‘Infuriating.’
She heard the pounding of feet long before the guard at her door entered, bowing deeply.
‘Yes?’ Heart pounding. Something important was happening, to summon such urgent, running feet.
The guard remained bowed. ‘Commander Sosibius, my queen.’
She nodded and bade him enter, and a moment later the commander of her own personal guard stepped inside, flush from his run. Her heart beat even faster.
‘A ship, Majesty.’
‘Explain?’
There is a small ship, little more than a boat, heading for Pelusium. Our watchers say it came along the coast from the east, like the other ships of Ptolemy, but this one has dared to enter our branch of the Nile, making for the city.’
‘You say it is small. Not large enough to present a threat then, surely?’
Sosibius spread his hands wide. ‘In normal circumstances I would say not, my queen but, Achillas notwithstanding, it would not be beneath Potheinus to send us plague or poison.’
Cleopatra shook her head. ‘He would not believe we would take in the ship, I think. His devious mind will not allow for simplicity. No, this ship is not from Potheinus, for he would not believe we would allow it to land. And it is not from Achillas, for it bears too little military importance. But it is definitely of my brother’s fleet?’
‘Most assuredly, my queen.’
‘Let it dock. I shall meet with it.’
It took only moments for the queen to array her finery and leave her headquarters, climbing into her litter and giving the order for the slaves to bear her to the dock. They moved down the street from the fortress with her litter preceded by her guard under Sosibius’ command, Apollodorus riding beside her and the functionaries of her court behind, followed by more guards. Pelusium was flat, surrounded by equally level salt lands and water, the highest thing for miles around being the buildings of the city or the trees outside, and so it was not possible to see the dock or the river until you were there. Consequently, Cleopatra’s heart continued to pound, the feeling that something was happening, for good or ill, building.
As they emerged onto the dock side, she knew immediately which ship it was, even without Ptolemy’s eagle on the sail, for her soldiers had formed a solid wall of muscle and bronze at the end of the jetty. At her arrival, the force split and parted for Cleopatra and her entourage, and in moments she came to a halt, still seated above her bearers, guards around her. She did not examine the sailors, for it would make no difference. She could hardly identify them. And there was no sign of a military force on the deck. She felt the hairs rise on the nape of her neck as the boarding ramp was run out to the jetty.
A single figure emerged from the ship, a soldier bearing the armour and uniform of the Gabiniani.
‘Salvius,’ she said, relief flooding through her.
‘My queen,’ he replied, striding along the jetty and falling to a knee before her.
Cleopatra had her slaves lower her to the timbers and she stepped out to greet the centurion. At her nod, Sosibius dismissed the bulk of the troops at the jetty’s end, leaving only a small bodyguard.
‘How did you come here in one of my brother’s ships? And tell me. How do things stand? How did Caesar react?’
Marcus Salvius Aper rose and rolled his shoulders. ‘Caesar was, of course, morally outraged at Pompey’s death.’
‘Of course he was,’ smiled the queen. ‘A Roman hero, and his own son-in-law? Of course he was.’
‘I suspect quietly grateful on the inside. Or at least so I was led to believe by friends in their camp.’
‘You have friends in their camp? How innovative and useful.’
‘Caesar, I think, sees Ptolemy only as something to control and manoeuvre, like a young horse. There is clearly no love lost between he and Potheinus, who works every moment to undermine the consul. The court is a mess of intrigue and distrust.’
‘Excellent. Better even than I hoped.’
Salvius bowed. ‘Caesar wants to resolve this problem. I believe he sees the two of you reunited, despite your brother’s violent protests.’
‘He has not yet reckoned with me,’ the queen said with quiet determination. ‘Caesar may be able to force Ptolemy to some deal against his will, but he will not achieve such with me.’
‘He sent me to bring you to Alexandria. It is a dangerous proposition, my queen, for though we may slip past his navy, bearing his flag as we do – I requisitioned one of your brother’s ships from the port in Alexandria, of course – if we reach the city we still have to get you inside without falling foul of Potheinus’ watchers. He has eyes and blades everywhere in Alexandria. I had to kill three men to take the ship.’
