“You will organize your cavalry into a search party and scour the coastline for him,” Caesar ordered. “Octavian must be found or my sister will never forgive me.”
“General, in all honesty we can’t do that,” Antony meekly replied. “We have Pompey’s forces cornered against the coastline, but he has two times our infantry, and four times our cavalry. We can’t spare the men to go looking for someone, who in all likelihood, lies at the bottom of the sea along with any trace of his ship. It’s a fool’s errand.”
Caesar sprang to his feet, grabbed Mark Antony by the throat and squeezed. “Only a fool abandons his family.”
“I’ve paid the fleet captain to search the sea and coast with his ships,” Antony croaked. The statement caused Caesar to release his grip. Coughing and gasping for air, Antony continued, “Let them do their work. Right now battle with Pompey is imminent, and we can’t jeopardize the entire campaign for just one man, even if he is your nephew.”
Caesar shrugged as he paced uneasily about the room. “Damn, damnit to Hades, you’re right!” As if an internal switch was thrown, he jumped back into command mode. “So tell me, how is the construction of the siege works progressing?”
“Everything is nearly complete,” Antony replied with pride. “There’s one last hilltop on our left where we still need to finish the fortifications. By the end of day tomorrow Pompey and his men will be completely sealed in.”
“Reinforce that area until the walls are up and have the reserves stand ready,” Caesar ordered. “Pompey will try to break through there; tomorrow I’d wager. What about the rest of our forces, where are they?”
“The fleet couldn’t carry everyone, especially the horses on the first crossing. Pompey’s navy has taken control of the immediate area so the remaining men and horses were placed a few hundred miles to our north. They’re still a week’s march away.”
“Hmm,” Caesar pondered. “Yet another reason for Pompey to strike immediately. He will attack tomorrow on the left. I’d stake my life on it. Make sure we’re prepared because he is going to throw everything he has at us.”
**********
Pompey Magnus strutted about his command tent in front of the officer corps. “We are being herded into a corner like sheep, and tomorrow the pen gate gets closed behind us. We must attack their unfinished fortifications on their left with everything we have.”
The obedient, yet inexperienced officers around him voiced their agreement. Considering the matter settled, Pompey moved on to describe the plan of attack when his trusted friend, Marcus Junius Brutus gave a dissenting opinion.
“With respect General,” Brutus said. “Caesar will expect that and have his entire army there waiting for you to fling your relatively untrained men against his veterans.”
“What would you have us do then, Senator?” Pompey asked while emphasizing the man’s political rather than military rank. “Let Caesar finish the encirclement of our army and beg him to let us out?”
“Not at all,” Brutus said with a sly grin. “I think we need to attack exactly where you suggest, but I humbly suggest we use it as a diversion to smash through Caesar’s right. The little misdirection would stem our losses and maximize Caesar’s I believe.”
“I’m all ears,” Pompey arrogantly sighed. Having the wisdom of his orders for battle questioned by a politician was frustrating. He was Pompey Magnus after all.
“Caesar has only seen six of your legions. My three have remained tucked away from prying eyes thus far,” Brutus instructed. “Attack Caesar’s left with the legions he knows about. Once he commits his reserves send my men and all the cavalry to Caesar’s right. With 15,000 men, creating a breakthrough will be a simple matter, especially against his non-veteran troops.”
Pompey could feel the stares of every man in the tent pressing in on him, trying to gauge his reaction. Would he deem the suggestion foolish and dismiss it and the man who offered it? Would he take it as an insult to have his plans questioned? Pompey gave no answer. He simply paced back and forth with his arms clasped behind his back in thought.
The Senator, a non-military man, gave a suggestion that had merit. Why didn’t he think of it first? In his prime he was certain the Senator’s course of action would have come to him immediately. He questioned whether age had diminished his ability to command an army. Did he really have it in him to defeat Caesar?
