Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile (9 page)

How might I get inside, or get Axiothea to come outside to see me? Should I pretend to be a relative, desperate to see her? She might resent such a ruse, or worse, her patron might resent it. “Unless it’s unavoidable,” my father had taught me, “one should not lie outright to powerful people. They don’t like it.”

Might I simply bang on the door, wait for the peephole to open, and then tell whoever answered the plain truth—that I was Gordianus of Rome and that I wanted to speak to the actress Axiothea, whom I thought to be residing inside the house? “Sometimes the most straightforward approach is the best,” my father had taught me. But the impregnability of the house made me wary, and the warnings of the two eunuchs raised my guard. To simply ask for what I wanted seemed too easy.

Eventually I screwed up my courage, approached the door, and knocked, using a large iron ring that also served as a handle. A moment later the peephole slid open and a dark face peered out at me. It was one of the litter bearers I had seen in the square.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked, speaking Greek with a heavy, unfamiliar accent.

“My name is Gordianus—”

“A Roman?” The name always gave me away.

“Yes. I want to see Axiothea.”

“Who?”

“The mime troupe actress called Axiothea. I think she’s in this house, and—”

“Do you have business with the master?”

“No. I only want to see—”

“Does the master know you?”

I took a breath. “No. But—”

“Then go away!”

The peephole slammed shut.

“Can you at least tell me if Axiothea is here?” I shouted. “Do you know the woman I’m talking about?” I lifted the iron ring and banged it against the door.

“Move on!” said a stern voice above me.

I looked up to see a guard on the rooftop peering down at me.

“Move on, before I make you move on.” He brandished a spear.

I moved on.

*   *   *

From a safe distance, I kept watch on the house. Perhaps I would see Axiothea coming or going, and have a chance to speak to her, away from the house and the watchful, wary eyes of her patron’s servants.

For hours I watched. People came and went—slaves delivering packages, wealthy-looking Egyptian merchants, even a few Roman businessmen in togas—but I did not see Axiothea.

At last, one of the doors opened and a little boy stepped out, no older than seven or eight. Could it be the messenger boy I had heard about, the one who fetched Axiothea at the market? He certainly had the look of a slave on a mission as he headed across the street with a quick, steady gait, his shoulders back and his head held high, exhibiting a confidence that belied his years and lowly station.

I followed him.

Once we were a few blocks from the house, and I was sure that no one was following, I overtook him and stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

He put his hands on his hips and stared up at me. “Who are you?”

In no mood to have yet another Egyptian identify me as a Roman before I could even finish introducing myself, I kept my mouth shut and stared down at him.

“Two can play at that game,” he said, crossing his arms and staring back at me. If I had thought he would be easily intimidated, I was to be disappointed. “Perhaps you don’t know who
I
am,” he said. “I am Djet, the slave of—”

“I know who your owner is. A man called Tafhapy.”

“That’s right. And you, stranger, are blocking my way. Do you really want to interfere with the business of a slave who’s carrying a message for Tafhapy? Think carefully, Roman.” (I’d hardly said a word, and still he detected my accent!)

“Precocious little bastard, isn’t he?” I muttered. Djet wrinkled his brow and frowned, unable to follow the Latin I spoke to myself. I resumed speaking in Greek. “Listen, little man, I’ll let you pass if you’ll tell me something.”

“You’ll let me pass, period.”

This was not going to be easy. I considered my options. I was certainly capable of overpowering him, but did I really want to harm or even threaten a possession of a man like Tafhapy? Probably not. Perhaps the little fellow could be bribed.

“Listen,” I said, “I’ll bet you have a sweet tooth. What do you say we go to that baker’s shop down the street and—”

“Are you trying to bribe me, Roman?”

“Well…”

“The last messenger boy from the house of Tafhapy who accepted a bribe was soundly lashed, hung upside down for three days, and then fed to a crocodile. If you think you can bribe me, Roman, you’re wasting your time. Now get out of my way.”

