Выбрать главу
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.