Sands of Egypt

by S. J. A. Turney

  When he left, shutting the door behind him, Caesar stood for a long moment, eyelid flickering, until Aulus Hirtius cleared his throat. ‘Despite any personal issues there, I fear Cassius had a valid point about vigilance. We have become a little carefree, allowing powerful Aegyptians free run around us. Perhaps we can see to the tightening of Roman security in the palace?’

  Caesar continued to hesitate for a long time, but finally nodded. ‘There are clearly those in our midst who might wish us harm. I have men in place already, but I recommend that you all follow suit as Cassius advised.’

  Fronto shivered, partially at the news that Caesar had already set up a secret private network of security, but more at the ambiguity of whom Caesar considered potentially harmful. It seemed more aimed at Cassius than the Aegyptians.

  * * *

  The days of November moved on with little change in either camp, but for the increasing tension in the palace. The king and queen avoided one another more than ever, and Cassius made sure to be in the general’s presence only at meetings, when he was required.

  Fronto did note, though, that the general’s habits started to change. Never a man given to excess sleep or unnecessary relaxation, he began to remain awake late into the night, sleeping only in brief naps, and always with men of Aulus Ingenuus’ bodyguard around. Food tasters checked every meal, though they did that for all Romans now, but Caesar had also employed someone to check his rooms for snakes and scorpions before he retired.

  It was an evening two days after the Ides of November that found Fronto hurrying to the general’s door with a report of activity among the enemy. The praetorians at the entrance checked with the general and then admitted Fronto at his behest, and the legate made his way into Caesar’s room, the door clicking shut behind him.

  ‘General, just a warning that we may be in for a fresh wave of attacks. Wood is in short supply hereabouts, but scouts have reported timber being brought in from the delta for Achillas’ men, and he’s had teams deforesting Pharos Island too. It is heavily suggestive of the construction of siege engines.’

  Caesar nodded. ‘We have known it would come. In a way, I prefer to face a fight, even a bad one, than to sit in this tension and wait, watching my back all the time.’

  He rose and gestured to the room’s corner. ‘Speaking of which…’

  Fronto glanced that way. He’d not noticed the man beforehand. A slave, one of several who travelled with the general’s baggage, attending him in his quarters. His barber, Fronto thought he remembered. He frowned.

  ‘Bulo here has been using his free time well, acting as my eyes and ears in the palace. One of several,’ he added. ‘This evening he has managed to intercept a communique that I find interesting.’

  He held out two pieces of parchment. One was scribbled in the indecipherable local language, the other in good Latin. ‘I had it translated just now,’ Caesar explained.

  Fronto read down, eyes widening. Whoever had penned the note sought the assurances of the general Achillas that both he and King Ptolemy would be preserved in the fighting to come, promising in return that Achillas would be honoured above all men and granted great lands and positions. It went on to request that the general dispose of the inconvenient Princess Arsinoë, in return for which the unknown author would ensure that the queen met her demise in the palace, along with the Roman consul. The writer believed that with the death of Caesar, Roman will would crumble and the other officers would flee Aegyptus. In a dark corner of his mind, Fronto suspected that latter might be unpleasantly true.

  ‘So someone is plotting against you. Cassius was right. And against the queen, too. There are very few men who could have written this, of course.

  ‘Potheinus,’ Caesar said with definite finality. ‘It was observed leaving his very hand into the care of a messenger who sadly never reached the acropolis boundary, for he met with my eyes and ears – and knives. His remains are in the harbour now. Which is what I am tempted to do with both Potheinus and Ptolemy.’

  The general sighed and leaned back. ‘I am tired, Fronto, and more than a little driven by anger at this particular time. You seem composed and sensible. Tell me, what should I do about this irritating eunuch and his juvenile king?’

  Fronto shrugged. ‘Not sure you can lay this at the king’s feet, in fairness. He’s an idiot, but too important a piece in the game to dispose of out of hand. Potheinus, on the other hand, can only be of further use irritating the other damned spirits in his afterlife. Build him a pyramid and drop it on him.’

