"I'm going to watch to see if his lips move when he talks," said one of the embassy party.
"How could you tell?" Rufus said. "It looks as if his lips have rotted off from leprosy."
"Shh." This from at least a hundred bystanders.
We exalted ones stood in a circle defining a cleared space before the idol. A brazier of hot coals burned just in front of the thing, sending up a thin stream of smoke.
An acolyte, head bowed, gave Ataxas a small silver bowl, then backed away. Ataxas raised the bowl high overhead and intoned, in Greek this time:
"Great Baal-Ahriman! Heed your trembling, suppliant worshippers! Visit them as you have promised! Favor them with your divine words, guide them in the path you have chosen. Great Baal-Ahriman, speak to us!"
With that, he emptied the bowl into the brazier before the god and a cloud of smoke went up, carrying with it the smell of frankincense. Then Ataxas fell to his knees and bowed deeply, clutching the bowl against his belly.
The shaft of light from the single skylight fell directly upon him.
There was utter silence. I do not think anyone even breathed. The tension stretched, then stretched again, until it was like an overturned lyre-string about to snap, There came an instant when a single laugh would have destroyed the whole carefully constructed edifice of stage setting, but, with impeccable timing, the god spoke.
"AEGYPTOI!!" This in Greek, of course, and I have rendered the first word in that language because it sounds so impressive that way. The word seemed to thunder from every corner of the temple, a deep, stone-shaking voice that roared like a waterfall. There was a collective gasp and several people fainted. We Romans, made of sterner stuff, gulped a quick drink and listened to the rest.
"EGYPTIANS! I, BAAL-AHRIMAN, SPEAK TO YOU AS THE NEW VOICE OF THE
GODS OF EGYPT! I SPEAK WITH THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT GODS, OF AMON,
HORUS, ISIS AND OSIRIS, APIS AND SUKHMET, THOTH, SEBEK, ANUBIS, NUT
AND SET. I SPEAK WITH THE VOICE OF HAPI OF THE UPPER NILE AND HAPI OF
THE LOWER NILE, I SPEAR AS THE DJED PILLAR AND THE FEATHER OF MA'AT! I
SPEAK WITH THE VOICE OF THE GODS OF GREECE. ZEUS, APOLLO, ARES,
DIONYSUS, HERMES, HADES, APHRODITE, HERA, ATHENA, HEPHAESTUS, PAN. I
SPEAK FOR ALL THE PHARAOHS OF EGYPT, AND FOR THE GODS OF ALEXANDRIA,
SERAPIS AND THE DIVINE ALEXANDER!"
And, through all these pronouncements, the mouth of the idol actually seemed to move! The jaws did not move on mechanical hinges. Any fabrication so crude we would have detected instantly. Instead, the fanged mouth worked in some subtle manner that seemed to coincide with the spoken words. Tiny flashes like pale lightning seemed to come from the mouth as well, as if a god's words could be seen as well as heard. I knew that somehow we were being duped, but my scalp prickled anyway, I glanced at my companions and wondered whether I looked as foolish as they did, with their jaws hanging and. their eyes bugged out.
Many of the worshippers prostrated themselves on the floor, Berenice groveled with her face to the marble. Julia and Fausta stood beside her, looking both concerned and embarrassed. Achillas looked on with a smug smile.
"BEHOLD!" the hideous god boomed forth. "BEHOLD! I PROCLAIM A NEW
DAWN FOR THE RED LAND AND THE BLACK! HORUS THE SUN RISES FOR EGYPT! IT
IS NIGHTFALL FOR THE BARBARIANS!"
"Barbarians!" Rufus huffed. "We're not the barbarians, they are!"
"EGYPT IS FIRST AMONG THE NATIONS OF THE WORLD. EGYPT IS THE MOST
ANCIENT OF LANDS. FOR THREE THOUSAND YEARS EGYPT WAS THE ONLY
CIVILIZED NATION OF THE WORLD. EGYPT WILL BE FOREMOST AGAIN! I,
BAAL-AHRIMAN, THE NEW, SUPREME GOD OF EGYPT, PROCLAIM IT SO! I SHALL
SPEAK TO MY PEOPLE AGAIN! THEY MUST PROVE THEMSELVES FIT TO HEAR MY
WORDS!" The god fell silent and his mouth no longer moved, if indeed it had in the first place.
