Lindsey Davis - Alexandria

'Nicanor! You think I have influence with the Prefect over this appointment?'

Lindsey Davis

Alexandria

'Oh come on, Falco! The others may be calling you an ''agent'' as if you are an oily palace bureaucrat, but any imperial freedman would be twice as deadly and about five times as smooth. You are a common informer. Of course I know how that works. You appear in the courts. You bring prosecutions. I am your natural candidate.' Now Nicanor was implying we shared the same creepy networks, the same soiled obligations – the same two-faced standards: 'So how much?'

I tried not to gape. 'You are canvassing? You want to buy my vote?'

'Even you can't be so slow! Normal aspect of patronage.'

'Not exactly my experience.'

'Don't play the innocent.'

'I had somehow assumed that the award of a world-renowned academic post was different from vote-rigging the Senate.'

'Why?' Nicanor asked baldly.

I backed down. Why indeed? To pretend that the apparently high-minded intellectuals here were above begging for votes, if they could see how to do it, was hypocritical; he was right. At least he was open.

'What could you have against me?' he persisted. He must be a nightmare in court. He probably thought I was holding out – hoping one of the others would offer more than he did.

I sat up straighter. 'I certainly would like to know why you tried to blackball the accreditation of Camillus Aelianus to the Museion. What was wrong with him?'

'Minas of Karystos. That poser and I have been at odds for two decades… What's this to you, Falco?'

'Normal aspect of patronage,' I quoted back to him. 'Camillus is my brother-in-law. I suppose he should have bought you off first?'

'Smoothing his path would be polite – call it correct procedure. So does that increase your price in my business?'

This man was unbelievable.

I told him I would bear his request in mind. It must have been obvious I did not mean it. 'That's a no, then?' He seemed unable to credit it. 'You are backing Philadelphion?'

'I think him a good candidate, but I never said that.'

'This is stitched up?'

'I am sure you can have every confidence in a fair hearing.' Nicanor did not believe my demure promise, and so we parted company.

If this writ-rat won, I would not only spurn his cash; dear gods, if he was given the post, I would be joining Theon in an oleander snack. I knew the world was dirty. I just did not want to think it could be quite as depressing as that.

Me being offered a bribe by a lawyer caused hilarity in my family. I warned Fulvius, Cassius, and – without much hope he would listen – my father, that this information ought to stay private. They all assured me such stories were only useful to businessmen if they could implicate someone who took a bribe. A mere offer was so commonplace it never counted.

'Well, keep quiet anyway,' Helena instructed the three reprobates. They were lined up on a reading-couch like naughty schoolboys: Fulvius cleaning his nails prissily, Cassius neat and collected, Pa sprawled on one end with his head back against the cushions as if his neck ached. Travelling had finally affected him. His untidy grey curls seemed thinner. He actually looked tired. 'I don't want Marcus knocked down in the rush,' Helena continued, 'if all the candidates race to bring him presents.'

'No presents! If I do it, I shall only be swayed by cash,' I said. 'I'm sick of tat. I don't want a bunch of unpleasant silver wine coolers with crass mottoes engraved on them; you can't rely on professors for taste. If gifts are to be lavished on our household, I want Helena to choose them.'

The three magi debated my chances. Their opinion was that neither the astronomer nor the philosopher would be good for much; Cassius thought the philosopher was bound to give me a tunic in a hideous colour, like a trembly aunt of eighty-five, murmuring 'Here is a little something for yourself, dear.' (So Cassius had aunts, did he?)

'This is philosophy at work? So ''Know yourself'' at Delphi means ''Know your best dress colour''?' Helena quipped. Fulvius, Cassius and Pa surveyed her, troubled by this advanced thinking.

They reckoned the Zoo Keeper should have been a good bet, since he probably had income from people whose goats he cured as a sideline, but they knew Philadelphion was spending all his spare cash on his mistress.

I quibbled at that: 'The impression I have of the supposedly luscious Roxana is that she is more giving than demanding.'

'I've said it before,'' groaned my father. 'This boy is so innocent, I refuse to call him mine!'

'Just because Marcus Didius has a nice nature, does not make him soft,' Albia reproved him. 'He needs to be an optimist. Many times he is the only honest man in a sea of filth.'

That silenced even Pa.

The banter continued through an early supper. My family are excellent at picking on some fool who has revealed a funny story that he ought to have concealed. They would never let go. The time the lawyer offered a bribe to Marcus was all set to become a classic festival favourite. That was not what made me restless. Knowing the shortlist for Theon's old post had been announced made me want to hear what everyone was saying at the Museion. Helena saw it. I never needed her permission to bunk off on work, but sometimes I held back and waited for her sanction, as a courtesy. Neither of us mentioned it out loud: she just tossed her head slightly and in return I winked at her. I slipped away discreetly. Albia saw it. The others didn't notice I was going.

Uncle Fulvius was staying in. Business must be coming to him tonight. As I went downstairs, I passed a man going up. That was the difference in Egyptian town houses: a classic Roman home has a line of entry straight ahead from the porch, crossing the atrium if there is one. It offers a show-off vista from the street – and a certain degree of space and choice; you can go either way around the peristyle garden, for instance. Here, it was all vertical. Anyone coming or going used the stairs. That could work two ways. With a house full of guests, in the commotion you might manage to infiltrate an extra person unnoticed. But if the house guests were prone to milling about, there was no chance of receiving a secret visitor.

So I not only saw the man, we exchanged nods. I pressed against the wall to give him room. He pulled his satchel in to avoid brushing against me, with his left arm clutched against the leather so I would not hear the money chink. He will have seen a good-looking foreigner, neutral tunic, Roman haircut, clean-shaven, pleasant manner, in command of himself. I saw a thickset trader-type, who did not meet my eye. Sometimes you know instinctively that whatever a man of commerce is selling, you do not want it.

One of Fulvius' servants was waiting at the top of the stairs to shunt this man into a private side room, probably the same salon where they put Nicanor earlier. Lying below the family rooms, it had a couple of basic couches, a tripod table just large enough for a drinks tray, a rug you could buy anywhere and no ornaments worth stealing. I kept a room just like it in my own house in Rome. I used it for clients and witnesses, allowing them access to my home as a good patron traditionally did for trusted members of the public. I never trusted anyone. If they came out of the room and pretended they wanted to use the lavatory, a slave who always just happened to be in the corridor would 'show them the way'; he would just as helpfully show them the way back too.

Downstairs, the courtyard porter saluted me obsequiously.

I nodded after the visitor. 'Who was that?'

'I know not his name. Fulvius knows?'

'No doubt…' I had no intention of letting Fulvius see I had any interest. 'Is the palanquin here?'