Read The Temple of the Muses Online
Authors: John Maddox Roberts
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical
The Temple of the Muses (22 page)
Every time I looked back over my shoulder, the mob was getting bigger. News of the enormity I had committed flew faster than I would have credited possible. They were calling not just for my death but for the death of all Romans. But they wanted to start with me.
It seemed ridiculous to me to be rent asunder by a rampaging mob for killing a cat. But to have this happen over a cat-slaying of which I was entirely innocent was beyond endurance. I had little love for the slinky beasts, but it never would have occurred to me to slaughter one.
I was out of the Rakhotis as if I wore the winged sandals of Mercury, but I was far from safe. The mob rampaged into the Greek quarter and picked up strength even there. There are Egyptians in all the quarters of Alexandria, and there are always people in any city who will jump at any chance to join a riot. I had done it myself, when the riot was in a good cause.
I ran by the Macedonian barracks, screaming, “Riot! Riot! Turn out the troops! The city is aflame!” The soldiers on parade looked bewildered, but officers barked orders and the drums began to beat and the trumpets to bray.
I looked behind me to see the soldiers boil out of the gates and collide with the following mob. Many got through, and they continued to pursue me. I tried to turn up a street that led northward, toward the Palace, but members of the mob had got there ahead of me and cut me off. That was more of Ataxas’s doing. Why hadn’t I killed the fiend when I had him at my mercy?
There was nothing for it but to continue fleeing east, all the way to the delta if need be. I was gasping heavily by this time, bringing up phlegm with every wheeze. I began to see men in long robes wearing pointed caps and their hair loose about their shoulders. That meant I was in the Jewish quarter. These were the traditional Jews, for most of the Jews of Alexandria were dressed and
barbered like Greeks, and many of them spoke no language except Greek.
barbered like Greeks, and many of them spoke no language except Greek.
With a final burst of speed I got far ahead of the cat-avengers and darted down an alley. It was intersected by another alley and I took that one. This was refreshing, almost like Rome. I pounded on a door.
“Let me in!” I begged.
“What is it?” The voice came from overhead. It belonged to a man with thin features, dressed in a red-and-white robe. His eyes had a slightly fanatic gleam.
“The Egyptians are after me!” I said.
“I don’t like Egyptians,” the man remarked. “They kept my people in bondage for many generations.”
“Then you’ll save me from them! They think I killed a cat!”
“The Egyptians are uncircumcised idolaters,” he said. “They worship animals and animal-headed gods.” That was certainly true, although I had no idea what the state of their penises had to do with anything.
“The Macedonians went out to suppress the riot,” I said, “but some got through and they’re after me. Let me in!”
“I don’t like the Macedonians either,” he said. “King Antiochus Epiphanes killed our priests and befouled the Holy of Holies!”
I was growing impatient.
“Listen. I am a Senator of Rome, attached to the diplomatic mission. Rome will reward you richly if you will just let me in!”
“And I don’t like Romans!” he screamed. “Your General Pompey stormed the Temple Mount and violated our Holy of Holies and seized the Temple treasury!” I had to run into one who held a grudge. Somebody rugged at my shoulder and I turned to see a man in Greek dress.
“Come with me,” he said urgently. “They are no more than a street away.” I followed him down the alley and through a low doorway. The room we entered was modest, with spare furnishings. “Amos is the wrong man to ask for aid,” he said. “He’s half cracked. My name is Simeon son of Simeon.”
“Decius son of Decius,” I said. “Pleased to meet you.” My breathing grew a bit less ragged. “This is all too complicated to explain, but it’s all part of a plot to turn the Egyptians against Rome. I have to get to the Palace, but I can’t until the streets are safe.”
“I will go out now,” Simeon said. “I’ll spread the word that you were seen heading out the Canopic Gate and past the Hippodrome. We don’t want that mob in our quarter.”
“A very sensible attitude,” I told him. “Let me rest here and regain my wind. Then perhaps I can borrow some clothes from you. You will be well rewarded.”
