“You are taller than most Romans,” she said. “Maybe even taller than the great Caesar.”
“I am from Spain,” Lucius replied simply.
“And strong,” Arsinoe said in a low, almost animalistic tone while cupping her small hand around one of his triceps. “Why should a warrior of your skills be wasted serving Caesar and my fool of a sister? Why not join my ranks? I can place you at the head of a thousand soldiers tomorrow, if you wish. You can fight for my glory, and the glory of Egypt, not for that lost cause. You do wish to be on the winning side, do you not, Roman?”
“I have seen Caesar work his way out of more forbidding situations. I am not so sure you can defeat him?”
She looked suddenly irritated at the remark. “Demetrius, how many Romans did my army slay yesterday?”
“Near four hundred, Your Majesty.”
“There,” she said triumphantly, and then turned to the eunuch who appeared to be growing impatient with his monarch’s prating, “Ganymedes, tell this Roman what Caesar and his men are going to have to drink if they choose to remain in the palace.”
“But, Your Majesty, it is not important that this Roman should know – “
“Tell him!” she shouted with a vitriolic look.
“Uh, yes of course, Great One. We are diverting the city canals such that no fresh water will flow to the palace. In fact, we will soon be filling the palace cisterns with seawater. We expect that everyone in the palace will die of thirst by the end of the seventh day.”
“Ha!” she said proudly. “You see, Roman, a lost cause. Caesar and my sister are doomed, and so are all who are with them. If you serve me, on the other hand, you will enjoy the spoils of victory.” She paused, again the playful look at Demetrius, a raised eyebrow, and then her small hand reached out to touch Lucius’s chest ever so slightly. “And there are other rewards, too, Roman. Rewards that other men would beg for – yes, would crawl on their knees for.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Lucius saw that Demetrius was red-faced with a resentful countenance again, but the captain of the guard did his best to remain stoic with his eyes averted elsewhere.
“Er-uh, Great One,” Ganymedes finally cut-in. “Now that we have established this man’s,… well, his purity, is it not time for us to share with him the quest that lies before him.”
Arsinoe sighed. “If you insist.”
With a gesture from Ganymedes, Demetrius ordered everyone out of the courtyard. When the entourage had finally filed out, only Arsinoe, Ganymedes, Demetrius, and Khay remained with Lucius.
“There is an ancient treasure, Centurion,” Ganymedes began. “A symbol of Egyptian power and might, a symbol of the grace of the gods. It is called the Eye of Horus. It is a jeweled amulet once handed down by the pharaohs who ruled this land. It has been lost for nearly two millennia, hidden by the priests of Horus when great Egypt began to diminish and fade under the sands.”
“So, you want me to find this jewel for you?”
“It is not merely a jewel, heathen!” Khay suddenly said hotly, his voice amplified and made to sound imposing by some trickery of the falcon mask. “It has a power that you of the West could never understand. By the gods, Egypt was a flourishing empire when your pathetic Rome was but a deserted river valley. Our gods came before yours, even before those of the Greeks and the Atlanteans. We were a people blessed by the gods, and of the gods. A thousand kingdoms bore obeisance to our pharaohs, and many more trembled at the rumble of our chariot wheels.” The priest then outstretched his arms to the square of blue sky above the courtyard. “When great Osiris fell from his throne, his sons, Horus and Set, fought to take their father’s place. In the struggle, Set gouged out the eye of Horus, but the eye was recovered, and Horus offered it to his dead father in the hopes that Osiris would be brought back to life. He who holds the Eye of Horus has the power to heal the land, to bring Egypt back to her former glory, and to lead her people in conquest of the lands that have subjugated her for so long.”
“You see, Centurion,” said Ganymedes, in a tone not nearly as passionate as that of the priest. “It is what the people think that matters. The people of Egypt are torn between rulers that they believe are not of their own.”
“I understood that Ptolemy descended from the great Macedonian general,” Lucius said.
