Tomb of the Lost

Chapter SIX



Ptolemy was suddenly awake. He had been dreaming, strange dreams, chaotic dreams. He was soaked in sweat. He looked around the room he was in. It was his bedroom. He stared at a lamp stand that was buckled. The oil from it was in a puddle on the floor. Then he remembered.

He had returned to his bedroom with Theodotus and Pothinus. No! Wait! Pothinus was executed. He now remembered how he had recoiled in horror when he’d fled Caesar and seen the headless corpse of Pothinus being dragged away by palace slaves. The body had left a large smear of blood on the floor. A trail of red against the polished marble.

It was just Theodotus.

He, Ptolemy, had been weeping in despair and had completely against character grabbed a pitcher of wine. Theodotus had tried to discourage him from drinking. But Ptolemy had downed a third of the jug in seconds. Never having drunk before it burned his throat and made him throw up.

Undeterred, he’d continued.

“My Lord this is not the answer.”

Theodotus had tried to take the jug from him but Ptolemy had collapsed to the floor clutching it to his chest.

“It’s the only way. What do I have left?” The boy King blurted out, “Pothinus is dead. Cleopatra is back. Caesar has sided with her against me. They have stolen my throne.”

“Usurped it for the moment my King. Have you forgotten your army? Twenty thousand men under Achillas’ command surrounding this city. Men joining every day.”

“What good will it do?”

“Sire Achillas outnumbers Caesar’s forces five to one.”

“Doomed! We are all doomed!” Ptolemy had shouted.

Theodotus had tried to re-assure him but he was soon downing the wine at a very fast rate. Finally Ptolemy had ordered them all out of his presence and shouted at everyone to leave him alone. Later there came the sound of the lamp crashing over, other things being broken, more vomiting and finally his snoring filled the palace. At Theodotus’ orders a servant peered cautiously into the room to see what was happening. Theodotus came in with a handful of slaves. Ptolemy was slumped on the floor against the large wooden bed. Slaves quickly undressed and cleaned him and helped him into his bed. Theodotus went over to where his crown lay on the floor where it had rolled and picked it up and put it on a table. A slave ran past him with Ptolemy’s royal robes which stank of sour wine and vomit. The lamp stand was picked up and the spilt oil mopped up. Some broken furniture was carried outside. After watching the slaves position the boy so if he did vomit again he wouldn’t choke on it Theodotus ordered them out. They left him snoring. Theodotus noticed when they left that the Roman guards were no longer there, just the two Egyptian ones with spears.

Ptolemy now sat up in bed. His mouth was dry and tasted disgusting. He tried to swallow but couldn’t produce enough saliva. His head was thumping in a way he’d never known before. He belched. The taste of the wine was back in his throat. It tasted strong and burned. He leaned over and was sick all over the floor. When he did lift his head again the room was spinning. He groaned and lay back again and slept for a while. When he woke up the room was brighter which told him it was around mid-morning. Looking at the sun’s pattern on the floor he guessed it was between eight and nine o’clock. Someone had been in and cleaned the floor again. He got up out of the bed feeling a bit better and walked shakily over to a basin by which there was a jug of fresh water. He tried to pour himself a cup full of water but was shaking too much. He put the cup down and raised the jug to his lips with both hands and slurped from it. He paused, wiped his hand across his mouth and drank again. Next he poured himself some water into the basin and cupping his hands into the water he splashed it over his face. He repeated it twice more and when no one was there to wipe his face with a towel for him as there had been someone all of his life he found a towel and wiped it himself. Not knowing what to do with the towel he threw it on the floor. Then a thought struck him, an awful thought. Once he was with Achillas and the army he would have to do everything himself. He remembered the events of last night again and soon panic started to set in. he dashed across the bedroom to the double doors.

“Theodotus! Theodotus!” he wailed.

He opened the double doors and stopped, shocked to find no guards. The corridor was empty except for a female servant arranging flowers on a side table. She saw him approach and instantly dropped to her knees and spread her hands on the floor, her head low.

“Where are my guards?” he asked her.

She kept her face down.

“I don‘t know my King.“

“Theodotus! Where’s Theodotus?”

He stopped and looked ahead. Theodotus had rounded the corner and seeing Ptolemy he walked quickly towards him.

“Theodotus where have you been? I was worried. I had nightmares.”

Theodotus caught him by the arm and led him back towards the bedroom.

“Stop! What are you doing? STOP!” Ptolemy stamped his feet.

“This is not the place to discuss….”

“I want answers.”

“My King it would be better if we could discuss things in private.”

