Tomb of the Lost

PART TWO





CHAPTER TWO



ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT, 2 OCTOBER 48 B.C.



Small waves lapped at the Roman fleet as it lay at anchor half a mile offshore from the city. Apart from guards and a handful of officers patrolling, the decks appeared deserted. Marines and legionaries were in their bunks getting much needed rest or playing dice. A common source of entertainment for the many hours, days or weeks at sea. The slaves chained to their oars slept where they sat.

Admiral Menenius Agrippa was patrolling his ship. He stopped at the stern and watched as men, his men, clad in only loincloths tied ropes around their waists, put knives in their mouths and dived over the rail cleanly into the sea. He peered down and watched as they broke the surface of the water, took a deep breath and dived. Their job was to clear the hull and steering oars of barnacles and any other parasites clinging to them. Each man carried a small very tightly knitted mesh net and they would work feverishly to be the first to fill their own net. It was a personal competition amongst them.

Agrippa admired these men. The way they held their breath for minutes at a time. The way they showed no fear as to what could lurk beneath the waves. He had been a sailor all of his adult life. He had been overboard twice in his career, once in a storm and it was a miracle he’d survived both times and he’d never lost respect for the power of the sea.

He reached into his tunic and pulled out his small leather purse and reached in and extracted a fairly large coin. He gave it to the supervising officer.

“This to the winner.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

Pleased, he moved on, leaving the officer watching the lifelines for any signs of trouble. He stopped a short way away and bellowed at a sailor coiling ropes.

“These knots are not tied correctly. Do them again.”

The sailor dropped what he was doing and rushed to the admiral.

“If I see sloppiness like this again you’ll take your place at the oars with the slaves. Do I make myself clear.”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

Agrippa watched until he was satisfied the knots had been re-tied correctly then continued on his round. At the Corvus he met General Marcus Marcellus and Centurion Falco. Agrippa nodded towards the shore.

“Everything seems quiet now.”

“Yes,” Marcellus replied, “The crowd that had gathered at the dock this morning has now gone.”

“And probably just as well. They seemed to be quite angry.”

“Angry at us sir, but why?” Falco asked.

“Who knows what Pompey has told them?”

“If he even landed here.”

“He did Falco. he must have,” the Admiral replied, “There is nowhere else he could have fled to, to get help.”

“But will they help him?” from Marcellus.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Agrippa replied.

The men looked at the city for a few moments before Falco said.

“I didn’t realise Alexandria was so big, is it as big as Rome?”

“Almost certainly. A population of at least one million. A mix of Greeks, Egyptians, Arabs and Jews.”

“And one wonder,” Marcellus added.

“Yes,” Agrippa gazed at the lighthouse on the nearby island of Pharos. At a height of four hundred and fifty feet, it’s fire could be seen for miles.

“It is truly remarkable what men can achieve.”

They all turned as an Egyptian war galley passed on the port side. On its bow and sail a brightly painted Egyptian eye. The five banks of oars pulling her along in perfect unison. The sound of the drumbeat drifting across to the Romans. The ship was returning from a two week patrol of the Egyptian coastline. On her deck the Egyptian sailors and warriors stood and stared stonily across at the Romans. The last marine on deck grinned at them and then drew his thumb across his throat from ear to ear. Anger flushed through the Romans at the implied threat. Marcellus’ hand went down to the handle of his sword. For a moment he was tempted to draw it and brandish it.

Agrippa grabbed the hand.

“Easy lad. Easy,” he said to the much younger General.

“You saw that. Deliberate provocation,” Marcellus replied taking his hand off his sword.

“I did. But don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they riled you.”

The marine cocked his head and winked at Falco who just stared back, studying the face, memorising it. Hopefully one day soon their paths would cross again.

The galley got ahead of them and soon pulled away joining the other ships and boats in the sea lanes as they made for the harbour. Halfway it changed course and now the Roman officers saw the royal barge heading towards them.

“Now what do we have here?” Agrippa said watching the ship still some distance away.

“An ambassador possibly or an envoy, Ptolemy perhaps or Cleopatra,” from Marcellus.

“Really,” Falco said studying the barge, “The King and Queen of Egypt coming here. If I’d known that,” he said laughing, “I would have worn my best armour.”

