The Seven Hills

by John Maddox Roberts

  Gawkers began to go down beneath the hooves of the guardsmen's mounts, and whips bit into flesh. The uproar from the harbor was so loud that few heard the royal party's approach until it was too late to get out of the way. The smell of smoke and blood and the general uproar made even the trained warhorses nervous, and the guardsmen resorted to using the weighted butts of their whips to drive them forward.

  Hamilcar fretted impatiently. Already, the flames towered over the rooftops ahead. He looked to his side and saw Teuta, her horse under perfect control, her face ablaze. "I had not anticipated such excitement until we should see battle!" she told him. "This is proving a most entertaining journey!" Her Greek gown was not designed for riding and it bunched almost at her hips, baring her legs immodestly, but considering the density of her intricate tattoos, she looked fully clothed.

  At last they burst from the streets onto the great plaza that separated the warehouses of the port from the water and the long, stone wharfs that ran far out into the harbor. The harbormaster stood atop a twenty-foot platform, shouting orders through a huge funnel of thin silver, one of the insignia of his office. Under his direction, firefighters ran along the wharfs carrying buckets of water and sand, some holding the axes and poles and long rakes used in their demanding profession. Hamilcar noted with approval their excellent discipline and courage. The men wore heavy fire cloaks of leather or linen and wide-brimmed helmets of painted rawhide.

  Hamilcar and Teuta dismounted at the base of the platform and dashed up its steps. "How far has it spread?" Hamilcar shouted.

  "The northeast quadrant is ablaze," the harbormaster said. He was a white-bearded man of many years' experience. He did not bow to his shofet or even look in his direction. At this moment his authority in the harbor was absolute. It was a law enacted before the days of Hannibal. Hamilcar stood behind him and to one side and motioned for Teuta to stay near him.

  "Can the balance of the shipping be saved?" Hamilcar asked.

  "We'll be lucky to save the harbor itself. If we do, you may thank your ancestors who decreed that only stone be used for construction here. We have enough firefighters to handle a fire perhaps one-tenth this size. Even that would be a large fire. This is unimaginable."

  "How did it start?" Hamilcar asked grimly.

  "It may have been an overturned lamp, or a cooking fire that burned after dark in violation of the law." Now he turned and looked at Hamilcar. "But if that is the case, it happened at the very worst time, and in the very worst spot, that it could have: among ships laden with oil and pitch, at the very spot where the wind would sweep the flames over the harbor."

  "Then it was deliberate?"

  "Either that or the gods are angry with Carthage. If it was set by an enemy, we will know in the morning. I know what to look for." Then a new battalion of firefighters arrived, their capes dripping from recent soaking, and the harbormaster turned away to shout his orders at them.

  Through the night they watched as the immense flames roared across the water. A very few skippers managed to get their vessels out of the harbor before the fire cut off escape in that direction. Flames leapt from ship to ship, and in time the heat grew so intense that vessels burst into flame before they were actually touched by fire. At that point, all effort at control had to be given up. The plaza itself had to be abandoned and the shofet and the harbormaster went atop the great wall, where the population had assembled to gape at the unprecedented sight. The surviving firefighters were sent to the naval harbor to prevent the fire from spreading there. Above all, the military fleet had to be preserved.

  Toward morning, the flames became a single column of fire, sucking into the center of the harbor whatever remained to burn. The fire drew a great gust of wind down the streets of Carthage, pulling leaves from the trees, scraps of papyrus, wicker furniture, domestic fowl, even a few scrawny beggars into the great central inferno. After that, the fire itself died swiftly.

  The sun rose to reveal a harbor that was nothing more than an expanse of floating charcoal and ash. Charred corpses and the pale undersides of innumerable boiled fish provided variety, and for hours the stones of the wharfs were too hot to tread. In the late afternoon Hamilcar accompanied the harbormaster to the northeastern end of the harbor along the great seawall that separated the sheltered harbor from the open sea. The heat still rising from the stones was intense but bearable. The stench of burned wood, oil, pitch and bodies was bad, but no worse that the usual sacrifices. Teuta came with them, and both monarchs held sachets of perfume and spices beneath their nostrils.