People began to get shakily to their feet. Some stayed prone, wailing and shaking their heads. Others ran outside, presumably to spread the good news among the faithful. The Egyptians muttered among themselves, and some of them cast dark looks toward us Romans.
"I think it might be a good idea to return to the embassy," Rufus said. He and the others looked a bit shaken, although not exactly awestruck. It was the ominous implications of the god's message that disturbed them. I was not quite ready to leave, though. As they filed out, I went over to where Achillas stood.
"Do you think old Baal-Ahriman meant to include Macedonians among those barbarians for whom night comes on apace?" I said.
He smiled, showing long, sharp teeth. "But we Macedonians have ruled in Egypt since Alexander. We're virtual Egyptians ourselves now. No, it is my opinion that the god wants the overbearing Romans expelled from our midst. However, I am a mere humble servant of the king. I leave the interpretation of divine prophecy to the priests." He nodded in the direction of Ataxas.
Ataxas himself had sprawled on his back and lay jerking and thrashing about, foamy spittle flying from his lips. The silver bowl lay by him on the floor, the rays from the skylight gleaming from its polished interior.
"And now, Roman," Achillas said, "it might be best if you and your friends were to vacate this area. Alexandrian crowds are emotional and given to enthusiasm. Should they choose to interpret this event as a call for the expulsion of Romans, I would not be able to answer for your safety."
"You have a hundred soldiers. What is the rabble outside to that?"
He shrugged, making his harness creak once more. "Our duty is to guard the princess, not some band of Roman sightseers who tagged along for the fun."
"You have two patrician ladies in your party," I said. "They are under the princess's protection, surely." We looked to where Julia and Fausta were helping Berenice to her feet. The princess was in only marginally better condition than Ataxas. Her hair and clothes had become extremely disheveled in an amazingly short time, and it looked as if the acolytes had been somewhat lax about dusting the floor.
"Of course, I shall be most diligent in guarding the princess's honored guests," Achillas said. "Safe journey, Roman."
I turned my back on him and went to Julia.
"Things may get rough outside," I said quietly. "This is a scheme to stir the Egyptians up against us. Stay close to the princess. Achillas says he'll keep you safe, but we men are going to have to run for it."
She frowned. "But nothing was said about Rome."
"Yes. Very innocent. What do you want to bet that's not the word being spread outside? Goodbye, dear. See you at the Palace." With that, I ran. I thought they would be safe enough. Their gowns were all but identical to those of Greek ladies. As long as they didn't yell something in Latin, nobody would take them for Romans. It was different for the men. Our togas, short hair and clean-shaven faces were unmistakable.
Outside, the rest of my party gestured impatiently for me to ascend our litter. The crowd was muttering and jabbering away, everyone confused about exactly what had happened. As yet, there was no concerted action.
"Get aboard, Decius!" Rufus called. I climbed up and settled in. The bearers hauled us to their shoulders and started to push their way through the crowd.
"What was that all about?" asked one of the staff. "What does it mean?"
"What it means," I said, pouring myself some refreshment, "is that you each owe me five hundred denarii."
"I protest," someone said. "That leper-god never mentioned Rome!"
"I said, if you will recall, that his words would proclaim a sudden change in relations between Rome and Egypt," I pointed out. "He said in there that Egypt was to be the foremost nation in the world. If that isn't a change in Roman-Egyptian relations, what is?" Where only lately we had been pelted with flowers, we began to be pelted with fruit peels.
"It was an awfully short message," Rufus said, ducking a handful of camel dung. "I rather expected something longer."
"You have to keep it short
when you're employing conjurer's mummery," I said. "Another minute and we would have figured out that trick with the idol's mouth."
"How did he do that?" said a secretary. "It was awfully impressive."