The self doubt came to a quick end as Pompey stopped and looked directly at Brutus. “You make an excellent suggestion. You may have missed your calling by waging battles on the senate floor rather than the field.”
Brutus absorbed the compliment with grace and inclined his head to Pompey to show the suggestion was not a challenge to his authority. The gesture put Pompey’s mind at ease for the time being.
The next morning started off with a bang. All across the front line catapults launched their projectiles toward Caesar’s fortified walls, presumably testing for a weak point. Pompey instructed his artillery officers not to be obvious about it, but the focus of their damage was to be on Caesar’s right in order to allow Brutus and his army to push through once Caesar took the bait on the left.
While the bombardment commenced, Pompey rode at the head of 30,000 foot soldiers as they closed in on the incomplete fortifications on the left side of Caesar’s army. When arrows started hissing past, he fell in line behind his advancing soldiers shouting words of valor to stir their hearts for glorious battle.
Soon the clanking of sword against sword and banging of shields filled the air with a low but constant rumble. Pompey kept his battle line only six men deep, choosing to extend the line. With the extra length Pompey was able to smother Caesar’s men on three sides with ferocious combat. It had the desired effect. His heart pounded with pride and excitement as Caesar’s men were immediately pushed back by the sheer volume of soldiers pressing against them. Within minutes, Caesar sent in his reserve units as his forces were in jeopardy of getting pushed off the high ground.
Once all of Caesar’s reserves were actively engaged in combat Pompey turned to one of his archers and gestured with his arm toward the west. Obediently, the archer set his arrow on fire and launched it into the open field to the left. At the bottom of the hill another flaming arrow was launched westward, and another and another until the last signal arrow reached Brutus and his waiting army.
In the far distance, Pompey saw a cloud of dust begin moving to the northwest to engage Caesar’s right flank. With any luck Brutus would crash through the line with his unexpected numbers, and they could completely encircle the enemy and end the rebellion in a few short hours.
The hours passed, but they were anything but short. Caesar’s reserves knew their business and nearly broke through Pompey’s battle lines on several occasions. The only thing keeping the men together was the encouragement of their general that the rest of the army was rolling up the enemy’s rear. As the hours passed, the distant dust cloud that was Brutus’ army drew closer and closer.
By the time Brutus and his men actually came into view, Caesar’s troops disengaged from the battle line. At first it looked to be a well-organized retreat, but as the cavalry at Brutus’ command drew near, the retreating army broke into a full sprint for the next ridge and looked to be in complete disarray.
Pompey sat in his saddle on the newly conquered hilltop and debated the wisdom of pursuing Caesar’s men. They looked broken and a retreating hoard of panicked men could be cut to ribbons by their pursuers. The war could be over that day if he gave the order.
The only thing stopping him was the nagging feeling that it was a trap. On several occasions he ordered his men to feign a retreat only to draw the pursuing forces into a second line that was able to dispatch the chaotic pursuit with little difficulty.
He thought long and hard. He’d never faced Caesar in battle before, but the man’s cunning in combat was well documented. What’s more, his men were hardened veterans; they did not flee from battle in panic. Pompey concluded it was
indeed a trap and ordered his men to hold their ground and wait for Brutus and his legions to join their line before advancing further.
Two hours passed before Brutus finally came galloping up to Pompey and the rest of his officers resting comfortably on the hilltop. The man was drenched in blood from head to toe and looked completely out of breath. Despite the man’s fatigue, his eyes and face blazed with anger.
“What in the name of the gods are you doing just sitting here,” Brutus hollered. “We had them completely broken and on the run. We gave chase until our legs could no longer move nor our arms swing a sword. Now here I find you with the bulk of the army resting comfortably on your backsides. We had them!”
“It was a trap,” Pompey bellowed. “It was a clever attempt to get my men to break rank and run after them so a second line could spring upon our haggard line. It would have sent my men reeling in retreat and possibly lost the battle.”
