“I am Senator Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger,” I announced as I stepped within the sacred precincts. “I bear a commission from the Senate and People of Rome to stamp out piracy in these waters and am, at present, investigating the circumstances surrounding the death of Governor Silvanus.” I looked them over. “I had expected a larger group. Are all here?”
“Each of these gentlemen,” said Photinus, “represents a syndicate of Roman merchants dwelling in Alexandria. If I may introduce them—”
“Please do so,” I said. “Citizens, I apologize for the abruptness of this summons, but my duties press me on all sides, and I have little time for niceties.” All quite true and neatly sidestepping the awkward question of whether I had any authority at all.
“First,” the eunuch twittered, “Marcus Junius Brutus of the Honorable Company of Wine Merchants.” This was a bald-headed old fellow, clearly of a distant, plebeian branch of that famous patrician family.
“Next, Mamercus Sulpicius Naso of the Sacred Brotherhood of Hermes, grain exporters.” This one was fat and oily and clearly another provincial. In Rome only the Aemilii used the praenomen Mamercus. I would watch this one closely. Any grain shipper is a speculator, always hoping for a shortage to jack up prices. They are dealers in other people’s hunger.
“This is Decimus Antonius of the Guild of Hephaestus, importers of metals of all sorts save gold and silver.” This one actually looked like one of the Roman Antonii. At least he had the distinctive features of that clan. That Roman political family was full of madmen and criminals though, but this one looked sane enough.
“And, finally, Malachi Josephides, leader of the Textile Syndicate.” The man was tall and distinguished, his graying hair and beard groomed in the Greek fashion. I had met his like in Alexandria—what are called Hellenized Jews, meaning Jews who have adopted Greek culture in all things except religion. Even his name was rendered in Greek. Yet he wore a toga.
“How do you happen to be a citizen, Josephides?”
I asked. He smiled. “I was born in Massilia, where my family has resided for several generations. My father was the first to have the privilege of citizenship.” A Jew from a Greek colony in Gaul with Roman citizenship; beat that for cosmopolitanism if you can.
“Gentlemen, be seated,” I said. “We have been keeping the circumstances of Silvanus’s death quiet for the moment, but you should know he was murdered. It was not done openly, and we are at a loss to know the killer’s motive. I wish you to acquaint me with the business disputes and concerns you came here to discuss with him.”
“You think, Senator,” said Antonius, “that our problems are somehow connected to this murder?”
“I think nothing of the sort. But I cannot form any basis for a theory until I can understand the concerns surrounding the late Silvanus.”
Josephides smiled again. “You sound more like a logician than a Roman official.”
“I have been told so before,” I acknowledged. “Just don’t call me a philosopher. I wish to know one thing first: Did any of your worries involve threats against Rome, Roman citizens, or Roman interests?”
“You are most incisive, Senator,” said Brutus. “There have been threats indeed: threats to our commerce, threats to our freedom, threats to our safety and our very lives!” The old boy was getting wrought up, having finally found a sympathetic ear.
“He exaggerates, Senator!” Photinus protested.
“I shall seek your counsel later, Photinus. For the moment I am listening to the Romans. What are the forms and origins of these threats, Citizens?”
“Credible threats against our commerce can have only one origin, Senator,” Brutus went on, “King Ptolemy. He seeks to extort vast sums from the Roman merchants of Alexandria, sums that could well ruin us, and he enforces these extortions with threats of imprisonment, confiscation, even public flogging and death!”
Photinus was bursting to speak, but I silenced him with an upraised hand. “King Ptolemy threatens Romans in this fashion? Have you proof? I want details!”
“You may be aware, Senator,” said Josephides, “that King Ptolemy incurred sizable debts in obtaining ‘friend and ally’ status, and further debts in regaining his throne?” He, at least, seemed able to retain his equanimity.
“So I’ve heard,” I assured him.
“There was yet a further debt incurred in obtaining the services of General Gabinius to unseat his usurping daughter and her husband. You may have cause to wonder just how His Majesty ever expected to repay these tremendous sums.”