“No! Stop! I won’t go! I demand an answer. Where have you been?”

Theodotus stopped and sighed. He glanced at the servant still grovelling on the floor.

“Get out,” he ordered her.

She fled. Only too happy to get away.

“I have been to see Caesar my King.”

“Caesar! What did he say?”

“Nothing my Lord. I didn’t get to see him. He would not grant me an audience. I saw his General who told me that you have until nightfall to leave with all your belongings or they would be confiscated. I took your crown with me to see if he would honour the privileges a King should have but that General of his, Dolabella, just laughed and said your crown wasn’t worth its weight in shit.”

Ptolemy snatched his crown and put it on his head.

“If they do not respect my crown then they do not respect me!”

He turned and ran, catching Theodotus completely unawares. Theodotus being a man of considerable age and girth watched him go, unable to give chase.

Ptolemy reached the outside and paused at the bright morning sunshine as it dazzled him at first. He put his hands up in front of his eyes to shield them. He saw people on the street below gathering and he ran down the steps towards them.

There was a group of eight men at the bottom in a circle talking. One of them saw Ptolemy at the last moment as he crashed into them sending two of them sprawling. They only just managed to stop themselves from crashing to the ground.

“Hey look out!” the man who had first spotted him shouted out.

Ptolemy himself had crashed to the ground and a burly man of the group picked him up roughly. He drew back his fist but stopped in amazement at who he faced.

“It’s King Ptolemy!” someone shouted. More and more faces began to turn.

“What’s he doing here?”

The man who’d picked him up, intended to punch him, recoiled in horror. It was punishable by death for a commoner to put his hands on a member of the Royal family.

“I’m sorry your majesty I didn’t know it was you.”

“Why is he here?” someone shouted.

“Where are his guards?” said another.

“Is he alone?”

His crown had fallen and someone picked it up for him. A large group had already gathered and as the word was getting around people were abandoning what they were doing and running over to view the scene.

King Ptolemy!

Fat boy!

The bastard!

Was in their midst.

Alone and humbled.

“Move back!” Someone shouted, “Give fat boy some room.”

“Where is his poof?” someone else called.

“Yes. Yes. Where is Pothinus?” came another.

Soon the mob was shouting and hurling abuse as one. Someone passed Ptolemy his crown and he put it on back to front. This caused an uproar of laughter and jeering. He took it off again and put it on the right way to more laughter. Then he took it off and threw it to the ground. People moved out of its way as it rolled past. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing.

The crowd fell silent.

‘What? What is he doing?’ many of them were thinking.

Individual voices could be heard amongst the crowd that was growing bigger by the second.

Theodotus arrived at the top of the steps, saw Ptolemy surrounded by the crowd and called for guards. They promptly arrived.

“Quick get down there the King is….”

The Egyptian guards rushed past him.

“Wait!” he shouted.

They stopped.

“Form a line here at the top of the steps in case the mob tries to get into the palace.”

“What about the King?” the Captain of the guards asked.

“The King is quite safe.”

Theodotus was gambling but a thought had occurred to him.

’If Ptolemy is killed by the mob perhaps I can win over Caesar. There must be a position in his administration for a man like myself.’

He allowed himself a smile as he saw the crowd getting seemingly more hostile towards the boy King.

“Why is he crying?” someone shouted.

“What’s the matter with the spoilt little brat?” an anonymous voice called.

Ptolemy suddenly looked up. His tears running down his face.

“Caesar has betrayed Egypt! Betrayed us!”

“Heh? What’s he mean by that?” someone asked.

“Caesar has re-instated Cleopatra as sole monarch.”

“What? Never! Pothinus would never allow that.”

“Pothinus is dead,” Ptolemy wailed, “Caesar had him executed. Killed him without fair trial. Under Roman law. Roman not Egyptian!”

The mood of the crowd was starting to change.

“What right does he have to do that? What right?” an angry man shouted.

“Who does he think he is?” the man’s wife asked.

“This is Egypt not Rome!” shouted another.

“He’s humiliated our King!”

“Ptolemy is Egyptian not Roman!”

“I hate the Romans! The Romans stink!”

“Look up there on the steps!” someone cried.

They saw Theodotus and surged forward. The guards rushed down the steps and formed a new line of spears.

“How could you let this happen?” someone shouted and others joined in. Soon the crowd was shouting as one.

“I was unable to stop it!” Theodotus shouted though no one heard him.

Marcellus appeared at the top of the steps alongside Theodotus with eight guards.

“LOOK!” someone shouted and pointed.

