Tomb of the Lost

Chapter NINE



Commander Marcus Sejanus raised his hand up to his eyes again and pinched the bridge of his nose. Marcus was tired. All of his men were tired. Marcus hadn’t personally slept in thirty six hours.

He was in command of a battery of ballista’s. They had worked through the day bombarding the barricades put up by the citizens of Alexandria. Large pieces of stone from demolished buildings had splintered the man made barricades while repeating Ballistae firing large, single arrows, had taken care of any defenders. Two mobile towers that had been wheeled into position had also been brought down and now lay smashed in the street to the cheering delight of the Romans.

The ballista’s had been moved up to the barricades and reset to provide covering fire for the legionaries who had worked to clear the debris. The dead had been carried back through the Roman lines and were now burning in the street behind, thus protecting Roman backs.

Marcus had seen some of the casualties as they had passed him. Some of the injuries were appalling. He cringed at the thought of being on the receiving end.

’Better not to think about it’ he told himself.

He pinched his nose again, his eyes closed. The relief was instant but he suddenly felt himself sway. He opened his eyes quickly and put his arm out to help his balance. His second in command saw.

“Are you all right sir?”

Marcus tried to focus with bleary eyes.

“Yes I’m fine. Just a bit tired is all.”

“We’re all tired.”

“What? Oh yes I know.”

“Why don’t you try to get some rest sir.”

Marcus was still rubbing his eyes.

“No! I can’t. There’s too much to do….”

Lucius Scato studied his commanding officer. Marcus hadn’t realised that he was so tired he was slurring his words.

“Sir. I can manage here for the time being. Why don’t you get some sleep. We’ll need you when it matters and you’re not much use to the men tired. You could go into one of the houses to sleep. It’ll be safe. I’ll post guards.”

“No I really mustn’t as much as I could do with a nap.”

“Sir I’m concerned about you. Caesar has ordered the attack for dawn. That’s four hours away and you can hardly stay awake now.”

Marcus rubbed his face hard in an effort to wake himself up.

“No! I can’t leave my duties.”

“What we’re doing now is just routine. I can handle everything here for now.”

“No.”

“Then why not have a bench brought out here into the street. I’ll wake you if you’re needed.”

Marcus thought about it. A centurion standing nearby spoke.

“You should get some sleep sir.”

“All right but you wake me at the slightest problem.”

“Yes Marcus. Of course.”

Two legionaries brought a wooden bench out and placed it near a wall. Marcus Sejanus lay down on the bench and pulled his cloak up over him. He was almost instantly asleep.

“Thank you Falco,” Scato said, “He wasn’t going to get some rest until you said what you did.”

Falco nodded towards the sleeping figure.

“He’s not much good to us tired and tired men make mistakes.”

“That’s true,” Scato looked across at the timekeeper, “It’s time you took a break.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll wake you at the next watch.”

Falco saluted. He went over to a group of his men and removed his helmet.

“Here why does he get to sleep and we don’t then eh?” one of the legionaries asked.

“Because he is your commanding officer that’s why.”

“So that gives him the right to sleep while we have to work.”

“You’re having your break now aren’t you?”

“A break? Yes. Squatting here in the dirt. It’s hardly comfortable is it?”

“Then why don’t you try and sleep.”

“I’ve tried but all I get is a crick in my back. Not a nice bench to sleep on like he does.”

Falco cuffed the legionary hard around the ear. He instinctively ducked from the much older, heavier man.

“Do you want to keep your voice down before you’re heard by one of the senior officers.”

“Sorry Falco.”

“That’s centurion to you when the General’s are about and don’t ever complain like that when Caesar’s about or he’ll feed you your balls.”

One of the others winced.

“Or worse.”

“Tell the little pipsqueak what Caesar did to the pirates eh!” an older legionary said.

Falco dipped his mug in a barrel of water drawn from one of the many palace fountains and sat down with his back against the wall. They all faced Falco now. He was renowned for his story telling.