"I propose to find out," I said. People were pointing fingers at us from all over the plaza. We were not yet into a street.
"I haven't heard any anti-Roman slogans yet," said the secretary. These men were used to hearing such slogans in various parts of the world.
"That's because none of us speaks Egyptian," I told him. "The acolytes are spreading a highly colored version of Baal-Ahriman's words."
"You seem to know an awful lot about this, Decius," Rufus groused.
"All it takes is intelligence," I told him. "That's something best left to me. Can't these bearers go any faster?"
We weren't under attack yet, but the jeers and pelting were getting more ominous.
"I suppose they can," Rufus said. He began to rummage among the cushions. "Let's see, there ought to be a whip in here someplace. Aha!" He came up with a long, snakelike lash of braided rhinoceros hide. He leaned out over the railing of our platform and brought his arm down in a mighty swing. "Get a move on, you scum!" Not the most adroit of whipmen, he managed to backlash himself, drawing a stripe from his left buttock to his right shoulder. He fell back howling and the rest of us laughed until tears ran down our faces.
"This is rare sport," said the secretary, "but this crowd is getting meaner."
By this time we were in a street and were almost past the Great Serapeum. The people ahead of us had not yet been told of the divine word, but they were ignorantly blocking our progress.
"That's it," someone said. "Time to lighten ship. You slaves get off."
"Not on your buggering life!" Hermes said stoutly, "That mob's ready to eat anything with a Roman haircut."
"Insolent little bastard," the same someone said. "He needs discipline, Metellus."
"And you need sobering up," I told him. I picked up the whip and climbed over the railing and went down the steps until I stood just above the carrying-poles, I sent the whip whistling through the air and made it pop thunderously. I had taken whip lessons from a charioteer of the Red faction in my youth.
"We are already going as fast as we can, master!" protested the pacesetter.
"Then get ready to run," I said. I slashed the whip over the heads of the crowd in front of us.
"Make way!" I bellowed. "Make way for the majesty of Rome, you silly foreigners!" I popped the whip like a madman and the crowd melted away before us magically. I have no idea where they went. Into doorways and windows, possibly. When their blood was not up, there was nothing more instantly responsive to authority than the Alexandrians.
The bearers began to trot, then to run as I continued to flail the air as if bringing down a harpy with every blow. The Romans in the litter clapped and cheered me on. Soon I was wishing we had another litter to race against, for I think we made it back to the Palace in record time. After the first quarter-mile there was no crowd to speak of, since nearly everyone in the city had gone to the Rakhotis, but this was so much fun it seemed pointless to slow down.
When we were safe within the Palace precincts, the litter almost tipped over as all the right-hand bearers collapsed at once, coughing and vomiting. Somehow disaster was averted, though, and we dismounted safely.
"I didn't know you were so handy with a whip," Hermes said uneasily.
"Keep it in mind," I advised him. The rest of the Roman party congratulated me and clapped me on the shoulder.
"Just don't forget the five hundred denarii," I told them. Then I went to seek out Creticus.
Chapter IX
The leaders of the Roman community in Alexandria gathered in the assembly hall of the embassy to address their complaints and concerns to Creticus and the other officers of the Roman legation. There were quite a few of them, merchants for the most part, It was customary for upper-class Romans to despise merchants, but these were a force to be reckoned with. The wealthy grain traders were among the most influential men in our Empire. The moneylenders were similarly powerful, although if anything even less loved. There were many other merchants as well. Exporters of papyrus and books were numerous, as Egypt was virtually the only source of papyrus and the Library was the greatest book-producing organization in the world. There were dealers in ivory and feathers, in exotic animals and slaves. There was even a man whose sole business was the export of high-quality sand for the Circuses and amphitheaters of the Roman world.
"Ambassador," said the spokesman for the group-a big-nosed, bald-headed individual named, as I recall, Fundanius-"the situation here quickly grows intolerable. We Romans are publicly insulted as we seek to carry out our business in the streets of Alexandria. We are pelted with offal, and our wives are assailed with the vilest of language. Are you going to wait for open violence against us before you take action?"