“Lost?” Brutus repeated as he gestured to where Caesar’s army once stood. “They lost. They had my soldiers and cavalry rushing into their rear. They were done for and they bloody well knew it so they ran. They ran to fight another day and you let it happen!”
Deep down Pompey knew his caution cost him a great victory, another Triumph through the streets of Rome perhaps, but he was not about to have it lorded over him by a politician playing general for the day. He erupted with anger.
“That is enough from you, Senator. You took an unnecessary risk in a reckless pursuit. You were correct this time, but the consequences had you been wrong would have meant disaster.”
Pompey moved his stare from Brutus to look at all those around him. He needed to show them all his was the correct course of action. “We absorbed the stiffest blows that Caesar’s best soldiers have to offer and in the end sent them running with their yellow backs to us. Their spirit of invincibility is gone, defeating them again will be a simple matter now.”
“Caesar heads north to regroup with the rest of his forces,” Brutus protested. “An enemy who runs away will fight again, with a renewed hatred gained from a damaged ego.”
“I said enough,” Pompey shouted. “Another insubordinate word and I will have you arrested.”
Brutus nearly spoke further but seemed to regain control of his faculties and thought better of it. He quietly fell in line with the other officers behind their general. Pompey glanced back to make sure a knife was not sticking in his back with Brutus’ hand attached to it. The Senator would bear watching in the future. He was correct this time and might be able to wrestle away command of the army if he wasn’t careful.
**********
Caesar sat atop his mighty horse along side a road his army was using to march north and merge with the rest of his forces. Next to him on his own mount sat Mark Antony. Both men were well worn from the day’s fighting. The soldiers marching past took heart that their noble leaders shared in the hardship of the day’s fighting.
“Well done soldiers,” Caesar shouted for those nearby to hear and draw encouragement. “Hold your heads high for you fought against three times your numbers to bide time for the rest of our army to assemble. Though we leave the field of battle, it is under our own terms and only after delivering Pompey’s army a severe blow. The stage is now set for our victory that will soon follow at the next engagement. Heads high men, for you did Rome great service this day.”
“Hurrah!” the men bellowed as they marched past their revered general.
Caesar leaned over to Mark Antony and said quietly, “You can give the encouraging speech to the next group.”
“Yes sir,” Antony replied as he drew even closer to Caesar so his was the only ear that could hear. “This army should not exist right now if you ask me. The god Jupiter still smiles upon us.”
Caesar kept the close proximity and replied to Mark Antony, “Today victory was the enemy’s, had there been anyone among them to take it. That man, Pompey, doesn’t know how to win a war, but I do.”
Chapter 22: Breaking and Entering
Mark admired the ragged edged hole in the door with amazement. An armor piercing TOW missile designed to penetrate tank armor nearly three feet thick barely managed to puncture a door standing only two inches deep. The boys at the Pentagon would give up their first born for a chance to analyze the metallurgy in this door, but that could wait. Right now his strike team needed to breach the building and gain access to the recently discovered tunnel leading back to the hidden Sphinx chamber.
Mark looked on as a particularly narrow member of the SEAL team removed his combat armor in order to fit through the beach ball sized hole in the door. Four others lifted the man up and carried him to the small opening as if they intended to use him as a battering ram. The small soldier thrust his arms through the opening and followed them with his head and torso as the four soldiers continued holding his legs up. The acrobatic maneuver was completed by the soldier planting a handstand inside the building and pulling his legs through the jagged opening.
A few seconds later a series of clicks and metal scraping along metal resonated through the stout door. Then in the most anticlimactic manner possible, the latch released allowing the door’s weight to pull it open ever so slightly. Mark snatched the handle and wrenched it wide open. “Go!”
Six SEAL team members bolted through the open door to secure the interior and verified there were no threats before Mark and a dozen more soldiers entered. The Egyptian military chaperone moved to enter the building as well but Mark interceded. “Not on your life, Colonel.”
