The Gods of War (29 page)

“I will await your return, Majesty,” he said to Ptolemy.

“You will have him tomorrow at dawn,” Julius said, interrupting the intense gaze between the two of them.

Panek gathered his copies and writing materials and left, his slaves and colleagues going with him. The room seemed empty without the tension he had brought and Cleopatra turned to her brother to embrace him.

“Now you will truly be king, Ptolemy, as our father would have wished. I will have Panek killed and my army will protect you from his spite.”

The boy accepted the embrace, looking over her shoulder at Caesar. “You are a strange man, Roman,” he said. “My sister trusts you. I wonder if that is enough.”

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Julius replied.

Ptolemy nodded. “I will go out to them at dawn, for the people to see me safe. There will be a new order then, in Egypt. I will not have my wife taken from me again.”

His eyes were intense and Julius wondered how much Ptolemy had guessed about their relationship. The marriage was too ludicrous for him to think he had come between husband and wife, and he was not even sure if he had. Despite their intimacy, Cleopatra was still a mystery to him. It was possible that she would simply rearrange her court and resume her role as queen, politely dismissing the Roman who had made it possible.

“I have a gift for you,” Julius said, signaling the armorer of the Tenth who waited nearby.

The burly man stepped forward with a bundle of cloth and Julius unwrapped it to reveal a gladius reduced in size for the king. Ptolemy's eyes widened with pleasure as he took it. He had tried the simple forms of attack and defense with Domitius at Julius's request, but the heavy swords had been too much for his arms. Julius could see the smaller blade was exactly right and the king's boyish smile was mirrored in his own face.

“It is magnificent,” Ptolemy said, rubbing his thumb along the bronze wire and leather of the grip.

Julius nodded. “I hope you will have time to continue your lessons,” he replied.

“I will try. Thank you for the gift, Roman.”

Julius chuckled at the wry tone, remembering the furious little boy he had met on the first morning four weeks before.

“Until tomorrow then,” he said.

         

As dawn came, the army of the house of Ptolemy gathered on the streets of Alexandria, waiting to welcome the return of their king. Julius looked out through a hole in the barricaded windows and whistled softly to himself. There were many thousands waiting there, a show of strength.

The citizens themselves had come out to catch the first sight of Ptolemy. There had been no mobs to threaten the palace after Julius had spoken to Panek, and he wondered if it had been a bluff, or whether his influence reached further than even Cleopatra knew.

Ptolemy's footsteps were loud on the marble as he approached the great doors and looked up at Julius. He carried himself well and Julius was pleased to see the small sword on his hip.

Julius eased the door open a little further, so that Ptolemy could see the army gathered in his honor.

“Are you ready?” he asked the boy king.

Ptolemy did not reply and when Julius looked at him, he was astonished to see there were tears in his eyes.

“I do not trust Panek,” Ptolemy whispered aloud, his gaze on the warriors in the distance.

“We have to send you out,” Julius said. “Your army must see you alive. As proof of our good faith, you must be released. Panek is not a fool. He knows you have been united with your sister. He would not dare hold you. I would see him dead and he knows it.”

Gently, he put a hand on Ptolemy's shoulder and began moving him toward the doorway. The young king reached up with a jerk and grabbed Julius's hand in his own.

“He cannot be trusted! The agreements will mean nothing to him, I know it. If you send me out, I will be powerless once more. Let me remain and we will find another way.”

Gently, Julius removed the boy's hands. “We are running out of food, Ptolemy, and I gave my word that you would be released. The negotiations are over.” His voice became harder. “Now do your part and I will see you on your throne later today. First you must be given back to your people.”

Tears streamed down Ptolemy's face and he held Julius's arm with desperation. “You don't understand! Out there, I will be the king once more. I am
afraid
!”

Julius looked away, embarrassed for the sobbing boy. Where was Cleopatra? She had a way with her young brother that calmed his spirits. Julius was on the point of calling for her when Ptolemy wiped angrily at his tears and let his grip loosen.

“I will go out to them,” he said.

Julius saw terror in his eyes and could not understand it. No matter what Panek intended, Ptolemy would be safe for the few hours it took to return him to his palace and then bring Cleopatra out with the legions.

“Courage, lad,” Julius said softly, giving Ptolemy the slightest push.

The king took in a great heave of breath and squared his shoulders, his hand dropping to touch the hilt of his sword as he had seen the Romans do. He nodded once and walked out into the sun.