Now most of the mob saw Marcellus and the mood turned to anger. They surged forward and engaged the single line of Egyptian spears and though the guards held them at bay Theodotus shouted for more. They ran down the steps and soon guards were five deep, then six, then seven and now they held the mob easily.

Someone threw a large stone which would have hit Marcellus in the head had the legionary next to him not seen it coming and not raised his shield in time. It bounced off harmlessly. Now all sorts of missiles rained down on the steps as the Egyptians threw anything that came to hand.

Someone threw a hammer which hit one of the Egyptian guards in the face. He fell where he stood, his nose broken. He left a pool of blood on the steps as two of his colleagues helped him up and rushed him to safety. The line faltered where the three had retreated and the mob was able to push the guards back a step and they gained ground but the line held once more.

Marcellus could see the anger was directed mainly at him. Was it him or Rome he asked himself. The faces and the fists left him in no doubt. He watched for a further minute then turned and strode from the steps to the delight of the crowd.

He passed dozens of his legionaries who rushed past and set up a cordon at the top of the steps. Despite the increase in Roman numbers the mob saw Marcellus’ retreat as a victory.

“LOOK! Look at how the great General runs from us.”

Ptolemy was suddenly at the front of the crowd. The mob began to move back from the guards. Now they were two paces away. Slowly they fell into silence, waiting to see what their King had to say. He held his hands up to speak.

“The Romans think they own Egypt. They think they can decide who rules us. They mean to make slaves of you. To take your hard earned money as tax. To steal Egypt’s gold. Gold they have not worked or sweated or bled for. They believe themselves Gods over men, can decide our fate. I say we decide our own fate. My sister chose her fate when she turned her back on us. You Alexandrians are happy people. Are our laws not lax? Are you not free citizens? Is our city not the best in the world? She wanted to change all this. She didn’t want what my father left. She didn’t want Pothinus or Achillas guiding our future. She wants to integrate herself with old Egypt, its customs, its people. Things that people have neglected, she wants to bring back. Is our future not better? We have not followed these customs for over two hundred years. When the governor of Syria sent his sons here to round up legionaries to attack Parthia and they were subsequently murdered it was she, Cleopatra, who sent the soldiers responsible for punishment. Does this not tell you that she has given in to Roman pressure? Succumbed to their leader? Julius Caesar. This night she even shared her bed with him.”

He paused while the crowd roared their anger. He raised his hand for them to listen once more.

“It is her fault the crops have failed in the fields. The Gods are angry with her and it is you that will pay the price.”

There was another uproar.

“Achillas stands on the edge of this city with twenty thousand men loyal to Alexandria. Help me! Help him! To rid our city, our country of the tyranny of Rome!”

The crowd erupted into a frenzy. Hands suddenly picked Ptolemy up and he was paraded around on shoulders above the crowd to the cheering of his name.

“Ptolemy! Ptolemy! Ptolemy!”



When Julius woke he was laying on his back, the bed comfortable. Cleopatra was laying on her side facing him, her arm across his waist, her head resting on his chest. Her mouth was open ever so slightly, her breathing slow and relaxed. There were a few fronds of her hair across her face and he moved them with his free hand, leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. His kiss becoming part of her dream.

He lay still remembering their love making. She had bitten him many times, playfully. Something he’d never experienced before despite having bed many women in his life. Then she’d pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him and didn’t stop until they were both spent.

The memory of it was making him erect again and he lifted the sheet to look at her naked body. He stopped when he heard a commotion from outside the door. He strained to listen, the voices were muted. He cocked his ear and opened his mouth slightly. Cleopatra murmured then turned over. Then he recognised Marcellus’ voice and he gently removed Cleopatra’s arm from his side and propped himself up on an elbow. Then at the sound of a scuffle and raised voices from the other side of the door he was up and reaching for a toga.

“I am sorry General but the Queen is not to be disturbed.”

Apollodorus was standing firmly in front of Marcellus flanked by four of Cleopatra’s guards.

“It is not your Queen I wish to disturb. I need to speak with my master who is with your Queen.”

“Once again I am sorry General but it is impossible for you to go in. The Queen’s bedroom is accessible to only a handful of servants.”

“Is it accessible to you?”

“Of course General.”

“Then you go in.”

“I’m afraid not,” Apollodorus replied. He looked past Marcellus as he saw Germanicus approaching with eight Roman guards. Germanicus drew up alongside Marcellus.

“What is the commotion outside?”

“Ptolemy went outside and told the early morning crowd of what Caesar has done. They’ve taken Ptolemy’s side and pelted me and my men with stones. I’ve come to warn Caesar.”