“This was back in the days when Caesar was serving on a naval trireme….”

“Why did he join the navy?”

Falco glared at the youngest legionary under his command. He hated to be interrupted.

“Caesar originally wanted to enter law and politics but there was no money in it. His family of course held sufficient rank but Caesar needed money and lots of it. So he chose a military career. There always being lots of money for a conqueror. The spoils of war young Gaius. You see you even share the forename of our commander.”

“Maybe some day I’ll be as great as Caesar,” Gaius Domitius answered. The other legionaries laughed.

“Do not mock the mighty Caesar young whelp,” Falco said, “Gaius Julius Caesar is the greatest Roman who ever lived.”

“I wasn’t….I wasn’t mocking the General.”

“You had better not be either boy.”

“Leave him alone Falco,” one of the longest serving soldiers said,” Stop bullying the boy long enough to tell the story will you.”

Falco had raised his drink to his lips but he pulled it away again and stared in amazement at the way he’d been spoken to. Then he shrugged, put his cup down and said.

“Very well. I’ll tell you but stop interrupting.”

One of the soldiers grabbed Gaius around the neck in a headlock and clamped his hand over the youth’s mouth.

“He won’t interrupt again. Will you?”

Gaius fought against his opponent who removed his hand.

“No I promise!” the youth shouted.

“Good lad,” the legionary said ruffling the boys hair.

“How did Caesar end up being captured by pirates anyway?”

“If you shut up long enough I’ll tell you. In the autumn of the year of the Gods by our counting, it was twenty seven years ago and Caesar a young man of twenty five. His first wife Cornelia had just given birth to their daughter Julia. Caesar an up and coming politician in Rome had left his household to go to study on the island of Rhodes. But Caesar never made it. Near Miletus, Asia minor, Caesar’s ship was attacked by Cilician pirates. Piracy was rife in the Mediterranean back then. The great Homer, the Greek writer, even mentions piracy in his work the ’Odyssey’. Now, the pirates who captured Caesar’s ship had the usual goods to trade and passengers for the slave markets. Well you can imagine their surprise when suddenly amongst their booty they find themselves with a Roman nobleman. They were used to their captives being afraid and begging for mercy and their lives, but not Caesar. He spent forty days with them while his ransom was being raised. The pirates had originally asked for twenty talents but Caesar, insulted by such a trifling amount, personally raised it to fifty. The pirates were both shocked and amused by his courage. He wrote them poetry and called them illiterate barbarians when they failed to understand it. He also joked that he would return once his ransom was paid and crucify them.”

“What happened? I know Caesar survived, obviously, but how was he saved? Or was the ransom paid?”

This time Falco didn’t mind being interrupted. He himself had been a young recruit once, keen to learn anything and everything about his commanding officers.

“Oh yes the ransom was paid all right. Caesar waved at them from the ship that rescued him to their laughter.”

“And that was it? He just sailed away after giving them a fortune in money?”

“Sailed away yes. But only as far as Miletus. Once there he quickly hired some ships and mercenaries. He caught the pirates while they were still in their lair on board their ships. He got his money back and all their stolen loot. He promptly reminded them of his promise and crucified them but because he liked them and to save them the torture of slow agonising death he had all their throats cut first.”

“Why didn’t he want them to suffer?”

“They had done him no harm personally. He recorded in his records that he found his capture to be a mere hindrance of his personal time, nothing more. It did his political career no harm either. Two years later, aged twenty seven, he became Pontifex.”

“And all was good again was it? For Caesar I mean?”

Falco yawned. He reached for his water.

“What? No! Just then Mithridates rose against Rome and a young gladiator named Spartacus began an uprising.”

“I’d love to hear all about that centurion, sir.”

Falco was still yawning.

“Yes I’m sure you would but some other time. I’m too tired now.”

