Turning to the former Western Favorite standing nearby still fumbling for signs of spoiling on his boots and toga, the biographer raised a single questioning eyebrow.
Commodus replied simply, if dismissively.
“It is precisely as Arrian says, no less, no more.”
Chastened, Suetonius lurched into fresh, deeper waters of exploration.
“Senator Commodus, would it be presumptuous to infer that the death of Antinous may be a welcome contribution to the progress of the career of an Adoptee Designate?” he proposed, daringly risking Hadrian’s ire in the process. “Especially as no love was lost between you and the dead youth, we’re told? Could this be construed as a motive for pursuing the boy’s destruction?”
Commodus sighed with weary disinterest and then raised sufficient energy to bat the accusation aside effortlessly in the derisive manner of his class.
“Antinous, good Inspector, was my benefactor’s greatest joy. Despite my onetime jealousy of the young man’s influence upon Caesar, I am not one to deny others their deserved happiness. Especially my Caesar. And definitely not by murder! Gold would probably be adequate encouragement to achieve those ends, I’d guess. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Tranquillus. You’ll have to search elsewhere for your murderer.”
“Yet you are known to have once attacked that unarmed youth at sword point at Athens? You inflicted a wound on the fellow’s face! Is Caesar aware of this assault, Senator?”
Commodus sighed tiredly and straightened a fold in his toga.
“That was many years ago. I was suitably chastised by Caesar some months later. But my impetuous nature has moderated over time. I do not harass Caesar’s companions these days. Instead, I revel in his pleasure. His joy is my joy.
I am known for many petty foibles, Inspector, but murdering Caesar’s chosen companion is not one of them. Besides, you have my alibi for the night in question, I was fully engaged with witnesses of probity throughout. You need not fish in my direction, Tranquillus. Am I such a fool I would jeopardize my future in such an unprepossessing venture?”
Clarus and Suetonius glanced sheepishly to each other. This line of enquiry was leading nowhere. Suetonius changed tack. It was now his palms which were sweating. It was time to return to the Egyptians.
“Priest Pachrates, you yourself have been identified by the two fishermen Ani and Hetu to be the man who was sailing the river at very earliest light when the body was discovered. Ani and Hetu described your temple’s felucca with its identifying blazons and your temple colors. We possess a record of their words identifying these insignia.”
The Egyptian wizard looked pained by this accusation. He drew himself to his full height.
“But that’s not possible, Inspector. Not only am I never upon the river so early in my sacramental day, our sole river vessel is out of commission. It lies at dock awaiting repair. It was damaged a month ago in a river collision. We do not possess a river-worthy felucca at this time. So we hire other people’s craft to travel.”
“Allow me to read the relevant testimony,” Suetonius responded. “Strabon, locate the transcript and read!”
The scribe declaimed the words loudly for all to hear.
“… The fisherman Ani speaks:- ‘We know all the fishermen and ferrymen at Besa and Shmun. We know their boats, their trade, and their daily habits. They’re our neighbors, we know everyone well. Even though it was some distance away, we could see it was a different sort of boat to ours and of a different people. It was a strong wooden felucca of quality, well made and costly, not a boat of bundled rushes.
Inspector Suetonius speaks:- ‘And who would own such a boat at Besa or Hermopolis?’
Ani replies:- ‘I did not know either the boat or the two rowers. It could have been a new boat from Shmun we had not seen before, but I would still know the rowers. Perhaps it was a boat sailed by priests from upstream for The Isia, or a boat belonging to Pharaoh’s people’.
Suetonius speaks again:- ‘Did the boat have any identifying features? Would you recognize it again?’
Ani:- ‘Yes, it was painted the color of the sky and possessed the ever-watching Eye of Horus at the prow. Its sail had no insignia.”
Whispers rippled the assembly. Suetonius looked questioningly at the priest.
Pachrates spoke with a gleam in his eyes.
“The field of sky-blue and the Eye of Horus are indeed our markings on the hull of our damaged boat from Memphis. Yet you say its sail had no insignia?
