“That is understood.”
“Aristobulus was a small man, advancing in years but not in fortune. He wore rather shabby clothes, but he tried to pretend that this was a virtue, as philosophers so often do. He was not argumentative, neither was he talkative. Rather, he was aloof, as if the company were unworthy of him. But I learned that he never passed up one of these weekly dinners, which were not paid for by subscription from the members of the club but by the testaments of wealthy members in times past.”
“I never knew a philosopher to turn down a free meal,” I said, nodding.
“Anyway, when the time came for the symposium after dinner, Aristobulus drank his share and more, and he grew more talkative. This often consisted of boasting about his discoveries in the mathematical field. He had some rather radical ideas, as the learned lady has tried, without success, to explain to you.”
“I never claimed to understand mathematics. When I had charge of the Treasury I had slaves and freedmen for that, fortunately.”
“He was never mocked by the rest of the company, but he was regarded with, shall we say, a healthy scepticism,” Asklepeodes commented. “The last time I attended that gathering but one was the last time I saw him alive—he was better-dressed.” He paused and took a sip, waiting for my reaction. Asklepiodes always did that.
“Well? What did this signify?” I was never good at restraining my impatience.
“He did not precisely boast, but he hinted heavily that he had acquired a patron, a highly placed person who understood the importance of his work. His clothes were not gaudy, you understand. He adhered to the principles of philosophical simplicity. But they were new and of excellent quality. And, for the first time since I had known him, he wore jewelry: a ring.” That maddening pause again.
“Ring! What sort of ring? Quit stalling!”
“There was a massive seal ring on the index finger of his right hand. Eumolpus the Cynic, a rather acerbic gentleman as you might gather from his appellation, took note of this new adornment and made comment that it contrasted oddly with Aristobulus’s customary, not to say flaunted, austerity. Aristobulus replied that it was a gift from his patron, that he used it as a seal on all his correspondence with this mysterious benefactor, and that he must wear it as a symbol of their mutual pledge.”
“Did you get a good look? Can you describe it?”
“As it occurs, Aristobulus reclined to my immediate left during that banquet, and I was able to examine the ring closely. It was of massive gold and had an exotic, finely granulated surface. It was set with a handsome sapphire. I have spent much of my life in Egypt, and I know Egyptian stone when I see it. It was carved intaglio with a gorgoneion.”
This was more than I had expected. “Did he say anything else? Anything that might identify his patron or the business they had together?”
“Nothing definite,” Asklepiodes said. “And you must remember that I was not giving this matter any special attention. I was far more involved with my more congenial friends. I do remember that he hinted his patron was a powerful Roman, not a Greek, and that the man was interested in ‘the truly important things,’ by which I presume he meant the arcane field of mathematics that consumed him.”
“If so,” I said, “he was flattering himself. Philosophers are prone to do that in my experience. His patron was interested in one thing only: an unbreakable cipher he could use to keep secret his doings and those of his coconspirators. Aristobulus’s absurd ‘symbol for nothing’ was used for no greater purpose than separating the words in a text. He might as well have simply left a space between the words.”
“That might have made the code easier to break,” Asklepiodes pointed out. “As it is, a mind less penetrating than Callista’s might never have divined the implication. Then the code would have been truly incomprehensible.”
“I suppose so. Anyway, how did the man come to be murdered?”
“When I accompanied the troupe to Croton two months ago, I attended the club dinner as usual. Aristobulus had never been my favorite among that company so it was only after the dinner and well into the drinking bout that I noticed he was not there. I asked where he might be, and the others said he had been murdered and were surprised that I had not known about it. Apparently the killing gained some degree of notoriety in the southern part of the peninsula.
“In any case, it seems that Aristobulus had left on a rather sudden trip to Baiae—”
“Baiae!” I cried triumphantly.
“Yes, I thought that would get your attention.”