He shrugged. “There is no sense thinking of rewards while your life is still in danger. Worry about that later.” With that he left.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, I had nothing to do. So I went up the stairs and found an upper room much like the lower one. No sign of a wife or children. Another stair led to the roof, so I went up to it. I kept well back from the parapet as I listened. The sounds of the mob and the clank of arms seemed to come from all directions. In any other city, a riot of this magnitude would have featured plumes of smoke as building after building caught fire until a full-scale conflagration was in progress. Usually, the fires kill far more than the rioters.
Not in Alexandria, the fireproof city. I could follow the progress of major segments of the mob up and down the streets, just by the sounds they made. They did seem to be dwindling toward the Canopic Gate. Then I heard soldiers heading that way. After a couple of hours, the whole cacophony came back toward me, then dwindled to the west. Apparently the soldiers had lined up across all the streets shield-to-shield and were driving the rioters all the way back to the Rakhotis.
I wondered what would happen in this city if anyone ever killed
two
cats.
two
cats.
It was well past noon when the city seemed to be at peace again. This did not mean that I was out of danger. Even without
rioting mobs, Achillas was out there somewhere. I heard sounds from below.
rioting mobs, Achillas was out there somewhere. I heard sounds from below.
“Roman? Senator Decius? Are you up there?”
“Simeon?” I said. “Is all clear in the streets?”
He came out onto the roof. “The mob was driven back. Heavy squads of soldiers patrol the streets, but it was bloody. Once a mob turns on one sort of foreigner, it soon turns on all foreigners. We’ve been here as long as Alexandria has existed, but the Egyptians still regard us as foreigners.”
“They lack the enlightened Roman attitude toward citizenship,” I told him. “And now, I must get to the Palace. Can you lend me some clothes?”
“Easily enough, but no adult male Jew goes clean-shaven, nor do we cut our hair as short as yours. Let me see what I can find.”
We went down into his house, and he rummaged through his chests until he came up with a very coarse cloak and one of those Egyptian head-scarves that follow the shape of the wig.
“These belonged to a slave I freed after his seven years,” Simeon remarked. “Let’s see what you look like in them.”
“Seven years?” I asked as I donned the itchy cloak and the ridiculous scarf.
“My religion forbids chattel slavery,” he said. “We allow bond servitude for seven years only; then the servant must be given his freedom.”
“We could use a custom like that,” I said. “It would probably spare us no end of trouble. Never get the Senate to accept it, though.”
He lent me a bag of coarse sacking to conceal the scroll, and I felt as disguised as I could, under the circumstances. It occurred to me that the streets would be full of Achillas’s men, who would undoubtedly have orders to deliver me to the Palace in small pieces.
“What is the most direct way to get to the sea from here?” I asked.
“If you walk from here to the city wall and turn north along it, you will reach the Fishermen’s Gate.”
“I think that is my best course, rather than back through the city Farewell, Simeon. You may look for tangible evidence of my gratitude soon.”
“Just do what you can to put a stop to the anti-foreign hysteria, Senator. This used to be such a wonderful city.”
I stepped from the front door and found the alley empty. A very few steps brought me to an east-west street and I turned east. The district was all but deserted, the inhabitants huddling behind bolted doors. That suited me admirably. I reached the city wall without incident and found an especially heavy guard patrolling along its crest, their eyes scanning the city for signs of disturbance. Following the wall north brought me to a small gate. It stood open for the day, and nobody along my route had so much as a glance to spare for another slave carrying another load on his shoulder.
On the other side of the gate I found a paved embankment from which several small stone jetties protruded into the shallow, greenish water. Most of the fishing boats were out for the day, but a few night-fishermen sat on the jetties repairing their nets. They were native Egyptians and I approached them warily.
“I need boat transport into the Great Harbor,” I told an industrious-looking pair who sat near a well-maintained boat. “I will pay you well.”
They eyed me curiously. “How could you pay anything?” asked one without hostility. He spoke passable Greek. I took out a purse and let them hear the clink. That decided them. They folded their net and placed it in the boat, and in minutes we were rowing up along the peninsula of Cape Lochias.
