The Princess and the Pirates(52)
“I will sacrifice to Zeus, imploring him to speed the blessed day.” I thought I detected a trace of irony in his smile.
Before leaving I thanked him profusely and bought a handful of frankincense, compounded with myrrh and benzoin, a very potent blend, to toss onto the funeral pyre of Silvanus.
Back at the home of the late governor, I found the statuary draped in black so that the sculptured figures could join in the mourning for their former owner. In Rome the figures of Silvanus’s ancestors in the atrium would be thus draped, but here in a foreign place this expedient had to serve. The wailing was less extravagant, probably because the slaves were getting hoarse. Hermes spotted me and ran up.
“Any word from the harbor?” I asked him.
“No, praise all the gods. Maybe we’ll have a reprieve.” He looked around sourly. “Not that this place is a great joy to inhabit. Why don’t we take lodgings somewhere else for a while?”
“No, just now I am exactly where I want to be. Where are Photinus and that Egyptian delegation?”
“I saw him in the garden awhile ago. What do you want him for?”
I walked past him. “Suddenly Egypt is in the air and on everyone’s lips. I want to find out why this should be.”
“If you say so.” He followed me.
Photinus was seated by the pool, deep in conversation with Cleopatra. That was all right with me. I wanted a word with her also.
“Good to see you, Senator,” said the eunuch, “even at such a sad time as this.”
“Any time is a good one to renew so happy an acquaintance,” I said with some jollity. Courtier and princess studied me with some wonder.
“You seem in a lighthearted mood today, Senator,” Cleopatra observed.
“Indeed. I am feeling scholarly, and this afternoon I have been adding to my store of knowledge. There are few more agreeable activities.”
“Are you well, Senator?” Photinus asked. “Try some of this date wine. It is mixed with ambergris and civet musk. Egyptians esteem it as the most fortifying drink in the world.”
I tried it. “Wonderful stuff,” I commended him. It tasted dreadful. “Photinus, my old and valued friend, I have been wondering about that pack of Roman merchants from Alexandria you’ve been shepherding about of late.”
“Yes, Senator?”
“Would any of them happen to be in the frankincense trade?” “I suppose some of them may have dealings in that particular business. Why do you ask?”
“He is asking,” Cleopatra said, “because Governor Silvanus choked to death on frankincense.” She eyed me warily.
“Princess, yesterday when we viewed the body of Silvanus and determined the extraordinary nature of his demise, you did not mention that your father owns a monopoly on the frankincense trade.”
“I saw no reason to mention it. That is only within Egyptian borders anyway. It is the custom everywhere, when a luxury good passes through a nation, for the king to own a monopoly on its trade. Once it is sold at Alexandria, its new owners take it wherever they will. My father has nothing to do with frankincense on Cyprus.”
“But, until quite recently, Cyprus was a Ptolemaic kingdom,” I pointed out.
“Really, Senator,” Photinus trilled, “you cannot think that the princess had anything to do with this awful murder.”
“I did not say so, I just find the connection intriguing, and I must observe that, historically, the Ptolemies have displayed a taste for the most peculiar forms of murder.”
“Are you trying to provoke me?” Cleopatra demanded. “I will remind you that I, too, am a guest in the house of Silvanus, and I am quite aware of the displeasure of the gods when the sacred bond of guest and host is broken by bloodshed.”
“If you will forgive me, Princess,” I said, “you Ptolemies have the most disgraceful record of incest, parricide, matricide, infanticide, and every other form of unnatural behavior in all the long, sorry history of royalty.”
“It isn’t easy being king,” she said, seeming neither angered nor embarrassed. “For centuries we have been Greek rulers in a foreign land. Not only that, everyone else envies us and would like to conquer us. Royalty are not like the common run of humanity and should not be judged as such.”
“Far be it from me to judge you,” I assured her. “But I have a suspicious nature, and when I investigate a crime I look for—how shall I express this?—I look for correspondences, things that two otherwise unrelated events, persons, or circumstances have in common. Especially unlikely, obscure things. To wit, Governor Silvanus is dead, choked on frankincense, a method of homicide unique in my experience.