Marius’ Mules XII
Sands of Egypt
by S. J. A. Turney
1st Edition
“Marius’ Mules: nickname acquired by the legions after the general Marius made it standard practice for the soldier to carry all of his kit about his person.”
For Sarah and Alistair
Cover photos courtesy of Paul and Garry of the Deva Victrix Legio XX. Visit http://www.romantoursuk.com/ to see their excellent work.
Cover design by Dave Slaney.
Many thanks to the above for their skill and generosity.
All internal maps are copyright the author of this work.
Published in this format 2019 by Victrix Books
Copyright - S.J.A. Turney
First Edition
The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Also by S. J. A. Turney:
Continuing the Marius' Mules Series
Marius’ Mules I: The Invasion of Gaul (2009)
Marius’ Mules II: The Belgae (2010)
Marius’ Mules III: Gallia Invicta (2011)
Marius’ Mules IV: Conspiracy of Eagles (2012)
Marius’ Mules V: Hades’ Gate (2013)
Marius’ Mules VI: Caesar’s Vow (2014)
Marius’ Mules: Prelude to War (2014)
Marius’ Mules VII: The Great Revolt (2014)
Marius’ Mules VIII: Sons of Taranis (2015)
Marius’ Mules IX: Pax Gallica (2016)
Marius’ Mules X: Fields of Mars (2017)
Marius’ Mules XI: Tides of War (2018)
The Praetorian Series
The Great Game (2015)
The Price of Treason (2015)
Eagles of Dacia (2017)
Lions of Rome (2019)
The Damned Emperors Series
Caligula (2018)
Commodus (2019)
The Knights Templar Series
Daughter of War (2018)
The Last Emir (2018)
City of God (2019)
The Winter Knight (Winter 2019)
The Ottoman Cycle
The Thief's Tale (2013)
The Priest's Tale (2013)
The Assassin’s Tale (2014)
The Pasha’s Tale (2015)
Tales of the Empire
Interregnum (2009)
Ironroot (2010)
Dark Empress (2011)
Insurgency (2016)
Invasion (2017)
Jade Empire (2017)
Roman Adventures (Children’s Roman fiction with Dave Slaney)
Crocodile Legion (2016)
Pirate Legion (Summer 2017)
Short story compilations & contributions:
Tales of Ancient Rome vol. 1 - S.J.A. Turney (2011)
Tortured Hearts vol 1 - Various (2012)
Tortured Hearts vol 2 - Various (2012)
Temporal Tales - Various (2013)
A Year of Ravens - Various (2015)
A Song of War – Various (Oct 2016)
For more information visit http://www.sjaturney.co.uk/
or http://www.facebook.com/SJATurney
or follow Simon on Twitter @SJATurney
Preface
It is not my habit to add a preface to the start of the Marius’ Mules books, yet I have elected to do so here solely to give the reader a valuable word of advice. Due to the nature of the story in these pages, and of the story originally told by Aulus Hirtius in Caesar’s name, the action of this, the Alexandrian War, is very tight, non-stop and extremely convoluted. The action largely takes place within the city, and the geography of ancient Alexandria is already troublesome before throwing into it new Greek terms like ‘Heptastadion’, and trying to make clear which of the three harbours is being described at any time. As such, I have added a map to the opening pages of this book, which is also available on my website and on my Facebook page. I strongly urge you to familiarise yourself thoroughly with the map before you begin, as this will make reading a great deal easier going forward. For maximum ease, print off a copy of the map and keep it to hand, at least until you are as familiar with the geography as I now am.
Happy reading and cartographising!
Simon
The maps of Marius’ Mules 12
He came towards me as I stood
And I placed myself next to him
Every heart was burning for me
Women and men pounding
Every mind was willing me on,
'is there any hero that can fight against him?'
And then his shield, his dagger, his armour, his holder of spears fell,
As I approached his weapons
I made my face dodge
And his weapons were wasted as nothing
Each piled on the next
Then he made his charge against me
He imagined he would strike my arm
As he moved over me, I shot him,
My arrow lodged in his neck,
He cried out, and fell on his nose,
I felled him with his dagger
I uttered my war-cry on his back,
Every Asiatic lowing
I gave praise to Mont
As his servants mourned for him
From “The Story of Sinuhe”, anonymous Egyptian author c. 1875 BC
In announcing the swiftness and fierceness of this battle to one of his friends at Rome, Amantius, Caesar wrote these words: ‘I came; I saw, I conquered.’
Plutarch: “The life of Julius Caesar”
Chapter One
Royal palace, Alexandria, November 48 BC
‘Why would they risk putting into port here, with us in control?’