"What action would you have me take?" Creticus demanded. "I am an ambassador, not a proconsul. I have no imperium and therefore no legions. I cannot whistle up a military force because you are getting nervous. May I remind you that Egypt is an independent nation, a friend and ally of Rome? I will carry your message to his Majesty, but that is all I am empowered to do. I will send a letter to the Senate describing the situation here."
"What cares this mongrel king for our welfare?" Fundanius said, sneering. "And what good will a letter to the Senate do? If you sent it today, it would not reach Rome before we were all massacred in our beds."
"A massacre of Roman citizens would probably stir the Senate to action, if that is any comfort to you," I said helpfully.
"This is an outrage!" Fundanius shouted. "We are treated with disrespect by the Egyptian rabble. Roman citizens!"
"Sir," said Creticus, "you are a moneylender, and men of your trade are universally hated. You should be grateful that you've escaped crucifixion all these years."
"You can speak thus!" Fundanius said scornfully. "You patricians can huddle safely here in the Palace, gorging yourselves, while we who do the real work of the Empire are exposed to every peril!"
"For your information," Creticus said, "the gens Caecilia is plebeian. I admit there is little pleasure in sharing the same class designation with moneylenders and tax-farmers."
A book exporter stood. He was a tall man of dignified appearance.
"Gentlemen, this is unseemly. We need not refight the brawls of the Gracchi when we are in danger from without. In any case, this is not a conflict between Egypt and Rome, but rather the doing of a malignant religious fraud from Asia Minor. Honored Ambassador, can the king do nothing about this man? With his supposed divine revelations he has whipped up the ignorant multitude against us, and it is no more to the advantage of the Ptolemaic house than it is to Rome."
"Well, at least one of you can talk sense," Creticus grumbled. "Just now our situation is delicate. King Ptolemy would like to take action, but he worries that rioting here could spread to the nomes and bring about full-scale civil war. For years Lucullus and Pompey had their legions in Asia, within easy striking distance of Egypt. For all those years the Egyptians had to tread softly. Now such Roman forces as remain under arms are preparing for trouble in Gaul. It could be a long time before we are in a position to intervene in Egyptian affairs."
These were sobering words, and the men in the hall were Roman enough to understand their import. Whether in business, government or the legions, Romans were accustomed to thinking in terms of the world rather than just a tiny corner of it as most people did.
"What about Antonius in Macedonia?" someone asked.
Creticus snorted. "First off, the Macedonians beat him, Last word we had, he hadn't yet been relieved. It's a bad time of year to move troops by sea, and Macedonia is a long way from here by land."
"Then what is to be done?" said the book exporter.
"If you men feel all that concerned," Creticus said, "perhaps now would be a good time to take a vacation from Alexandria
. Cyprus is a pleasant place, as is Rhodes or Crete. Take your families there and leave your business interests in the hands of your freedmen."
"But we cannot just leave!" protested Fundanius. "We are men of substantial property. Our homes and warehouses will be looted and burned. Most of our freedmen are Romans, too. They will be killed."
"Gentlemen," Creticus said, "there is no need to grow so alarmed. Events may not take so grievous a turn. I shall continue my efforts to get Ptolemy to take action against this absurd cult." He rose and, on that unsatisfactory note, the audience ended.
"How is Ptolemy really acting?" I asked when they were gone.
"Like a flute-player," Creticus said. "He refuses to believe that this activity presages anything important. He says he has instructed Berenice to have nothing further to do with Ataxas, but I doubt that bubblehead pays much heed to the old drunk."
"Have you sounded him out about that arsenal on the lake?"
"I have. He professes total ignorance and insists that Achillas is the most loyal of his servants. Funny thing about that:"
"What?"
"Well, whenever he spoke of Achillas, he had the unmistakable air of a man who speaks of someone who terrifies him."
"Achillas is overweening and ambitious. Even little Cleopatra says he and Memnon behave insolently, and she's only ten years old. What do you think are the chances of Achillas pulling a coup?"
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