‘Where there is a will, there is always a way,’ Cleopatra smiled, ‘and I have no shortage of will. When do we depart?’
‘Such stealth is always improved by darkness. The journey will take two days even if we sail through day and night. If we depart within the hour, then I would estimate our arrival at Alexandria around midnight the day after tomorrow.’
‘Perfect. Have you quarters for my men?’
‘My queen, you cannot take a force with you. If we are boarded by other ships, which is entirely possible, you could be hidden, and I wear an allied uniform. A small force of your troops could not be sneaked through. It must be just you and I. No army. This is not a military operation, after all.’
The queen nodded hesitantly. She trusted Salvius, but…
‘I will take just one man: Apollodorus.’
Behind her the big Sicilian nodded. Commander Sosibius, on the other hand, shook his head. ‘It is too dangerous, my queen.’
‘It is our only option,’ she replied. ‘I will be with two men I trust implicitly. Keep the army ready. We know not how the dice will fall if I meet with Caesar.’
Reluctantly, and with clear disapproval, Sosibius bowed and stepped back with his men.
‘Well, Salvius Aper,’ the queen smiled, ‘show me to my quarters.’
* * *
The journey was one fraught with dangers, and Apollodorus’ concerns about sea routes seemed to have been well founded. In two days of travel, not an hour passed without coming dangerously close to another of Ptolemy’s vessels. Had they not been one themselves, then they would most certainly have been boarded without making it ten miles along the delta’s coastline. Even bearing Ptolemy’s eagle they attracted the attention of one warship late that first night, who called them to a stop and questioned them. Fortunately it seemed that Salvius was conversant enough with the enemy to be able to mimic them sufficiently, and they went on their way without being boarded.
During the second day it became clear that something else was happening. That first day they had seen ships passing back and forth, east and west along the coast in roughly equal numbers, patrolling far and wide. The second day it became clear that more and more vessels were heading west, in the same direction as they. So as not to draw too much attention and be visible constantly to the same ships, they slowed occasionally and periodically picked up pace along with the others.
Ptolemy’s fleet, it seemed, was concentrating back towards Alexandria.
The tension built as they passed Bolbitinum on a projecting mouth of the Nile, the last major channel before their destination, for the sun began to sink into the west and, by the time the city was out of sight behind them, there was nothing left of Ra’s eye but a gold-red glow that rippled across the water. By the time they slid past Canopus on its promontory, the night had become truly dark.
Cleopatra stood at the rail as they finally approached Alexandria, watching the flickering lights of her home, the palace where she had been born, dancing on the shoreline at the end of the diabathra. Four other ships were visible around them now, in the night, all heading for the city. The fleet was returning, for certain.
‘You had best get out of sight, my queen,’ Salvius Aper said quietly, and with a nod, she did so. She had entered this harbour so m
any times in her young life, she could have navigated the reefs blindfolded, and her mind’s eye provided her with the view she could not see below deck. Every tiny turn she recognised. She felt the wind catch three quarters astern and knew they had turned to make for the harbour entrance. Artillery would be trained upon them from both the end of the diabathra and from the defences on the Pharos island, for nothing could pass within the Great Harbour without the will of the place’s ruler. Despite their vessel being one of her brother’s she still felt the tension, still expected the twang and thud of artillery launching at them. It was a distinct relief when she heard the sail being furled above, the power of the wind abating as the oars were run out and the vessel leaned, beginning its turn to the northeast.
They were passing the reefs now, and she could almost count the oar strokes as they pulled towards the easternmost port, lying below the walls of the palace. As they passed within the welcoming arms of that last stretch and made for a free jetty, she heard Salvius Aper curse in the Roman tongue above. She turned to Apollodorus. ‘Go and ask what is happening.’
The big Sicilian did so, clambering up the ladder and crossing the deck. She heard muttered conversation, and the man returned in a moment.
‘We are pulling up to the jetty, my queen, but perhaps this ship has been missed, for there are many of your brother’s soldiers on watch. They guard the closed palace gate and stand at every corner and on every wall and tower, at the end of each jetty and on the harbour walls.’