Great Caesar and Special Inspector, listen to me; the single craft we possess here at Besa, which has been out-of-commission awaiting repair for the past month, indeed possesses a sail. It is stored at this very temple for security from common theft. It’s a sail emblazoned with the major emblem of our deity, the Ram’s Head of Ammon. If the felucca had been our vessel, all three tokens of the Old Religion would have been visible to your fishermen, the colors, the Eye, and the Horns of Ammon. The vessel you describe simply is not ours.”
Silence fell across the chamber. Surisca tugged at Suetonius’s sleeve and raised a finger to speak. Clarus sharply waved an impatient dismissal.
“We’re in the company of your betters, woman,” he hissed. Suetonius nodded approval nevertheless. She whispered into her hirer’s ear.
“May I ask, master, who translated the fisherman’s words for you? I was not present at that time, and I doubt any fisherman among the population speaks Greek, let alone Latin.”
The biographer blushed in recognition, knowing full well who the available translator had been.
“Strabon,” he whispered, turning evasively to the scribe, “who was our translator?” Strabon nodded towards the detachment of troops standing at attention across the sanctuary.
“It was Centurion Quintus Urbicus of the Alexandrian Praetorians, yonder,” he whispered.
Surisca’s query shifted the enquiry’s terms swiftly.
“It is possible, Caesar, that we can test this translation,” Suetonius advanced. “I wish to call upon the testimony of a layman worker in our company here today. He is named Hetu, a fisherman. Hetu, come here!”
He waved to the clutch of six Egyptian workers hovering beyond the assembly with their cleaning materials, sponges, and brushes.
“Hetu the menial?! Hetu the serf?! Hetu the fisherman?!” Pachrates wailed.
Strabon, who had spied the man earlier, moved forward and waved at the quaking figure hiding behind other workers, peeping out hoping not to be seen. Strabon called him to the front of the assembly by his name.
“Hetu!”
The workman reluctantly shambled forward, his eyes darting about at the weapons, uniforms, and fine fabrics around him, as well as the temple guards’ assegais glinting beneath the brazier flicker. He was ushered into the presence of the awesome notables of Rome and fell to his knees from sheer fright.
“Surisca, do you have sufficient command of the local dialect to translate for us?” Suetonius asked. “We should not leave it to the kind priests of Amun or the efficient Alexandrian guardsmen to interpret for us, don’t you think?”
The Syri nodded affirmation.
“Firstly, we must ask him how he came to be here at the Temple of Amun. We were certain he’d been killed by renegades. Ask him for his explanation.”
Surisca turned to the trembling worker and spoke patiently and calmly in the fellow’s own language. Hetu listened intently. His surprise at being spoken to in his own tongue by such a high ranking lady of quality was evident on his features. He responded in halting bursts of his native speech. Surisca turned to Suetonius to offer her translation.
“He says he fled his attackers after witnessing the killing of his cousin Ani, and escaped here to take sanctuary at the temple. The priests here are customers of his fish and fowl, and pay too for laboring chores, so they know him well. He intends staying hidden from attack at the temple until Pharaoh’s Soldiers have departed on their journeys.”
“I see,” Suetonius said.
“He suspects his attackers were Pharaoh’s Soldiers does he? Now ask him a simple question:- tell us about the vessel seen upon the Nile at earliest light on the day of his discovery of the water demon, Antinous. Ask him to describe it just as he and Ani described it to us two days ago.”
Surisca began to speak to Hetu in a slowly-enunciated articulation of his tongue. His body responded sharply in fear at the mention of Ani’s name. On hearing-out Surisca’s query, and after a few moment’s recollection, he replied in the sharp monosyllabic bursts of his native dialect. Surisca translated carefully to the assembly.
“The vessel was a dhow of fine timbers, a costly lateen-rigged craft from a foreign place.
It’s hull was the bright color of the spring crocus, a vivid yellow, and its sail was painted with the many-pointed starburst of the Old Pharaohs.
It was large enough to carry six sailors, though only two were travelling that dawn.
They were having trouble controlling the vessel in the brisk morning breezes. They were amateurs not familiar with the Holy River’s whims.
He and Ani were too far away to recognize by their faces, but they were known to be foreigners because of their clothing ….”