Falco closed his eyes. Gaius sat where he was musing over what he’d heard. He dreamed of being a General like Caesar. A hero. A hero to Rome. He watched the others as they settled down to get some rest. Falco’s breathing was starting to get heavier as he was rapidly falling asleep. Gaius picked up his cup of water and took a long swig. He swallowed the first of it and felt it burning his throat. Then he tasted the salt and he sprayed himself with it as he spat it out. He threw the cup down as a couple of the legionaries turned to look in his direction.

“What’s the matter with you?” One of the soldiers asked.

Gaius was grimacing while wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Like you don’t know!”

“What?”

“One of you lot has put salt in my water. Ha Ha! Very funny.”

Falco opened his eyes.

“Do you want to keep your voices down. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“It was Gaius.”

“Gaius shut up will you. You’ll get your chance at glory.”

“Great! Now you’ve annoyed him. He’ll probably give us some shitty job to do.”

“Well I couldn’t help it. You lot shouldn’t have put salt in my drink.”

“We didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

“Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?”

“Of course I didn’t.”

Falco opened one eye and glared at them.

“Here he’s right,” said one of the others, “My water is salty also.”

The legionary got up and slowly moved towards Falco.

“If someone has done it to him he’ll go bloody mad,” he whispered. He checked in the darkness to see if Falco’s eyes were closed. They were. He reached quietly for the centurion’s mug and brought it slowly towards himself hardly daring to breathe. He looked back at his colleagues. An iron grip suddenly fashioned itself around his arm, crushing his wrist. He let out a yelp of pain.

“What are you doing boy?” the centurion growled.

Falco took the cup and got up, forcing the legionary up with him. The man was trying to prise Falco’s steely grip away when the centurion suddenly let go. The legionary was left rubbing his wrist.

“I asked you what you were doing.”

The legionary stopped rubbing his wrist and gestured to his friends.

“Sir. Somebody has spiked our drinks with salt and well, sir, as much as we all enjoy a joke sir we were worried that they’d done it to yours and as we all know…well that would be taking it too far sir,” he swallowed hard, knowing that Falco’s temper was never far under the surface, just waiting to be scratched.

Falco took a mouthful of his water, swilled it around his mouth and spat it out.

“Who did this?”

His voice had become menacing. No one dared move or answer. Falco had been known, legally, to beat soldiers to death.

“I do not need to remind you that water is a precious commodity and that we have to ration it. It is too priceless to waste by accident or practical joke. Now who did this?”

He glowered at his men. Clearly no one was going to own up. Especially not now.

“Very well. In that case you leave me no choice. You are all….” he stopped as the legionary with the crushed wrist stepped forward.

“So it was you Marcus Iunius.”

“No sir. In truth it was none of us.”

“Is that so?”

Falco looked past Iunius as he saw other legionaries who had just received their water ration begin spitting it out and throwing cups to the ground. Two palace servants struggled past carrying a fresh barrel of water.

“Wait!” Falco shouted.

They stopped. He went over to them and dipped his hand into the water which was sloshing from side to side and brought it up to his mouth and tasted it. It was salty. He spat the water out, not concerned that it splashed their feet.

“Where did you draw this water from?” he asked.

Neither of them spoke Latin so they both looked at him puzzled for a moment. Then one of them said something to the other and dipped the ladle into the water and offered it to him. Falco shook his head.

“No! Where?” he pointed at the water then gestured with his arms, “Where?”

The other servant now understood. He pointed across the courtyard, then motioned with his hands a right turn, then a left and then drew a fountain in the air.

“Show me!”

Once again there were blank looks so the huge centurion placed his hand on the mans shoulder, turned him around and pushed him forward.

“Show me!”

This time he understood and he took Falco to the fountain.

“What do you think is happening?” Gaius asked.

“I don’t know,” Marcus Iunius still massaging his wrist answered, “But if it was a practical joke I wouldn’t want to be the bloke who did it. Did you see the look on Falco’s face.”

“Better shut up,” one of the others said, “He’s coming back.”

Falco went straight to Lucius Scato. The two men were in deep conversation.

“Can anyone hear what’s being said?”