“Me too,” Marcellus replied.

“It won’t be Cleopatra,” Agrippa said.

“Oh?”

Both men turned to look at him.

“Why?”

Agrippa looked around to make sure no one of lesser rank was within earshot.

“The rumour is that she’s fled the palace and is in a voluntary exile. That she and her brother have had a disagreement and she left.”

“A disagreement about what?”

“One report states that recent crop failures have been blamed on her by her brother….Did you know they were married by the way? Brother and sister are also husband and wife.”

Marcellus raised his hand.

“I did.”

“Well the reports our master received in Rome were that the advisors to her brothers were constantly scheming against her and the Alexandrians are now disgruntled with her. Do you remember Falco the legion of Aulus Gabinus sent here some ten years ago when our master helped Ptolemy Auletes regain his throne?”

“Yes of course,” the thirty year veteran answered. Marcellus had only served seven years. At thirty three he was the youngest General serving and knew nothing of this story.

“The legionaries went native and married local girls.”

“I remember something of it sir, Yes.”

“Now,” Agrippa said, more for Marcellus’ benefit, “The governor of Syria, Bibulus, sent his two sons to find these men, but rather than give up their new lives the soldiers murdered them. Cleopatra had all those responsible arrested and sent to Bibulus. This is what angered the Alexandrians. She appears to have taken Rome’s side in this matter. Which is why we believe she left. It is reported that she is currently trying to raise her own army. It is quite possible that Pompey has either gone over to her or is hoping to recruit the legionaries of ten years ago.

“So if this isn’t her coming to us now in this barge then who could it be? This, what did you call him, Aletes?”

“Ptolemy Auletes. Cleopatra’s father. No not him. He died three years ago.”

“Then perhaps it’s him, the son, Cleopatra’s brother.”

“Well whoever it is,” Marcellus said, “I’d better let our master know.”



Inside the senior officer’s cabin a man was at his desk writing. He put his stylus down for a moment and rubbed tired eyes, then picked the pen up again to continue.

Gaius Julius Caesar, fifty two years old, supreme Roman military commander, the most powerful man on earth was making reports in his journal.

The civil war that has been raging now for almost two years has brought me and my legion to the shores of Egypt. Pompey runs from me and yet I hope, somehow, when he is captured to make a reconciliation with him.



There was a knock at the door.

“Come,” Julius said.

The door opened and Marcellus entered.

“I am sorry to disturb you Caesar but a royal barge is approaching.”

“Has there been any advanced message or messenger?”

“No sir nothing.”

“Any indication as to who may be on board?”

“No sir.”

“Very well.”

Julius got up from the table and beckoned to two man servants who instantly rushed forward with his armour, cloak and weapons and began helping him into them.

“Assemble all generals and an honour guard.”

“Yes sir.”



By the time Julius was on deck the Egyptian royal barge, which was a third of the size of the Roman Quinquireme, had already launched its longboat. The generals stood and watched as it came nearer. Three ambassadors sat in full ceremonial dress, guards behind them.

The three were sweating by the time they’d climbed the ladder and faced the Romans, much to the amusement of the officers present.

“Welcome aboard gentlemen,” Caesar said with friendliness.

The man in the middle of the three stepped forward.

“I am ambassador Pharnaces. I am the royal messenger for king Ptolemy XIII of Egypt. I have a message for our esteemed friend and guest Gaius Julius Caesar,” Pharnaces said extending a be-ringed hand holding a small scroll.

Caesar took the scroll, opened it and read the characters.

“His royal highness king Ptolemy invites you to be a guest upon his royal barge. He welcomes Rome as a friend and ally. What answer shall I give him on my return?” Pharnaces said.

Caesar rolled the scroll back up.

“I will be honoured to be king Ptolemy’s guest.”

The ambassadors all bowed low, turned and descended the ladder slowly.

“Launch the longboat,” Agrippa ordered.

“If you want my advice Caesar we’ll leave this viper’s nest now and return to Rome. Come back with your legions and teach them some manners. Expecting you to attend them. It should be the other way round.”