Suetonius looked to Pachrates and Kenamun for their confirmation of the translation. The two nodded acceptance.
He looked towards Urbicus. The centurion was standing-at-ease pointedly averting his eyes. A rustle of whispers swept across the assembly.
“Its sail was emblazoned with the many-pointed starburst of the Old Pharaohs,” Suetonius repeated. “This is surely the eight-pointed star of Alexandria and its dynasty of the Ptolemies. This is the Alexandrine insignia of Rome’s Legate Governor. The boat was from the fleet of river craft sailing with The Alexandros, the flotilla of Alexandrian vessels following in the governor’s wake.”
Governor Titianus immediately cast his eyes over members of his retinue around him. He looked to Urbicus and other officers of his auxiliaries. His glance fell upon Anna Perenna, who stood motionless by his side. He was seeking some acknowledgement of the use of his vessel two dawns previously. No one responded.
He spoke.
“Only two of our craft carry the Governor’s star insignia, the others are indicated by their respective corps blazons. Tell us, what more do your investigations reveal, Special Inspector?” the Governor asked, intrigued.
“Hetu thought of the vessel’s sailors to be ‘foreigners because of their clothing,” Suetonius emphasized. “Who could these foreigners have been, we wonder? To Hetu, of course, anyone not residing at Besa is a foreigner.”
Governor Titianus spoke again.
“My chamberlain retains records of those who go to-&-fro from The Alexandros including, I hope, our service craft. I will order an immediate search of the records,” Titianus declared, “but it takes time.”
“This might not be necessary, Lord Governor,” Clarus intervened enigmatically. “We have taken certain precautions which make a search unnecessary.”
Suetonius interrupted the notion.
“Perhaps firstly, though, we should ask Centurion Quintus Urbicus how he managed to be so close to the place where Ani and Hetu uncovered the body at such an early hour two dawns ago? Is the centurion a regular sojourner at the river’s edge so early in the day? Does he take the air with his fellow soldiers at first light?”
He turned to Urbicus at the head of the Alexandrian troop just yards to the side of Titianus. All eyes fell upon the guardsman. Urbicus cleared his throat.
“Special Inspector, I and my men had been on a drunken spree throughout the night, and we were returning to our tents in the early hours to revive. It was the first day of The Isia, so our previous night’s celebration had been very festive, sir. We probably overdid the festivity a bit, I’d say. There was much wine, women, and pleasure to be had.”
“Where precisely, Centurion, did this festivity occur?”
Urbicus hesitated momentarily.
“We had been at the guardsmen’s party attached to Caesar’s own personal celebration that night. It was at a courtyard close to the Imperial Household’s tents,” the Praetorian regaled happily. “It was a good party. A hundred officers and ranks from various corps mixing together at Caesar’s behest. The wine and local beer flowed abundantly. Soldiers know how to enjoy themselves!”
“How long did this jolly event prevail, Centurion?”
“Why, it had begun in the late afternoon I’m told, but we arrived at dusk. We stayed until the very end in the wee hours, almost dawn. Soldiers’ celebrations always survive until the booze runs out or everybody’s rotten drunk. Or they’ve taken a woman or lad for their pleasure.”
“So, you were the entire night at the Household’s tents enjoying this trooper’s party? From dusk until before dawn?” Suetonius probed. “That’s a long night’s partying?”
“True, Special Inspector. We’re members of the Guard after all. We have our hell-raiser reputation to uphold.”
The assembly chuckled with uncertain enthusiasm.
“Tell me, Centurion Urbicus, do you have a witness? Is there anyone here who can vouchsafe your drunken revel that night?”
Urbicus looked blinkingly around the assembly. His sight settled on Decurion Scorilo at the head of the Horse Guard brigade colorfully garbed in their Germanic ethnic uniforms.
“My friend and colleague Decurion Scorilo of Caesar’s special Horse Guard can vouch for me, Inspector. He was there too. Ask him yourself.”
Suetonius cast a questioning eye towards Scorilo, who responded haltingly in his Germanic-accented Latin.
“Yes, sir. We both enjoyed Caesar’s party for the troops that night, sir.”