“Precisely, and that is why the Egyptians have never fully acknowledged the Macedonian dynasty as their true kings. They accept it, because for three hundred years it has largely brought peace. But now, they are tired of being ruled by others. They are tired of being subjugated. They cherish the legend of Horus and will follow whoever holds the Eye. Once the great Queen Arsinoe has shown her subjects that she and only she has the Eye of Horus, they will accept her as their own, and there will be one ruler in the land.”
“Don’t you mean two rulers?” Lucius said, eyeing the eunuch derisively.
“The factions will join together, and then, with a united front, we can defeat our enemies. The pretenders will be put to the sword, and a true dynasty will be established in Alexandria – one that will rule the world for all time.” Ganymedes said this last much more fervently, whether to distract the others from Lucius’s remark or from some other reason, Lucius could not tell. But he got the impression that the eunuch did not believe in what he was saying.
“If this bauble is lost,” Lucius said, flashing eyes at the incensed priest. “What makes you think I can find it? And why not have Demetrius here, or any one of your other knights, find it? Why me?”
“I’ll tell you the reason, knave!” Khay cut in with the booming artificial voice, the falcon eyes staring somewhere above Lucius’s shoulder. “Because the ancient priests of Horus knew that this day would come, that a great lady would arise and take power. They hid the Eye, but not where it could not be found. The location was passed down through the ages by my sect. Centuries ago, when the Macedonian rulers came to our land, the Horus priests carved a map into the wall of a shrine, far inland from here. This map shows the Eye’s location. Eventually, one of the Ptolemys suspected the priests of treason and had them put to death, and the shrine lay nearly forgotten for a hundred years.”
“But not completely forgotten,” Lucius said. “Then I suspect, priest, you know where this shrine is?”
The falcon head nodded.
“Then you have been to see the map.”
“No!” Khay shouted angrily, as if to suggest such was madness. “The prophecy and the curse forbid it, Horus help me!”
“What prophecy?”
“There were twelve priests tried for treason. They were betrayed to the king by both Macedonians and Egyptians, and thus the priests held both races to blame for their deaths. Just before they were skinned alive, the priests put a curse on the place, that no Macedonian or Egyptian blood may pass the threshold of the shrine. Furthermore, to ensure vengeance upon the races that had betrayed them, they declared that only one who had claimed the lives of twelve Macedonians and twelve Egyptians could enter the shrine.”
“And the curse?”
“That if one of such blood should enter, blessings would be heaped upon the enemies of Egypt and Macedon for a thousand years. That both kingdoms would see their last dynasty before the very same generation died out. That all of the gains of the Eye would turn to ten-fold losses. That all would be lost forever.”
“And I am the impure, pure-bred you need to enter the shrine for you?”
“Yes, Centurion,” Ganymedes said. “That is it, quite simply. We do not know what terrors lurk within the walls of that place, but you stand the best chance of succeeding.”
“And success will bring its own rewards, tall man,” Arsinoe said, with an alluring eye.
“And the gold? How much will I -”
“You dare talk of gold when your queen gives you an order, Roman!” Arsinoe snapped, her angry, pouty expression had returned. “Your reward is to serve my greatness!”
Again, Ganymedes calmed her. “Allow me to bea
r tribute to your greatness, O queen, by compensating this Roman from my own purse. Do not concern yourself with him any longer. I will reward him with two thousand Roman sesterces if he finds the map for us.”
Lucius’s eyes must have grown visibly at that moment, because Ganymedes smiled. The eunuch was offering what amounted to be a small fortune to a simple soldier.
“This Roman will find the map,” Ganymedes said, reassuringly, “and we will find the Eye.”
“Yes,” she agreed reluctantly, and Lucius caught a flash of desire in her eyes as they stared briefly at his bare chest. “When?”
“Tomorrow, my queen. The shrine is a half-day’s ride from here. From there, perhaps several more days of travel. We will not know for certain until we know the Eye’s location.”
