped into a chair. ‘What has changed your mind about the circumstances of his death?’
‘Ah, now that I must leave to our good friend Dr. Kaires. I understand he intends to talk to us all after dinner tonight. But I would rather you kept that to yourself for the time being. We don’t want to put anyone on guard, do we?’
-0-
Up on the deck Myrine was talking to Prokles. ‘Is it just me, or is there something in the air? The crew seem particularly keen to get going, and I keep bumping into soldiers in every corridor,’ she said. There was a yell from the dock as one of the sailors threw a rope and his colleague failed to catch it.
‘Maybe Chaeremon has finally done away with Strabo. Or the other way around. It was bound to happen sooner or later.’
Myrine chuckled. ‘Maybe that’s it. I wonder if Iola knows anything. She’s become very mysterious of late. She spends all her time with Dr. Kaires. I think she’s rather fallen for him, and although I’m not sure he’s realised it yet, I think he’s rather fallen for her, too. If he’s prepared to take her without much of a dowry, it would be a good match, don’t you think?’
‘She could certainly do worse. If Aristeon doesn’t get him first.’
-0-
Further along the deck Aristeon and Haemon were watching the sailors. ‘We’ll soon be off. Dexios must be staying with us, then. I wondered if he’d leave. I’m not sure I would want to continue with the trip if I’d lost my brother. But I saw him downstairs a little while ago, so he must have decided it was best to carry on.’
‘I feel so sorry for him. I don’t know if I could stay, either. I mean – your brother a murderer, and the wife and daughter of one of his victims here on the barge. How could you face them?’
‘I’m sure neither of them blames Dexios. He isn’t responsible for his brother’s actions.’
‘I know, but all the same...’
-0-
Contrary to the speculations of Myrine and Prokles, a still very much alive Strabo and Chaeremon were in the dining room, helping themselves to some yoghurt and cucumber.
‘They simply can’t be as big as you say,’ Strabo was saying. ‘It would take hundreds of years to build something like that, even if we had the technological ability to do it, which we don’t.’
‘It was done in the reign of one Pharaoh, and they didn’t worry about whether or not they had the technology, they just did it.’
‘It’s absurd. I often find travellers’ tales are much exaggerated. The number of times I have travelled miles out of my way and then thought: I came all this way for that? You don’t know who to trust. Now I have seen the temple of Diana at Ephesus, and that really is big.’
Chaeremon narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. ‘I have seen the pyramids myself and I am not exaggerating!’
Strabo gave a contemptuous sniff. ‘Why can’t we see them from here, then?’ he asked. ‘Memory often plays tricks, and we remember things as bigger than they really are. I remember my room as a child seemed huge, but I went back not so long ago and couldn’t believe how tiny it actually was. How long ago did you see them?’
Chaeremon clenched his fists behind his back. ‘I see there is no point in discussing the point with someone so obstinately narrow minded. You will see for yourself soon enough, and I shall expect an apology. How you can consider yourself a geographer is quite beyond me.’
‘I should imagine many things are quite beyond you. The nature of being a successful geographer rather than an obscure nobody stuck away in the back rooms of a Museum is to constantly question the statements of others, which are often made with a childish attempt to impress, regardless of actual substance.’
Chaeremon stared at him, white to the lips. He stamped his foot on the deck. ‘How dare you? If you weren’t hiding behind your so-called friendship with the Prefect, I would make you regret those words. I am only happy that you will be forced to eat them when the true scale of the pyramids is revealed to you in a day or so.’
So saying he stormed off down to his cabin, leaving an astonished Strabo behind.
‘Dear me,’ he mused. ‘Some people are so sensitive...’
-0-
‘So that’s it? You know who killed my father? Why won’t you tell me?
Iola and Kaires sat side by side in the salon. A jug of water and two cups were on the table before them. At the last minute words had failed Kaires and he had only trusted himself to talk about the case. His emotions were still in turmoil and he wondered if Iola sensed anything.
‘I will tell you, of course. Tonight. Wait until then, and try for once to be quiet about it.’
‘If I’m the one who made things click, as you say, I think I deserve to be told now.’
‘Always impatient. If you are to be my apprentice, you will soon find out that you can’t know everything at once. There is a proper time for everything.’
Iola looked at Kaires, eyes wid
e.
‘What? You mean – I am to be your apprentice? You’ve decided?’
‘And Lesson One is: don’t question your teacher’s judgement.’
-0-
So here they all are, thought Kaires. Everyone associated with this whole business.
He had arranged the chairs in a circle on the top deck. Three remained vacant, grouped together at the prow, the focus of the circle. One for Zeno, a shadowy figure, hardly known to Kaires, yet the ultimate origin of all this death and evil, however innocent he was himself. One for Mantios, foolish but likeable Mantios, who had held his tongue for once, at the wrong moment. And one for Thestor, whose death could so easily have been avoided, the one Kaires found hardest to forgive.
To the left of Zeno’s empty chair sat Myrine, quiet and thoughtful, with Iola by her side. Even Iola’s natural energy and vitality were quietened, and she seemed unusually subdued. Next to her sat Dexios, face set, and by him, Prokles.
The Prefect sat to the right of the vacant chairs, accompanied by Strabo. Next along was Aristeon, with Haemon taking the chair beside him. Finally, Chaeremon completed the circle.
Kaires looked around at all the assembled faces, then stood behind the chair he had put out for Zeno, holding on to its back.
‘Three chairs, three murders,’ he said.
‘Don’t you mean two murders and a suicide?’ asked Haemon.
‘That is what we are meant to think. But Thestor’s death was not by his own hand.’
‘Would you care to elaborate?’ Haemon looked unconvinced, almost amused.
‘When the Prefect first asked me to look into the murder of Zeno at the Library, I thought it would be a simple affair. Passions can run surprisingly high in academic circles; an argument happens in which someone loses their temper, and the other their life. It has happened before, and regrettably, will probably happen again. But it didn’t take long to realise that that wasn’t what happened in this case.