“Not terribly well. He was highly recommended by Danaos of Halicarnassus, who was a very distinguished astronomer.”
“‘Was?’” I queried.
“Yes, he died about three years ago. It must have been just after he recommended Polasser, because the news of his death reached Alexandria about the time Polasser came to the Museum.”
Hermes raised his eyebrows and cut a look at me but I made a signal to say nothing. “And what did you think of him once he arrived?”
“He knew his astronomy quite well and was keen to work. His observations were always reliable. That was one reason I brought him here with the others.”
“Did his devotion to astrology ever get in the way of the work he was doing for you?”
“I would have preferred that he not use our time and instruments for that purpose, but his transgressions were not sufficient to secure his dismissal. I had no cause for complaint with the work he did on the calendar. He said that the new calendar would actually make the work of astrologers much easier since it will establish everyone’s birth date with precision.”
“But it’s only Rome’s calendar,” I pointed out.
“Caesar seems determined to make it the whole world’s calendar,” Sosigenes said.
“I can’t argue with you there. What do you think of Polasser’s Babylonian pose?”
“Well, I suppose it isn’t impossible that he was from Kish. There are Greeks everywhere.”
“I thought Kish was just a heap of ruins somewhere on the banks of the Tigris.”
“The Euphrates, I believe,” Sosigenes said.
“Oh. Well, I always get those two rivers confused.”
“At least it is still a place. There may still be a village there. It is near Babylon. His choice of dress is a bit harder to explain, except perhaps for his enthusiasm for the ancient Babylonian art. You have been to the Museum, Senator. You know that a good many—eccentric persons live and work there.”
“Loony a pack as I’ve ever run across,” I agreed. “What did Polasser do when he wasn’t looking at stars and drawing up horoscopes? Did he have any daytime activities?”
“He was very fond of the Hippodrome. Overfond, I thought.” The Hippodrome is Alexandria’s equivalent to the Circus Maximus, and a much finer building, though not quite as large.
“How do you mean, overfond?” I asked.
“Such diversion is suitable upon occasion, and every Greek is enthusiastic about athletic competition, some passionately so. Polasser took, shall we say, more than a philosopher’s interest in the chariot races. He was difficult to find on any day devoted to the races, both in Alexandria and here in Rome.”
“I see. You are aware that here in Rome everyone proclaims allegiance to one of the racing factions? And that these factions are distinguished by colors: Green, Blue, White, and Red?” He nodded. “Did Polasser seem to care greatly which of these factions won?”
“He never spoke to me about it if he did,” Sosigenes said. “It would be unlike a Greek anyway. As I understand it you Romans are practically born into your chariot factions. A Greek, on the other hand, supports the competitor from his own city or community. But in Alexandria the horses and drivers come from everywhere and people take sides according to a number of causes, and some just gamble.”
“Was Polasser often short of money and did he borrow heavily?” He looked surprised. “If he was not interested in the colors, then his interest in the races was that of a gambler. It has been my experience that men who gamble a great deal lose a great deal. I myself am a fine judge of horses and charioteers, yet even I lose occasionally.” Hermes made a strangled noise which I ignored.
“He never came to me for money, perhaps from a sense of decency, but I overheard some of the others advising each other not to loan Polasser money because he could never repay. It was all distressingly unphilosophic.”
“I suppose sometimes even philosophers give way to their base instincts. Did he owe Demades money? Or was there any other source of enmity between the two?”
“They barely tolerated one another,” Sosigenes said. “I cannot imagine Demades loaning money to Polasser, or Polasser asking.”
We talked a while longer but learned nothing more of value. I thanked Sosigenes for his aid and took my leave of him. As we crossed the terrace where Polasser had died Hermes saw something on the pavement, stooped and picked it up to examine.
“What have you found?” I asked.
“Have a look.” He tossed it to me and I turned it over in my hand. It was a brass coin larger than a silver denarius and twice as thick, stamped with odd writing on both sides. “Where do you think it came from?”