Athena's Son (20 page)

In addition, the high priest commanded his own small contingent of guards, the same ones Archimedes was introduced to when he first arrived in Alexandria. Ptolemy was being prudent in choosing enough soldiers to let Ptahhotep know his presence was expected at the palace, but at the same time a small enough force to minimize any undue escalation of violence. The six Greek soldiers wore bronze panoply similar to Ajax, except for the scarlet cape and, of course, the size.

The two Medjay were under orders to escort Princess Berenike everywhere until the lighthouse murderer was caught. Medjay were traditionally Nubians from south of Egypt, but over the years more Egyptians joined the ranks, and now the Medjay of Pharaoh Ptolemy were almost all Egyptian. Their panoply consisted of a simple kilt and linen headdress, a wicker shield, and a sickle-shaped sword called a
khopesh
.

After Berenike shared her news, Archimedes shared his adventures from last night. While Berenike was delighted in finally discovering that Roxanne was Alexander’s murderer, she was more interested in how Romulus and Remus hinted that their two murder mysteries were related. “This gives us the chance to work even closer together, Archimedes! After they take away Ptahhotep, we’ll solve the lighthouse murders even quicker.” The sparkle from her honey-colored sapphire necklace mimicked the twinkle in her eyes.

“
I’d like that,” Archimedes said. He reached over and held her hand. It was ironic, he thought, that a simple Greek schoolboy could fall in love with an Egyptian princess because of a series of appalling murders. What would happen to them after the murders were solved? Would Berenike still be interested in him if there wasn’t some thrilling adventure connecting their lives?

Archimedes hazarded a quick glance over his left shoulder to the alley where he was threatened by the thug last night. Obviously, the man would not be standing there waiting for him. But he harbored a small hope that he would recognize the man on the street and could alert the captain to have the thug arrested.

The captain held up his hand and halted his squad in front of the temple. The dust cloud they created was carried past them by a warm breeze. The Greek soldiers clomped up the steps, followed by Archimedes, Berenike, and her two Medjay guards. A few worshippers on the steps gave them disdainful looks before parting to let them pass.

The breeze became noticeably cooler when Archimedes entered the shadowed hallway. He couldn’t imagine how hot the Egyptian sun must feel like for the Greek soldiers and their layers of bronze. The captain halted his squad again while his eyes adjusted to the shadows and he tried to determine where a high priest might reside.

The inside of the temple looked similar to Ptolemy’s palace, except there were much more colorful hieroglyphs painted on the walls and columns. The armed group continued forward and passed between two looming statues of the god Horus, whose image was also carved on the back wall.

Screams suddenly broke the peaceful environment as a shrieking woman dashed out from the back of the temple toward the soldiers. She was dressed in white and must have been one of the temple servants.

“
Grab her and shut her up!” the captain ordered. A soldier took several steps out of the rank and caught her by the arm as she breathlessly cried to them in Egyptian.

“
She says he’s dead,” Berenike translated. “There’s blood and he’s dead.”

The captain and soldiers trotted to the back of the temple where the woman was pointing, their shields and hobnailed sandals clanging and echoing among the columns. As they neared the back entrance, the captain slowed. He pulled his xiphos from the scabbard and led the men stealthily into the back room of the temple. The Medjay had respectfully pushed Berenike tight between them as they also pulled their
khopesh out from the scabbards.

When Archimedes entered, the soldiers were gathered around a body lying on the floor. Flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows around the captain as he knelt beside the body and the glistening blood pooled around its head. The rank smell of death permeated the room and reminded Archimedes of Herophilos’ autopsy room. Berenike walked up to Archimedes and clutched onto his arm with both hands and leaned her head against his shoulder.

The captain tilted the face toward Archimedes. “Is this the priest Ptahhotep?”

Archimedes could not pull his eyes from the crimson slash across the slender, white neck. “No. It is his scribe, Ipuwer.”

