Tomb of the Lost

Chapter SEVEN



Julius Caesar bounded up the steps two at a time. His bodyguards, carrying shields, having to work twice as hard to keep up. The steps were built into the palace walls. His men lined the steps, his soldiers, his legionaries. At the top of the steps, sixty feet above the ground, he stopped. The two towers of the star gate loomed another twenty feet above him. He turned to face into the Royal palace complex. He glanced up at the window he’d stood in that first night when Cleopatra had been brought in by Apollodorus in the rug. It seemed so long ago to him now.

Much had happened, much had changed, he had changed.

He watched as his men, stripped to their waists, dismantled roofs and walls of buildings, using ropes, pulleys, hammers, horses, their bare hands, to create his no-mans land. The stone being stockpiled further back behind Roman lines. Teams of legionaries were setting up Ballista’s, the large catapults. The stone would be used against the enemy.

“Have you checked the range?”

“Not yet Caesar,” Germanicus replied.

Julius turned and looked down the street. The thoroughfare was wide but not wide enough for standard battle tactics. He allowed himself a small smile.

“Do you know gentlemen,” he said to his Generals surrounding him, “I have besieged many cities in my campaigns but I’ve never yet been the defender. Still there’s a first time for everything.”

He looked up at the stone gate towers.

“Come gentlemen. We need to go higher.”

Once at the top of the left tower Caesar could see out over the whole city. The sun sparkled off the sea beyond the harbour where the Roman ships lay at anchor. Smoke drifted up from the lighthouse where the fire had burned out. It would be prepared for dusk during the day. The streets below were unusually quiet. On the rooftops of many buildings the Romans could see people. No doubt spies recording what they saw and reporting back to Achillas with their findings. Tall palm trees appeared at random above the rooftops. Up the hill behind was the temple complex, dedicated to Osiris.

From up here Julius could see exactly what he controlled. Beyond the Royal section of the harbour was the common harbour.

“From here we can see exactly what we control.”

The Generals gathered closer around their leader.

“We control that much of the harbour,” he said with a sweep of his arm, “The palace grounds before us. That area to the South is ours. Agrippa holds that with over four thousand infantry and a few hundred cavalry. Achillas has flanked them without a fight. Even though he outnumbers them five to one he doesn’t attack. Agrippa has sent riders to Mithridates of Pergamum asking for help.”

“But Sir Pergamum is in Turkey. Even if King Mithridates left immediately it will take him weeks to arrive at best.”

“I’m afraid Marcellus is right gentlemen. We are in the most difficult, physical fight of our lives.”

“Don’t worry sir. You always come out on top. You’ll find a way to save the day. You always have, you always will.”

“I am worried Marcellus. I’m worried about supplies. Food is scarce. We have enough for now. The men will fight hungry but no it’s not the food I worry about, it’s water. A man can survive on hunger, but thirst?”

“We have plenty of fresh water sir, from the canals.”

“Which could easily, going by the model, be flooded with sea water, leaving our supply useless.”

“Let’s hope they don’t think of it sir.”

“I’m afraid Marcellus I expect they already have.”

“Caesar!” a voice called from below.

Five faces appeared over the edge of the tower and looked down. Caesar saw one of the Ballista commanders. The man who’d called next to him. A legionary without weapons covered in dust.

“An urgent message sir!”

Caesar waved.

“After you Marcellus.”

By the time Caesar and the Generals got down to the level of the courtyard the messenger was gulping down a jug of water. He saluted the Roman dictator.

“I beg your pardon sire, about my appearance. I had to leave my horse some distance away and I ran here. It must have been at least two miles.”

“That’s quite all right. Now, please, what message do you have for Caesar?”

“Achillas has sent messengers to all the local towns and villages asking for support. Thousands have come to his banner sir, maybe even tens of thousands. They are flocking into Alexandria carrying whatever they can bring or dragging weapons behind them.”

“Siege weapons?”

“Yes sir.”

“I didn’t expect this. It seems Achillas is not happy with just twenty thousand men,” Caesar said to his Generals.

The messenger took another gulp of water.

“That’s not all sir. The rich landowners are arming their slaves and giving them to the cause. They in turn are guarding all the main routes into the city thus freeing up the regular soldiers to fight.”

Caesar clenched his fists in anger.

“I didn’t realise they would act so soon.”

He looked up at the palace where Cleopatra was, cursing her for not having a standing army.

“I beg your pardon Caesar but the Admiral Agrippa sent twelve of us via different routes. How many of us have got through?”

“Just you so far.”

They heard a shout and all turned. Another messenger had made it to the gate, a nasty gash on the side of his head, the blood caked with dust. Legionaries ran to his aid. Caesar rushed over to him.

“Get him some water!”

He studied the gash.

“Are you all right soldier?”

“Yes sir.”

The man drank from the offered cup.

“I was caught by the mob but managed to escape but not before someone threw a brick at me, which as you can see hit me in the head sir.”

“Yes that’s quite a gash. Quickly make your report then we can get you to a surgeon.”

“The locals sir are bringing out what they can from their houses. I saw tables, chairs, beds….”

“What are they doing with them?”

“Building barricades. Across entire streets. I saw some that must be forty feet high at least.”

“They intend to keep us here, pinned down as it were?”

“That’s not all Caesar. On my way in to the city I saw mobile siege towers being pulled by oxen. I think sir, they intend to bring the fight to us.”

Each man looked at his neighbour now. All fully understood the desperate situation they found themselves in.