‘Then we are undone.’
‘I fear so, Majesty.’
There was a familiar scrape and thud as the ship touched the jetty and sailors began the work of tying her tight. In moments, Salvius Aper was sliding down the ladder his hands and feet gripping the sides. As he hit the lower deck, he turned to his passengers.
‘How tied are you to propriety, my queen?’
‘I will do what must be done. Why?’
‘There is simply no way you can walk into the palace. Even in disguise you will be checked over. There might be a way, though. It is demeaning, uncomfortable, and extremely dangerous and stands only a slim chance of success, but I simply cannot picture another way.’
‘Explain,’ she said.
Salvius turned and walked over to a heavy duty sack, one of a dozen or so on board. ‘You go in one of these.’
Apollodorus frowned. ‘A grain sack?’
Salvius nodded. ‘The Roman forces here are doing all they can to acquire good grain, for Potheinus is distributing to them only the poorest available. It will come as no surprise for a sack of grain to be entering the palace.’
‘What happens if they look inside?’ the queen said, genuinely curious.
‘You will need to curl up in the bottom of the sack. We will stuff a couple of empty bags above you and then fill the top with grain. It’s not perfect, and if you can think of another way, then I’ll happily concede.’
The queen shook her head. ‘It is a fine plan,’ she smiled. ‘Often the most brazen lie is the easiest to tell and the softest to hear.’
Moments later, Apollodorus and Salvius had emptied one of the sacks in a dark corner and the queen climbed in, curling up at the bottom and arranging herself so that no limbs or joints protruded, becoming as smooth and rounded as she could. She was not tall in stature, was lithe and supple and, though she could not see the results from her hiding place, she was content that she was as well-hidden as she could manage.
‘It is not convincing,’ Apollodorus said.
‘Leave it to me,’ Salvius replied, then leaned over the sack. ‘Apologies, my queen. We will get this over with as fast as possible.’
Two rough sacks were pushed down above her and pulled this way and that to cover her as much as possible. Then she heard grain being shovelled in.
‘Quickly,’ Salvius said. ‘If we are too slow leaving the ship we will arouse suspicion.’
More grain was shovelled in and then she heard and felt the sack being tied.
‘You carry it,’ Salvius said. ‘It would look odd for a centurion to do so, and you look, if you’ll forgive me, very forgettable.’
She heard the Sicilian grunt and felt herself lifted from the deck. The next fifty heartbeats were some of the least comfortable of her life as Apollodorus shouldered her and then climbed the ladder to the upper deck with difficulty. The movement shifted the sacking above her and a steady trickle of grain began to drop down into where she was curled. She wondered in a moment of near panic how much grain they had shovelled in on top. Enough to suffocate her if it all sank down?’
She felt the change of temperature as they clambered up onto the deck, and the creak and groan of wood as they walked across the ship to the boarding ramp and down it to the jetty. She could hear their footsteps, the hobnails of Salvius Aper clacking and scraping on the stone as they left the jetty and moved onto the dock, Apollodorus’ hard leather boots slapping.
She could almost feel the eyes of the world upon them as they approached the palace gate.
‘Stop,’ called a voice in Greek, the language of the Aegyptian court. One of her brother’s men, then, clearly. ‘Who are you and where are you bound?’
Salvius replied, his voice taking on a tone of authority, haughtiness and irritation that was impressive to hear. ‘I am Marcus Salvius Aper, centurion of the Third Century, First Cohort of the Gabinius Legion, stationed here, as you damn well know. Stand aside and let me in.’
‘What is that?’ asked the voice.
Cleopatra could feel her panic rising. There really was a lot of grain now, and it was beginning to make her chin itch. If it got to her mouth and nose… She reached down as carefully as she could, with tiny movements, and pulled from her belt the small knife she habitually carried, then gave the sack below her a tiny jab. She was rewarded with the sound of grains hitting stone below in a steady trickle. She could not risk any further movement, and so kept the knife in her hand and sat still. The danger of suffocation receded as the level of grain around her drained slowly.
‘This is good grain for the Roman forces,’ Salvius told the guard irritably. ‘If Potheinus keeps feeding them rubbish, then the consul is going to turn against the king. Now stand aside.’