Fronto drummed his fingers on the windowsill, peering out across the wide harbour. The main stretch with its numerous jetties and wharves was almost empty, barring a few intrepid merchants. The ships that had brought Caesar’s army to Aegyptus wallowed in the private Palace Harbour, which they failed to fill despite its smaller dimensions. Gulls wheeled overhead and the city steamed. Fronto would never get used to this perpetual heat, even in late autumn. The Alexandrians claimed that the sea breeze kept it cool. If this was their idea of cool, then he’d hate to experience Aegyptus away from the coast.
The queen looked up from her hastily-drawn maps, glancing at the legate in the window.
‘Achillas has my brother’s army marching through the delta, and we know they are less than a day away. At this point, there is no reasonable position on the coast to anchor a fleet that size and board an army in such numbers. And while there are navigable channels, moving warships of that size and number presents many challenges. Achillas knows your numbers are few, and therefore so will his commanders. They will feel safe putting into the city and meeting with the army when they arrive. They cannot comprehend, I am certain, how any force as small as yours could present a threat to them.’
Caesar smiled. ‘Then they underestimate us at their peril. This cannot be more than half of the Aegyptian fleet, but securing it will both make our own supremacy possible and halve the seaborne threat. Fronto, the port is yours. Take a cohort of the Sixth away from preparations and secure me the harbour. All other infantry are to continue their work until the last moment.’
Fronto nodded. Every man upon whom Caesar could call, and every slave available, were working on the defences. The Aegyptian general Achillas, leadi
ng the king’s army even without him, were mere hours from the city, and the fight would be a hard one when they arrived, for they outnumbered the Romans by a large margin.
The city walls could never be held against them. That had been the first notion of theirs the queen had quashed. The circuit was simply too long for the number of men at Caesar’s command. They would be too stretched and inevitably leave weak spots. Instead, the queen had worked with Caesar over a hastily-drawn map and viewed the city from the palace roof, pointing out the narrow kill points in the streets nearby and those alleys that could be readily sealed.
Working together, the general and the queen had created a perimeter that could be swiftly put in place in the streets around the palace, enclosing that complex, a theatre, and the royal harbour. They could not hope to hold the city, but they could hold an acropolis, as the queen insisted on calling it, a redoubt formed around the palace. Walls had been constructed with fighting platforms, all by the few legionaries at the general’s command.
Now, they were relatively secure, but were working on further defences, with the queen’s unparalleled knowledge of the city. Four different concentric systems had been drawn around the palace, with this strong redoubt as the last. Each would slow the enemy and cause many casualties before the true siege began.
Leaving the shrewd ruler and the general, with a respectful bow of his head, Fronto ducked out of the room and hurried along the corridor. Down a wide, decorative staircase he encountered Salvius Cursor and his brother, the pair arguing with gesticulations. It seemed the natural state for the brothers. They were unable to speak without argument, yet it seemed to produce results and so no one intervened.
‘Where is Decimus Carfulenus?’
Cursor looked up, hushing his brother to narrow eyes with a finger.
‘In the square, shouting at someone.’
Fronto nodded. ‘How go the defences?’
‘We’ll be ready for Achillas. He’s going to pay a high price to reach the palace.’
‘Good.’ Ignoring them as they went back to their arguing, Fronto hurried on through the monumental complex, all lotus flower capitals, animal statues and bright colours, and through the door between two of Caesar’s bodyguard.
In short order he reached the square and found Centurion Carfulenus berating a junior officer. The senior centurion of the Sixth was young for a man in such a position, not quite the regulation thirty years of age for even a junior centurion, and more possessed of wit and speed than of strength and inherent violence. What he lacked in the usual physical bulk of his type, though, he more than made up for in controlled force. When Fronto found the man, he was busy berating a legionary for the state of his armour, which showed numerous rust patches, a common problem in the salty, warm conditions of the Aegyptian coast.
‘Centurion?’
Carfulenus turned and bowed his head.
‘Legate.’
‘Perhaps half the Aegyptian fleet is inbound for the harbour. I presume you’ve heard?’
The centurion nodded. ‘Good,’ Fronto went on. ‘It is believed that the ships are manned only by a nautical crew with no marines or military, all their manpower currently bolstering Achillas’ force. If this is the case, they should be a relatively easy target. We cannot afford to let the fleet combine with the army. The First Cohort are to come with me. Our remit is to secure the harbour and overcome the fleet, keeping control of it and not allowing it to fall into Achillas’ hands. Are your men up to the job?’
Carfulenus gave a strange, hoarse laugh.
‘Easily, Legate. In anticipation, I have three centuries at the harbour already, creating a perimeter and fortifying the approaches.’
‘Good man. Gather your soldiers. It is my intention to secure the harbour but keep the men out of sight until the vessels have largely docked. Then we rush them. Any earlier and we run the risk of them fleeing and putting out to sea again.’
The centurion nodded once more and began to bark out orders. Fronto wiped the sweat, which formed rapidly out here in the blistering sun, from his brow and then hurried off to the room in the palace where he now resided. There, one of the palace slaves helped him into his armour. Suitably attired and as hot as he had ever been, he stepped out into the bright gold light once more and found four centuries of the Sixth formed up with Carfulenus, waiting for him.
