The corner of Ptolemy's mouth twisted in the opposite direction, producing a crooked frown. He fixed his gaze on the spy and resumed speaking in Greek. "What did you steal from this Roman?"
The spy's jaw dropped open and quivered. He was silent for a heartbeat too long. "Nothing, Your Majesty."
"Any spoils taken from an enemy are the property of the king, whose officers may dispense them only in accordance with the king's wishes. Are you not aware of that, spy?"
"Of course I am, Your Majesty. I would never think to… that is, I would never dream of taking anything from a prisoner, without first… without handing it over directly to-"
In Latin, Ptolemy said to me: "What did he steal from you, Gordianus-called-Finder?"
"Coins, Your Majesty."
"Roman sesterces?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"If the man has a few Roman coins on his person, or even a bag full of them, that would hardly constitute proof that he stole them from you."
"I suppose not, Your Majesty." "To make an unsubstantiated charge of such severity against an agent of the king is an offense worthy of death."
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was as dry as chalk. "There was something else he stole from my trunk."
"What?"
"A comb, Your Majesty. A beautiful thing made of silver and ebony. My wife insisted on bringing it with her… for sentimental reasons." My voice caught in my throat.
Ptolemy turned his gaze back to the spy. The man had followed none of our exchange in Latin, but even so he began to tremble and gnash his teeth.
"Captain!"
Achillas stepped forward. "Your Majesty?"
"Have your men strip the spy of his tunic and whatever else he's wearing. Turn out all the pockets and pouches and see what you find."
"At once, Your Majesty."
Soldiers converged. In the bat of an eyelash, the spy was stripped naked. He sputtered at the indignity and blushed crimson from head to foot. I averted my eyes, which chanced to fall on Pothinus. Did I imagine it, or was the eunuch discreetly taking a good look at the naked man's scrotum?
In the background, the piper continued to play. For a while I had ceased to notice his music, though he had never stopped playing the same song in endless variations.
"What did your men find, Captain?"
"Coins, Your Majesty. Bits of parchment. A perfumer's vial, made of alabaster. A few-"
"A comb?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Achillas held it before the king, who looked down his nose at it but did not touch it.
"A comb made of silver and ebony," observed Ptolemy.
The spy, standing alone and naked, wrung his hands and trembled violently. There was a sound of splashing, and I saw that his bladder was emptying itself. He stood in a pool of his own urine, blushing furiously, biting his lips, and whimpering.
The piper continued to play. The tune changed to a brighter key and a quicker tempo.
"Have mercy on me, Your Majesty, I beg you!" blubbered the spy.
"Captain."
"Your Majesty?"
"Have this man executed at once."
Pothinus stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the man is a valuable agent. He possesses a great store of specialized knowledge. Please consider-"
"This man stole from the king. He lied to the king. You yourself witnessed the lie. Are you saying, Lord Chamberlain, that there is an argument to be made that he should not be executed?"
Pothinus lowered his eyes. "No, Your Majesty. The king's words humble me."
"Captain Achillas."
"Your Majesty?"
"Execute the man immediately, where he stands, so that all present may witness the swiftness of the king's justice."
Achillas strode forward. Soldiers seized the spy's arms, not merely to immobilize him but also to keep him upright; his legs had gone soft, and otherwise he would have collapsed to the floor. Achillas put his massive hands around the man's throat and proceeded to strangle him. Where the man's face had been red before, it now turned purple. His body convulsed. Weird sounds rose came from his mouth until a sickening crunch put a stop to his gurgling. With a snort of disgust, Achillas released him. The man's head flopped to one side, and his limp body crumpled to the floor.
The room fell silent except for the merry tune of the piper.
"Lord Chamberlain."
"Your Majesty?"
"See to it that the Roman and his companions are released from their bonds; that the items stolen from him are returned to his keeping; that he is given suitable quarters and made comfortable. Keep him close at hand, in case the king should wish to speak to him."
Pothinus bowed low. "It shall be as Your Majesty commands."
The same soldiers who had stripped and immobilized the spy now surrounded me and began to untie the cords around my wrists. Meanwhile, to a new and livelier tune from his piper, King Ptolemy made his exit from the room.
Thus I made the acquaintance of the Egyptian king and his advisers, and received my first taste of life in the royal court.
CHAPTER IX
Our quarters were simple but adequate: a room made of stone with sleeping cots for all (Mopsus and Androcles sharing), a brass chamber pot in one corner, a rug on the floor, and a small lamp that hung from a hook in the ceiling. There was even a narrow window that looked down on a sandy courtyard where soldiers were camped. Above the curve of the fortress wall beyond, the sky was dark and full of stars.
To eat, we were each given a bowl of lentil soup, a millet biscuit, and a few dried dates and figs. The food disappeared almost at once.
Eventually two soldiers arrived at the door bearing my trunk. They set it in the middle of the room and departed. I opened the lid. Lying on top was Bethesda's silver-and-ebony comb. I picked it up and ran my fingertips over the prongs. Underneath was a bag full of coins, and beside the bag, almost hidden by a fold of cloth, was the alabaster vial that Cornelia had given me.
I extinguished the lamp and lay on my cot, clutching the silver-and-ebony comb. I thought of Diana and Eco back in Rome; they would be devastated when they learned what had happened to Bethesda. How could I bear to tell them? And would I ever have the chance? Rome seemed very far away. A coldness settled over me, and I thought of the alabaster vial. Perhaps it was the will of the gods that I should consume its contents, after all…
Nearby, Mopsus and Androcles chattered to one another in low voices. I was about to tell them to be quiet when Mopsus spoke up.
"Master, is this what Rome will be like?" "What do you mean, Mopsus?" From outside I heard a sentry give the all-clear. Wind sighed in the tops of the tall palm trees outside the fortress wall. The world had become very quiet and still.
"When Caesar gets back to Rome and makes himself king, is this what Rome will be like?" said Mopsus.
"I still don't know what you mean."
"What he means," said Androcles, seeing that his brother's question needed clarification, "is this: Will everyone have to cringe and fawn and bow to Caesar and call him 'Your Majesty,' even free citizens like you, Master?"
"Yes, Master," said Mopsus, "and will Caesar be able to say, 'I don't like that fellow, so kill him right now!' And the next thing you know, just because King Caesar said so, the man's being strangled to death, like this?" He demonstrated by clamping his hands around his brother's throat. Androcles joined in the demonstration by flailing his arms and legs against the cot and making a gagging noise.
From the cot next to them, I heard Rupa emit a chuckle of amusement, but I saw nothing to laugh at.
"I don't know, boys. When we get back-" I almost said, If we get back, but there was no point in planting doubt-"Rome will certainly be different. The Egyptians have always been ruled by a king; before the dynasty of the Ptolemies, there were the pharaohs, whose reigns go back thousands of years, back to the days of the Pyramids and the Sphinx. But we've never had a king-well, not in 450 years or so. And no Roman has ever been a king, including Caesar. We have no experience of monarchy and no rules to go by. I imagine, like this mess of a war, it will be rather like a play that the players make up as they go along. Now, stop this roughhousing and get to sleep!"