“Does he now know?”

“No. Apollodorus won’t grant me access.”

“We must speak to Caesar at once. Move aside,” Germanicus said.

“I’m sorry General Germanicus that is quite impossible. The Queen has strict instructions to never be disturbed in bed.”

Germanicus glanced at the four Egyptian guards who only stared ahead impassively.

“Seize him,” he suddenly ordered.

Two of his men grabbed Apollodorus. The Egyptian guards sprang into action though didn’t attack. They pointed their spears at the Romans. The remaining six Romans quick as a flash drew their swords and they were pointing at Egyptian throats. It was a standoff. Suddenly the door opened and Caesar was there.

“Sire thank goodness. I’ve come to warn you of a disturbance at the palace steps.”

“Yes I heard everything through the door.”

Apollodorus was struggling against the hands that held him.

“Your men have stopped me from doing my duty.”

“I’ve said so before Apollodorus. You’re a good man. Let him go. The Queen has not been disturbed. You have not failed in your duty to her. Put away your swords gentlemen.”

Apollodorus nodded to the Egyptian guards who brought their spears back into the upright position.

“Sire the mob was pushing for access to the palace but at least fifty or sixty guards were keeping them back.”

“Palace guards?”

“Probably,” Apollodorus replied.

“Well seeing as there are no rioters in the palace thus far we must assume that not everyone is loyal to Ptolemy. Are the guards Cleopatra’s?”

“No Caesar. They are palace guards. Their unit was set up by Pothinus. They are loyal to the protection of the palace only and not to either monarch.”

“That’s good. Pothinus was useful for some things it seems.”

More Romans arrived, Lucius at their head. Servants were carrying Caesar’s finest armour. He raised his arms for the breastplate to be fitted then put his arms down.

“Wait.”

He reached for the laurel leaf crown on a single purple cushion. Lucius picked up the crown and handed it to his master.

“I think today calls for diplomacy gentlemen. How does my toga look?”

“Fine sir.”

“Good.”

He waved his hand in dismissal at his armourers. To the Generals he said.

“You will accompany me to the palace steps. Guards will keep a respectful distance.”

“Yes Sir.”

They all saluted and fell in behind him. Apollodorus watched until they’d disappeared around the corner and out of sight.

“He has got majesty,” he said out loud, “The Gods I really like him.”

He looked at the four Egyptian guards who only stared ahead as before, impassively.



The crowd had settled some and Ptolemy had been allowed to move through the Egyptian guards. He and Theodotus now stood three steps up from where they could see the size of the crowd and the crowd could see and hear him.

A great cheer went up as he finished promising them a return to their chosen lives. A life without Rome.

Then as one the mob surged forward again, angry and shouting. The Egyptian guards had to rush forward once again to contain them. Ptolemy and Theodotus had instinctively moved back a step in surprise at the sudden hostile movement.

‘It had been going so well,’ Ptolemy said to himself as he watched the shaking fists. Then he realised this new aggression wasn’t directed at him or Theodotus.

They looked at each other, the boy King and his teacher, and then slowly turned their heads and looked over their shoulders.

Julius Caesar was standing at the top of the steps glaring down at the two of them. Theodotus, remembering the fate of Pothinus, suddenly wished he was anywhere but there. He felt Caesar’s eyes boring directly into him. Ptolemy, knowing his fate had already been sealed glanced back at the crowd, a strange smirk on his face. Theodotus was becoming increasingly uneasy at Caesar’s stare. Then Caesar took his eyes off the King’s schoolteacher and glared at the crowd. Theodotus let out a sigh of relief. He felt the sweat trickle down his spine. As Caesar came slowly down the steps Theodotus tried to make himself as small as he could as he moved out of the way. Caesar glanced at him only once in passing. Theodotus retreated up the steps like an animal hoping not to be detected. He stopped at the top when he saw Caesar’s Generals were also glaring at him.

The Egyptian guards were battling hard against the jeering, shouting mob again. Caesar took in the debris on the steps, which were littered. He guessed the Alexandrians couldn’t have much left to throw.

Ptolemy was cringing away from the Roman who suddenly bounded towards him and threw an arm around the youth’s shoulder. Ptolemy flinched but Julius pulled him into his embrace with a broad, beaming smile. Ptolemy’s instinct was to cower away but the crowd fell into a hushed silence.

Was this not their supposed, hated enemy, here, now, showing a friendliness towards their bastard King.