“This is my country,” the officer protested in his best English effort. “I tell you where to go, not the other way around.”
Mark was half way through putting on a bulletproof assault vest and stuffing it full of extra clips and flashbang grenades by the time the Colonel managed to find the right words. Mark paused to look over his shoulder just long enough to say, “Look around you, Colonel, and tell me you think that’s actually the case.”
If the man protested further, Mark didn’t know or care. He looked around the building interior and saw nothing but row upon row of floor to ceiling book shelves loaded with random papers and files. Somehow he expected more.
“What do we have Commander,” Mark asked the SEAL team leader.
“No traps are present, and there’s no sign of surveillance or security equipment; except the impenetrable front door that is.” The Commander then ushered Mark to the southwest corner of the room where an unexpected sight greeted him.
A three foot wide, four foot tall section of shelving was slid forward into the aisle to reveal an opening. Beside the dark hole in the floor rest an airtight manhole cover that must have taken a Herculean effort to move. A closer examination of the hole revealed a metal lined shaft with built in ladder wrungs leading down the side.
“Forget the ladder,” Mark ordered. “Rig a zip line harness for the first man, and the rest of us will rappel down.”
The SEAL team didn’t need to be told twice. The mobile section of shelving was cut away and tossed to the side allowing a tripod anchor frame to be set up over the hole while a computer controlled cable winch was anchored to the ground in the middle of the aisle. One man held a digital range finder over the hole and took a depth reading.
“Four hundred and ninety nine point three feet down,” the surveyor reported.
“Subtract four feet, enter it in, and then hook him up,” the team commander ordered.
One soldier clipped the line to a rappelling harness built into his combat gear and then nestled himself head first down the hole with his MP-5 leading the way. He turned on his night vision goggles and then whispered, “Go.”
His words were rewarded with the sudden release of the cable. A brief three seconds later, the winch rapidly slowed his descent until the soldier hovered four feet above the tunnel floor. He tugged on the clip release and landed with his feet under him in a crouched position and weapon at the ready. “All clear,” he reported through the microphone around
his neck.
One after the other, Mark and his strike team of twelve Navy SEALs rappelled down to the tunnel floor and immediately set out on the three mile underground hike back to the Sphinx. He sent four skirmishers ahead at a full run to secure the far end of the tunnel and establish a climbing position. Two were left guarding the exit ladder and the rest took more time transporting the heavy equipment through the tunnel.
No one said a thing as they moved down the solid metal tube. Each soldier carried a shoulder mounted flashlight that attempted to light the way. The sides of the tunnel were intriguing for a couple of reasons. First and foremost was the fact that the entire three mile length of the tube did not have a single seam.
The second, and very creepy reason, was the metal’s ability to absorb light. Metal typically reflects light back, but this surface bucked that trend. Even with a flashlight held less than an inch away from the metal, only a dim flicker returned. Mark made sure to keep his feelings on the sensation to himself considering the manly company he kept at the moment.
Finally the main group reached the end of the line and faced the imposing three hundred foot climb back to the surface and into the concealed chamber within the Sphinx. Mark was perilously close to the answers he needed; he could feel it in every fiber of his being.
One soldier had already made the climb and anchored several ropes in order to lift the explosives, lighting and code breaking equipment. Mark made the climb after eight soldiers and all of the equipment completed the journey ahead of him.
He reached the top ladder rung, nearly out of breath, but the sight that greeted him finished the job. Every wall of the tiny chamber was painted with scenes from ancient Egypt: the pyramid under construction, the plagues, the slave exodus, and so on. The last pane was a bit curious. It showed a completed pyramid with four tall, slender obelisks positioned at each corner. Standing in oversight of the pyramid were two creatures with the body of a man, but the head of a jackal. The two figures looked eerily similar to the four beings found among the wreckage recovered in Roswell New Mexico. Take away the jeweled necklace and the drawings were a dead ringer for those beings.
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