by Peter Tonkin
‘I trust Cleopatra. So, do you and you know it. He is her eyes and ears so I suppose we can trust him too,’ answered Artemidorus. He saw the questioning look on Quintus’ face and added, ‘Is there anyone you do trust?’
‘I trust you, lad. I trusted Puella until User came along. I trust Ferrata because he’s too dim to be duplicitous. I trust the rest of the contubernium to varying degrees. Except for the more recent additions – Notus the forger and Crinas the physician. They haven’t faced any particular danger with us. Men are like metal. They need to be put through the fire to be hardened and tested to see if they are true.’
‘Well, Hunefer will be tested tonight; the rest in the next few days.’
They spent the day coming and going from the palace on Antirrhodos Island, to the Royal Docks, over to the markets beside the Agora, back and forth to User’s villa, out to Glaros and Triton, preparing for the mission; getting everything aboard that they would need, including blue marine uniforms – created specially by a team of Cleopatra’s seamstresses. Then, settling everyone into their onboard accommodation – though Hunefer’s needed to be specially adapted. There was no time to waste. It would take four days of hard rowing to get to Ashkelon unless the gods sent a reliable westerly. They needed to leave tonight.
But Septem, Quintus and Hunefer had one final task to complete before Glaros and Triton could clear the harbour and turn eastwards. They met at sunset outside the doors to the palace. Hunefer had spent the last hour or so gathering the last of his kit together and he stood there now in a mail shirt of scaled bronze, gold belt, armoured skirt, bronze greaves and manicae arm guards. The kopesh scythe-sword at his belt had been augmented by a dagger and a nasty-looking mace. Both Artemidorus and Quintus were armed as well but not quite so lethally.
‘Come,’ Hunefer growled in Greek, and led the two Romans into the palace. Cleopatra had said he was a taciturn man, but he was by no means silent now. ‘Divine Cleopatra has ordered that this be made to look as real as possible,’ he said. ‘So no-one has been warned. If there is trouble, we will simply have to fight our way out. Do not hesitate to attack if we are discovered. Anyone who dies will do so under the protection of Isis and Osiris and find everlasting bliss.’
‘Does that include us?’ wondered Quintus under his breath.
‘Let’s hope we don’t find out,’ answered Artemidorus equally quietly. They both loosened their swords and daggers in their sheaths and were glad that they had come in their segmented iron armour.
*
Deep beneath the palace, the dungeons were in a maze of corridors leading off a central guard room. From the depths of the shadows nearest the ill-lit chamber, the three men watched the guards as they sat at a table, talking quietly. On the board in front of them lay a hoop with metal keys attached, an Egyptian invention currently being copied and improved in Rome. A water clock similar to the ones used by the timekeepers in the Roman Senate stood beside it. Guards only needed to measure time if they had a schedule of patrols to keep. And sure enough, after a few moments, one of the guards reached over and reset the device while the other stood and lifted the keys. They exchanged a word or two, then the man with the keys came out of the guardroom. Artemidorus and his companions drew back into the shadows, holding their breath. The guard walked away, unaware of their presence and as they followed him along the dim corridor, Artemidorus noted that he was armed only with a dagger. There might well be a way to overcome him without bloodshed, he thought.
But the instant the guard stopped at the first door, Hunefer ran forward on silent feet, pulling his mace free from his belt. There was a sound somewhere between a crack and a crunch as he brought it down on the back of the guard’s head. The man dropped to the ground. The only other sound was that of the keys hitting the flagstones. Hunefer stooped, picked them up and unlocked the cell door. It was absolutely dark inside, but as Hunefer stepped through the portal, Lucius Calpurnius Bibulus came hurling out, clearly making a break for freedom.
Hunefer moved in front of the would-be escapee. Lucius threw his arms around the giant’s waist as though he had any hope of moving him. Hunefer raised his mace so the killing head was pointing upwards then brought the butt of the handle down on the young Roman’s skull. Lucius went sprawling beside the dead guard. He was still wearing his armour and the noise he made was considerable. Hunefer reached down and took hold of the unconscious Tribune’s mail shirt at the back of his neck, lifting him effortlessly to his feet. The second guard came rushing down the corridor, obviously alerted by the noise. But Quintus had already calculated that and the luckless Egyptian ran straight onto the point of his gladius.