  Caesar chuckled. ‘I had a feeling you might think that. I have no great wish to spend any more time in young Ptolemy’s company, but perhaps you are right. Potheinus, though? Yes, and a grand gesture, I think.’ He gave Fronto an odd look. ‘Perhaps not a whole pyramid. These Aegyptians seem to be fans of beheading. Let’s send Achillas the head of Potheinus, with the incriminating note stuck between his teeth. That should serve to make he and Princess Arsinoë argue for a while, and perhaps delay their next assault.’

  Fronto nodded, wincing yet again. He wasn’t keen on the idea of such grisly ostentation. Better to simply execute the rodent and dump him in the harbour. Still, dead was dead.

  ‘I’ll speak to Ingenuus and see that it’s done.’

  Chapter Five

  Late November 48 BC

  The officers gathered in the large room, open to the warm sun and the sea breeze by a colonnade of brightly painted, lotus-capitalled columns, the drumming of fingers and sucking of teeth abounding as they waited impatiently. Fronto looked around the assembled faces. Some he knew of old, some were more recent additions, but all were good. One thing about civil war, he mused bitterly, was that it weeded out the chaff. There was no room in any army now for weak leaders.

  Aulus Hirtius, Caesar’s secretary and a nobleman with a strong military career in his own right, standing twitchily like a crane, with his beaked nose and strangely avian gait. Cassius, a staunch, solidly-built man who had been both friend and foe to Caesar in his time, but had been a renowned military mind throughout. Decimus Junius Brutus, long-time friend and officer of Caesar’s, famed naval commander and as loyal a man as could be found in the republic. Tiberius Nero, a hero of the pirate wars some decade earlier and ex officer of Pompey. Salvius Cursor, a man equally at home with the officers on the tribunal or with his blade out and bloody in the field. Titus Orfidius Bulla, tribune and commander of the present contingent of the Twenty Seventh. No Marcus Antonius, though, who had been dispatched early to Rome, before the landing in Aegyptus, there to maintain Caesar’s interests. Staunch men, here, though. Ready to face the army of Achillas personally, let alone as commanders of the meagre troops available.

  The door opened with a click, and Caesar strode in with the queen at his side, his watchful slave Bulo at his heel, and then several of Ingenuus’ praetorian bodyguards.

  ‘Gentlemen. Apologies for the slight delay.’

  There was a mumbled chorus of platitudes as the officers waited on the latest news.

  ‘The last of the ships has now left, and once more I must commend Fronto on his seizure of the Pharos fort. Control of the harbour’s main entrance has proved invaluable.’

  ‘What is the final tally, General?’ Hirtius asked quietly.

  The general nodded at Brutus, who had been placed in charge of the fleet in the Palace Harbour. The younger officer, eyes black-rimmed with exhaustion, frowned as he dredged his memory over several days of activity.

  ‘One ship to Syria, seeking Calvinus, attempting to ascertain where he and his legions are. Those armies should be well on the way to Alexandria by now, so the ship will call at all coastal cities once it is past the delta, seeking news of the reinforcements. Then it will continue to Antioch and Tarsus seeking further support and tidings before calling back via Cyprus. Four ships for Cyrenaica and Crete to seek the support of the governor there and to request supplies and manpower from both island and mainland sources, including vital Cretan archers.’
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br />   He leaned back, stretching. ‘Two ships to Sicilia. Two ships for Asia and Greece. Two ships have been dispatched, rather bravely I might add, up the Nilus, seeking support for the queen from the native governors inland. One ship to Cilicia, one to Rhodos, and not just for the excellent wine,’ he gave a weary smile as the officers chuckled. ‘The rest of the fleet remains here.’

  Hirtius nodded with satisfaction, and Caesar huffed. ‘I would have liked to send more ships for supplies, but between volatile political situations in the Armenian region, Achillas’ control of much of Aegyptus, and Pompey’s cronies still in charge of Africa, our sources are diminished. Still, we do what we must. Salvius Aper, who knows the region well, has taken a century of men, protecting a deputation, across the dangerous delta, seeking King Malchus of the Nabateans, for their cavalry would be valuable. I believe we have done all we can to secure men and supplies. We cannot move against Achillas until at the least Calvinus’ legions arrive, for we are still greatly outnumbered. All we can hope is that the enemy have burned their fingers on the fire of our resistance sufficiently to hold off until we are better equipped to deal with them. What other preparations are underway?’