With a little talk, I learned that they were not true Alexandrians; rather, they lived in the little fishing village that stood on the water just to the east of the city wall. They had no interest in the disturbances of Alexandria save as those affected the fish-market. That being the case, I removed my scarf and cloak. It was all one to them. They probably wouldn’t have known a Roman from an Arab.
We passed beneath the fort of the Acrolochias, then rounded
the point, passing between it and the nearest of the little islands that stood off the cape, each bearing its tiny shrine to Poseidon. The Pharos was a great smoking pillar to our right as we came back down the cape. The fishermen began to pull for the docks, but I stopped them.
the point, passing between it and the nearest of the little islands that stood off the cape, each bearing its tiny shrine to Poseidon. The Pharos was a great smoking pillar to our right as we came back down the cape. The fishermen began to pull for the docks, but I stopped them.
“Put me in there,” I said, pointing to the strait between the base of Cape Lochias and the Antirrhodos Island.
“But that is the royal harbor,” said one. “We will be executed if we go in there.”
“I am a Roman Senator and a part of the Roman diplomatic mission,” I said grandly. “You will not be punished.”
“I don’t believe you,” said the other.
I drew my sword, crusted with black blood. “Then
I
will kill you!” They pulled for the royal harbor.
I
will kill you!” They pulled for the royal harbor.
Only a couple of guards in gilded armor decorated the royal pier. They shuffled down to where the boat pulled up and made indignant noises as I was paying my boatmen.
“I am Senator Decius Caecilius Metellus of the Roman embassy!” I shouted to them. “Lay hands on me at your mortal peril. I must see King Ptolemy at once!”
“We can’t let you in and we can’t leave our post, Senator,” said one. “We’ll have to pass word for the Captain of the Watch.”
One of Achillas’s men, no doubt. “Why?” I said, scanning the harbor like a slave in a comedy. “I see no enemy fleet rounding the Pharos. Let me by.”
“Sorry, sir. It’s our standing orders.”
“You are behaving like fools,” I insisted.
“Would you let Roman soldiers get away with neglect of duty, Senator?” said the younger of the two. He had a point.
“Can’t leave your post, eh?” I said.
“Sorry, sir no,” said the elder.
“Then you can’t chase me.” I dashed between them and sprinted for the Palace. As they hollered for more guards behind me, I thought that I must take up this running business seriously. This was my third hard run of the day. My prolonged relaxation in
Simeon’s house had taken its toll, though. My legs had grown stiff and sore. My motions were wobbly, like one just ashore after a long, rough sea voyage.
Simeon’s house had taken its toll, though. My legs had grown stiff and sore. My motions were wobbly, like one just ashore after a long, rough sea voyage.
I ran past the royal menagerie, where the lions and other predators set up a roaring and yowling. Anything running meant food to them. Slaves jumped from my path, alarmed at this wild-eyed apparition with his mysterious burden. Then I saw the stair leading to the throne room before me. Ptolemy would be somewhere near, and I vowed a goat to Bacchus if he would just be sober.
I charged up the stairs and came to a halt as the guards closed rank before me, their spears leveled, but with the inevitable look of uncertainty worn by soldiers everywhere when confronted by an unexpected situation.
“Senator Metellus of the Roman embassy demands audience with King Ptolemy!” I shouted. They muttered and shuffled; then someone came through the shadowed portico behind them. But it was not Ptolemy. It was Achillas.
“Seize that madman,” he said coolly. “And bring him inside.”
Ah, well. It had been worth a try. Luckily for me, even parade armor is heavy. I kept a few steps ahead of the clattering guardsmen all the way to the Roman embassy. If the servants and hangers-on had scattered before me on my way to the throne room, they were doubly swift to do so with all that pointed and sharp-edged steel bearing down upon me.
Then I was in sight of the Roman embassy. But it was not the placid scene I had grown used to. The steps were crowded with men dressed in togas and women in Roman dress and even children, the boys in purple-bordered togas. More to the point, in front of them stood a line of grim soldiers, their spears leveled outward. I was certain I was doomed until I recognized the shape of the big old-fashioned, oval Samnite shields. These were Roman soldiers, not legionaries but marines.
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