“Excellent. Captain Demetrius, call my attendant to pack my things.”
Ganymedes quickly raised a hand. “Er-uh, such a journey is not worthy of such a great one, my queen. And may I remind you that your brother and sister still have agents in the city watching our every move. The fewer that know about this, the better.”
Arsinoe seemed much put out by this, and crossed her arms like a vexed school girl. “Who then, Ganymedes?”
“Demetrius, to keep an eye on the Roman. Khay, for any priestly contingencies that may be required. And I, to represent you, Great One. We will travel as merchants, in Bedouin attire.”
V
Lucius was given a room that was not unpleasant, with exotic furnishings only befitting an Egyptian princess’s house. His mail shirt and gladius had been cleaned, oiled and returned to him, and now lay draped across a stool in the corner. His helmet had not been returned, however, but that had not surprised him since they would be travelling incognito in the morning, and surely such a helmet would attract much attention on the streets of the city.
The window looked out over the city with its straight cut streets and checkerboard pattern. A full moon shone brightly above the dim city lights. He could just make out the palace, rising up near the harbor, with torches burning on the distant battlements. He had walked those battlements countless times over the past weeks, posting the men of his now dead century. The fires surrounding the palace were brighter than those in the rest of the city. They were the fires of Arsinoe’s army, laying siege to the palace and Caesar’s outnumbered forces.
Lucius found himself wondering if he would ever go back. The discipline of the legions was wearing thin on him. And what remained for him in Rome? Anarchy, rebellion, and a crumbling republic. He had heard of legionaries deserting to the east and making fortunes as mercenaries for the petty potentates there. There was no telling what he might become should he follow their example, perhaps even a king himself. There was no chance of that in the legions. Toil, discipline, and broken promises were all that the legions had ever offered him. Lucius then began to wonder what had happened to Caesar. He assumed the consul had made it off of the mole alive, otherwise Arsinoe and the others would have been gloating about it. Was it possible that Caesar was one of the hundreds of Roman bodies lying at the bottom of the harbor? And why did he care? What allegiance did he owe to Caesar, aside from the fact that he had marched for so long under the great man’s banner?
That night, the sounds of rolling engines and neighing horses rang out in the street below as more men filed into Alexandria to reinforce Arsinoe’s ranks. Lucius had just faded off to sleep when a distinct aroma began to touch his nostrils. It smelled sweet and noxious all at once, and he assumed it came from the street below where troops worked on some special mixture of pitch to hurl over the palace battlements. But then his mind began to swirl, and he found himself quite unable to move, yet completely conscious. If anything, his senses were more attuned now, but the vapor had rendered his arms and legs quite paralyzed and he could no longer feel his bandaged wounds. Shadows began moving in the darkened room. He saw the faces of girls, many girls, their lithe naked bodies dancing in and out of the shafts of moonlight. Then their hands were on him, dozens of small smooth hands, soothing his muscles and touching him everywhere at once. Whispers of long, scented hair brushed passed his face. The gentle nudge of young breasts caressed his forehead. He was surprised to discover that not all of him was paralyzed, and the gentle touches brought his carnal desires to a new height.
Then she was there, her large eyes gazing into his above a short veil that hid her nose and mouth. But aside from a spider-web thin strand of gold chain across her hips and a glimmering jewel in her navel, the veil was all she wore. Her hair thrashed and her body moved with the rhythm of an unheard drum, and with each beat of the drum his mind blurred with a cumulative intoxicating pleasure that he had never before experienced. A lifetime later, or maybe only heartbeats, he felt her fingernails dig into his chest muscles and a guttural moan exude from deep within her lungs. He lost himself in his own heightened senses and writhed with her until she went limp on top of him in a tangle of arms and legs.
He was still catching his breath when he felt the touch of her lips beside his ear.
“Do you think me a goddess now, Roman?”