Lucius woke up almost immediately to find himself being held erect by an Egyptian giant while two familiar, friendly faces watched him anxiously. And two dead guards lay sprawled at his feet.
‘Gratia,’ croaked the young Tribune hoarsely. ‘Thanks…’
‘Let’s go,’ said Hunefer.
‘Before we have to kill anyone else,’ nodded Artemidorus.
vi
No such luck, he thought a couple of minutes later as Hunefer led them out of the tunnels and up into the main palace, because they immediately bumped into a four-man unit of palace guards. The men in their golden armour hesitated. Hunefer must be familiar to them after all. But before either the Egyptian or Artemidorus could think of anything to say, Lucius had ripped the dagger from Hunefer’s belt and threw himself forward with a snarl of rage, clearly keen to make up for the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Cleopatra’s whip master. There was no choice after that. Hunefer pulled out his kopesh and leapt forward at the young man’s side. The massive curved blade flashed down, opening the first guard’s chest from the point where his head joined his shoulder down as far as his belt. The sundered gold breastplate folded back. Blood burst out, flooding the floor. Lucius slipped on it and fell on his face. Hunefer’s dagger skittered away from his clutching fingers. The huge Egyptian straddled the fallen Tribune and lunged at the next opponent, sending the blade of his massive sword straight through the centre of the guard’s gaudy breastplate as though it was papyrus rather than metal.
Quintus didn’t even have time to say I told you so before he and Artemidorus were on the next two guards. Their gladii went under the golden armour with practiced ease, reaching straight up to their hearts as their boiling life-blood cascaded down their thighs, splashing their executioners. Within a few heartbeats the four-man patrol were all dead. The only noise of any account was – once again – the sound of Lucius crashing to the floor.
Hunefer picked him up. ‘We will have to hurry now,’ he rumbled. ‘We are too easy to spot, covered in blood as we are. Especially the boy.’
But their gruesome appearance proved to be a piece of luck after all. The only other people they met as they rushed towards the main entrance were palace servants and minor courtiers. Unarmed, they all shrank back from the blood-boltered group, with some running away screaming. The crew of the barge who had brought Artemidorus and Quintus in from Triton were waiting to return them, and they formed a kind of escort as the three Romans and their Egyptian guardian ran down the steps to the dockside. Then it was just a matter of rowing them out to where their two ships sat ready to depart, Triton with a rope ladder hanging from her stern.
Lucius went up first, slowly – still a little groggy. Then Quintus, his face set and his jaw squared at the thought of four more days afloat. Artemidorus and Hunefer hesitated, each wanting the other to go first. Artemidorus turned to the oarsmen in the now blood-smeared boat. ‘When the palace guards ask,’ he said, praying they understood Greek, ‘tell them we held you at sword-point. Made you bring us out here.’
The oarsmen looked at him, faces blank and uncomprehending, until Hunefer repeated the instructions in Egyptian.
No sooner had he done so than a line of torches came streaming out of the front of the palace, heading down for the dockside. ‘That looks like trouble,’ said Artemidorus.
> ‘Queen Cleopatra wants it all to look as real as possible,’ said Hunefer. ‘They will pursue us. And kill us if they catch us.’
‘Or try to…’ said Artemidorus as he grasped the nearest rung, heaving himself onto the ladder.
‘Or try to,’ agreed Hunefer. And Artemidorus was almost certain the huge Egyptian chuckled.
*
Glaros was already in motion and the moment Hunefer swung clear of the harbour boat, Triton began to move as well. Both captains – Halys and User – ordered battle speed until they were clear of the harbour. Artemidorus had a chance to look around the lamp-lit deck as he crossed to the fighting tower and he was pleased to see that almost everyone else aboard was already wearing their blue tunics. Only User was still dressed in native clothing, while the contubernium were dressed in their usual outfits. The time they spent liberating Lucius had clearly given them the opportunity to make this very much a Roman military vessel; enough to fool Lucius at any rate. Or so he hoped.