‘The rest?’
‘Already on the way with instructions, Legate.’
‘Excellent.’
The centurion gave the order to move out, and the cohort marched off through the streets, heading down to the dockside. The Great Harbour of Alexandria consisted of an enormous enclosure with only two exits, one the narrow approach between the Pharos lighthouse and the mole known as the Diabathra. The other was a man made arch in the long Heptastadion mole that linked the city to the Pharos Island and formed the western edge of the enclosure. The Palace Harbour was a separate, smaller affair leading off the main harbour, below the walls of the palace. The main problem they would have was that the main harbour was outside their defensive cordon, as they’d not counted upon a fleet there to protect.
They passed a narrow gate still being completed by soldiers and slaves working side by side, and crossed the bridge across the Canopus Canal that emptied into the harbour here, forming part of their defences. He smiled at the sight. Even a really good commander would lose huge numbers trying to storm that bridge and gate. He had to hand it to the queen, she knew her city and seemed to have a surprisingly acute strategic mind.
By the time they reached the harbour’s dockside, he could see the small units, half a century each, blockading the streets that led to it from the city. Barely, however, had he reached the waterfront than a strange horn that resembled a bovine with some sort of digestion issue booed out over the roofs, and the men on watch in the high tower at the dock’s far end waved frantically.
In practised response, the men of the Sixth melted away into doors, alleys and alcoves, disappearing from view. Fronto chewed his lip. Something was wrong in this plan. It looked too good.
He turned to the centurion. ‘Get two centuries spread out along the harbour side, in units of sixteen. Have them look ready for a fight.’
‘Shouldn’t be hard, sir. They are ready for a fight. But why?’
‘The fleet know they’re not invisible. If no one comes to challenge them they’re going to suspect something’s up. We need enough men out there to look like we mean business, but not enough to scare them off.’
Carfulenus smiled viciously. ‘Got you, sir.’ Turning, he gave the orders, and men fell in along the harbour edge. Fronto stepped back into the shade of an awning, the centurion alongside him, and peered out into the glare, hand shielding his eyes as he squinted.
Past the small island of Antirrhodus that lay in the midst of the harbour with typical Greek carelessness of planning, he could see shapes now approaching the harbour entrance. He watched them slip between the Diabathra and the Pharos and found himself musing. If they wanted to properly control the harbour, they would need to garrison Pharos. Then, they could control all entry to the place. Still, that would be a consideration for later, probably when they had more men.
Two dozen ships, he reckoned. Two dozen vessels of roughly trireme size or thereabouts. There might be small boats too, but it was these big ships that they needed to control in particular. Scrabbling noises made him turn his head, and he realised that the Sixth were moving from alley to alley back out of sight of the dock, finding the best positions from which to race to the jetties.
He smiled. Achillas might be coming with a large army, but it would be Rome that struck the first blow, in the name of the king and queen, of course. After all, not only Cleopatra remained in the palace in close consort with Caesar, but her hated brother Ptolemy and the oily eunuch Potheinus both languished here too, officially opposed to the army led by a general in the king’s name. Rome could legitimately claim the moral grounds here, even if it stretched a few points
here or there.
Fronto’s hand went to the blade at his side and he slowly slid it from the scabbard, steadying himself, breathing slowly. Carfulenus nodded and drew his own blade, steady and alert.
The enemy fleet closed now, sweeping through the harbour, splitting into two groups to skirt Antirrhodus and head for the jetties. Chiding himself for poor estimation, Fronto adjusted his count upwards. Near three dozen big ships, in fact, and several smaller vessels among them. Most were of native Aegyptian design, which was to say basically Greek. Not quite indistinguishable from Roman ships, but very similar, if smaller and more given to speed than power.
He couldn’t make out the occupants yet, and chewed on his lip again. If their intelligence was incorrect and those ships were packed with marines, then this was going to be a very short and unpleasant fight.
Slowly, they cut through the water towards the jetties. He realised now that they were slowing more than usual, eyeing the land carefully to see what awaited them. Likely they had timed their arrival to coincide with the approach of Achillas’ army so they could link up, but had instead appeared ahead by some hours. They could not know what was awaiting them and were wary. Fronto hoped his estimate had been right.
They watched in silence, the sound of sea slapping against stone and the wheeling cries of gulls overriding both the ambient noise of the city and the rhythmic sound of oars approaching in their hundreds.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
He heaved a sigh of relief. He was no sailor – hated the sea, in fact – but had been around ships, and men like Brutus, enough now to know how they worked. They had just passed their point of no return. There was no longer sufficient room for a fleet that size to comfortably turn and make for the open sea once more. They were committed now to backwatering, slowing the ships as they glided into position at the jetties.
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