“
Whoever did this knows how to cut a throat,” the captain said as he callously dropped Ipuwer’s head against the stone floor. He tipped his helmet back and took a deep breath. “His death was quick. There wouldn’t have been any thrashing and screaming from this one. It’s hard to get a clean, deep cut through the throat and muscles without some practice.”

“
Please, let’s go outside Archimedes,” Berenike whispered. “I want to get in the fresh air and away from this miserable place.” Her warm breath brushed his ear. He put his hand to her cool forehead. Berenike was strong willed, but this was the first death she ever witnessed.

Outside, she still held his arm tightly as they sat on the front steps of the temple. The two Medjay kept a respectable, but safe, distance. “Why Ipuwer?” she asked Archimedes. He could feel her trembling slightly. “I thought we would see Ptahhotep lying back there.”

“
I did too,” Archimedes said. “Poor Ipuwer must have known or seen something and cutting his throat kept his mouth closed forever.”

“
Researching murders from 50 years ago seemed thrilling,” Berenike murmured. “It was exciting to think about the plotting and killing. I was removed from the brutality of it. But actually seeing a dead man makes me realize that death is never thrilling; it is only sad and wasteful.”

Archimedes knew the murder was committed very recently because the blood hadn’t dried and very few flies were buzzing around the corpse. But he thought it would be inappropriate to discuss the science of it at this moment. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. “You’re right, Berenike. All death is tragic. But the captain said he didn’t suffer. Ipuwer is at peace with his gods right now.”

At that moment a small street waif came bounding up the steps toward Archimedes and Berenike. The young boy stopped and looked them over as if he had to make sure they were worthy to meet a grimy urchin with a stained, torn kilt. He judged them suitable, wiped his nose and asked in Egyptian, “Are you Archimedes?”

Berenike answered in Egyptian, “He is. But who are you?”

“
Not your skinny boyfriend. Here!” The boy threw a rolled up note at Archimedes that bounced off his knee and landed on the steps. The boy dashed down the steps and was glancing back to smile impishly when he was smacked in the face with Berenike’s sandal.

Archimedes picked up the piece of papyrus at his feet and opened it. Berenike sat down after retrieving her sandal while he read it to her. “It is from Farrokh. ‘Come to my stall in the market, quickly. I know who the lighthouse murderer is and why he is killing the workers.’ ”

Chapter 26

It was an unruly current of elbows, shoulders, baskets and bundles, and they were swimming against it. It seemed that everyone in the marketplace was heading in the opposite direction Archimedes and Berenike wanted to go.

The market was always a hectic place, but visiting in the morning, with thousands of people shopping for the best choices of merchandise, was near anarchy.

The two Medjay guards plowed through the sea of people like a Greek trireme toward the back of the marketplace where Farrokh conducted business. One Medjay was in front pushing people out of the way, while the other stayed in back to keep the princess from getting trampled.

While it was the same marketplace he toured earlier with Callimachus, there were countless new sights, sounds, and smells. To his left was a group of dancing women, but they seemed younger than the troupe he watched before. A man missing a leg sat on a stool and was selling cheap pottery that was a poor imitation of more expensive Greek pottery. A young woman was showing people exotic birds that flaunted rainbows of feathers and large, curved beaks. The birds were perched on a thick branch and stayed there, Archimedes noted, because their wings were clipped. But it was the smells that caught his attention because his stomach was now reminding him that he skipped breakfast.

Archimedes slowed as he approached a cart selling dried fish, similar to the tilapia he ate with Callimachus. Berenike grabbed his sleeve as he walked toward the fish stall. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“
I’m hungry. I was going to buy some of those dried fish.” He pointed his free arm toward the stall.

Berenike looked toward the stall and laughed. “Dried fish? You’d be running for the bushes as soon as you ate those dog scraps. They’re not dried—they’re old. He’s trying to get rid of the garbage he didn’t sell this week.”

