The Gods of War (28 page)

The gold was heavy but it dented under each blow and it was not long before one of the great oblong barriers sagged away on a broken hinge.

An arrow flew through the gap, ricocheting off the head of a hammer and slicing into a soldier's cheek. With an oath, he yanked at it and three of the Tenth held him down while the arrow was snapped and the head removed with brutal efficiency. Shields were raised as the second door fell, and two more of the whining shafts struck uselessly against them as the Tenth surged into the room.

The lamps were lit in the royal chambers and Julius was astonished to see two naked girls with bows inside. They cried out in terror as they tried to pull back one more shaft. Almost with contempt, the legionaries stepped forward and slapped the weapons out of their hands. The women struggled wildly as they were shoved away from the doorway they guarded.

The king's bedroom was dark and Julius knew the first ones through would be silhouetted against the light. His soldiers hardly hesitated, trusting to speed to keep them safe. They leapt into the shadows, rolling and coming up ready to kill.

“He's here,” one shouted back. “The king alone.”

As Julius crossed the outer chamber, he saw the wall was marked in lighter patches where the bows had been torn from their wires. Other weapons were held against the polished marble and Julius wondered if the boy Ptolemy collected them. The women were concubines rather than guards, Julius guessed, glancing at them. The king could clearly have his pick of the beauties of Alexandria.

Ptolemy's bed was a huge construction that dominated the private rooms. The boy himself stood part dressed by its side and only the rumpled sheets showed where he had been sleeping. It was strange to see his face in the dim light after their first meeting, and Julius was impressed at the courage of the slight figure standing with his bare chest heaving and a knife held too tightly in his fist.

“Put that away,” Julius said. “You will not be harmed.”

The boy recognized him then and took in a hiss of breath. The soldiers of the Tenth moved closer to the king and with a jerk he raised the blade to his own throat, glaring at Julius.

A legionary snapped out an arm and gripped the king's wrist, making him cry out in pain and astonishment. The knife was thrown down with a clatter. Ptolemy began to shout for help and the man who held his wrist took careful aim and hit him on the point of his chin, heaving him onto his shoulder as the boy went limp.

“Sound the signal horns. We have the king,” Julius said, already turning away.

“There'll be more of them by now, waiting for us,” Domitius said, gazing at the limp body of Ptolemy. The king's head lolled as he was carried back down the corridor, his arms swinging.

The fighting began again with even greater ferocity as the legions tried to retrace their steps back to the gardens. The sight of the unconscious king stung the roaring Egyptians into greater efforts, and three of the Fourth were wounded, slowing the retreat. Even so, the ceremonial guards were no match for the hardened soldiers of Rome, and they fought their way through to the gardens, leaving a trail of dead behind.

The night met them with a cool breeze that dried their sweat as they ran. Julius heard more voices calling out words he did not know, and as they reached the broken gates to the streets a flight of spears came from somewhere near, one of them knocking down a panting optio. He was dragged to his feet by two of his men and he screamed as they hacked through the shaft, leaving only a blood-wet stump of wood sticking out of his back. They carried him onto the streets with the king.

The disturbance at the palace had roused the people of Alexandria and crowds were gathering. Julius urged his men to hurry. If they saw their king being carried like a sack of wheat, they could be shocked into an attack, and Julius felt every moment pass, increasing his anxiety.

The legions pounded along the Canopic Way at their best speed, spittle turning to thick soup in their mouths as the breath burned out of them. The mile of road seemed to stretch farther than it had on the way in, but the crowds parted before them and they did not falter.

It seemed hours before Julius saw the gates of his quarters open and ran through them, gasping in relief. The palace began to fill with his men once again and this time there were no restrictions on their noise. They whooped and shouted at the victory, even as the wounded were passed overhead to where healers waited with sutures and clean cloths. Not a man had been killed, though the optio who had stopped a spear was not likely to walk again. Julius spent a moment with him before he was borne away, passing on a few words of comfort as best he could.

When the last of them were in, the doors were closed and barred. Every lamp Brutus could find had been lit and Julius could see the windows were blocked with heavy sacks and stones. The palace had become a fortress and he anticipated the dawn with enormous pleasure.

“Let them wail and bluster now,” he said to the men around him. “We have their
king
.”

They cheered and Julius sent an order to open the kitchens below to prepare a meal. His centurions set the first watches against a counterattack and he finally had a moment to himself.

“Where is Cleopatra?” he asked.

Brutus was close by, watching him. “She has taken rooms on the floor above,” he replied, his expression strange. “She waits there for you.”

Julius smiled at him, still flushed with the victory. “I will tell you about it when I've seen her. Find a secure place for our new guest and set guards.” He paused to take a deep breath, steadying himself. “It was easy, Brutus.”

