A Point of Law by John Maddox Roberts Page B

let’s go find someone who can decipher these documents.”
    Rome is full of Greek schoolmasters, most of them penurious. But I needed something better than a man who could drill well-born schoolboys in their alpha-beta-gamma or teach youths of senatorial families to repeat the speeches of Demosthenes. Nor did I want someone who had memorized the entirety of Homer. I spoke of this to Hermes.
    “So what are we looking for?” he asked.
    “A cipher is no more than a puzzle. Mathematicians like to solve puzzles. We need somebody who is both a Greek scholar and a mathematician.”
    “I’m game. How do we find one?”
    “Let’s go ask Asklepiodes. He knows the better-educated Greek community here in the City.”
    It was not a great walk to the Temple of Aesculapius on Tiber Island. The streets were thinly populated because of the
contio
called by the Tribune Manilius. Those who had not gone to participate went there to watch.
    The beautiful temple on its shiplike island was where Asklepiodespracticed and taught in the afternoons. We found him conducting an early evening sacrifice and waited respectfully with our heads covered while he finished the simple, dignified ceremony.
    He smiled delightedly when he saw us. “Is someone else dead already?”
    “Not this time,” I told him. When I explained what I needed, he shook his head in wonderment.
    “Your activities are a source of unfailing marvel. Yes, I think I know exactly what you need. Callista is here from Alexandria, giving a course of lectures in the hall adjoining Pompey’s Theater.”
    “Callista?” I said. “This is a woman?”
    “Very much so. You have been to Alexandria. You are aware that female scholars and teachers are not at all uncommon there.”
    “They rarely come to Rome to teach. You think she has the qualifications I need?”
    “She is one of the foremost authorities on the Greek language working at the Library, and she is also a mathematician of the Archimedean school. I know of nobody else in Rome who enjoys such distinction.”
    “I am pressed for time. Would it be excessively rude for me to call on her this evening?”
    “Nothing easier,” he assured me. “I will take you there myself. It is a short walk from here, just on the other side of the bridge in the Trans-Tiber. And it will be no rudeness at all. In the Alexandrian fashion, she holds an open salon for persons of a scholarly bent. She should be receiving this evening.”
    “Wonderful. Hermes, go tell my wife that I will be home late this evening, lest she think I’ve been waylaid and murdered. Tell her I am consulting with a Greek scholar. Don’t tell her that it is an Alexandrian woman. This is something I must explain to her in my own fashion. Then rejoin me at the house of Callista. If you run, you should be able to find it before it gets too dark to see.”
    Asklepiodes explained to him how to find the house and we left the temple, crossing the bridge into the district across the river. A great many foreigners lived in the new district, finding it more congenial both as to accommodation and company. The City proper was crowded, expensive, and full of Romans.
    The house of Callista was no more than a hundred paces beyond the bridge, a stroke of luck considering how late the hour was. The sun was almost on the western horizon, and most Romans were already arriving for their dinner engagements, unless the
contio
was running late.
    The gatekeeper was not a slave chained to the doorpost as in a great Roman house, but rather an educated servant who recognized both Asklepiodes and my senatorial insignia in a flickering glance. He bowed deeply.
    “Learned Doctor, noble Senator, welcome to the house of Callista. My lady entertains a small but distinguished company this evening. She will be so delighted that you have come.” He swept before us, and we followed him into a fine courtyard where perhaps ten people sat in a small group, their attention centered on a woman who sat on a