It was clear to Artemidorus that Glaros was still the faster of the two. The ram and the corvus shaved speed off Triton’s slim hull, but User had chosen his oarsmen carefully so they were a mightily effective unit.
As the two ships raced almost side-by side through the narrow harbour entrance with the Pharos towering on their left and the hook of Cape Lochios on their right, the lights from the Palace came streaming up the cape – too late. While others spread out across the water as pursuers clambered aboard some of the sea-ready ships in the Egyptian fleet.
Lucius appeared at Artemidorus’ side. ‘They’ll never catch us,’ he said. ‘These two must be the fastest ships in the world! And this one’s Roman!’
‘She was on loan to Queen Cleopatra,’ said Artemidorus. ‘We were lucky to get hold of her and put our man captain User in command when her treirarchus fell ill. Doubly lucky now that we’ve liberated you, though Hunefer went further than planned and spilt a lot more blood than we’d hoped. All in all, we’ll probably have a good few of Cleopatra’s warships after us.’
‘I had no idea there was anything as quick as this in any part of the Roman fleet! Surely no-one will ever catch us now!’
‘I wouldn’t wager on it,’ answered Artemidorus, guardedly. ‘After all, the Roman quinqueremes nearly caught Glaros on the way here. You were aboard one of them I would guess.’
‘Yes…’ Lucius sounded less certain now.
‘We obviously can’t get anywhere by land. But still, we’re at risk as long as we’re at sea,’ said Artemidorus. ‘If we happen upon another Roman ship like Triton we should be safe. But Egyptians won’t be so friendly, especially if word gets out. You’re an escaped fugitive and possibly a spy. Hunefer is a wanted murderer and traitor. I wish I’d bribed someone smaller and easier to control to help with your escape. Still, it’s too late to worry now. And there are Cilician pirates, taking advantage of the fact that our navies are fighting each-other instead of chasing after them. I have my suspicions about Halys, Galene’s skipper. He seemed friendly enough at first when he offered to help protect us, but he’s a shifty sort. I’m afraid breaking you out of prison has made us rely on some disturbingly untrustworthy people.’
‘Jupiter! What shall we do, then?’
‘Under the circumstances, I think it would be too risky to get right up to Rhodos and go searching on the mainland for General Brutus so we can pass you back to him,’ explained Artemidorus slowly. ‘The Judean port of Ashkelon is much closer. General Cassius and his legions are close beside there. So, at the moment the plan is this: we’ll run along the coast for four or so days, going ashore at night wherever we can. We’re running across the outwash of the Nile delta and even though the river is low, it keeps making the shore shift. It throws out sandbanks that are there one day and gone the next. We have to be very careful – especially in the dark. But, we hope to come to port in Ashkelon within a few days’ time and pass you into the safe keeping of Cassius.’
XIV: Naramsin
i
It seemed to Artemidorus that Fortuna smiled on him, while Achilleus held his semi-divine hands over him, during the next four days and nights. Triton and Glaros made good time on their voyage east, moving along the coastline between dawn and dusk, staying as close to the delta as they dared, with a man in the bow taking soundings and keeping a look-out for sandbanks. After a disastrous first night ashore, plagued by mosquitoes, snakes and scorpions, they elected to sleep aboard. The north wind blew the air-borne pests back inland. Scorpions cannot swim. And although they discovered that snakes could, none of the poisonous creatures was able to climb aboard. They set up the fire trays on deck, therefore, sacrificed, butchered and roasted the sheep and goats they had bought in the Agora market, supplemented with the fish they caught wherever they anchored. The Alexandrian bread lasted well enough, as did the fruit and vegetables, after all it was only four days. And at noon on the second day, the wind turned westerly and the sails were set.
Although accommodation aboard was inevitably intimate, from the second night onwards, Puella returned to his bed, so fierce in her love-making that it was almost impossible to maintain a decent level of noise. The first he knew of her return was one hand placed over his mouth and another over his groin. She slid in beside him as he sprang awake, the familiarity of her skin and perfume stopping him reaching for the dagger he always kept under his pillow while he slept. Then her lower hand was replaced by the burning flesh of her inner thigh as her upper hand was replaced by her lips. Her breath smelt of roast lamb and rosemary. She slid right over him and came astride; both of them so immediately aroused that he was able to ease into her with one twist of his hips. Triton was at anchor, riding a low sea, and the gentle rocking of the ship dictated the movements of their passion while the creaking of the hull covered the sound of the overladen bunk. But, as he enjoyed the renewing of their intimacy, it never occurred to him that these nights of stifled passion were a kind of farewell.
