“Where is it, Ganymedes?” she finally demanded.
“The Roman has it, Great One. He refuses to hand it over. He should be slain at – “
Ganymedes was cut off by her raised hand.
Facing Lucius now, Arsinoe’s eyes looked at him over the veil with a seductive, almost hungry expression. Evidently the amulet of power was not the only thing on her mind. Finally, she held out a small manicured hand and said simply. “Give it to me.”
Not quite understanding what made him obey so readily, Lucius removed the amulet from his pouch and placed it in her hand. At the sight of the fabled object, Demetrius, Ganymedes, and even Arsinoe gasped with eyes wide. Now, as the realization set in that the object was not just a myth, and that it actually was in their possession, a wave of exultation seemed to come over them.
“We have it!” Ganymedes salivated, breathing heavily and never taking his eyes from the amulet. “We have it! It is ours!”
“It is mine!” Arsinoe snapped with a scowl, closing her fingers around it.
Ganymedes swallowed hard and nodded. “Of course, Great One. And what of this Roman? Shall we sacrifice him here and now in your honor?”
Arsinoe tore her eyes away from the jeweled object long enough to cast an amused glance at Lucius. “No. The Roman pleases us.”
Demetrius cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Great Lady, but I believe my lord Ganymedes offered a handsome reward to this Roman in the sum of two thousand sesterces.”
Arsinoe smiled. “Then he shall have it.”
Ganymedes nearly choked before uttering, “Yes, Great One. I shall see that it is done.”
XI
It took nearly an hour for the entire strung out column to arrive. On Demetrius’s orders, they made camp. Tents were thrown up and camels picketed. Fires were lit and provisions roasted. The queen had brought with her a contingent of house slaves, along with royal tents and a gratuitous amount of perfumes, bath oils, and plenty of extra water for her nightly baths. By nightfall, a small tent city sat upon the summit of a large dune, the torches burning brilliantly beneath a moonless sky.
Lucius ate with the other officers and was generally treated well by these men whom he had fought in Alexandria only weeks before. Ganymedes disappeared into the queen’s sector of the camp, no doubt to ply her with tales of her greatness and how much greater she could be if only she followed his advice.
At the changing of the night watch, the troops began to bed down. In the morning, they would begin the long, two-week trek back to Alexandria. They would start early, before sunup, when they could use the stars to start them in the right direction. They would march until noon each day and then stop to rest during the hot afternoons.
As courteous as the Alexandrian officers had been, they were still too distrustful of the Roman to share their tents with him. Lucius was given a small tent to himself, along with adequate bedding that was far superior to the dusty bedroll that the Watchers had trampled to shreds. It was actually comfortable. The royal guard travelled extravagantly, much different from a Roman legion.
As a centurion, Lucius could not help but cringe at the lack of adequate fortification, something that was routine to the greenest of Roman legions. The Alexandrians had at least chosen to camp on the crest of a wide, round hill, and that was something. However, instead of constructing a proper corral for the camels, the mounts had been picketed in a convenient depression some distance away. As much as he wished to, Lucius could not interfere in the Alexandrian’s camp routine. They were not his men, though he suspected a few of the older ones had been in Pompey’s legions when the late general was setting up puppet states for Rome in the East. Having lived in Egypt for nearly two decades, these men could no longer be called Romans. They wore the headdress and bronze scale armor of the Egyptian royal guard and had adopted the sloppy methods of eastern soldiers, who were either too arrogant or too lazy to fortify their camp each night.
Lucius suspected it would be a vain endeavor, but he could not help but pull Demetrius aside before retiring for the night.
“It would be wise to double the guard this night, Captain,” Lucius suggested.
“I think you overestimate these desert tribesmen, Centurion,” Demetrius replied dismissively.
“Still no sign of them?”
The captain shook his head. “Not a thing. But let them come. I have a hundred royal guard spears, and a score of Nubian archers. More than a match for a few camel warriors. You saw how easily they ran last night.”
Lucius nodded, though he did not share in the captain’s appraisal of their adversary. Before retiring, there was something else he felt compelled to say.
“My thanks to you, Demetrius, for what you did earlier. That eunuch would prefer me dead.” Lucius paused, and then added with a smile. “Besides, I did not want to have to kill you.”
“He would prefer us both dead, I think,” Demetrius replied, glancing at the flourished royal tents whipping in the gentle breeze. “There is no telling what lies he is feeding the queen at this very moment. He pours accolades upon her and fills her with dreams of glory, but he would just as soon slit her throat in the night and make off with the Eye.”
“Good thing she brought those giants along.”
“They are but men.” Demetrius said uncertainly. “And all men can be bribed.”
“All but you?” Lucius said chidingly.
Demetrius smiled. “Yes, when it comes to Arsinoe. Call it one man’s delusion, but I have faith in her. I believe that she can be the queen that I and so many others want her to be.”
“Is that all?”
Demetrius eyed him. “There is nothing else, Centurion. I have served her house my whole life. Duty is inbred in me, not ambition – or lust.”
Lucius gave him a bemused look.
“I am a willing slave to my cause, Roman, and that cause is far greater than I.” Demetrius gazed up at the star-filled sky. “There comes a time for some of us, when childhood fantasies must be supplanted with responsibility and obligation. If all men were slaves to their own inclinations, the world would fall into anarchy. Your Roman leaders understand this. Arsinoe and I were each born into a duty. She to rule, and I to serve. We cannot reject these callings. They are a part of us.”
The night of intoxicated debauchery the duty-born queen had led him through came to Lucius’s mind. “Are you sure your devotion is well-placed, or do you pretend that she is someone she is not?”
Demetrius appeared annoyed at the question, and curtly brought the conversation to an end. “We march before dawn. I suggest you get some rest. Good evening, Centurion!”
And without another word, the royal guard captain disappeared into the night.
XII
The moan of the desert wind gusting against the side of the tent lolled Lucius to sleep quickly, and he slept well, his muscles finally relaxing from the exertion of the past days. But like all legionaries who had spent time in Gaul and Germany, he slept with one eye open, and was always listening for the odd sound that might portend some kind of danger. It was in the dead of night, when the wind had quite diminished, that one of these sounds woke him. The canvas ties to the flap of his tent were being fumbled with from the outside. Someone was attempting to come in and, whoever it was, was being very discreet and careful about it.
The intrusion was not a surprise to Lucius. He had fully expected Ganymedes to try to do away with him at the first opportunity, and the late night assassin fit perfectly with the eunuch’s style. Lucius wondered who Ganymedes had recruited to do it. Perhaps it was one of those giant Nubians, or perhaps one of Demetrius’s men. As a precautionary measure against any such assailant, Lucius had bedded down with his gladius by his side, and his Roman pugio clutched tightly in one hand. Whoever it was would be in for a surprise of their own.