The Book of the Dead

by Paul Davis

  ‘Firstly, there was the matter of a seal ring found by Zeno’s body. It had belonged to Caesarion; his cartouche was at its centre. The seal was unusual, in that it didn’t seem to represent anything; no gods or goddesses, no animals or plants, just a series of lines and shapes which didn’t seem to make any sense. It was gold, and valuable in itself, but not so valuable as to give a motive for murder.

  ‘Secondly, there was the disappearance of a papyrus from Zeno’s desk. Aristeon had seen Zeno earlier in the Atrium holding two Library scrolls. He had dropped one, but Aristeon didn’t get a good look at it. Zeno clearly didn’t want him to; he quickly picked it up again.

  ‘Zeno went to his room in the Garden Court, and was just settling in when Mantios called in for a word. The normally courteous Zeno seemed very irritable and shooed him out as quickly as he could, but not before Mantios had also seen the papyri. One written in hieratic, which later turned out to be a copy of Amenhotep’s Maxims, a common enough text; the other one, which Zeno seemed keen to hide, lay fully unrolled, and Mantios thought it to be some sort of map or architectural plan.

  ‘What could it have been? We know that Zeno was an archivist, and was currently engaged in cataloguing Royal records from the time of the last days of Cleopatra. It is a fair bet that this is where he had found this papyrus.

  ‘It is fairly well known that Cleopatra sent her son to India, as her last hope for the continuance of the Ptolemaic Dynasty. It is rumoured that she sent him away with a vast amount of gold, which has never been found. But consider. He was betrayed by his tutors and captured. He would never have had the time to hide it. What if, instead, the gold was already hidden before he left, ready for his return?

  ‘If that was the case, how could its location have been kept safe? Returning perhaps after many years abroad, how could Caesarion, a young boy when he had left Egypt, have been able to find it?

  ‘The obvious answer is a map of some kind. But maps can fall into the wrong hands, or be seized. So there had to be some way of ensuring it could only be understood by the right person. Or rather, the right person with the key to unlock it. And Zeno must have found some clue in the archives as to what that key was – the seal of Caesarion.’

  Kaires took out the scrap of papyrus on which he had made the imprint of the seal, and handed it to Myrine to pass around.

  ‘This is the central part of the map which Zeno found, taken from the ring. By itself it tells us nothing. But together with the rest of the map... well, then it’s a different story’

  He paused for a moment while everyone looked at the papyrus. No one was giving anything away. Interest, perplexity, even eagerness all registered in their looks, but Kaires, watching like a hawk, saw nothing else. No sign of recognition, no flicker of greed.

  ‘So what happened to the map? We know that after Mantios left, Zeno closed up his shutters and did not leave his room again alive.

  ‘Mantios could have hidden it about himself and taken it when he left. But he couldn’t have done so without Zeno’s knowledge, so that hardly makes sense.

  ‘When I revisited Zeno’s room I saw at once that something other than the map was missing from Zeno’s desk. And because of that I realised what must have happened.

  ‘Zeno was meant to have been working at his desk. The papyri were there, the remaining original and the two copies-in-progress; the ink, the styli, the sand. But there was nothing for him to sit on.

  ‘The chair which should have been at the desk was up against the back wall. It had been placed directly under one of the small ventilation windows just below the ceiling. Too high up to normally see out from, but anyone standing on the chair, if they were of average height, like Zeno, would have been at eye level with it.

  ‘Zeno needed Caesarion’s ring in order to make sense of the map. He had managed to find out where it was, but in order to get hold of it he had had to take someone else into his confidence and make some sort of bargain. The ring for the map, and then a sharing of the profits if it all worked out as expected. A bargain with someone he thought he could trust, but in the end a bargain which the other party had no intention of honouring.

  ‘After the recent spate of thefts of manuscripts from the Library security was tight. Every papyrus had to be signed out and back in again, and no scholar was allowed to take a papyrus out of the Library without it first being checked. Zeno’s solution was simple; he was dealing with uncatalogued material, so he could make an innocuous copy of almost anything and sign that back in, instead of the original. He had to make a copy of Amenhotep for Adonis, so he simply made two copies at the same time.