“Now. Now. Marcellus. You must exercise patience. Firstly I come in peace. We all do. Secondly we come for my son-in-law Pompey. And thirdly I want the money owed to Rome by the former and now dead king Auletes. It is a lot of money to sail away from. Rome and Egypt have been allies for years. I would very much like to see it remain so.”

Julius led the way down the ladder and onto the Roman longboat, his Generals and personal bodyguards following and the boat was launched. As Julius sat watching the gulls sitting on the waves he couldn’t help wondering if Pompey had done this very same thing just days before.

Sitting on his throne on his royal barge surrounded by his advisors the fourteen year old King Ptolemy XIII watched the Roman visitors draw closer. He’d been most interested in watching the elegant Caesar as he’d descended to the boat.

“I think we should make peace with this man,” he said to the heavily armoured man standing to his left, General Achillas.

“The Romans are not to be trusted sire.”

“Once I have given him what he wants he will leave.”

“I hope so my King.”

Ptolemy watched for a further minute.

“I do not think I want this man to be my enemy. Bring forward the gift. I will offer it myself.”

“As you wish sire.”

Once on the deck of the royal barge the four Roman Cornicens stood in a line and blew a fanfare as Julius Caesar came on deck. He waited until they finished and the Cornicens were lowered and all on deck waited as the Egyptian Shenebs, a long trumpet, gave their fanfare.

Caesar nodded at his musicians, smiling, then he looked at the Egyptian royal party and his face became serious. He bade his Generals to wait where they were then stepped towards the royal dais alone. Then his smile returned. He focused on the youth on the throne.

“King Ptolemy I presume.”

The boy, in his enthusiasm, nodded. Caesar expected him to rise and greet Rome’s greatest general as an equal but the boy remained seated.

“Hail King Ptolemy, Theos Philopater, divine son of the gods, ruler of the lands of upper and lower Egypt, chosen of Ptah, to carry out the rule of Re, the living image of Amun.”

Caesar waited until the elegant, effeminate, man had finished.

“That was quite an introduction….” he paused for the other man to give his name.

“Pothinus. Lord chancellor and advisor to King Ptolemy.”

“Very well. And I am Gaius Julius Caesar, Aedile, Praetor, Consul, Dictator, Triumvir and Pontifex Maximus and descendent of Venus.”

He looked at the rest of the royal party.

“And where is Cleopatra?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

None of the royal entourage answered him. Now he focused on Ptolemy again. His face deadly serious.

“Where is your sister?”

Caesar was met with stony silence. He began pacing up and down as Generals do, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. He had already noted that while he stood in the direct sun the Alexandrians stood in the shade.

“As I recall one of the conditions of your father being returned to his throne was that you rule jointly. Yet news reached me in Rome that she is in exile. Could you kindly explain please.”

Pothinus was livid. He wished he could have this Roman beheaded right here on the deck.

’Who does he think he is’

When he spoke he managed to remain calm.

“The Queen has….”

He started again. Choosing different words.

“The condition you talk of great Caesar was one where King Ptolemy and his sister were to rule jointly as monarchs and also as is custom and has been for fifteen generations as husband and wife. Cleopatra decided some time ago that she was no longer happy with this arrangement. But before we could present a solution she left. This is an ancient custom for siblings to rule in this way. It goes back to the very first of our Pharoahs and I need not remind you great Caesar,” again he used the word sarcastically, “That our history is a lot older than yours. Rome is barely seven hundred years old. To us,” he said with a sweep of his hand towards the city. “It is a mere blink of the eye.”

Caesar tapped his toes, irritated.

The Alexandrians had descended from Ptolemy, general of Alexander the Great’s army. Their history was a mere three hundred years old. In that time they had made no effort to become part of Egyptian civilisation. Through lack of discipline they were quite unruly. Caesar could now see why.

“The rot goes all the way to the top of the apple.”

“I beg your pardon Caesar,” Pothinus asked.

“Nothing. I was just muttering under my breath. The crowd seems hostile. I think I’m beginning to see why.”

The Roman stepped over to the heavily armed man and looked into the liquid blue eyes.

“General Achillas is it?”

“Yes Caesar.”

Caesar had heard of this mans prowess.

“Your soldiery is legendary in Rome.”