“They will strike back,” Brutus said, wanting to puncture the pride he saw. “She said we have seen only the edges of their army.”

His head ached terribly as if he were recovering from drunkenness. He remembered the queen speaking to him, though the details were dim and wavering in his mind. Julius didn't see his distress.

“How will they attack us while their king is in my hands?” Julius replied. “I will humble the men who controlled him, Brutus, when they come.” He laughed at the thought and walked away to see Cleopatra, leaving Brutus behind.

         

The suite of rooms Cleopatra had taken had not been touched by the soldiers. All the others Julius passed were stripped bare of anything that could be used in the barricades, but her chambers were warm and comfortable with rugs and hangings. Flames crackled in tall braziers at either end, though Julius hardly saw them. His eyes were drawn to the slender figure of the queen as her shadow moved behind gauze hangings on a bed to match Ptolemy's own. He could make out the outline that had aroused him on their first meeting and wondered why she did not speak.

His heart beating strongly, Julius closed the doors behind him and crossed the room, his footsteps loud in the silence. He could smell her scent in the air as well as wisps of steam and warm dampness that came from another room off the main one. She had been bathing, he realized, finding the thought fascinating. Without her slaves to heat and carry water, he did not doubt that his own men had been willing.

He reached the bed and still she did not speak as he ran his calloused palms down the gauze, the noise like a whisper.

“We have him, Cleopatra,” he said softly, feeling her stir at his voice. As he spoke his hands moved the gauze aside.

She lay on her back, naked, as he had somehow known she would be, with only shadows to cover her. Her skin shone gold as she looked up at him, and her eyes were dark. “He is not hurt?” she said.

Julius shook his head, unable to reply. His gaze traveled down the length of her body and he found it difficult to take a breath.

In an instant, she had risen and fastened her mouth on his. He could taste the sweetness of honey and cloves, and her perfume washed over him like a drug. Her fingers pulled at the fastenings on his armor and he had to help her. His chestplate fell away with a clang of metal that made them both jump. Her hands were cool where they touched his skin and then he was naked. Her hands reached to his hips and pulled him gently toward her mouth. He cried out at the warmth, shuddering as he closed his eyes.

His hands strayed down to her breasts and he pulled away from her, climbing onto the bed and letting the gauze fall back behind him.

“Is this my reward?” he said, his voice hoarse.

She smiled slowly, her hands roaming him, touching old scars. Holding his gaze, she turned lithely onto her stomach, raising herself and reaching behind to hold his hot flesh in her hands as he rose over her.

“It is just the beginning,” she said.

                                                      
CHAPTER
26
                                                      

W
ith dawn yet to break, Julius strode through the lower corridors, nodding to the guards as they stood to attention. The king of Egypt was locked in a room that had once held jars of oil. It had no windows to tempt a rescue and the door was solid.

“Has he been quiet?” Julius asked.

Before his legionary could reply, a high voice yelled a stream of oaths and curses inside, barely muffled by the heavy wood.

“He's been doing that for hours, sir,” the soldier said.

“Open the door,” Julius replied, pursing his lips. “I'll speak to him.”

As he entered he saw that Brutus had stripped this room as bare as any of the others. No bed had been provided and a small bench and bucket were the only furniture. A single lamp burned steadily on the wall and in its glow Julius could see white smears of dust on the boy's skin. The king of Egypt had clearly spent the night on the cold floor.

Ptolemy stood with stiff dignity, facing his captor with his arms folded over his narrow chest. Julius could see the outline of his ribs and the dust had smeared on his cheeks as if he had tried to hide his crying.

“Good morning,” Julius said, seating himself on the bench. “I will have some clothes found for you when the men bring breakfast. There is no need for you to be uncomfortable while you are here.”

Ptolemy glared at him without speaking. He was smaller than Julius had realized the night before and his face was pale and delicate, as if it had never seen the sun. His features lent themselves easily to expressions of sullen anger. The dark eyes and long lashes were twinned in Cleopatra and Julius repressed a shudder of dislike at the thought of their relationship.

Julius let the silence stretch for a little longer, then stood. “If there is nothing else, I will go back to my work,” he said.

He turned to leave and Ptolemy snapped words at his back. “You will release me immediately!” he said. His Latin was faultless.

Julius faced him and this time could not prevent a smile. “No, I will not, Your Majesty. I need you, you see.”

“What do you want? Gold?” The boy's lips twisted into a sneer.

“I want to see Cleopatra restored as queen,” Julius replied, watching the boy closely. As he spoke, he wondered if that was truly what he desired. Before meeting Cleopatra the night before, his aims had been clear. Now, the thought of restoring her to the incestuous arms of her brother did not seem as attractive.

“I knew she would be behind this!” Ptolemy burst out. “I knew it! You think I want her back? She treated me as a child.”