Lucius also proved naively trusting. He accepted without question the half-truth that Triton was a Roman vessel lent to Cleopatra. A left-over from Divus Julius’ visit in 706. As were the oarsmen in their blue tunics, most of whom spoke Greek and a little Latin – not that Lucius ever talked to them – though this was a good deal less true. They were falsely presented as marines from Pompey’s old XXXVIIth Ponticus legion, who famously relieved Divus Julius and Cleopatra at the siege of Alexandria that year. Most of them were said to be from Triton’s original crew, happy to continue rowing – an easy, well-paid duty in the most fascinating and sensual city on earth. Not that Lucius ever asked.
The young Tribune already knew User was an Alexandrian merchant and assumed he would have been a captain at some stage in any case, so he did not raise an eyebrow now. And best of all, he had not seen Artemidorus at Cleopatra’s window during his humiliating whipping, so he accepted without question that the man who had saved his life in Rome and smuggled him to safety in Dyrrhachium would arrange to rescue him once again. Even though he knew Artemidorus was Antony’s courier, he was happy to accept that now that the Triumvir’s message had been delivered, Artemidorus would be willing to help someone from the opposing camp again, because, in the face of Egyptian cunning, barbarism and duplicity, Romans would always stick together.
Although Artemidorus had been shocked by the brutality with which Hunefer chopped their way to freedom, he had to admit that this above all convinced Lucius that they were all on his side rather than Cleopatra’s. Finally, he hardly needed to strain his credulity over Artemidorus’ decision to take him to Cassius rather than Brutus – the logic of it was undeniable.
It no more occurred to Lucius with regard to his rescue than it did to Artemidorus with regard to Puella, that there was more going on here than he understood.
*
By evening of the fourth day, Ashkelon was in sight. The rays of the westering sun seemed to pick out the square white buildings of the port as they rose up the gentle hillside above the docks. The br
ightness made it easy to count the masts and spars of the ships crowding the little harbour – bringing supplies and finances to Cassius and his army, no doubt. But not yet Brutus’ message, prayed Artemidorus.
Artemidorus, User and Hunefer stood beside Triton’s stempost. ‘It’s time to make a decision,’ said User. ‘Do we go in and let you take it from there or do I take Triton nearer the beach and drop you off first? You and whoever you’re taking with you to spy out the land.’
‘Fooling Lucius seems to have been easy enough,’ said Artemidorus. ‘But it might not be so easy to fool the port authorities, especially as they are likely to be working for Cassius.’
‘But having the boy aboard is our excuse for being here,’ Hunefer reminded him. ‘If anyone asks any questions that’s what we tell them.’
‘True enough. That explains us. But Halys will have to stay out at sea. That’s where we need him in any case – keeping a look-out for Brutus’ messenger.’
‘So,’ persisted Hunefer. ‘What’s the decision?’
‘Stick to the plan. Glaros stays out here on patrol. We take a small team ashore and spy out the land. User, you wait here until we return then we’ll decide about going right into port. I was going to leave Quintus to keep an eye on Lucius – I don’t want him going anywhere yet. But he seems to have taken a shine to Puella. I’ll leave her in charge of him. We’ll be back by dawn…’ He glanced at Hunefer who nodded. ‘And then we’ll have a conference. We’ll know the lie of the land by then and can plan our next step accordingly.’
‘Bearing in mind,’ said User, ‘the westerly that helped us get here will also help Brutus’ messenger to arrive more quickly. We might not have much time.’
‘On the other hand,’ said Artemidorus,’ a westerly turns Ashkelon into a lee shore. It will keep the ships in harbour bottled up unless they want to row themselves out – and will give you a good excuse for staying out of the harbour for a while longer if Lucius thinks to ask.’