The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fiction Read Online Free

and a few other things. I fleshed it out a bit, for the benefit of any Romans who might read it (I felt sure that some would), with various observations of a scientific nature. Human strength, for example, and the limitations thereof. Agathocles, I pointed out, was a small man, past middle age. Even if he’d been able to murder a seasoned Roman soldier (by attacking him when his back was turned, for example), there was no way he could’ve disposed of the body, not without help. Such help could only have come from the domestics, since his two advisers and the remaining Romans had left the party together. As for the domestics – the cooks – they’d been thoroughly interrogated in the proper manner, were slaves, could hardly speak Greek and had never been to Agathocles’ house before. They left shortly after the guests, and they all agreed that none of them had been out of the others’ sight all evening. It was just possible that Agathocles, having murdered Naso, could have suborned them all – it would’ve had to be all of them – with bribes to help him with the body, but I left it to the common sense of the reader to conclude that it was highly unlikely. If Agathocles had wanted to kill Naso, surely he’d have laid a better plan and made sure he had his helpers in place before the event, rather than relying on recruiting slaves he’d never met before. The same, I more or less implied, held true of the servers, who were also from Syriscus’ agency. As for the flute-girls, including the one carried off by Naso, they could be ruled out straight away, since mere slips of girls wouldn’t have been capable of manhandling Naso’s substantial body. Therefore, I concluded, if Naso hadn’t been removed from the house by anybody else, he must’ve removed himself. That proposition established, the likeliest reconstruction of events, I suggested, was the one set forth in my report.
    I concluded by praising the energy and intelligence of my colleague, Orestes of Corinth, in the investigation. I had three copies made and sent one to Hiero as soon as the ink was dry.
    *
    What, after all, is truth? In a court of law, it’s a narrative of certain events which a majority of the jury believe to be accurate. In science, it’s a hypothesis that fits (or at least covers) all the known facts without contravening any of the established laws of nature. In mathematics, it’s the inevitable product of the component variables. In the subscience of history, it’s the most plausible explanation of the undisputed evidence. In diplomacy, it’s a version acceptable to both parties and incapable of being disproved.
    *
    Hiero sent my report to Rome, along with a request that the negotiations be resumed. The Romans replied with a new team of negotiators, headed by one Publius Laurentius Scaurus, a man of whom even I had heard.
    “It’s an honour,” Scaurus said to me, having backed me into a corner at the official reception, “and a tremendous privilege to meet you. What can I say? You’re my hero. The greatest living philosopher.”
    His breath smelt of onions. “Thank you,” I said.
    “Your experiment with the golden crown—”
    “Actually,” I really didn’t want to hear him sing my praises, “I was rather taken with your latest effort. Mechanical advantage, wasn’t it? The application of balanced forces in opposing vectors?”
    He blushed red as a winestain. “You’ve actually read my paper?”
    “Of course,” I said. “Excellent work. And it happens to be a field in which I’ve dabbled quite a bit myself.”
    “Dabbled,” he repeated. “You’ve only written the most significant monograph on the subject in human history. Your wonderful dictum—”
    I raised my hand, not really wanting to hear my wonderful dictum, but he ignored me. “‘Give me a firm place to stand’, you said, ‘and I can move the Earth.’ Inspirational.”
    I shook my head. “I didn’t say that.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “What I said