The Tribune's Curse(66)

“Ah.” Now we were getting to the real news. “What manner of consequences, if this is not a matter of diplomatic secrecy?”

“On, no. I thought it best to come at once and inform the consul Pompey. I believe he will address the assembled Senate on the matter soon, although there is little to be done about it now.”

“Lisas,” I prodded gently, “what’s happened?”

“As you may have learned, Berenice had some degree of support from the people of Alexandria, including some of the leading citizens.”

“I’ve been out of touch,” I told him. “Did these Alexandrians take it ill that Ptolemy killed his daughter?”

“I am afraid so. There was rioting.”

“We have that here in Rome from time to time. And was King Ptolemy forced to execute some of these Alexandrian supporters of Princess Berenice and the usurper?”

“Only the ringleaders,” he said hastily, “and the closest and most immoderate of their adherents.”

“How many?”

“Oh, some three or four, perhaps as many as five thousand.” He blotted again at his runny face. He did not look well at all. Seeing him in full daylight for the first time in years, I realized that poor Lisas was not going to be with us much longer. Even his heavy makeup could no longer disguise his ghastly color and the sores that covered his skin. “It happened more than a month ago. Contrary winds kept all the vessels in port until just a few days ago.”

“Well,” I said, “this is going to be difficult.” Like Pompey, I patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll work something out, but perhaps you’d better prepare yourself to serve a new king.”

“I thank you for your support,” he said, “but I am too old for that now. I will not outlast King Ptolemy.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” I advised. I wanted to speak with him some more, but senators began to crowd around, eager to know what was going on, and I had to leave him there and get on with my day.

Egypt had been a problem for us for a hundred years. With its docile, priest-ridden peasant population and its absurd Macedonian royal family, we could have annexed it at any time, but we didn’t want to. Egypt was just too rich. Put a Roman governor there with an army, and he’d make himself king and raise a rebellion, as had Sertorius in Spain. No Roman trusted another with that much wealth and power. So we propped up one idiotic weakling after another, as the Ptolemaic dynasty grew more degenerate with each passing generation.

And now this rebellion and its aftermath. I would have liked to believe that it meant the old drunk was showing some steel in his spine at last, but it sounded more like the vicious, peevish gesture of a frightened tyrant who feels his throne crumbling beneath him.

And if Lisas said five thousand had been executed, ten thousand was a more likely number. And he’d said leading citizens, which meant men with close business ties to Rome. This was going to be serious.

“Way for the praetor!” somebody shouted. I saw a file of lictors clearing a path for Milo, and I pushed my way over to him.

“Decius!” He smiled, but perfunctorily. He, too, had caught the mood of the Forum. “Anything to report?”

“Several things. Do you have a little time?”

“Not much, but Pompey’s given the murder first priority, so go ahead.” In his usual fashion, he kept walking as we talked. I gave him a quick rundown of the previous day’s work.

“I knew that business about the Furies was too good to be true. But where did that bastard go after he came down from the wall?”

“That’s what I must find out.”

“Work on it. For the moment, we’ll just keep this business about the men who jumped you to ourselves. A couple of bodies were found by the fire watch this morning. They weren’t mine or Clodius’s. Maybe the other two lived. It’s not important. Who hired them is.” Killings were not a major concern in Rome in those days, as long as arson was not involved.

“That’s another matter I intend to find out about.”

“What’s going on over at the curia?” He asked. “Why is old Lisas in town so early?”

I gave him a quick rundown of the situation, and he shook his head.

“That’s it for the Flute-Player, then. We’ve all grown heartily sick of him and his whole disgusting family.”

“I always found him rather entertaining,” I said.

“That’s right, you missed the big show, didn’t you? It was the first year you spent in Gaul, when Gabinius and Calpurnius Piso were consuls. For years, Ptolemy had been passing around bribes, trying to get the Senate to ratify him as king of Egypt. Finally got it the year before when Caesar was consul, but he’d squeezed the Alexandrians a little hard for bribe money, and they kicked him out, so he came here to get support for his return. The aristocrats were for it; the commons were against. Are you following this?”