  Salvius Cursor cleared his throat. ‘Forays by brave men of our legions have secured a good stock of timber, ropes, tools and nails from the harbour dockyards. They have been brought in and are now being used to create weaponry and siege engines. The longer we are left alone, the better our armament becomes.’

  Caesar nodded.

  ‘Likewise, the defences themselves improve by the day,’ Cassius announced. ‘We have now sealed all entrances bar two and begun to increase the height of the walls, adding extra pits, bulwarks and all manner of defences along the line.’ He threw a defiant look towards the queen. ‘Fortunately many of the native structures are formed of very good, solid stone blocks that are perfect for repurposing as defensive lines.’

  The queen hissed as she snapped an angry look at the man, the two of them remaining locked in a war of stares until Caesar stepped between them. ‘Is it not sufficient that Pompey’s former colleagues war against their own, and the Aegyptian royal house suffers internecine conflict? Must we war among ourselves even here?’

  Fronto watched carefully. Every unspoken moment between Caesar and these two was of import now. There was a long pause as Cassius threw a look at the general that sought validation and support. Fronto almost groaned as Caesar turned with a nod to the queen. ‘We will do what we can to limit the damage to your buildings.’ Fronto could not miss the bitter anger that swept across Cassius at that. Fronto had not been willing to accept the notion that Caesar was somehow falling under the queen’s spell, something that had become a strong current of rumour recently, but it was becoming hard to deny.

  ‘I have sent out deputations,’ the queen announced into the tense silence. ‘Men I trust who can slip past Achillas’ army, and who know both where and who to entreat for supplies of grain. Beyond the city to the south lies close fertile land, which can source a steady flow of supplies. I expect to see a response very fast. If they cannot bring the grain in by ship we may have to temporarily secure a passage through the enemy for them.’

  Fronto cleared his throat, noting how little that notion appealed to the officers, and trying to divert the conversation before a fresh argument broke out. ‘There are places where the walls simply cannot be strengthened adequately by adding stones. In these places we have put our best veterans and the most inventive engineers. They are working constantly to use hides, timbers, dug trenches and whatever they can lay their hands upon to plug gaps.’

  ‘What of water supplies?’ Hirtius queried.

  ‘Our men were careful not to ruin the underground channels leading here when they prepared the road defences,’ Cassius said, again firing an optical assault at the queen. ‘As long as those channels remain undisturbed, we have sufficient water.’

  ‘What of the enemy?’

  Salvius Cursor and Orfidius Bulla shared a look, and the former cracked his knuckles. ‘We have seen supplies coming in from both east and south, along the larger routes. Artillery and major siege equipment, weaponry and ammunition. It is telling and somewhat unfortunate to note that the sources of some of these supplies can only be inland Aegyptian Nomes that nominally support the queen. Their numbers swell, and I am sorry to report that it would appear that a significant portion of the queen’s force that had remained at Pelusium seem to now be serving Achillas.’

  Orfidius Bulla nodded. ‘There is some suggestion that the queen’s army has disintegrated, following various rumours of her captivity or death. Those who have not thrown in their lot with Achillas and now added to the enemy are said to have moved upriver to Memphis to support the youngest brother of the royal house, yet another Ptolemy.’

  ‘The unpleasant reality suggested by all of this,’ Salvius continued, ‘is that Achillas has been sending bribes and demands and pulling to his cause anyone he can, including those upon whom we hoped to rely.’

  Orfidius Bulla scratched his neck. ‘Additionally, the activity we have noted from our best viewpoints suggests that Achillas is preparing for a major assault. Smoke pours out of buildings where it shouldn’t, an indication that metallurgy is now carried out there. It is my belief that every available slave in the city has been put to work in factories and workshops manufacturing weapons and ammunition. I believe that the city’s rich and influential, fearing to oppose Achillas, have turned their back on the queen and supplied the enemy with funds and goods.’