  "It began here," the harbormaster said. A row of bodies lay stretched upon the wharf. There were twelve of them looking half-cooked, their arms and legs drawn up and inward in the usual fashion of burn victims. "They were the crew of an oil ship named Dagon-Gives-Abundance, from Tyre. It was anchored between other oil ships and pitch and bitumen carriers, here next to the seawall. The wind blew inland, so these bodies were spared the intense heat that would otherwise have reduced them to ashes.

  "They did not leave the ship when they lost control of the fire," Teuta noted. "That is what sane men would ordinarily have done."

  "Quite true, Your Majesty," the harbormaster said. "These men could not go overboard because they were already dead when the fire started. If you will come closer you will see how they died."

  Hamilcar and Teuta bent low and examined the charred bodies without revulsion. Both of them were accustomed to far worse. Cruelty was a commonplace, and both war and religion demanded it.

  "As you can see," said the harbormaster, lecturing like a schoolmaster, "the necks of some are cut deeply. Others have large wounds in the chest, probably made by sword or spear. These men were asleep on the deck. The throats of sleeping men were cut easily. Some awoke, and they were stabbed or speared. Three or four skilled men could have accomplished this efficiently, making very little noise. If any on other ships heard," he shrugged, "it would have meant nothing to them. Drunken brawls among sailors are frequent."

  Hamilcar and Teuta straightened. "What do you think, Shofet?" she asked. "Was it the Egyptians or the Romans? Or have you other enemies who would profit by this?"

  Hamilcar thought for a while. This woman had impressed him greatly, and she clearly was able to follow his thoughts. Whether or not she was a suitable bride for him, she was a valuable ally and possibly a sagacious counselor. He could not be seen taking advice from a woman, not even an allied queen, but he was already thinking himself above these old customs.

  "Please come aside with me, my lady," he said. They strolled to the sea side of the wall, where it was cooler and the salt-smelling breeze carried the offensive smells away from them. She waited for him to speak first.

  "I am at war with Egypt and with Rome," he began, "but any king with imperial ambitions has an abundance of enemies, some of them posing as allies or as neutrals."

  "That is very true," she said.

  "Such a king also has enemies within his own land, within his own family and household."

  "These are my own thoughts."

  "The might of Carthage is based upon sea power. Our fleets, both merchant and naval, dominate the waters from the Gates of Melkarth to the Euxine Sea. Attack my fleet, and you attack my greatest power. Egypt, which is also a maritime power, has much to gain by such an act and understands this. Rome, a landlocked power until recently, likewise has a great interest in forcing me to confront them on land, where they fancy themselves unbeatable."

  "So much for your open foes."

  "Closer to home, the subject cities are always a threat: Utica, Sicca and others, even the colonies such as New Carthage in Spain are jealous and want more independence, more profit for themselves."

  "And within Carthage itself?"

  He paused, then: "Since the day of my ancestor Hannibal the Great, there has been a constant struggle for power between the shofet and the priesthoods. Every king must have a divine sponsor and mine is Baal-Hammon. His priests have grown wealthy and influe
ntial and have no stake in weakening my position. Tanit has lost power since Hannibal's day. Her priests are a wretched, weakly lot. They are mostly eunuchs who cling to power by cultivating the women of the royal household."

  "Do they stand to gain by burning your support fleet?"

  "Not directly. They cannot believe that giving victory to Rome or to Egypt will better their lot. But it will be much to their advantage to put it about that Baal-Hammon has abandoned me. They will cry out again that the gods are angry with me for adopting foreign ways. They will demand a Tophet. Zarabel will be their cat's-paw."

  Her advice was simple and direct. "Kill her. Then kill the priests and suppress the cult of Tanit."