“So you too, Decurion, partied into the night as well? Also until dawn?”
“Of course. That’s what soldier’s drinking bouts are for.”
Suetonius turned to Salvius Julianus’s group of lictors and grooms. Beside them was the jetty clerk of The Alexandros he had brought with him.
“Officer of the Watch,” he called to the clerk, “you register traffic to and from The Alexandros, yes?”
The uniformed Alexandrian was prodded forward gently by Julianus to respond.
“I do, noble sir,” he stammered.
“Tell us who you are, identify your unit, and describe your duties,” the biographer said.
“Sir, I am Danaos, born at Tanis of the Nile Delta marshes. I am of mixed Greek and native descent. I am a tesserarius of the Alexandrian Auxilia. I supervise and roster the sentries of the Watch. During this imperial river tour I am the shore clerk at the jetty to The Alexandros, the Governor’s barque offshore. I and my staff monitor and record all movement to and from that vessel.”
“Do you read and write, Tesserarius Danaos of Tanis?”
“I read some Greek and some Latin, sir, with a little more in the local Demotic. I have not mastered the art of writing well. I can maintain records but not express myself.”
“My fine scribe Strabon has acquired the traffic records of the past few days at The Alexandros. He has in his possession the record of the day and night, and the following days too, of two evenings ago. This is believed to be the time of Antinous’s death,” Suetonius announced for all to hear. “I want you, Tesserarius Danaos, to tell us if the record for the first evening is written in your hand?”
Strabon untied the ribbon bindings of the papyrus sheets and took the papers to Danaos to inspect.
“Indeed, sir,” the clerk confirmed, “this first sheet is my own writing. I was the attending registrar that night. The next morning’s sheet is written by one of my subordinates.”
“Tell us, Danaos, had there been any unusual traffic that afternoon or evening?”
“Not especially that I recall, other than the Governor’s group departing for an overnight celebration at Caesar’s quarters. The traffic was of familiar faces at The Alexandros. The only unusual visitor was a guest of the Governor’s consort, Anna Perenna, who arrived with a letter of authority
from her. He arrived at dusk.”
Titianus glanced slowly around at his consort at his side, whose eyes were firmly planted ahead of her. The ashen powdered face was unresponsive.
“Did the visitor have a name, Danaos?” Suetonius asked.
“The young noble’s name and a note on his authority are inscribed on the sheet, sir. His face was not known to me. I had no recollection of a previous visit.”
“Will you read your ascription of his name to us, Tesserarius,” the Special Inspector asked. Strabon offered Danaos the sheet to read. Danaos cast his eye over the sheet.
“The letter of authority, an invitation written and sealed in the hand of Lady Perenna, introduced him as Lysias of Bithynia. It said he was attached to the contubernium of the Imperial Household, and was invited to a professional consultation with Lady Perenna. My notation confirms this to be so.”
Thais and Lysias, standing not far from Suetonius’s group, tensed in astonishment. Lysias grasped Thais’s hand urgently, his features expressing utter astonishment. Hadrian’s sight fell enquiringly across the couple in deep foreboding.
“How would you describe Lysias of Bithynia to us, Tesserarius? How tall was he? How was he dressed? What company attended him? And so on? Would you recognize him if you met him again?” Suetonius asked, his eyes narrowing to interpret the clerk’s features. “Is he here among us now, for example?”
He knew full well Lysias stood close nearby accompanying Thais.
“Why yes, great lord, the fellow is with us here as we speak. I recognized him the moment I arrived. He is even wearing the same uniform of his visit at The Alexandros,” Danaos burbled with helpful enthusiasm.
“Uniform? A uniform?” Suetonius called, turning towards Lysias who was garbed in the regular chiton tunic and mantle of a Greek civilian, not his hunting cuirass, helmet, and weapons.
“Yes, sir. There. Over there,” the tesserarius burbled, pointing across the chamber.
The entire assembly turned their heads in unison in the direction of his gesture.
“On the bier. The body. The dead person. That’s Lysias of Bithynia!” he declared with confidence.
The Hadrian Enigma - A Forbidden History Page 49