Before he could answer, before he could think, one of the girls handed her a twig that was smoldering from one end. She waved this beneath his nose, forcing him to involuntarily suck in the wispy fumes. Her veil was now gone, and the moonlight afforded him a glimpse of her slightly upturned lips as he fell into a deep and contented sleep.
VI
The morning haze found four travelers aboard a skiff, thrusting its way from the city canal into Lake Mareotis. They crossed the large lake and moored at the south end where camels and provisions awaited them. They then took the road south. The road was really a dry earthen berm that cut across the vast marshes flooded by the cataracts of the Nile. The humid air and biting insects made the journey miserable, but they pressed on, stopping only to relieve themselves.
Still half in a stupor from the intoxicating potion that had been used on him last night, Lucius did his best to remain in the saddle. But as the sun climbed and the heat of the day set in, his senses came back to their full potency. It would have taken much convincing that the evening’s bliss had even happened at all. It seemed so much like a wild dream. But then, as they had loaded aboard the skiff that morning, dressed as Bedouins and covered in robes and turbans, he had taken out his gladius to keep it on his lap for the trip. When he had removed the pointed weapon from its sheath, a wispy piece of golden cloth came out with it, floating to the deck at his feet. The sheer material was connected on two corners by a strand of fine gold, and Lucius instantly recognized it. It was the veil Arsinoe had worn the night before.
“You had a visitor last night,” Demetrius had said neutrally, evidently recognizing it, too. The captain of the guard did not seem overly surprised by it, and his deportment was one of acceptance.
“Aye,” answered Lucius. “I am uncertain about what hap-“
“Say no more, Centurion,” the captain interrupted, appearing not to be interested.
But Lucius was curious, and so pressed the issue. “Your queen must have known that you would see this today.” He said holding the veil before him.
“She certainly did,” Demetrius said, looking out at the still lake. “You are very observant.”
“So, there has been something between you?”
“I have served her since I was a boy, and she a mere girl. I am the son of court nobles, so I was often called to the palace to serve as a playmate to the king’s children.”
“But to Arsinoe, you were more than just a playmate?”
Demetrius’s face saddened. “Yes, much more. As children, we were inseparable, or at least I could never get enough of her. As we grew older, she was distracted by the dozens of suitors and temptations placed before all princesses. Her interests changed. She took on the voracious desires that consume all royal youth – survival and power. But my love for her only matured. It only grew stronger.” Demetrius then chuckled. “My success in the guards was driven
purely by the longing to impress her, to please her, to be worthy of her. I even had it in my head that I could be the one to marry her someday. I followed her around like a pet.”
“And now, you still do,” Lucius said.
Demetrius shot him a look of ire. “I am the captain of the royal guard, Centurion. I live to serve the rulers of Egypt. No matter who is on the throne.” Then he smiled. “But, you are right. The queen knows how much I yearn for her, how much I love her. She sees it merely as the misguided cravings of a naïve school boy, and she treats our childhood memories as toys to torment me with. And whenever a new lover, like you, comes along, she torments me by overtly exhibiting her passion for him. She knows what it does to me, and she seems to take great pleasure in it.”
“Perhaps you should move on,” offered Lucius.
Demetrius shook his head, “Have you ever been enchanted by a woman? Have you ever been willingly enslaved such that you can do nothing, think nothing, without her coming to the forefront of your thoughts? I love her, Centurion. I have always loved her. I cannot explain what force drives me to such folly, except maybe the need to protect her.”
“From what?”
“From her siblings. From her people. From herself. And from them.” He gestured to the eunuch and the priest sitting on the other end of the skiff, well out of earshot. Ganymedes took far too many sips from his waterskin and patted his perspiring forehead. Khay no longer wore the falcon mask. A black turban now covered his head and face, leaving only a small slit for those intense, judging eyes that all priests seemed to have.
“Those vultures will tear her apart someday,” Demetrius said. “Someday, when she is secure in her throne. I think she knows this, but I cannot be certain. She indulges them so much.”
Rome: Sword of the Legion (Sword of the Legion Series) Page 5