  He smiled upon her. "If only it were that simple. In times of our accustomed peace and prosperity, I could take such extreme measures. But now I must have the people with me, both the commons and the wealthy. A quick war with fat, indolent Egypt was one thing. A swift victory against Selene would have made my position unassailable. But a double war that includes her new Roman allies is very different. I must take back Sicily and Italy. It will be a long, costly war, and the wealthy hate to sacrifice, while the commons adore the gods above all things. In the end, I will give Carthage the world. But for a while, they must all suffer, and the priests will take advantage of that."

  She nodded. "I understand. So you think the priests of Tanit are the most likely culprits?"

  "I believe so. I further believe that Zarabel put them up to it. She is far more intelligent than any of them, and she has studied the politics of world power deeply, while they understand it only as fought within the temples, the city and the court."

  "But you will not take immediate action against them?"

  "I cannot. That would be a mistake. I must plan against them as carefully as they have plotted against me. In the meantime, the people must be given someone to blame, and I must not allow them to think that the gods of Carthage have forsaken me."

  She inclined her head toward him. "You are sagacious as well as bold. Please allow me to help in any way you think proper."

  He walked back across the seawall and spoke to the harbormaster: "I find no fault with your conduct during this emergency. It was enemy action, and so I shall report it to the Assembly. The firefighters and others who died will receive all the proper rites." He gestured toward the line of bodies. "You and your men may speak freely of what you have seen here. It was a treacherous act perpetrated by Rome, seeking to weaken the sea power of Carthage."

  The harbormaster bowed. "My shofet is gracious." He spoke as calmly as if the specter of the cross had never intruded upon his thoughts. "I shall see to the cleaning and repair of the harbor."

  "See to it. Now go."

  For a while Hamilcar and Teuta stood alone upon the seawall, save for the corpses and the guardsmen, who stood a little way off.

  "What will you do when you move against your sister and the priests?" Teuta asked him.

  He pondered this a while. "You come from a far place and have traveled widely. Do you know of a punishment even worse than crucifixion?"

  CHAPTER NINE

  Their ship was a cargo vessel from Corcyra named Oceanus. It was an old but trustworthy craft, veteran of more than a hundred years of voyaging to every shore touched by the Middle Sea, or so her skipper boasted. Been in his family the whole time, he said. The ship was bright with paint recently renewed, and its graceful stem, carved in the form of a swan's neck and head, was brilliantly gilt.

  They saw the smoking pinnacle of the Pharos lighthouse from many miles out at sea and passed between the island and Cape Lochias at midday. Since they had letters from the Roman Senate, they would be permitted to use the exclusive Royal Harbor. A small cutter drew alongside at the entrance to the little harbor, and Zeno presented his dispatch case, sealed with a lead medallion embossed with four simple letters in the Roman script: SPQR. This was a formula signifying the Senate and people of Rome, and was placed on all official correspondence, decrees and even public monuments. It was fast becoming a familiar sight.

  The glittering official, his uniform the brilliant blue and gold of the Egyptian royal house, glanced at the seal and then at the two Greeks. His golden breastplate and helmet, Zeno thought, would not have withstood the assault of an angry bird.

  "You two don't look much like Romans," he noted idly.

  "All the Romans are busy fighting Carthage," Zeno told him.

  "So one hears. Well, your documents appear to be in order. You may proceed to the royal wharf. The palace is hard to miss. Someone will lead you to the quarters where the Romans stay."

  "What is that?" Zeno cried, staring upward. The two Greeks gaped, all philosophical impassivity forgotten for the moment. Above them soared something beyond the speculations of Aristotle: a winged thing that was clearly no living creature, but rather a fabrication of wood and cloth, with batlike wings and a great, wedge-shaped tail. So bizarre was this apparition that at first they did not notice the man hanging just below it like the prey of a great, flying hunter.

  "But this is marvelous!" Izates said, apparently finding nothing Cynical to say about it. "A man flies!"

  "Yes," said the official, "and no good will come of it, I assure you. This is the sort of behavior that draws the wrath of the gods. Flying men, boats that travel underwater—what next? Men should not aspire to the power of the immortals."