I sighed. “Djet, I just want to ask you a simple question. Is there a woman in your master’s house called—”

“The last messenger boy from the house of Tafhapy who answered questions posed by a stranger was also soundly lashed, hung upside down—”

“Yes, I understand.” I took a deep breath. I leaned over him and lowered my face to his, until we were eye to eye. “What if I simply say the name … Axiothea?”

He blinked. A faint, almost indiscernible tremor of recognition disturbed his rigid demeanor.

“Aha! Then you
do
know her,” I said.

“I never said that! You’re trying to trick me!” In the blink of an eye, he was no longer the immovable servant of his master, but merely a little boy.

“Is Axiothea in the house right now?”

Djet tried to make his face a blank, but his cheeks grew red and his lips twitched.

“Aha! The answer is yes—Axiothea
is
in the house.”

“I never said that!” he cried. “You’re trying to get me into trouble, and I won’t have it!”

“You may speak like a man, Djet, but you have the will of a boy. You can control your words, but you can’t control your thoughts, which are plain to read upon your face. You have years to go before you can maintain a blank expression. Some men never learn to do it.”

“This isn’t fair! I’m doing everything I can to be true to my master, and still you’re finding out the things you want to know. If the master discovers—”

“But he never will, Djet. I promise you that. Now tell me how I might get Axiothea to come out of the house to talk to me—or, if she can’t leave the house, how a lowly Roman like myself might get inside.”

“Call yourself Gordianus and live on the top floor of a tenement in Rhakotis!” he blurted out, then clapped his hands over his mouth.

I was nearly as taken aback as he was. “What did you say?”

He kept his hands over his mouth and shook his head.

“How do you know the name Gordianus? How do you know where Gordianus lives?”

He made no answer.

I felt a chill. What sort of coincidence was this? What could it mean?

“Let me guess, Djet. You’ve been sent by your master to fetch this Gordianus. Am I right?”

He shook his head, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Well, you needn’t go all the way to Rhakotis to find him. Here I am.”

Djet slowly uncovered his mouth and stared up at me, wariness replacing his chagrin. “You? You’re the Roman called Gordianus? I don’t believe you.”

“Take me to your master and let him be the judge.”

“If you’re not Gordianus … if you’re just some other Roman, trying to get me into trouble … or looking to get this Gordianus into trouble … or thinking you can fool my master … I warn you—”

“Let me guess: I will be soundly lashed, hung upside down for three days, and fed to the crocodiles.”

“At the very least!”

I stood upright, pulled my shoulders back, and took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose you know
why
your master wants to see me?”

He narrowed his eyes. I could see that he was no longer quite sure what to make of me. “I have no idea.” His face and voice betrayed no signs of lying.

“How were you to convince me to come with you? A little boy shows up at my door and says I must come to see his master, a man I might never have heard of—why would I do that? Were you to offer me money?”

“No.”

“Deliver a threat?”

“No.”

“How, then?”

“I was to say a name. An odd name, neither Egyptian nor Greek, nor Roman, I think. A woman’s name.…”

I drew a sharp breath. “Bethesda?”

“Yes, that’s it.” He scrutinized me for a long moment, perceiving that all my defenses were down. “You really are Gordianus, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

He nodded, accepting my word.

“Lead me to Tafhapy,” I said.

VIII

As we stepped through the doorway and into the courtyard beyond, I knew this was the house of the man who had come to watch the mime show in the elegant litter, for the conveyance in question rested on large wooden blocks against one wall of the courtyard.

There might be two such litters in Alexandria, with lotus-column poles and a yellow canopy, but surely there were not two such sets of bearers. The Nubian giants sat beside the litter in a patch of sunshine, playing a game with dice. A couple of them looked up as we passed, giving me a curious glance before they smiled and waved to Djet.

I had never been in such a large and lavishly decorated house. Even the finest houses I had visited on my journey to see the Seven Wonders, such as that of Posidonius in Rhodes, seemed modest in comparison. I followed Djet through one room after another, all filled with sumptuous rugs, fine furniture, beautiful paintings, and marvelous pieces of sculpture. At last we arrived in another courtyard, this one planted with a lush garden of flowers and citrus trees. A pathway paved with colorful mosaics led to a shady spot where a man of middle years sat in a chair made of ebony inlaid with bits of ivory and turquoise.