She bobbed her head around people as she inspected the different stalls and then tugged his sleeve in the other direction. “Here, this will make a good breakfast.” She pulled him toward a wooden stall where an old woman had a copper kettle and palm leaves. “This is hummus. It’s made from ground chickpeas.”

Berenike ordered one and paid the old woman with a copper coin. The woman smiled to reveal one tooth and hundreds of well-earned wrinkles. She handed Archimedes a thick palm frond with a mound of tan, oily hummus on top. “You just dig in with your fingers,” she demonstrated, “and eat on the run.”

The silent Medjay perspired patiently until Berenike was ready to move on, and the two resumed their stations in front and back, indiscriminately shoving people out of the way. Archimedes hastily stuffed gobs of hummus into his mouth because the mob constantly bumped into his arm, splattering much of the hummus on his tunic.

“
How do you think Farrokh found out about the murderer?” Berenike turned to ask and saw he was busy trying to get the last of the hummus into his mouth. “Oh, here, let me help you.” She gave him a look of disgust. “You look like a beggar with all that hummus spilled on your clothing.” She shook her head and produced a delicate linen handkerchief from her robe. Like Berenike, it carried a scent of myrrh.

“
The only thing I can think of,” Archimedes said, licking his fingers, “is what Farrokh told me on the ship. Gossip is traded as much as copper coins in the marketplace of Alexandria. He must have heard some people talking about the murders and sent me the note.”

Berenike continued scouring him as best she could. “You’d think he would have made a visit to the palace if he has information as important as this,” she said and then casually handed the soiled handkerchief to a young mother trudging past with two small children in tow.

The mother was surprised at the sudden gift and gave a curt nod of thanks before slogging through the crowd. “Oh, there’s still some on your cheek.” Berenike leaned in and gave Archimedes a quick peck on his cheek, causing it to blush. “There, now you’re clean, little beggar.”

Archimedes wanted to return the kiss, but with the two Medjay he decided now was not the best time. “Let’s see, I think Farrokh’s stall is on the other side of the marketplace. He likes the far end of the market because he can conduct business better when customers can take their time and are not being jostled away by the mass of people.”

They continued lurching through the labyrinth of people and Archimedes took Berenike’s hand in his. No one would see that, he thought. The first Medjay slowed as he ran into an impenetrable horde of onlookers who seemed to be cursing and cheering at the same time. Archimedes could not see what the attraction was, but he noticed the first Medjay lean over and talk with Berenike.

“
The guard said it is a game of chance, a gambling table,” Berenike said, indicating with her head the general direction of the game. “It’s popular because very few people win and the crowds enjoy watching the misery of others. The Medjay will steer a course around it.”

“
Wait, Berenike,” Archimedes said, holding tight to her hand and pulling her back. “I’d like to see what kind of game entices people to keep playing and losing.”

Berenike gave Archimedes a questioning look, then turned and shouted to the first Medjay, pointing toward the table. The guard gave a serious look toward the mob, nodded, and plowed into the hub of the melee.

The attraction was a simple wooden table with two men behind it. The man running the booth was thin and quick. In front of him were three copper cups turned upside down. The thin man would place a small dried pea under one of the cups. The person betting would place their bet and then the thin man would quickly move the cups around while the bettor tried keeping track of the cup with the pea under it.

The other man behind the booth was large and served as the enforcer, keeping a wary eye on the crowd. The two men were a contrast in looks and manners. Whereas the thin man smiled easily, his arms darting in circles while mixing up the cups, the heavy man folded his brawny arms and had a constant grimace etched in his sullen face. His job was to keep losing customers from claiming they were cheated.

It appeared to Archimedes that all the people seemed to be on the losing side. Many disgusted people were complaining about losing their obols, debens, and shekels. One older Hebrew woman was furious, having lost a good egg-laying chicken to the men. The chicken was in a wooden crate behind the table, squawking nearly as loud as the old woman.