“No. They’re too far away. Look at how close they’re standing. Must be so no one can overhear. Falco hates anyone to be close to him.”

“Apart from when he’s shouting at you then he’s right in your face,” someone said.

The legionaries were starting to group together. One soldier came over to Falco’s group.

“Hey Marcus Iunius what’s going on?”

“Publius! We don’t know. Not yet at least.”

“Did your water taste of salt?”

“Yes. Yours?”

“Yes. At first we thought it was a joke.”

“Us too.”

“Here you don’t think it was sabotage do you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It can’t be the palace servants can it?”

“No. They wouldn’t have the balls.”

Another officer rushed up to Scato and Falco.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Publius said.

This new officer spoke to Scato and not being careful with his voice the legionaries nearby overheard.

“Did you hear that. All the fountains are contaminated,” one said.

“Does that mean we have no fresh water?” another asked.

“I hope not because we won’t last long trapped in here.”

“Keep your voices down!” a nearby centurion shouted.

“But sir you heard what was being said.”

“Yes I did but until we know for sure there is no need to spread panic.”

“Well there is nothing else I can do,” Scato said, “I’m going to have to tell Sejanus and he’s going to have to tell Caesar.”

“Caesar will have to sort it out. We can’t go on without water,” someone shouted.

“WHO SAID THAT?” Falco roared.

No one came forward.

“It is true sir,” Marcus Iunius said, “We can’t go on.”

“Do you stand alone here Iunius?” Scato asked.

There was a long pause. Then others of Iunius’ group stepped forward.

“I’m with Marcus. We can’t go on without water sir.”

They looked at Gaius Domitius. Slowly he got to his feet. He stepped forward and swallowed hard. It was the bravest thing he’d ever done. Falco stared at him. Gaius couldn’t hold the big man’s gaze. At one point he looked up and Falco half smiled and nodded slowly to him. Then he swung around and in his deep voice, he bellowed.

“Who else among you refuses to carry on without water to drink?”

Slowly legionaries began rising. Falco and Scato looked out over a sea of heads. Now everyone was standing.

Marcus Sejanus suddenly appeared alongside his two officers. The noise of shouting voices had woken him though he hadn’t slept long. He was now rubbing his stiff neck.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Falco and Scato turned to face him.

“Sir I think we have a problem.”



Julius Caesar, Germanicus and his honour guard marched along the corridor from his bedroom. They turned the corner. At the end was Cleopatra’s bathroom. The Egyptian guards stiffened when they saw the Roman party approaching. Caesar merely brushed them aside with a wave of his hand and entered the royal bath house. The door closed with a quiet click. Once inside he realised he was in a long hall with rooms branching off on both sides. The walls were covered in Egyptian art. A statue of the Pharaoh Ramses the great dominated the centre of the floor. Large terracotta pots were placed at intervals. Caesar walked over to the statue and stood for a moment gazing up at it. Then the sound of laughter came to him and he went off in pursuit of it. Through another door Caesar stopped behind see through curtains. He could see people moving and sitting and talking and laughing and the sound of someone playing a stringed instrument. The sound of running water was near. On a couch two women were kissing, their tongues touching, their hands caressing, exploring each other’s oiled bodies. One of them threw her head back as her neck was now being kissed, her long dark hair hanging down over her shoulder. She rolled her head towards him as a little shudder went through her. Then she opened her eyes and saw him and a small smile spread across her lips. She opened her mouth and touched her teeth with her tongue which he found very erotic. She whispered something and now the other was looking at him. Their cheeks pressed together. Both were seducing him with their eyes and he imagined them on him, loving each other. After a few more moments they giggled and turned their attention back to each other again. Caesar shook his head vigorously to clear his thoughts. He stepped through the light blue curtains and a female servant, wearing very little, and carrying a tray with little cups on it, gasped when she saw him. Others heard the gasp and now he was in full view of them all. They stopped what they were doing to stare at him. The eunuch playing the lyre stopped.