  ‘Let them come,’ Cassius snarled. ‘Our defences are now triple walled in many places and up to forty feet in height. The Aegyptians might have a vast force, but their experience with sieges is sparse at best, while Rome is well-practised at the art. I fear not this Achillas.’

  * * *

  Days passed and, given what Fronto had heard in the meeting, he began to prowl the defences keeping an eye on the enemy, often with Galronus at his side. The reports of Orfidius Bulla and Salvius Cursor were clearly accurate. It became clear in the proceeding days that much of the city had been given over to the production of equipment and to preparations for war.

  And whether the queen liked it or not, Cassius’ work had helped secure the citadel. Houses and shops were gone by the dozen, but the engineers under the Roman officer had created a triple wall system that Fronto would hate to have to tackle, the inner wall as tall as four or five men. Moreover, they were formed of well-shaped stone, mortared into place as strong as any fortress Fronto had seen. What had been a maze of narrow alleys around the palace had become a fortress in less than a month.

  Fronto passed the end of the Canopus Canal, where the wall was granted extra strength by the wide watery channel, and passed into the triple wall region. Climbing the ladder to the fighting platform, he felt a little dizzy at the height, and took a moment to settle as Galronus joined him.

  ‘Cassius is thorough,’ the Remi nobleman noted.

  Fronto nodded. From this high position, he could see the defences in all their impressive glory. ‘Would that we had more archers. When the ship returns from Crete, we will be better off.’

  Galronus glanced down at the baskets of rocks and small caches of javelins and darts that had been gathered from all over the harbour, palace and Diabathra fort. ‘The cavalry sit impotent and unhappy. City streets are no theatre of war for riders. Would that we could meet them in open ground.’

  ‘Then we would be massacred,’ Fronto sighed. ‘Numbers.’

  The two stood quiet for a long moment, listening to the distant sounds of construction and manufacture, the croaking of gulls, the splash of water, and the constant work of the Caesarian soldiers in consolidating their defences.

  ‘Can you hear something?’ Galronus said.

  ‘Many things. Like what?’

  ‘I’m not sure. New activity.’

  They both fell silent again, listening carefully. Then Fronto heard it. From one of the nearby neighbourhoods, a little
east of where they stood. The surge of voices some distance away. A rhythmic chanting.

  ‘That cannot be good.’

  ‘It’s about three streets that way.’

  The two men started to move fast along the wall top. As they passed the soldiers on duty, the general sense of alertness increased. Something was happening, and everyone was becoming aware of it. A signal horn blast went up not far ahead, close enough that they could see the musician with his cornu, puffing and blowing as men beside him pointed down the street.

  Back inside the walls, men were now spilling out of the nearest buildings, all of which had been commandeered as barracks for the defenders, jamming helmets on their heads as they ran, doing up belts and slinging sword baldrics over their shoulders. Fronto and Galronus closed on the location. A centurion was now standing at the wall with the musician and a standard bearer, men rushing all about them.

  ‘Attack?’ Fronto asked as he neared the man.

  The centurion turned. ‘Yes, legate. Looks like they’re about to test their new stuff.’

  The two officers fell in at the parapet beside the centurion. Before them lay a wide open area, courtesy of Cassius’ work at pulling down buildings for his defences and to create the killing zone. Beyond that lay a wide street, one of the grid that criss-crossed the city.

  A mass of men were moving towards them from the distance, large shapes among them. Fronto squinted in the sunlight. They were light infantry, surrounding new constructions.

  ‘Quite right,’ he said. This is a probing attack. Achillas has committed only his most expendable men. We need to make them regret this. Every black eye we give them will make them more wary.’

  ‘We’re well prepared, sir,’ the centurion said.

  ‘Good.’ Fronto stepped to the side to allow legionaries into place where the baskets of rocks and stooks of javelins stood. The enemy were moving slowly, chanting in time with their footsteps. A forty foot siege tower held pride of place towards the rear centre of the force. That would be of little use until they managed to get past the first two walls, of course. Long siege ladders were being carried among the men, and carts with timber and hide sides taller than a man rose among the mass. Long ramps, like those for boarding ships, moved among them on two wheels, guided and balanced by the men.