‘He just wanted to possess them. He wanted them close to him. They cover all subjects, Falco - he cannot have been reading them. It seems Nibytas just crazily removed scrolls, as and when he could.’

‘Theon suspected he might be doing this?’

‘We all feared so, but were never sure. We never caught him at it. We never thought it could be on such a scale . . .’

‘Nibytas had reached the agenda of the Academic Board, though.’

‘Is that so?’

‘This very week.’ For a long time, probably, but Philetus ducked out of discussing the sensitive issue.

‘There was always uncertainty about how we could tackle the old man. We never managed to witness him taking a scroll. He must have been very clever.’

‘It seems he had years of practice!’ chortled Aulus.

‘Was he ever confronted at all?’ I asked.

‘Theon had a word once. He got nowhere. Nibytas denied it and got very upset at being challenged.’

‘So who brought it to the attention of the Academic Board?’ Pastous thought. ‘I think that must have been Theon.’ The Academic Board were shrinking from it, under Philetus’ strong leadership, but Nibytas would not have known that. If he believed the game was up, he must have been in turmoil. He would have been facing not just the penalty for theft, but public and academic disgrace. I guessed the biggest threat to him would be that of being debarred from the Great Library. Where would he go? How would he survive without the financial support of the Museion and the stimulus he found in his fanatical work? His life’s study would have been terminated, doomed to remain unfinished. His future existence would have held little meaning.

One thing was clear. That threat would have provided Nibytas with a motive for killing Theon.

XXXVI

Aulus and I went home. The old man’s sad life and death depressed Aulus, especially as he was still brooding about his friend so much. First I took him to a congenial bath house I had discovered near my uncle’s house. We were early, so it was fairly quiet. A noisy group of stall-holders arrived almost the same time as us; you learn to hang back and let such a crowd go ahead. They did not linger; they were cleaning up after a day’s work and were eager for home - or, for the ones who had to moonlight for financial survival, their next job.

We sat for a long time in the steam room. Aulus was working through his unhappiness. I was content to be left alone to think.

I was not surprised when eventually Aulus took up an almost oratorical posture: ‘Marcus Didius, I am trying to decide whether to say something.’

‘My normal rule in such circumstances is: don’t speak out.’ I allowed a slow beat. ’Though unless you say what you are on about, now you’ll drive me mad.’

‘Heras.’

‘I thought it might be.’

Being Aulus, once he decided to broach it, he went ahead doggedly. ‘I knew that he was going to the zoo.’ He screwed up his face. ’Actually, I knew he had an assignation. Heras was not there by coincidence. He had told me in advance, he was meeting Roxana.’

“They cannot have known I would be there with that boy” . . .That had slipped out under stress. Roxana would deny any prior association with Heras if we tackled her.

Thoughtfully, I drew a breath. Aulus scooped up cold water and let it trickle down his chest. I rubbed my eyes, massaging my forehead with my fingers. ‘So Heras fancied her. What did he tell you?’

‘He had a heavy crush.’

‘You warned him off?’

‘I had never seen the woman. I didn’t even know Heras himself all that well.’

‘But you could see the potential for trouble? A student trying to take up with a senior academic’s floozy? At the very least, Roxana was going to dump him hard, and sooner rather than later.’

Aulus smiled drily. He understood. He stood on the brink of greater maturity than Heras had possessed, though close enough to appreciate his friend’s innocent hopes. ’I thought he was in for a let-down. I never imagined she would even show up . . .’ I had taught Aulus something then. ‘Heras said Roxana had always ignored him, but that day he had met her earlier and she had seemed restless; Heras tried his luck; she led him on. He begged to see her. She promised to meet him at the zoo.’

‘Seems amazing. I’ve seen her, Aulus. This is a pert, rich widow, in her middle thirties, courted by all sorts of eminent professors.’

‘I agree. Heras, poor fool, believed she had suddenly found him attractive. I thought,’ said Aulus glumly, ‘she must have had a row with Philadelphion.’

‘Then you are my kind of cynic ... So choosing the zoo for a secret liaison could have been a sweet act of revenge?’

I hated this kind of affair. Roxana saw Heras as a boy - and the selfish madam was about to make him a boy with a broken heart. Deliberate cruelty. Why did she need to do that?

‘Heras was aware she wanted to make Philadelphion jealous. She made no secret of that.’

‘What? Did she intend Philadelphion to come across them in each other’s arms, while he was doing his nightly rounds?’

‘Heras just thought his luck was in, so he didn’t ask. He was so happy he didn’t care.’

I remembered how solicitous Philadelphion had been to Roxana when he came upon the scene. I bet he took charge of her so firmly that night so he could get her away from other people and ensure she told the story he wanted. Until now, I had been imagining he was afraid of awkward questions about the lapse of security at Sobek’s compound. But his solicitations could have been more personal. Why was Roxana so annoyed with him in the first place?

‘There’s a lesson, my boy,’ I told the downcast Camillus Aelianus. ‘Stay away from fancy women.’

‘Like you do, Falco?’

‘Absolutely.’

All the same, when we went to Uncle Fulvius’ house, I left him to talk to Albia while I bounded up the stairs to the roof, all too eager to see my fancy woman.

Late afternoon was verging on early evening. Across the bay, the Pharos was still hidden in the mist. The day’s heat was just beginning to alleviate up here; it would be a wonderful night to eat out of doors with my family. Helena was relaxing in the shade. Favonia, our solemn, private one, was asleep alongside, pushing against her mother like a small dog, while Julia, our imaginative spirit, was playing quietly by herself, some long absorbing game that involved flowers, pebbles and intense conversations in her secret language. I ruffled her hair; Julia scowled at the interruption, half unaware she had done so but also half conscious that this was the father she tolerated. Father, the source of treats, tickles, stories and excursions; Father, who would kiss bruises better and mend broken dolls. Father, who in a few years could be blamed, cursed, despised for fuddy-duddyness, hated for meanness, criticised and quarrelled with, then nonetheless called upon to get her out of scrapes, pickles and the inevitable love disaster with the lying wine waiter . . .

Helena Justina raised a hand vaguely. Helena was doing what she liked most, apart from private times with me. She was reading a scroll. It might be from her luggage; she could have been out and bought it. Or, since she got through so many, it was just as likely she had borrowed this one from a library in Alexandria. She looked up, saw me dreaming sentimentally, then escaped back hurriedly into the scroll.

I sat nearby, content to be among my own, not disturbing them.

XXXVII

Mammius and Cotius came to see me next morning. Being soldiers, they had been up and about since dawn. They made sure they arrived while we were eating. They had already been fed at their barracks, but I knew the rules. I let them sit down for a second breakfast. Uncle Fulvius was never at ease with the military, so he escaped with Cassius. Pa stuck it out annoyingly. He had a way of listening in on private conversations that made my bile rise.