The army cheered as they saw his slight figure at the top of the steps. They raised their arms in perfect unison and Julius wondered if these were indeed better soldiers than the ones he had faced on palace duty. Even from the elevation of the doorway, he could not estimate their full number.

Brutus came to stand by his side with Octavian, each man carefully ignoring the presence of the other. With Julius, they watched Ptolemy descend the steps and make his way to the first ranks of men. Panek was there, waiting for him with his head bowed.

Horns blew in a crash of sound as Ptolemy reached them, and Julius and the others watched in fascination as the lines of men parted.

“What's happening?” Octavian asked.

Julius shook his head in answer.

Before their eyes, the cloth of gold Ptolemy had worn at his first meeting was brought forward and draped around his shoulders. The Romans squinted as the rising sun seemed to intensify around him, making Ptolemy shine. Panek lifted the headdress and his voice could be heard crying out a chant to the gods.

Ptolemy stood looking up into the mask as it was lowered onto him. For a long time he did not move, then slowly he turned to face the watching Roman soldiers at every window and door. The mask hid his youth and had a malevolence that made Julius frown. Time seemed to slow and an oven heat blew across the gardens.

“He wouldn't . . .” Brutus said in disbelief, but the golden figure raised his hand and brought it down in a sharp gesture. The army roared its battle rage and came surging into the gardens.

Julius jerked back in horrified disbelief. There was no time to consider the implications. “Bar the doors and be ready!” he cried. “I want men on the roof with spears and bows. They are coming!”

                                                      
CHAPTER
27
                                                      

T
he Egyptian army killed the horses of the extraordinarii. Inside the palace, the Romans could hear their mounts screaming.

High above their heads, more than a hundred of the Fourth legion had climbed onto the tiles to send a withering fire down into the horde that crashed against the palace. They could hardly miss against such a mass of besieging warriors.

In the chaos of the first few minutes, grapnels and ropes were sent spinning upwards for any purchase. Some were cut before the men below could begin to climb, but the Egyptians had archers of their own and legionaries fell as they hacked at them. The attack was loud and violent, but the palace was not an easy place to storm. Only the highest windows had been left open and everything below that was solid with barricades. Even the warriors who clung to ledges could not find a way in. As they scrabbled at the windows, swords came through the gaps to send them screaming onto the heads of their own men.

A dull booming was heard as Ptolemy's army thumped a wooden beam against the main doors. Arrows rained down on them, but as fast as they died, more rushed forward. Inside, Julius had Cleopatra's rooms stripped and the contents piled against the door for when it broke. He had not had time to consider a strategy against the army. He knew he could not stay there forever and regretted telling the boy king how little food they had left. Even on half-rations, they would be starving inside a week.

Ptolemy himself stayed out of range of spears, though Julius sent Ciro up to the roof to try for a long shot. The sudden change in manner was beyond comprehension to the Romans. Cleopatra at least had seemed to understand when Julius described the gold headdress being placed on the boy. He remembered Ptolemy's warning that outside, he would be the king.

The first attack came to nothing and those who battered at the doors were driven back at last by a storm of heavy tiles from the roof. Though they had retreated, Julius was sure they would return with more to hold shields over their heads. It was what he would have done.

Over the noise outside, Julius called to his generals: “Brutus! Go to Cleopatra and tell her I need a way out of here. We cannot stay in this place and let them smash it. If they burn us out, we'll have to rush them.”

Cleopatra had come to the entrance hall as he spoke. “They would not dare to set fires while I am here,” she said.

Julius wanted to believe it, but he couldn't take the risk. “They have us surrounded. Are there no tunnels, no secret routes?” he demanded, wincing as the battering ram struck again. No doubt the men were better protected this time.

Cleopatra shook her head. “I would have used one by now if there were,” she snapped.

Julius swore under his breath, turning away to peer through the cracks of daylight at the warriors beyond. The palace felt claustrophobic and he hated to play such a passive role. Apart from the men on the roof, he had no way of attacking his enemies unless he sent the legions out in a direct assault that could very well have been suicide.

“Do they have heavy weapons, catapults and the like?” he shouted over the noise. The palace could be reduced to rubble by such things and he had a sudden terror of them.

“Not close,” Cleopatra replied. She ran her tongue over her lips, tasting the dust in the air and frowning. “Follow me to the roof and I'll show you.”

