Free The Temple of the Muses by John Maddox Roberts Page A

concentrated light upon the ghastly wound. From outside came murmurs of admiration at this philosophic cleverness.
    While Asklepiodes made his inspection, I went to the doorway.
    “Your colleague Iphicrates has been foully murdered,” I announced. “I ask all of you to think whether you have seen any strange persons in this area just before the banquet.” I said this primarily to keep them occupied so that they wouldn’t interfere with my investigation. I wouldn’t have trusted this lot to notice if their robes were on fire. Sosigenes was the only one I would have thought a reliable observer. Except for the late Iphicrates, who was unavailable for comment.
    Fausta came close and peered in. “A murder! How thrilling!”
    “If you really marry Milo,” I said, “murders will get to be old stuff to you, too.” I turned back to Amphytrion. “Is there any sort of inventory of Iphicrates’s things? It would help greatly to know what is missing, since the murderer or murderers clearly were looking for something.”
    He shook his head. “Iphicrates was a secretive man. Nobody but he knew what he possessed.”
    “No students? Personal slaves?”
    “He did all his work alone save for such workmen as he requested. He had a valet, a slave owned by the Museum and assigned to him. Few of us feel the need for a staff of slaves.”
    “I would like to question the valet,” I said.
    “Senator,” he said, his patience wearing thin, “I must remind you that this is an affair to be investigated by the crown of Egypt.”

    “Oh, I’ll clear things with Ptolemy,” I said confidently. “Now, if you will be so good, I think it would be best if you were to assign a secretary to make an inventory of every object in this room: papers, drawings, valuables, everything right down to the furniture. If items known to have belonged to Iphicrates prove to be missing, it could be helpful in determining the identity of the murderer.”
    “I suppose it would do no harm,” he grumped. “The king’s appointed investigator might find it useful as well. Is this some new school of philosophy of which I was previously unaware?”
    “It’s my own school. You might call it ‘applied logic.’”
    “How very … Roman. I shall assign competent personnel.”
    “Good. And be sure that they list the subjects of all the drawings and papers.”
    “I shall be sure to do so,” he fumed. “And now, Senator, if you do not mind, we have funeral arrangements to make on behalf of our departed colleague.”
    “Asklepiodes?” I said.
    “I have seen enough.” He rose from beside the corpse and we went aside to a corner of the room.
    “How long has he been dead?” I asked first.
    “No more than two hours. He probably died about the time the banquet was starting.”
    “And the weapon?”
    “Most peculiar. Iphicrates was killed with an axe.”
    “An axe!” I said. This was exceptional. No common dagger for this murderer A few barbarian peoples favored the axe as a weapon, mostly in the East. “Was it a woodman’s axe, or a soldier’s dolabra? ”
    “Neither. Those have straight or gently convex edges. This weapon has a rather narrow and very deeply curved edge, almost a crescent.”
    “What sort of axe is that?” I wondered.
    “Come with me,” he said. I followed him from the room, mystified. As far as I knew, he had left his extensive collection of weapons back in Rome. There was a great deal of subdued muttering
from the crowd outside as it drew aside for us. Someone fell in beside us.
    “You’ve found congenial activity, I see.” It was Julia.
    “Yes. Extraordinary luck, don’t you think? Where is Fausta?”
    “She and Berenice went back to the Palace. A murder scene is not the proper place for royalty.”
    “I hope they don’t start blabbing when they get there. I want to persuade Ptolemy to assign me to the investigation tomorrow.”
    “Decius, must I remind you that this is Egypt, not Rome?”
    “Everybody wants to tell