Caesar grinned at Ptolemy who was clearly petrified. Then Julius released him and Ptolemy backed away a few steps not understanding at all Caesar’s intentions. The mob were still shouting though not as loud as before and Caesar raised both his hands to gain their attention.

“Alexandrians, Greeks, Nubians, Jews, Spaniards, Gauls, all other nations, Romans,” Caesar began, “I stand today, here before you, on the steps of the great palace founded by Alexander, son of Philip and Olympias, and built by the great Ptolemy I, as a friend and loyal vassal of King Ptolemy XIII and his sister Cleopatra!”

Members of the crowd began shouting abuse and insults but Caesar ignored them and carried on.

“My role here is arbiter between the sibling monarchs. Nothing more! And furthermore I came here in pursuit of my son-in-law, the great Pompey, who was unfortunately killed in a misunderstanding. The internal problems of your city were not my affair and I had no wish to intervene or involve myself or any of my men in this way. Indeed!” he shouted over the jeering crowd, “I have not retaliated against Pompey’s murder….”

“Not retaliated,” someone shouted, “Then why did you have Pothinus executed?”

“Pothinus was found guilty of treason against your lawful Queen, Cleopatra. Roman law was passed in arbitration. But I swear to you….!”

The crowd were now shouting above him.

“I SWEAR TO YOU!” Caesar roared at the top of his voice, “That it was an Egyptian, not a Roman, who carried out the execution!”

“An Egyptian?” someone shouted.

“Yes! One of your Queen’s servants. So you see, no Roman has acted hostilely since my arrival. Some of my men have already been killed by your people, by Alexandrians. But have I retaliated against them, or against Pompey‘s killers? No!”

“Then why don’t you just sail away and leave?”

The noise level rose again and Caesar had to raise his hands again for silence.

“Because I made an allegiance. I swore an oath to King Ptolemy Auletes that I would always come to aid his children, his descendants, his….” Caesar clapped an arm around Ptolemy again, ”….Son and daughter. They need my help. Alexandrians, I urge you please, to accept that I am here as a friend only, nothing more.”

The crowd now began talking amongst themselves. For a brief moment Caesar thought he may have a chance of winning them over.

“There is bound to be objection at what you believe is Roman interference but I assure you it is not so!”

“Then why does Ptolemy say you’re here for gold and gold only?”

“That was a thought that Pothinus planted in his head. Pothinus! Not Caesar! He couldn’t have been more wrong. It is true that Egypt, or rather Ptolemy Auletes owes me ten million Denarii and I was hoping to leave with that debt settled in full.”

“So it is the gold you want. Egypt’s wealth and nothing more. It is True!”

“It is not true! Furthermore! As a token of my appreciation of the debt being paid I intend to restore to Egyptian rule the island of CYPRUS!”

The excitement in the crowd rose now as they spoke among themselves again.

“Did you hear what he just promised? What he said! Cyprus! Cyprus back under Egypt’s rule. Think of the power! Think of the wealth!”

“How do we know he’ll keep his word?”

As if to clarify Caesar said.

“This I swear to you as Rome’s envoy to Egypt. Alexandrians I implore you to listen, to consider my offer. There is no need for us to be enemies. Please return to your homes, your shops, your businesses.”

Caesar stopped and waited. The crowd appearing to be less hostile. They were discussing things amongst themselves. Then the man near the front who had been doing most of the questioning, turned away from the Roman dictator and began walking through the crowd. His fellows watched him.

“Antonius. Where do you go?” One of his friends called.

He stopped. A space cleared around him as people moved out of his way.

“I am going to consider what the Roman has said.”

“You are?”

“Yes! And besides I have a business to run.”

The crowd made way for him as he left. Others were left staring at his departing back. Soon a dozen were leaving, then more. Caesar turned his head this way and that. A few, who were obviously intent on continuing, tried to shout more abuse and insults but as the crowd around them began to disperse they lost faith. Caesar waited until the street was almost back to normal then after thanking the Egyptian guards he turned and with his arm around Ptolemy led the way up the steps. At the top he let Ptolemy go and glared at Theodotus, who tried a smile.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you executed right here and now.”

Theodotus quailed under the stare.

“The sentence stands!”

Dolabella came running up to Julius.

“Sire you’d better come quick. Achillas and the Egyptian army has been seen just outside the city.

Ptolemy suddenly made a run for it.

“Stop him!” Caesar ordered.

Marcellus caught him by the collar of his robe.

“You try anything like that again and I’ll shove my sword up your arse you snivelling little shit!” he bared his teeth at Theodotus, “That goes for you too!”