Julius hesitated, unwilling to leave his men. Brutus stepped forward a fraction before Domitius and Octavian.

“Go, sir,” he said. “We'll hold them here for a while.”

Julius nodded in relief and raced after the queen, taking flights of stairs to the highest floors without slowing down. He was panting by the time he reached the top and climbed a ladder into the sunlight.

Summer had come to Alexandria and he felt the heat like a blow. The tiles stretched away in all directions, though his gaze was immediately drawn to the line of efficient killers he had sent to the edge of the roof. Ciro was with them and as Julius watched he took careful aim and sent a spear down at a difficult angle. The big man smiled at the result and the others clapped him on his shoulders. Then a rush of arrows sent them all leaping backwards. They saluted as they recognized Julius and he waved them back to their task.

Julius took a sharp breath at the view of the city and sea the height gave him. The port was laid out in miniature below and the horizon was split between the deep ocean and the brown blur of the Egyptian heartlands.

Cleopatra stood beside him, her hair whipped into curls by the wind.

“There are barracks at Canopus, two days to the east, along the coast,” she said, pointing into the dim distance. “They have catapults there and ships to carry them.”

Julius studied the mouth of the port. He could see the tiny galleys of the port watch on patrol. Merchants sailed or rowed across the harbor and dozens more sat at anchor, protected from storms. Alexander had chosen well when he built his city.

“I must get men out tonight,” Julius said. “I can block the entrances to the port with ships sunk in the entrance. Where will the army go then, to reach us?”

Cleopatra shrugged. “The coast is rocky and dangerous anywhere else. You will delay them for days, wherever they try to land.”

“Can they still pass with the heavy weapons, though?” Julius asked.

“Eventually. We are an ingenious people, Julius.”

He studied the coast, his gaze darting from place to place as he thought.

“I could lower men from ropes tethered up here,” he said at last.

He strode to the far edge and looked down, swallowing painfully as he saw how far his men would have to descend. An arrow hummed past him, its force almost spent. He ignored it.

Cleopatra had come with him and stood looking down the sheer walls at her brother's army.

“Just one man could carry a message to my own forces,” she said. “My slave, Ahmose, can take the news. They will tip the balance and give you the chance to break free of the siege.”

“It's not enough,” Julius replied. “Send him if you wish, but I cannot stay here without knowing whether he reached them or was killed. We don't have food for more than a few days.”

Julius walked along the edge, looking down at the minor buildings surrounding the palace. He reached the rear and had to edge around a sloping section, thankful the old tiles were dry and steady underfoot. Behind the palace, there were smaller structures used by slaves and servants. As Julius saw them he smiled.

“Can you see this?” he said.

Cleopatra peered over the edge with him.

Below, a sloping line of tiles seemed to come close to the main wall. Julius knelt, then lay on his stomach. The other roof looked near enough to jump to, or climb down to on ropes. From there, he could see a mismatched trail of homes and temples leading across the city.

“That's the place,” he said. “If I can get men down to that first roof, they can cross above the heads of Ptolemy's soldiers. They'll never know we are there. Can you see a window at the same level?”

Cleopatra lay flat to crane her head over the rim. She nodded and both of them became aware of their closeness at the same time. Julius knew his men would be watching, but he was still captivated by her. He shook himself.

“I must go down and find the room that looks out onto those roofs.”

“Isis has favored you, Julius, in showing you the way,” Cleopatra said.

He frowned. “My own eyes had something to do with it.”

She laughed at that, coming quickly to her feet with all the easy grace of youth. Beside her, he felt old, but then she kissed him, her tongue grazing his with the taste of marble dust.

         

Ciro and Domitius eased their heads a fraction out of the rear window, looking down before jerking back. The Egyptian archers were good and they did not want to risk even a long shot.

“Twenty feet down and about six across,” Domitius said. “We can make it, if they don't see us coming. After that I don't know. I couldn't see how far the roofs reach before we'd have to come down. It may not be far enough.”

“There's no other way,” Julius replied. They could all hear the hammering below while the army milled in the grounds. “As soon as they bring catapults, we're finished, unless our food and water run out first. We need to draw some of them away at the very least.”

“Let me have this one, sir,” Domitius said. “With a cohort of the youngest men to try for the ships.”