“You
are
a child,” Julius snapped, instantly regretting it. Sighing, he seated himself once more. “Your courtiers honored your every wish, I suppose?” he said.

Ptolemy hesitated. “When I acted with honor and with the traditions, they did. They respected the office and the blood, despite my youth.” His eyes would not meet Julius's as he spoke, but then he stiffened in fresh anger. “Your men struck me, invaded my private rooms. You will be burnt and torn when . . .”

“From what I saw, Panek barely listened to you,” Julius murmured.

Ptolemy's eyes flashed. “You know nothing of my life, Roman! I am a child and I am a king. I carry the god flame within me. Panek is . . .”

He hesitated again and Julius spoke quickly, wanting to probe the weakness. “Panek is the power behind the throne, I think. Are you expecting him to stand back when you are older? It would never happen. There would be an accident—a tragic fall, or an illness—and Panek would have another decade to rule while the next child grows. I have known the compulsion of power, lad. Take that warning from me, if nothing else.”

He watched while the boy considered his words, quietly surprised at Ptolemy's composure. Julius had half expected him to be in tears when he entered, but instead he had found himself addressed as an equal or a servant. The king may have been a child, but he had a sharp mind and Julius could see him thinking and planning.

“Panek will be furious when he hears I have been taken,” Ptolemy said thoughtfully.

Julius could see the idea amused the boy and he waited for more.

“You will have to show him I am unharmed, or he will raze this place to the ground.”

“I can do that,” Julius said. “If you wish it.” Ptolemy glanced quizzically at him and Julius went on. “You might not want to be returned to him. Have you thought of that? I could demand that your courtiers be banished, and you could rule with Cleopatra once more without their influence.”

The boy's eyes were dark and unfathomable. Julius did not know him well enough to see if he had reached him.

“Why are you doing this?” Ptolemy said at last. “Are you lusting after my sister? Or is it my younger flesh you desire?”

Julius controlled his temper. “If you were a son of mine, I would have you beaten for speaking to me in that way,” he said. “I may still.”

“You would
not
dare,” Ptolemy replied, with such confidence that Julius was taken aback. He considered calling for a switch, but settled himself, resting his hands on his knees.

“You were very rude to Panek,” Ptolemy said, clearly enjoying the memory. “He had to lie down afterwards, with cool drinks and slaves to massage away his anger. You are a rude people, I think.”

“He is an irritating vulture,” Julius replied.

Some of the tension eased out of Ptolemy and Julius suspected he had struck a chord at last.

“May I see your sword?” Ptolemy asked suddenly.

Without a word, Julius drew the short gladius and handed it over. The boy seemed astonished as he took it from Julius's hand and immediately pointed it at the seated consul.

“Are you not afraid I will kill you with it?” he asked.

Julius shook his head slowly, watching for the slightest move. “I am not. The blade is nothing without the man to hold it. You could not strike before I had taken it from you.”

Ptolemy looked into his eyes and saw nothing but honesty. He turned away and tried to swing the short blade, his wrist bending under the weight.

“Would you like to learn its use?” Julius said.

For a moment, he saw Ptolemy's face light up, then clouds of suspicion dimmed his interest. He turned it round awkwardly and handed it back hilt-first.

“Do not pretend to be my friend, Roman. I am nothing more than a bargaining piece to you, yes? Something to be used for whatever it is you really want. You are my enemy and I will not forget it.” He paused and clenched one of his fists. “When I am a man, I will make you remember how you kept me prisoner, Roman. I will come for you with an army like locusts. I will see your joints smashed with hammers and your skin burnt. You will know me then!”

Julius stared at the ferocious expression on the boy. “You have some growing to do first,” he said, rising to his feet.

For a moment, he thought Ptolemy might attack him, before the boy turned his back in impotent fury. Julius left him alone in the little room, walking out to the day with a light step.

         

Panek arrived with a delegation of courtiers at the first light of dawn. They approached the guards Julius had placed in the gardens and suffered a rough inspection for weapons before the three most senior were allowed inside.

Julius stood as they were brought into his presence, feeling again the wave of dislike from Panek's cold eyes. It did not matter, now that he had the king.

Julius gestured to a stone block and sat down on a padded couch facing them, enjoying their discomfort. Five soldiers of the Tenth stood nearby and Octavian took position directly behind the courtiers, making them nervous. Panek's face and neck shone with oil or sweat, Julius could not tell. His eyes were unpainted and he looked a little more human in the morning light without that decoration. The omission spoke volumes.

“You cannot hope to survive this crime,” Panek said, wrenching out the words as if the barest trace of civility was painful. “If the citizens learn that you are holding the king, I will not be able to restrain them. Do you understand me? You have only hours before the rumors spread and then they will come to burn you out of this nest.”

“I do not fear untrained men,” Julius said, casually. He signaled to a guard to bring him wine and sipped at it.