Cleopatra was in her large, circular bath, laying on a sunken seat with only her head above the water which was covered in floating, pink rose petals. Her eyes were closed. She was dozing in the hot water.

“Mardian why do you stop?”

“There is a man in the room highness.”

“Men are not allowed in my bathroom,” she replied, the heat of the water sapping her strength, “You know the rules.”

“I don’t think this one cares my queen.”

She opened her eyes. The light was bright. The man in front of her in silhouette. She shielded her eyes with her hand. Now she could see the expensive red tunic, luxury boots, gold breastplate, ivory handled sword at the hip.

“Oh it’s you Caesar.”

“Yes.”

“My guards didn’t stop you?”

“They didn’t dare try.”

“I must speak to them about this.”

Julius was growing impatient. He planted his fists on his hips.

“How is the water?”

She raised a shapely leg out of the water and ran her fingers up it, from the ankle to the knee.

“Lovely,” she replied blissfully.

“Good,” he said, “I’m pleased. I can now return to my men and tell them that while they fight a war to reinstate Cleopatra as queen of Egypt and have nothing to drink the queen at least can bathe in luxury.”

“What are you talking about Caesar?” she asked, her eyes closed again, irritation in her voice, “have your men thought about going to the wells for water?” she asked sarcastically.

“The wells, the fountains, the very pipes are contaminated, flooded with sea water.”

“Inside the palace is fine.”

“So I see.”

She opened her eyes again and reached for a wooden boat drifting on the ripples. She opened it’s top and dipped her fingers in and proceeded to rub her arms with scented oil. He glared at her in disbelief. She caught his gaze.

“It’s a model of my royal barge, to scale of course. Not the real thing. Perhaps you would like a guided tour.”

“Some other time. Things are more pressing at the moment.”

She pushed the barge across the bath as though it were a toy then stopped it with her toe.

“If only my brother would sail away so easily,” she said more to herself. Only Caesar heard.

“Cleopatra please!” he said loudly making her look up, “I need blueprints, plans, whatever you have of the palace irrigation system and I need it now before my men discover the pollution and we have a full scale mutiny on our hands.”

She stopped what she was doing to glance up at him.

“Oh very well!”

She stood in the bath and modestly covered her large breasts with one arm and hand. He felt excitement rush through his tummy.

“Well don’t just stand there Caesar. Pass me a towel.”

He passed her one that was too small. It barely covered her. She stepped up out of the bath and onto a small mat that had been placed for her. Serving girls rushed to her with towels and began drying her legs and feet. Two others began brushing her hair. Caesar watched with amusement.

When Cleopatra was dressed she slipped into a sheer, almost see through pink dress and gold, thronged, slippers. She was handed a glass of fresh water. Caesar waited patiently for her. Then finally she said.

“It was water you wanted to talk about.”

“Yes. My men have reserves but they are getting low.”

“If you would like to come with me. The best and most accurate records are kept in the library but the palace has copies. My architect Theophrastus will have copies. I will have them brought to us.”



Thirty minutes later and Julius Caesar had the best copies of Alexandria’s water supply system on the table in front of him.

“Where is the most likely point for Achillas to flood the conduit system?”

“The main pipe from the Nile runs underground from here,” she pointed on the map, “It passes the southern suburbs of Alexandria here and then runs very close to the harbour here. From here he could stop the freshwater, cap it and flood with seawater instead. This half of the palace runs off this pipe. Your half runs off this pipe. It’s this pipe that he’s sabotaged….Why do you smile?”

“Because it’s ingenious. He’s a worthy adversary. He sabotages my half of the palace and not yours why?”

She searched for the answer.

“Because if he defeats you and I he will want to move straight back into this side of the palace which is not contaminated.”

“Clever girl.”

She leaned forward over the table.

“All your men have to do is dig.”

He was looking at her buttocks through the thin material.

“Dig?”

“Yes. If they dig down they can penetrate the pipe network and reach water.”

