“But why a ring from Croton?” Julia asked.
“This business is full of little anomalies. But I doubt that it’s a coincidence. There are no coincidences in a conspiracy.”
“That sounds like a quote from Euripides,” Callista said.
“I don’t cadge from Greek playwrights,” I told her. “What do you know about this man Aristobulus other than what you’ve already told us?”
“Virtually nothing. He’s quite obscure. He never taught at the Museum, or in the other schools of Alexandria, or I would have heard about it. I could make inquiries in the Greek community here.”
“No, please, there’s no time for that. I’ll talk with Asklepiodes. He travels all over Italy with Statilius’s troupe, and he loves to hobnob with the scholarly crowd wherever he goes. If he’s been to Croton he may know Aristobulus.”
“Excellent idea,” Julia said. “Why don’t you go along and do just that so that we can work on this code.”
I can take a hint.
I FOUND ASKLEPIODES IN THE KITCHEN of the Statilian school. Supervising the diet of the gladiators was one of his duties. Satisfied that all was in order, he led me to his spacious surgery, a room so draped with weapons that it looked more like a Temple of Mars than a medical facility.
“More bodies to examine?” he asked me.
“Not this time. Do your travels ever take you to Croton?”
“Usually once each year. The city and its district are Greek, so there is not as much demand for gladiators as in Rome and Campania, but the city authorities sponsor a modest show each fall. What is your interest in Croton?”
“In your travels there, did you ever meet a mathematician named Aristobulus?”
His face, usually so maddeningly serene, showed genuine surprise. “Why, yes. Whenever I am in Croton, I attend the weekly dinner and symposium of the Greek Philosophical Club. Croton has a small but distinguished community of scholars, as you might expect of the home of Pythagoras. He was always there until—well, Croton is all the way down in Bruttium. How is it that you are investigating his case?”
Now it was my turn to look astonished. “His case? What do you mean?”
“He was murdered earlier this year. You mean you aren’t investigating? Since you always seem to be around wherever there is a murder, I supposed—”
“Murdered? I first heard of the man less than an hour ago, in connection with the case in which I am embroiled, and now you tell me he was murdered! How—”
Asklepiodes held up a hand for silence. “Let’s not confuse one another further.” He pointed to the chairs that flanked a table by a window. “Have a seat.” He clapped his hands and one of his silent Egyptians appeared. He said something incomprehensible to the man, then took the chair opposite mine. “I’ve sent him for some wine. My very best wine because I know you speak most easily with proper lubrication.”
“That is thoughtful of you, old friend.” I am sure I had that hammered look again. I do not object to things moving fast, but they shouldn’t move in so many directions. The wine came and it was, indeed, excellent.
While I sipped I looked out the window, which overlooked the training yard. About a hundred men were practicing noisily with sword and shield, some paired in the traditional way with a lightly armored man bearing a big shield fighting another who carried a small shield but wore more protective armor. But many were Gauls plying their national weapons: a long, narrow, oval shield and a long sword, with no armor at all except for a simple, pot-shaped helmet. Such men were appearing in the arenas in ever-greater numbers. It was easier to let them fight as they were accustomed to than to try to teach them to fight like civilized swordsmen.
As I pondered this sight and tried to calculate odds for the next big munera, I told Asklepiodes of the latest twists in my case. He listened with rapt attention and when I finished, he clapped his hands and chuckled as if he’d attended the cleverest comedy ever written by Aristophanes.
“I rejoice that someone is getting some amusement from my plight,” I said, with perhaps too much heat for one drinking my host’s excellent wine.
“But this is so splendid!” Asklepiodes said, not at all abashed. “Over the years you have investigated hundreds of murders”—a gross exaggeration, but he was a Greek—“and I have aided you in many of these. But this is the first to involve scholarship, mathematics, a cipher—it is all just wonderful! Now, let me tell you what I know.”
“Please do.” I helped myself to some more of his speech lubrication.
“Aristobulus—he didn’t call himself ‘of Croton’ at home since they are all from Croton there—”