“Well, you—” at that point we were distracted by a high-pitched shriek from somewhere toward the southern tip of the island. Moments later the high priest came running.
“Senator! There has been another murder! I will stand for no more of this!”
I got to my feet. “Yes, the serenity of your sanctuary has been taking a bit of a beating lately, hasn’t it? Who’s dead? Oh, well, let’s just go look. I like surprises.”
The Tiber Island has many little terraces like the one where Sosigenes and I had been enjoying the view before the rude interruption. On one of these, just below the temple on the City side, not far from the bridge, we found another corpse, seemingly fresh this time and not decently covered. Most of the little crowd staring down at it were astronomers. The Arab was there, and Gupta the Indian, turban off and long hair streaming, and quite a number of Greeks.
“Where’s Polasser?” I asked. “Oh, that’s him there on the ground, isn’t it?” Indeed it was the fake Babylonian, lying peacefully if somewhat grotesquely with his neck broken. “What a pity.”
“You sound saddened, Senator,” said the high priest.
“This eliminates him as a suspect in the murder of Demades, and he was the one I thought the most likely. Oh, well, I should have known better than to think this job would be easy. Who found him?”
“My chamber is just over there,” Gupta said, pointing to a row of doorways a few dozen steps away set into the base of the temple. He babbled nervously, his Greek almost incoherent. “I was meditating, as I always do at this hour. I heard a strangled cry that seemed unnatural and I threw on a robe to come see what it was.” Strangely, he blushed. “I fear I am not decent.” He took a long, yellow band from inside his robe and with incredible swiftness and efficiency would it around his head, completely covering his long hair.
“Men of Gupta’s sect are forbidden to cut their hair,” Sosigenes explained. “When meditating, they remove their turbans, robes, and sandals and wear only white cotton loincloths. They think it indecent to go out in public with their hair uncovered.”
“Well, I know of stranger customs. How did everybody get here so fast?”
“Most of us, great lord,” said the Arab, “have quarters nearby. But in fact Polasser sent a servant to summon us here, saying that he had news of import that concerned us all. Some of us were already on our way.”
“Well, he’s not going to deliver this news. Where is the servant?” They looked around, then at each other. There was much shrugging. “Had anyone seen this servant before?” More shrugs.
“Why was I not sent for?” Sosigenes demanded.
“Maybe he was going to say bad things about you,” I hazarded. “I want a search made for this servant.” I turned to the priest. “Can you take care of that? Get a description from these gentlemen, but round up any servant-looking person on the island who cannot be accounted for.”
“I will do so, Senator,” he said with ill grace, but of course, an hour later no such person had been found.
Before noon I was in front of Caesar in the Domus Publica, his residence in the Forum in his capacity as pontifex maximus. “Things are getting out of hand. At this rate you’ll be completely out of astronomers soon.”
“They do seem to suffer a high mortality rate. Have you any suspects?”
“My best one is dead. I have a few leads I am following.”
“What sort of leads?”
I knew better than to mention Servilia and her coterie of star enthusiasts. There were some matters one did not bring up to Caesar without a pile of corroborating evidence. He was a sensitive man about some things, things touching his personal life being high on the list.
“I hesitate to bring them up without further investigation,” I told him.
“Well, I have little time for suppositions and wild guesses. Come back when you have evidence worthy of a trial. And make sure that it is soon.”
I took my leave of Caesar with great relief. He was an uncomfortable man to be around in those days and it was a bad idea to displease him. I wandered out into the Forum and amused myself for a while looking at the many monuments to the old heroes. There were Romulus and Numa, Severus, Horatius, Cincinattus and Curtius and Marcellus and Regulus. It seemed to me that they had lived in better, simpler times when choices were plain and simple.
This is probably an idle conceit, doubtless their lives seemed as complex and frustrating to them as my own did to me. They must have engaged in plots and intrigues as devious as any practiced in the time of Caesar. I had known nothing all my life but the greed and grasping of great men who wished to be greater than they already were. No doubt it had been the same in the time of Rome’s old heroes.