  ‘What happened next? At a pre-arranged signal he got up on his chair and looked through the window. The other person was there on the other side. A few old papyrus boxes had been left there, seemingly rubbish, but probably placed there by the murderer to provide something to stand on. Zeno demanded the ring first, and it was passed across. Then, keeping up his end of the bargain, he passed through the map. It was the only copy; Zeno didn’t want anyone else finding out about it. They had probably arranged to meet later that evening when Zeno could explain how he thought it all worked. Or so he thought. But the person on the other side called his attention, and he put his eye to the small window to see what the other wanted.

  ‘The windows are only two or three inches across, and the walls quite thick. But with a fine blade that is long enough, a quick thrust...

  Kaires paused again. Myrine had her hands to her face. Iola looked sick.

  ‘With the force of it Zeno fell back off his chair to the floor where he was found, against the opposite wall, dead instantly. In the passage outside, the killer rolled up the map and walked calmly away. Probably at that time not realising the real significance of the ring, which is why such efforts had to be made later on in order to get it back.

  ‘Now why did the killer simply not agree to the bargain? If it was true, there would be riches greater than either of them could ever spend. Unless there was another reason why the killer wanted Zeno dead...’

  Everyone quietly glanced at each other, looking uncomfortable, with the exception of Gallus and Strabo, who were clearly enjoying themselves. Kaires waited for someone to break the silence. After a moment or two, Chaeremon spoke, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  ‘No doubt you have the other reason? Perhaps you will share it with us?’

  Kaires looked straight at him. ‘There are several possibilities, Chaeremon. We could start with you.’

  ‘Me? Zeno and I were the best of friends. Always had a lot in common. We went back a long way.’

  ‘Which is why he thought he could trust you. But was he right to believe that? Friends, or rivals?’

  ‘If you mean did I want to become the next Director, I have told you repeatedly that I am simply not interested.’

  ‘Really? Well all right, let’s accept that for the time being. I’m more interested in another of your common pursuits, Assia Alexia.’

  Chaeremon reddened. ‘What nonsense is this? I – ‘

  ‘It is no secret – at least amongst your servants – that you are in serious financial difficulty. Assia Alexia is rich, and you are both unmarried. It does not take a great deal of imagination to realise her importance to you.’

  ‘That’s outrageous. My finances are my own private affair, and I refuse to discuss them with you. My relationship with Assia is also entirely personal and I see no reason why you should be besmirching her name in these circumstances. It is completely irrelevant.’

  ‘Until you realise that Zeno was also having an affair with her. If she was starting to transfer her affections from you to him, I imagine the consequences would be devastating for you.’

  Chaeremon spluttered and jumped to his feet. ‘This is slander! I must warn you – ‘

  ‘Sit down, you fool!’ hissed Strabo . ‘Everything he’s said so far sounds perfectly reasonable to me. Let the man continue.’

  Chaeremon looked at Strabo with sheer ha
tred and seemed on the point of a major explosion. Gallus gently made a gesture with his hand. ‘Sit down, Chaeremon. I suspect Kaires hasn’t finished yet.’ He nodded to Kaires to continue.

  ‘Thank you, Prefect. Yes, Chaeremon had good reason for wanting Zeno out of the way. And like everyone else in the court that day, he had the opportunity.’

  ‘Everyone?’ asked Aristeon. ‘You say the killer struck from outside, in the passageway. Both myself and Dexios stayed in the court until after the body was discovered.’

  ‘But you both left for a short while on separate occasions. It would only have taken a few minutes to have left the Museum, gone up the passage from the road and killed Zeno, and then slipped back in again. In fact you might have thought that by staying to the end, you would be less likely to be suspected.’

  ‘But surely you can’t think that either of us would actually do such a thing?’