  As if to show his contempt for such cavils, the flying man swooped low, almost knocking the gilded helmet from the official's head. The official's Greek polish abandoned him and he cursed at the flyer in native Egyptian. The crowd of idlers gathered along the waterfront cheered.

  Zeno and Izates proceeded to a wharf and climbed the steps to the huge palace complex. A chamberlain examined their credentials and led them to the suite of apartments occupied by the Romans. There they found a man seated at a desk. He rose as they entered, extending his hand.

  "Welcome to Alexandria, my friends. You've brought me dispatches from the Senate?" He had the Roman look, but he was a shade less martial in appearance than most others of his class they had encountered. He clearly was not as obsessed with physical fitness, being just a bit soft around the middle, his jaw and cheekbones not defined with quite the razor sharpness so noticeable in the others. "I am Aulus Flaccus, aide to Marcus Cornelius Scipio."

  They introduced themselves.

  "I am so pleased that the Senate has for once sent men capable of intelligent conversation and interests beyond war and conquest. Gabinius must be behind this. Only man in the Senate with more brains than ferocity. Please, sit down and I'll have some lunch brought in. You must tell me all about how Rome of the Seven Hills is progressing. It was a wasteland when Marcus and I passed through."

  "It was Gabinius, indeed," Zeno told him. "He has become our patron and hospes in Rome. A most remarkable man." He looked around the room and saw the many models of machines being developed at the Museum. Some were clearly catapults and so forth. Others were utterly mysterious. "Remarkable as I have found the resurgence of Rome, however, developments here in Alexandria have been equally stunning. We saw a flying man when we arrived."

  Flaccus smiled. "Yes, Marcus has become enthralled with military toys."

  "I would think that a flying man has greater significance than the merely military," said Izates.

  "I suppose so. At the moment, however, we are at war and surrounded by enemies, so military applications have pride of place. No doubt you've heard of the underwater boats. They are developing new ways to propel vessels, and people are doing amazing things with mirrors: ways to see over walls and around corners, directing light.into dark mines and galleries. And now lenses."

  "Lenses?" Zeno said.

  "Yes, they are pieces of shaped glass with strange properties. Glass is a Babylonian invention, and the purest glass is still made by artisans from that part of the world. Actually, the Egyptians have been making glass for a thousand years or more, but they only use it for things like perfume fl
asks and other frivolous uses. Anyway, there is a man here named Aristobulus who has a workforce of these glassmakers who turn out lenses of varying properties. They can make small objects appear large and vice versa. He uses arrangements of these lenses to make distant objects seem closer. Other glass objects, too—prisms, he calls them. They cast a very pretty beam of many-colored light, like a flat rainbow."

  "Very interesting," Izates muttered. "Not as impressive as a flying man, though."

  "That is true. They seem to have the flying gadget under control now. A number of slaves got killed getting it to work, but now they have free men using them. Makes sense when you think about it. I mean, give a slave a flying machine and you've lost your slave, haven't you? The flyers have grown insufferably arrogant, though. They swagger around the city as,if they're a superior breed of men."

  "Well, they do fly," Izates said. "I suppose it could make a man conceited."

  "Ah, here's our lunch," Flaccus said. Slaves carried in trays and pitchers, and the new acquaintances confined themselves to small talk while they ate. The Greeks described the rebuilding of Rome as they had observed it; Flaccus told them of the latest Alexandrian gossip. The huge, polyglot city with its vast number of inhabitants of many nations was a bottomless well of social and political prattle, which the Roman seemed to find hugely amusing.

  "The Greeks are trying to be philosophical about this sudden expansion of Roman power, but they hate to see anything eclipsing the prestige of Greek culture. The. Jews are abuzz over the way our colleague, Titus Norbanus, has unified their nation under a single king. We just got the word a few days ago. They don't seem entirely pleased with the news, though. I get the impression that they like disunity, being a naturally fractious people. The natives are biding their time. They believe that eventually all the foreigners will be expelled and the great days of the pharaohs will return. Egyptians are patient. Their history goes back thousands of years, so the last few centuries under foreign rule don't amount to much."