Panek raised his eyes in exasperation. “What do you want then, for the boy's return? I'm sure you have a
price
.”

Julius reflected that Panek was not the best man to have sent. His anger was too obvious, and if it had merely been a matter of gold, he would have asked for more after such a sneering tone.

“We will start with the free run of the city, obviously,” Julius said. “No more of this seven days you mentioned. I want to see the library and Alexander's tomb. Perhaps you can arrange guides for my officers.”

Panek blinked in confusion. “You would be torn apart by the mob, Consul, the first moment you set foot outside these walls.”

“That is unfortunate,” Julius said, frowning. “My second demand is for the court to leave Egypt. I have ships to take you to Cyprus or Sardinia, far away from the difficulties of your lives here. I imagine it will be a peaceful retirement and I'm sure I can arrange for a little gold to make it comfortable for you.”

The three Egyptians went very still and Panek's eyes glittered dangerously.

“You mock me in my own city, Consul. Do you think I will not respond? The army has been summoned. The city is filling with soldiers crying out in rage at what you have dared. If you do not return the king, they will sweep your small force away in the flood. Understand that I do not lie.”

“The boy will not survive an attack on this place,” Julius told them. “You will be killing him if I see a single sword drawn in anger. I suggest you do your best to keep the peace.”

“You cannot hold him here forever,” Panek replied. “How long do you think your food will last? Your water?”

“We have enough,” Julius said, shrugging. “Perhaps you are right. We should not be threatening each other. Instead, you can begin by telling me how much you value his life. What can you offer me for your king?”

The three men conferred in their own language for a few moments and then Panek spoke again, his anger rigidly controlled.

“Trade deals could be arranged between Roman ports and the Egyptian interior. I can arrange to have your merchants given first access to our goods.”

“Excellent,” Julius said, signaling that wine should be brought for the men. “I believe the negotiations have begun.”

         

It took thirty days of argument and discussion to reach a final agreement. Neither Julius nor Panek attended every hour of the meetings, instead sending subordinates to make offers and counteroffers. It could not have worked without Cleopatra's influence, but she seemed to know exactly how far the delegation of courtiers could be pushed in each area.

She did not attend the negotiations herself, instead spending her days with her younger brother, who had been given the run of the palace. It was strange to see the pair of them walking the halls, deep in discussion, and stranger still for Julius to consider their relationship. She was his elder sister and a mature wife used to the intrigues of the court. He listened to her as to no one else and his angry outbursts had not been repeated.

At night, she told Julius how much her brother had hated the stifling life of court. It seemed his smallest request would have to be approved by Panek, and Ptolemy had admitted his hatred for the man. In a sense, he had been confined far more thoroughly before Julius stole him away. Panek spoke with the voice of the king, and the army would obey his every order.

“But your brother
is
the king, by the gods!” Julius had exclaimed, when she told him. “Why couldn't he just have Panek taken out and beaten?”

“He is a boy and he has known no other life. Panek frightened him,” she said. “He does not frighten me, but even I missed the lust for power in him.” She paused and clenched her fists in the sheets. “A year ago, he brought orders from the king to have me banished. I knew they could not have come from my brother, but I was not allowed to plead my case. Those loyal to me marched into exile and the women tore their hair and rubbed ashes on their breasts. Believe me, Panek is too clever for a sheltered boy to resist.”

On the thirtieth day, Julius had contracts drawn up and Ptolemy was brought to fix his signature to them. Cleopatra came with him and Panek staggered to his feet as he saw her.

“My queen,” he stammered, falling to his knees and lowering his head to the floor.

The other courtiers followed suit and she smiled.

“Get up and finish what you have begun here, Panek. You have bound us in gold to Rome as I wished and with your king's approval.”

Panek's eyes flickered to where Ptolemy sat watching them. Slowly, Ptolemy nodded.

“We have reached an agreement, my brother and I,” Cleopatra purred. “Your influence is over, Panek. We will take our places on the thrones of the upper and lower kingdoms once more. We will rule, Panek, though you will not go unrewarded for your work.”

Panek watched as Ptolemy handed a quill to his sister and she scribbled the words “Let it be so,” as she signed all official documents. The papyrus sheets marked trade agreements that would hurt the growth of Alexandria, not to mention the heavy tithe of gold to be sent to Rome for ten years. Against them, Julius had made the astonishing offer of returning Cyprus to Egypt, as she had been owned centuries before. The Roman's apparent generosity had troubled Panek deeply, not knowing that the suggestion had come from Cleopatra. Cyprus had been lost since Alexander's death and its return would have almost been worth the weeks of torment and the insults to the king. Panek realized the queen had been the silent voice behind the negotiations, the reason that his bluffs were revealed and his strategies undone. He stood like a broken man and bowed stiffly to the first family of Egypt.