  ‘Why not? You more than anyone had reason to hate Zeno. But you hid your feelings from him very successfully. Zeno may even have thought that a shared grief over his son, Eukles, had brought you closer together, not realising that in fact you blamed him for his son’s death. You did hate him, didn’t you?’

  At the mention of Eukles’s name Aristeon had frozen, and for a moment he made no reply. But his face confirmed the truth of what Kaires had said. Haemon reached over and put his hand on Aristeon’s shoulder, a touching gesture, but Aristeon shook it off. ‘Yes, it’s true. I did hate him. But never enough to kill him, or I would have done so openly, and without shame. I came to realise he acted out of stupidity, not malice. He was, essentially, a stupid man. No, I did not kill him.’

  Kaires let his words linger on the air for a while. ‘Then there’s Prokles,’ he said. Prokles, who had looked down for a moment in a sort of respect for Aristeon’s words, snapped his head back up.

  ‘Prokles, another old friend. I think maybe Zeno had too many old friends. He left the Library just after you on the day you had your accident, didn’t he? Was it his fault?’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ said Prokles.

  ‘Oh I think you do. Aristeon says Zeno was essentially a stupid man. I would rather say absent-minded, sometimes in a world of his own. Even in company the sort of person who would drift off into his own thoughts, maybe lose sight of the present for a moment. The sort of person who might easily have walked into someone who suddenly stopped just in front of him to let a horse-drawn cart pass. You thought you might have been pushed. When did it occur to you that it might well have been Zeno? Did you see him?’

  ‘That’s pure speculation. He was my friend. Even if what you said was true, I would never have considered it anything other than an accident.’

  ‘An accident that was Zeno’s fault. And left an otherwise healthy man crippled for life.’

  ‘That’s rather the point, isn’t it?’ said Haemon. Somehow I can’t see someone like Prokles clambering up on to rickety old boxes to kill someone, at least not without a person supporting him on either side. Or perhaps you think it was a joint effort?’

  ‘A good point, Haemon. And it seems there would have been no shortage of volunteers.’

  ‘Why am I beginning to sense that perhaps now it’s my turn?’ said Haemon. ‘I am intrigued to know why I would want Zeno dead. Please enlighten us.’

  Kaires stood. ‘Why don’t you tell us yourself? Or shall we ask Adonis once again – perhaps with more persuasive methods - who was behind the manuscript thefts from the Library?

  Haemon paled, and the smugness vanished from his face. The Prefect raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You can’t really think I had anything to do with that. It was students...’

  ‘Students who always seemed to know which ones to take, and where to take them to. Zeno found you out, didn’t he? Was he threatening to expose you? He’d already told Chaeremon, who was inclined to turn a blind eye for a small share of the profits. Perhaps he’d decided to tell the Director?’

  Haemon shrugged. ‘All right, he knew about it. But it had all stopped, and Adonis had made me pay back the small profits I had made and more to cover the gifts he had to make to the Library. It almost ruined me. Zeno thought I had been sufficiently punished. I certainly learned my lesson. Believe it or not, I bore him no ill will.’

  Kaires made no answer.

  ‘That leaves Dexios,’ said Strabo, rubbing his hands. ‘What about him?’

  ‘This is the day that he has buried his brother,’ snapped Chaeremon. ‘Have you no sense of shame?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Dexios. ‘I am keener than anyone that the truth should come out. Come, Kaires, I will take no offence. I am the next in line for the Directorship now that Zeno is no more. I suppose you could start with that?’

  ‘That is true,’ said Kaires, sitting down again in the third vacant chair. ‘And it is a good reason. And brotherly love is perhaps an even stronger one.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘From boyhood you always protected Thestor. You were closer than twins. I think you would have done anything to keep him out of trouble.’

  ‘I still don’t see where this is going,’ said Dexios.

  ‘What if Thestor had an idea that he could advance your chances by removing the chief obstacle? Did he talk to you about it?’

  ‘You go too far, Kaires. Are you suggesting that Thestor did kill Zeno, after all?’