‘Better move fast,’ one of the guards murmured, ‘it appears you have a hole in the sack.’
‘Damn it,’ Salvius Aper spat, and the queen felt his fingers probing the hole in the sack beside her left foot.
With immense relief, she heard the palace gate being opened, and Salvius rather gruffly thanked the men and hurried inside with Cleopatra bumping along against Apollodorus’ back. She tried to maintain calm as she heard the footsteps changing as they climbed steps, moved from stone to marble and entered a building. Finally, she heard Salvius’ nailed boots clack off ahead. Worry thrilled through her, but then she heard him at the far end of a corridor in low conversation with someone.
She heard another door open and then, ten heartbeats later, she felt her porter come to a halt.
‘Is this true?’ an unfamiliar voice asked in Latin.
‘Perfectly true, sir,’ Salvius replied. There was an odd silence, and then she felt herself lowered to the floor and the bag above her began to rustle and shake. She felt the ties loosened and the sacks were removed from above her.
‘My queen,’ Salvius Aper said, encouraging her.
Stiffly, rolling her neck and shaking out the discomfort, Cleopatra rose from the sack.
The room was one reserved for accommodating high status guests. She knew it well, and had met many people in the place at one time or another. Half a dozen Romans in the uniforms of senior officers stood around a table, though her eyes fell immediately upon only one. She had seen portraits of Caesar, of course. He had always appeared a little too aquiline and sharp-angled, with receded hair and high cheekbones. He looked arrogant even on coins and statues. She had expected someone who radiated power and confidence, and she was not disappointed. What she had not expected was for that strang
ely aquiline and increasingly elderly face to be disturbingly handsome. The combination of heady power and attraction made her shiver slightly, and she felt goose flesh rise upon her. She was acutely aware that she was not at her best, and would be dusty and smell of old grain. Hurriedly she brushed herself down and smoothed her apparel into place.
‘Queen Cleopatra, daughter of Ptolemy Auletes, welcome to Alexandria at last,’ the consul said with a smile that appeared to contain genuine mirth. She felt a quiver of irritation that the man seemed to be laughing at her and in a way she had known she could since her earliest teen years, she switched on that part of her that exuded languid attraction. Few men could resist her when she did so, and it had bought her a great deal of power over the years. She knew there were more handsome women in the Ptolemaic court than her, and yet she knew how to make herself desirable with barely a move. Indeed, she felt an instant change in the atmosphere among the Romans.
‘This is Apollodorus of Sicilia,’ Salvius introduced her other companion, ‘the queen’s trusted man.’
‘Well met, Apollodorus,’ Caesar replied, ‘and you too, Salvius. Please, help yourselves to food and drink. I suspect you have not had an easy journey.’
The queen eyed the other Romans, and Caesar noted her roving gaze.
‘Forgive me. This is the admiral Cassius Longinus,’ he said, indicating a tall, thin man with black neat hair and a serious expression. ‘This is Orfidius Bulla of the Twenty Seventh Legion,’ a shorter, stockier man with a scarred face and a shock of red hair. ‘Marcus Falerius Fronto, of the Sixth,’ a man of a similar age to Caesar, with a tired, veteran face, favouring a bad leg, she noted. ‘Galronus of the Remi, my cavalry commander,’ a strange pale man who seemed oddly out of place among the others, though impressive all the same. ‘And Salvius Cursor.’
Her eyebrows rose and she turned to Salvius Aper, who nodded. ‘My brother.’
‘My apologies for the manner of my arrival,’ she said. ‘I was somewhat inconvenienced by my brother.’
Caesar chuckled, and she realised now that there was no insult in his laughter, which made her relax a little more. ‘I fear your brother has little to do with your difficulties, Queen Cleopatra. It is the rodent Potheinus who infects this city and palace with suspicion and keeps eyes and blades at every door, and it is Achillas who floods Aegyptus with soldiers seeking to apprehend you. I suspect your brother has had little to do with it other than complaining that he doesn’t like you very much.’
Marius' Mules XI: Tides of War Page 44