The man’s head was shaved, but his barber had neglected to trim his bushy black eyebrows, which bristled like the legs of a tarantula. Despite this striking feature, he was not a bad-looking man; nor was he as old as I had expected, though he still looked old enough to be Axiothea’s father. He was dressed in an elaborately embroidered linen gown and elegant leather sandals, wearing a bejeweled ring on every finger and many necklaces of silver and gold. In all my travels I had never met a man as ostentatious as Tafhapy.

A scribe with writing tools sat cross-legged on the mosaic floor beside him—a beautiful young man wearing nothing but a loincloth, I noticed. At least two bodyguards watched us from the shaded recesses of the garden. Facing Tafhapy were two vacant ebony chairs, not quite as grand as the one in which he sat.

My host gave me an appraising look, then turned his gaze to Djet. “That was quick,” he said. “Too quick. You can’t possibly have gone all the way to Rhakotis and back in the time since I dispatched you.”

“It was a sign from the gods, Master,” said Djet. “I ran into the very man you wanted, only a few blocks from the house.”

“Did you indeed?” Tafhapy raised a bristling eyebrow, then looked at me sidelong. “My doorkeeper tells me a Roman came calling earlier today. I suppose that was you, Gordianus—if you
are
Gordianus?”

“Yes, Tafhapy. That was me who called on you. And I am Gordianus.”

“How curious. You desire to see me, and I to see you. Perhaps the gods indeed intend for us to meet.”

“The will of the gods is manifest in all that transpires,” I said, having learned in my travels that this sort of comment was appropriate for almost any occasion, and usually appreciated by those to whom the gods had shown special favor.

Tafhapy merely nodded. He told Djet to go sit in the shade of a lemon tree at the far side of the garden, and indicated with a gesture that I should sit in one of the vacant chairs. Though the afternoon was warm, he offered me no refreshment. For a long time he merely looked at me. Unlike Djet, he was skilled at banishing all expression from his face. I had no idea what he was thinking.

At last, without taking his gaze from me, he extended one hand toward the scribe. The young man placed a rolled-up piece of papyrus in his hand.

“Do you read Greek?” said Tafhapy.

“Even better than I speak it.”

Tafhapy snorted derisively but held out the papyrus, indicating that I should take it.

“Read it aloud,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “‘To the esteemed Tafhapy, blessed many times over by Serapis, greetings. We have taken into our care the girl called…’” I drew a sharp breath but strove to keep all emotion from my voice. “‘… called Axiothea. She will not be harmed. But you will not see her again until we receive from you a gift commensurate with the greatness of your affection for her. Leave a black pebble in the fountain of the seven baboons to show that you have received this message. Then we shall send further instructions.’”

I looked up. “The message is unsigned.”

“What do you make of it?” said Tafhapy.

What indeed? If it was Axiothea who had been kidnapped, was it Bethesda who had been seen going off with the little boy? And was the boy who had been seen in fact Djet, and if so—was Bethesda here in the house of Tafhapy? My heart pounded in my chest.

Until I knew more, I was not yet ready to reveal to Tafhapy my reason for coming, or my acquaintance with Axiothea. To play for time, I held up the letter and examined it more closely. I took a deep breath. “The papyrus and the ink are of low quality. The Greek letters are competently made, but not elegant; this wasn’t written by a scribe, taking dictation. But the writer is an educated man, as can be deduced by the fact that the message contains no grammatical errors or misspellings, or at least none that I can see. Indeed, the style of address is rather elevated.”

Tafhapy smiled faintly. “You are an observant young man. Observe this as well.” He took a second piece of papyrus from the scribe and handed it to me.

This specimen was smaller, and the message shorter. I read aloud: “‘No black stone in the fountain. Did you not receive our previous message? Axiothea misses you. Place a black stone in the fountain if you wish to see her again.’”

Tafhapy nodded. “What do you make of these two messages, Gordianus?”

“The girl Axiothea was kidnapped. She’s being held for ransom. And yet…”

“Go on.”

“They asked for a sign, which you haven’t given them. Do you intend to pay them, or not?”