“That’s a very good idea.”

He reached a hand out and placed it on her right buttock. This action stopped her and she turned up to look at him.

“Now Caesar are you trying to take advantage of me?”

“No. This is my reward to you for helping me.”

He pulled her close and kissed her hard on the mouth. She responded. There was a polite cough from behind. They both turned. Dolabella was standing ten paces away looking awkward.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Caesar but the men have discovered the sabotage.”

Julius wasn’t surprised. It could only have been a matter of time. He nodded at Dolabella and turned back to Cleopatra.

“It seems once again that duty calls.”

“Come to my bed tonight.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek.

“I will count the moments.”

He lifted both her hands and kissed them. Then with a swish of his cloak he turned and strode from the room. At the door he turned back, smiled, and was gone.

“Yes come to me tonight Caesar,” she said, “And when I give birth to our son he will inherit your world.”



Night had come as Caesar ascended the steps of the fortifications. He reached the top and his men below fell silent at the sight of their leader. Torches lit the compound and Julius could see thousands of faces staring up at him. On approaching he had heard their shouting. Now they were quiet. Many unsure of their actions. Many veterans remembering Caesar’s wrath at previous mutinies and the punishments that followed. Now though there was a sense of, safety, in numbers.

“Men!” he began, ”By now you all know that our water supply is contaminated, about the sabotage by the enemy. The enemy fear you men. He knows he cannot defeat you without these mind games. They are over a million strong and have gained nothing, no ground on us. For every one of you lost hundreds of theirs have fallen. Their dead lay in the streets becoming food for the animals that prowl in the night. Do not fear these desperate tactics of an army, an enemy, who is poorly equipped, poorly trained. You are the best fighting soldiers in the world. Your officers are second to none. You have the best commander…” he paused, “In me!”

A terrific cheer rose from the assembled legionaries. Someone shouted Caesar’s name and others took up the chant. Then as the voices began to die down Marcus Iunius shouted.

“Perhaps we should withdraw Caesar!”

Julius raised his hands for silence.

“No! Absolutely not. The very second we begin to retreat the Alexandrians would overwhelm the barricades and our positions. We would never make it to the harbour alive. Retreat is both unnecessary and wholly unacceptable.”

“But we can’t carry on without water.”

“Queen Cleopatra has given me her copies of the layout of the water systems,” he held the map up for them to see, “Hers are the best available. I will pass it on to your officers. Beneath this courtyard is a conduit system which carries water to fountains on our side of the palace. Next to our pipes are pipes that run directly into the royal section. Take your shovels and dig down men. Dig for your very lives and you will strike the clay pipes. Break through them and you will have your fresh water.”

Again there was a terrific cheer. Julius handed the plans to Sejanus.

“Your men need to dig down here,” Julius pointed to the pipe network on the left, “The water is fairly deep. Buried hundreds of years ago to protect it from earthquakes.”

“Yes sir. I will assign teams.”

“Try to tap into the source after this junction here. That way the royal palace will still have a water supply, though limited.”

“Yes sir.”

Sejanus saluted and left. He passed Marcellus on the steps running in the opposite direction.

“Caesar!” Marcellus called even though he was still some distance away. The senior officers swirled around as Marcellus stopped, bent over, to catch his breath. He had sprinted from across the other side of the palace complex.

“Marcellus?”

“Sir. I have just received word from Domitius Calvinus. He has made it along the coast with a fleet of ships from Rhodes.”

“That’s excellent news,” Caesar was delighted.

“No sir. It’s not,” Marcellus said, still trying to catch his breath, “He only has sails for power and the strong westerly winds are preventing him from getting any closer for now. He’s anchored near the shore.”

“So we just need to hold out until the wind dies down. That doesn’t seem so bad. I’ll break the news to the men.”

“No that’s not the end of it Caesar. I’ve just received word that Achillas has a fleet of ships sailing directly for the harbour. I think he means to attack our ships sir! Calvinus won’t be able to get through.”