John Roberts - The Year of Confusion

“An excellent idea. You will have my gratitude.”

“Now, about Postumius?” I prodded.

“The man was always sneaking out to go to the Circus and the stables. He was constantly trying to get the other clerks to engage in bets on horse races. It was affecting the work here, which was unsatisfactory enough to begin with. I had to dismiss him. Slaves are much better than free-born citizens or freedmen for this sort of work. They can be confined, and there is an array of punishments available to correct their behavior. Had it not been for the shortage of skilled accountants I never would have hired him.”

“It is a great bother,” I agreed. “When did you dismiss him?”

“About a month ago.”

“Did he seem greatly distressed at losing his position?”

“Not at all. He was quite insolent about it, in fact. He hinted that he no longer needed to do any such work and was moving on to something better.”

“I thank you, Telemachus. You have been of great help to my investigation.”

“Investigation? Is this something to do with the killings?”

“I have every confidence that it is,” I told him.

Hermes and I went outside and made our way to the area where the astronomers lived. Its fine terrace, recently the site of Polasser’s murder, had an excellent view of the north end of the Circus Maximus, the end where fine statues of four-horse chariots stand above the gates through which the racing chariots enter the field.

“Picture yourself standing here,” I said.

“Why?” Hermes wanted to know. “I am standing here.”

“Picture yourself,” I said again, “standing here looking out at this view and you are in congenial company. What do you talk about?”

“The races,” he said without hesitation. He was a true Roman.

“Exactly. You speak of your mutual interest in racing and, no doubt, gambling. Then, with this common interest established, you go on to other things, such as your work.”

“So Postumius strikes up a conversation with Polasser about racing,” Hermes said. “Then he learns from Polasser about astrology, most particularly about how highborn Romans, especially women, are enthusiastic about it.”

“There you are. And if there is one thing my life and experience have taught me, it is that one rogue will always recognize another. I will wager that not too many conversations occurred before Polasser learned that Postumius was a professional gambler and not an honest one, and Postumius learned that Polasser concocted favorable horoscopes for anyone who would pay him.”

“So it wasn’t long before they devised the fraud to profit from trading in grain futures. It must have been mainly Postumius’s doing. Polasser was an amateur fraud. Postumius was a real professional.”

“That is my thinking. Come, let’s talk with Sosigenes.”

We found him on the observation terrace with its arcane instruments, alone for a change. After the usual greetings we sat at a table and got down to the business of the day.

“How well did you know Polasser?” I asked first.

“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?”