Julius looked at him. “Very well. Ciro, you go with him. Pick your men ready for sunset.”

Brutus had come to see what delayed his commander and he seemed nervous. “I would like to go as well,” he said.

Julius frowned. “Your arm is barely healed. How would you climb down twenty feet of rope?”

Brutus looked relieved not to have had a straight refusal. “After the rope is anchored, the rest will slide down. I can do that.” He raised his right arm and opened and closed his fist.

Julius shook his head. “Not this time, Brutus. The gods alone know how difficult it will be to cross those roofs. Worse, if your arm gave way and you fell, they would know we were trying to get out.”

Brutus took a deep breath. “As you order, sir,” he said, disappointment clear on his face.

“We could tie his wrists to the rope we'll use to slide, sir,” Domitius said suddenly. “Even if his arm goes, he won't fall then.”

Brutus turned in astonishment to Domitius, and Julius saw how much his old friend needed to be back in the fight.

“If you sink the ships, you could have to swim. There's a good chance you won't be coming back. Do you understand that?”

Brutus nodded, a touch of his old wildness showing. “Let me go. Please,” he said.

“All right, but if your arm snaps, you stay on the first roof until it is over.”

“Yes, sir,” Brutus replied, his face strained with tension. He clapped his hand on Domitius's shoulder as Julius turned away, and Domitius accepted it with a nod.

Below their feet, the hammering went on.

         

Though the sun had set, the grounds of the palace were lit with bonfires at all points and arrows soared sporadically up to the roof and against the windows. The army had either settled in to starve them out, or were waiting for catapults to arrive. Julius watched from a high window, well hidden from the sight of their archers. He hated to be trapped and hardly dared reveal how much his hopes were pinned on the men clambering across to lower roofs at the back.

The time would come when he was forced to send the legions out against the army that faced them, he knew. When the moment was perfect, he would try for a shattering blow, but against such numbers he feared he would be leading them straight to destruction. Cleopatra had been invaluable with her knowledge of their tactics and strengths, but the Tenth and Fourth were vastly outnumbered even so. In his most private of thoughts, there were times when he wished he had simply left the city when his time was up. Then he would grow angry in reaction. He would not run from a rabble of foreign soldiers. If he had to, he would find supplies and send for reinforcements from Greece and Spain. The Egyptians would learn what it meant to threaten the life of the man who ruled Rome.

Behind the palace, Domitius was at the window with Brutus, tying his wrists securely to the piece of waxed cloth that would send him sliding into the arms of the waiting legionaries. Moving five hundred soldiers in strained silence was difficult, but there had been no cries of alarm and the plan was moving without a fault.

As Domitius tugged the knot, he felt Brutus looking at him in the dark.

“We were friends once,” Brutus said.

Domitius snorted to himself. “We could be again, old son. The men will accept you in time, though Octavian . . . well, he might not.”

“I am glad you spoke up for me,” Brutus replied.

Domitius gripped him by the shoulder. “You risked all our lives for your pride and temper. There have been times when I would rather have put a knife in you.”

“If I could change it, I would,” Brutus said truthfully.

Domitius nodded, helping his legs over the edge. “I stood on the white cliffs of Britain with you,” he said. “You killed that big blue bastard with the hatchet when I was flat on my back. That counts for something.” He spoke slowly, his voice low and serious. “I can't call you a brother, after what you did. Perhaps we can get by without spitting in each other's bread.”

Brutus nodded slowly, without looking round.

“I'm glad of it,” Domitius said, heaving him off the ledge.

Brutus gasped as the rope sagged and his initial rush was jerked into a slow descent. Halfway down, when there was nothing but yawning darkness beneath him, he spun and the cloth twisted, halting him. His weakened muscles protested as he swung his legs frantically. With an effort, he managed to turn himself back round and the slide began once more. His arm ached worse than he cared to admit, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and then found himself being held by the men on the roof below. They untied his wrists in silence and handed him his sword, which he strapped to his waist. Like him, they wore no armor and carried no shields. Their faces were black with soot, and only the whiteness of their teeth and eyes in the moonlight showed their positions, spread over the roofs like mold. The hulking figure of Cleopatra's slave, Ahmose, was there with them, unsmiling and silent as he crouched on the tiles.

Before Brutus could step clear, Domitius thumped into his back and sent him sprawling.

“No more to come,” he heard Domitius whisper as he guided Brutus through the men to the front.