“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 bear 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.