Achillas nodded slowly, greatly honoured.

“Thank you Caesar.”

Julius guessed they were about the same age.

“Then tell me. General to General. Man to man. Where is the queen?”

“She is not here. It is as the Lord chamberlain said. She was unhappy so she left. She intends to raise an army and return here to take, as she put it, ’what is rightfully hers’.”

“Left or was driven out.”

Their eyes met. Caesar could tell the General was an honest man. He held the Roman’s stare easily.

“She left.”

“Thank you.”

Caesar whirled on the others.

“Very well. I accept what the General has just told me at face value. I’m sorry to doubt you but these are foul times and suspicions arise. Now I have another pressing problem. The whereabouts of my son-in-law, the General Gnaeus Pompeius. Tell me where he is.”

Ptolemy nodded at Pothinus. It was a pre-arranged signal between them. The Eunuch came forward and held his arm out, his hand in a fist. Caesar recognised the gesture and held his own hand out, but open, the palm up. Pothinus opened his hand and something fell into Caesar’s palm. Caesar turned it over. It was a large, man’s ring. On its face a lion bearing a sword.

“Pompey’s ring,” Caesar said turning it over, studying it.

“Correct,” Pothinus said. He clicked his fingers at a guard standing away from the party. He brought forward a jute sack and set it down in front of Pothinus then opened it took something out.

Caesar’s bodyguards drew their swords and jumped into action completely surrounding him.

“Protect the General,” Dolabella ordered.

The Egyptian guards now took up positions. Caesar raised his hand to his men.

“At ease.”

From behind him Marcellus said.

“It‘s General Pompey Magnus.”

Though spoken quietly everyone heard it.

Julius Caesar looked at the severed head being held before him. The eyes were open. Eyes he recognised. Eyes he knew. His hand had in-advertantly strayed to his sword hilt and he felt his fingers tighten around it. Achillas saw and without moving he readied himself for the Roman’s attack if it came.

Caesar’s face had gone red but he managed to remain calm.

“Who did this?” he asked finally “Achillas did you do this?”

“Like you said Caesar. Man to man. Generals don’t kill Generals.”

The Roman stared at him again. But as before Achillas held his gaze. Finally Caesar turned back to the severed head. He half bowed to it and the Egyptian holding it put it back into the pot and replaced the towel. A sudden gust of wind suddenly blew up. The large Roman sails crackled as they filled out. Caesar’s robe whirled about his expensive boots.

“Are you not pleased Caesar?” Ptolemy asked.

“Pleased?”

“With the gift. My advisors said you would be pleased with the gift. Is this not your hated enemy?”

“Hated? No. Friend. Yes.”

“But they said….” Ptolemy spoke in a high pitched voice looking at each of his advisors in turn.

“Caesar has had something of a shock. It is not everyday that you receive your enemy’s head so readily. Now I’m sure my King that Caesar will excuse us. He will no doubt wish to leave for Rome straight away and leave us to our own problems.”

Julius was still staring at the head. He looked up into Pothinus’ eyes, then up at the sky. The breeze was still tugging at his cloak.

“I won’t be returning to Rome just yet. The winds are not favourable for a sea journey. The crossing can be treacherous if a storm suddenly comes.”

Pothinus remained calm but inside he was seething.

“Of course great Caesar. We would not want anything to happen to you or your fleet,” he said secretly wishing all the Romans to a watery grave.

“I will need room for myself, my officers and servants. My men will camp inside the outer walls of the palace.”

Pothinus bowed his head.

“It will be done as you wish Caesar. We are honoured to have you here,” he lied, “We would be only too happy to atke you to the city. You’ll find the barge most luxurious for your….”

“I’ll be returning to my own ship. Please make sure there is room at the royal dock for my ship.” Julius cut him off.

“Yes of course Caesar. I will see to it personally. King Ptolemy will retire.”

Caesar pointed at four of his men.

“A Roman guard of honour for the King.”

The legionaries followed the royal party inside.

“Bring that,” Caesar pointed to the head.

A legionary picked it up and put it back into the sack and moved in behind the Generals. Caesar took one last look at the retreating Egyptians and then turned and stomped from the deck towards the longboat. The others falling in behind.