“Caesar!” An officer shouted from the left tower of the gate.

Julius shielded his eyes with his hand from the morning sun to see the man better.

“Sir a large group of men is approaching!”

“Archers! Form up!” Julius shouted running for the gate. Once again at the top Caesar could see the mob approaching.

“Archers ready!” he ordered.

Now the entire wall was filled with men armed with bows, arrows nocked, strings drawn back halfway.

The crowd came on slowly. Caesar guessed there was at least a hundred Alexandrians. More were joining from side roads. Five hundred paces away they stopped. As the Romans watched from the walls one man broke rank and came forward alone. He stopped four hundred paces away.

“Caesar can you hear me?” he shouted.

He waited. His eyes roving over the line of Roman helmets appearing above the parapet.

“Caesar!” he yelled again.

He watched. There was no sound, no motion, from the walls. He looked up at the twin towers then brought his eyes back down as the large wooden gates creaked open. A score of legionaries filed out and took up positions. The crowd shuffled nervously. For most of them this was the first time in their lives that they had seen professional, fighting soldiers.

The legionaries covered the side streets. Now archers came out into the street and watched the rooftops. The front ranks of the mob took a step back in uncertainty. The single man waited unafraid. Then as everyone watched the gate Julius Caesar, supreme military dictator of Rome, stepped out. Dolabella right behind. Personal bodyguards formed a circle around them and slowly they advanced on the lone figure. Halfway they stopped. The lone man now felt naked without guards but even so he stood his ground.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Caesar called across the gap.

“My name is unimportant Caesar.”

A flush of anger went through the Romans. Bow strings tightened still further.

“How dare you be so insulting!” Dolabella shouted.

“I will ask you again for your name.”

“As I said Caesar my name is unimportant. For now it is sufficient for you to know that I am a Captain in the Egyptian Royal army serving under General Achillas.”

“Where is Achillas?”

“He is with his army Caesar.”

“Let me kill this insolent bastard now sir.”

“Not Yet. There are twenty archers with arrows aiming at your heart as we speak. It is only with a morbid curiosity to hear what you have to say that prevents me from giving them the order to fire. Now unknown Captain what do you want?”

“It is my master’s, the General Achillas, wish that you surrender your position and leave Alexandria immediately.”

The Romans on the walls erupted into laughter. Caesar himself smiled.

“And if I choose not to?”

“Oh I think you can be persuaded Caesar.”

The Captain turned and beckoned to the mob. Three men were brought forward, gagged and bound. They were forced onto their knees. The Captain turned back to Julius who was staring past him.

“What’s the meaning of this? Who are these men?”

The Captain turned back and nodded. The man on the left had his gag removed roughly.

“State your name and rank.”

The man remained quiet. A knife was suddenly placed at his jugular.

“Name and rank.”

“Gaius Livinius. Legionary.”

Anger swept through the Romans. He was one of theirs.

“You expect him to beg for his life.”

“No Caesar. Just for you to leave.”

Caesar smirked. The man’s fate had already been chosen.

“Never.”

“Very well.”

The Captain once again turned and nodded and the Romans watched in anguish as the knife was drawn across the throat. The bound legionary screamed once and pitched forward onto his face.

“Will you not reconsider now Caesar?”

Julius was livid but even so he tried to buy some time.

“How do I know those are my men?”

“You heard his name.”

“It could be a bluff.”

“It’s not. These men are messengers from Agrippa. They were unfortunate to be caught and now they are pawns in a game of chess. You can save the next two.”

Caesar just stared back coldly.

“Very well you wish another test.”

The next man was made to give his name and number. He was killed like Livinius. The last man was searching the walls. His brother was also a messenger. He was sure he would have got through.

“Quintus Taquinius, legionary.”

“Do you have something to ask of your commander?”

Quintus took a deep breath and shouted.

“I have nothing to ask.”

Julius was furious. He raised his finger.

“You let this man go now.”

The Captain smiled and turned to give the order to kill the last man.

“FIRE!” Julius shouted.

A dozen arrows flew and thudded into the Captain’s chest. He went down without a sound. The mob were silent, stunned by the quickness of the Roman attack. The man with the knife wasn’t sure of what to do. Quintus suddenly and awkwardly got to his feet and began running towards his own lines. Not easy when your hands are tied behind your back. The man with the knife taken unawares, then he gave chase, ten paces behind. A rain of Roman arrows brought him down. Now the legionaries were cheering their man on. The Romans covering the street were sent by Dolabella to get him and bring him back to safety. The mob, now angry, turned on the corpses of the two Romans until arrows began to fall on them too. Amidst the screams of the dying and wounded they fell back, leaving heaps of dead. The two Romans were unrecognisable among the bodies of the Alexandrians.

“That’s got them on the run Sir,” Dolabella said, noting that the street was almost empty already, “They’ve fallen back and moved into the buildings. They’ve not gone completely.”

Caesar didn’t answer. He was staring down the road. Dolabella followed his gaze. One man stood alone amongst the dead and injured, defiant.

It was Antonius.

The man who’d confronted Caesar before.

“You said you’d consider my words,” Julius shouted across the gap to him.

“You said you came in peace.”

“I did,” Caesar replied quietly so that only those nearest him heard the words. Then to Antonius he shouted, “I will not stop until Egypt is mine!”

Antonius heard the words. He felt every emotion go through him. Then he shouted back, “So it begins!” before turning and disappearing down a side street.