  ‘Perhaps he only talked about it, half jokingly. Maybe he wasn’t serious, but it was enough to worry you. He might do something stupid and get caught. And perhaps it began to dawn on you that it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. And if Zeno then took you aside and explained about his discovery in the archives, the temptation proved too great.’

  ‘That simply isn’t true.’

  Chaeremon interrupted once again. ‘You’re forgetting that Thestor himself is dead. Either by his own hand or another’s. Are you suggesting that Dexios killed his own brother?’

  ‘No. But if Thestor realised that Dexios had killed Zeno, and had done so on his suggestion, I don’t think he could have lightly borne the responsibility. I think he was a good man. The suicide note... Dexios is sure it was written by Thestor.’

  ‘But you said earlier that you thought he was murdered too!’ said Prokles. ‘It can’t work both ways.’

  ‘Being driven to suicide is tantamount to murder.’

  ‘But you don’t really think that’s how it was, do you?’ said Dexios. ‘You’re just playing with us.’

  Kaires looked around the group, one by one. ‘I think the time has come to consider the murder of Mantios.’

  Kaires moved behind the second of the vacant chairs. He took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. No one spoke. He had everyone’s full attention; no one moved to interrupt him or break the silence.

  ‘Mantios, poor Mantios. Basically a good man, but one who was himself in financial difficulties. I don’t think he ever realised he was dealing with a murderer. He should never have given in to the temptation of some quick cash. But it is hard for me to judge him.’

  ‘You haven’t hesitated to judge all the rest of us,’ said Haemon.

  Kaires ignored him and carried on. ‘Nevertheless, he did give in to the temptation, and paid for his mistake with his life. Let’s think about what happened that night.

  ‘We had all boarded the barge earlier that day. As we did so, or shortly afterwards, we individually went to the Prefect’s suite to register our presence. Just a few words each, paying our respects, signing the log, then off to unpack. I immediately noticed, and so would anyone else who was looking out for it, that Caesarion’s seal ring was lying casually on Gallus’s desk, openly on display.’

  A low growling noise began to emanate from the direction of the Prefect.

  ‘Not that he is in any way to blame,’ said Kaires hurriedly. ‘No one could have suspected then that it was so important to the murderer.’

  The growling ceased.

  ‘The m
urderer realised that if the ring was to be regained, it would have to be that night. Everyone would be tired out after a busy day, and it was likely to be the best chance they would get. The ring could be packed away at any time. A risk, certainly, but one well worth taking. So they waited for everyone to retire to bed and the barge to fall into silence.

  ‘The murderer was doubtless aware that Gallus’s door would be well guarded, so it would be impossible to enter from that direction. It was unlikely, however, that there would be a guard on the private rear deck, from which a door led directly to the saloon.

  ‘It is easy enough to climb down from the stern of the top deck to the one outside Gallus’s suite. The difficulty arises in trying to get back up again. When I looked at the wooden balusters the next morning, there was fresh splintering around the base of one of them, as if something had been hooked around it. It was almost certainly where the murderer left a rope dangling down in order to help the climb up again.

  ‘So the murderer, having arranged the return route, climbed down to the private rear deck, let themselves in to the saloon, and took the ring, presumably without too much difficulty. Then they climbed back up to the top deck again, with the aid of the previously secured rope.

  ‘I wonder who was more surprised, the murderer, seeing Mantios on deck making observations of the stars, or Mantios, seeing someone he knew disappearing over the balustrade and then reappearing a few moments later from the lower deck.

  ‘We can imagine the conversation. Mantios would want to have known what this person had been up too. Caught red handed, the murderer no doubt came up with a story admitting to nothing worse than a little pilfering. For a fee, Mantios agreed to remain silent, and they probably arranged to discuss the matter the next day.

  ‘The murderer would have known that they didn’t have much time. When the story got out about the loss of Caesarion’s ring, and its link to Zeno’s death, Mantios might start putting two and two together, and that had to be prevented at all costs. So Mantios had to die.