"In the sculptor's shop, where I found the prototype for the coin, there was another, unfinished model. This one showed you, horns and all, paired with Selene, portrayed as an old hag in the quaint local fashion."
"What! She really has plans to make me king of Egypt?"
Flaccus shook his head. "Nothing of the sort. She has only just become virtual queen in her own right. What monarch wishes to share power by elevating someone else to equal rank? But she knows her people will feel more secure if they see a strong man by her side. No, I think she wants you for her consort: by her side and in her bed, but definitely under her authority."
"She already has a husband," Marcus said, "her brother."
"Well, he's easily disposed of, isn't he?"
Marcus shrugged. "He's nothing, I agree. But royalty only breed among themselves. I don't think she'd want a commoner like me to father her children."
"She's royal but she's also a realist. As far as she's concerned, the scion of a very ancient family holding the highest honors of a republic is good enough. After all, your ancestors were consuls long before hers were kings. She's descended from Macedonian goatherds who tied their fortunes to the local chief and hit it lucky when one of those chiefs turned out to be Alexander the Great."
"I hadn't thought of it that way," Marcus admitted.
"To give her credit, I doubt that it ever occurred to her how mortally offended the Senate and the population would be by those statues and coins. She isn't accustomed to republican institutions."
Marcus sat and pondered. "I suppose most men would find my predicament hard to comprehend. From being a minor officer and an unimportant senator I've risen to the position of the most important man in the richest nation of the world. I have the throne of Egypt almost within my grasp. Yet here I am, terrified at the implications."
Flaccus smiled. "It does seem odd. It would be a glorious thing to conquer Egypt as a Roman general. But to accept the rulership as the gift of Egypt's queen would be treason. Worse yet, it would make you richer than the whole Senate combined, and that could not be tolerated. And here you are, in a foreign land, all alone except for me, connected to Rome only by a few letters now and then. It's a good thing your family is so powerful and influential. You'd probably have been condemned already."
"That could change at any time," Marcus said. "If some of my relatives are killed in Sicily, or if some of our rivals should win great glory there, the balance in the Senate could change overnight. It's happened before."
"Yes," Flaccus said, sitting at the table and pouring himself another, "our political life is always uncertain. At least it keeps things interesting. Personally, I find all this dynastic intrigue boring, compared with politics at home."
A short while later a steward appeared and summoned them to Selene's private chambers.
"What might this portend?" Marcus said, checking his appearance in the burnished silver mirror.
"Maybe she's had a change of heart," Flaccus said. "She may have decided to execute us, since we don't share her taste in statuary."
Flaccus meant it in jest, but they both knew that it could be true. Helmets beneath their arms, military cloaks swinging smartly behind them, they strode in lockstep to the queen's private quarters, where slaves opened the massive doors before them. They marched through, halted and saluted in unison before the queen, who sat at a small table.
"Nicely done," she commended. "Now, get out of that silly armor and sit down. We have some serious talking to do."
"If it's about those statues-" Marcus began as slaves rushed to free him from his dress cuirass.
"Forget about the statues. I've-" She paused and wrinkled her nose. "You've been into the wine this evening."
"We usually are, when we aren't on duty," Flaccus said, grinning. "And the best, too. Lesbian."
Selene raised a hand and a beautiful young girl ran to her side. "Go to the wine steward and tell him to send us some Lesbian. The best, not the swill these two have been drinking."
"You mean there's better?" Flaccus said as the girl dashed off.
"What's happened?" Marcus demanded, sounding cold sober.
"A ship from Tyre put in tonight. The winds have been contrary and it's the first to sail from there in almost two months. One of my agents has sent an intelligence report. It seems that your friend Titus Norbanus has reappeared, with his army intact."
"Norbanus!" Marcus all but hissed. Their scouts had lost him when he took his army into the desert, confounding their expectations. Selene's ships stood ready to shadow his progress along the coast, but Norbanus had not obliged them. Flaccus had speculated that he would march down the coast of Arabia and seize the rich frankincense ports, but Selene's Red Sea skippers had reported no sign of him.
"He showed up in southern Judea. He brought his army across that awful desert in fine form, just as you said he might," she conceded. "Now he's in Jerusalem, the capital of the southern kingdom, no doubt planning to capture the northern kingdom, Israel. It is the more populous and warlike of the two."
"And Norbanus is throwing his support behind the weaker king," Marcus said.
"You say that with a certain satisfaction," she observed.
"It's the wise thing to do. It's the Roman thing. I can't find it in me to wish a Roman army ill, though it pains me to give Titus Norbanus credit."
"Now that he's reappeared," Flaccus said, "the Senate could call him back."
"He won't report to the Senate until he's won a victory," Marcus said. "And if he's victorious, and sends home some fine loot, and has improved Rome's position in the East, the Senate won't dare call him in. My own family will vote him honors."
"You've been right about him so far," Selene said.
Marcus shook his head. "No. I was wrong about him for far too long. I thought he was nothing but a Forum politician who would be worthless at war. I don't dare underestimate him again."
"If he gets things his way in Israel," Flaccus said, "what will he do next?"
"That," said Selene, "will depend upon what Antiochus of Syria decides to do about him."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Titus Norbanus watched his men as they practiced maneuvers with Jonathan's army. The Judeans had nothing like the professionalism of the Romans, but they were spirited and had the appearance of brave men, though only the test of battle would prove that. Best of all, they had never adopted the rigid Macedonian phalanx, so he would not have to break them of the habits inherent in that obsolete combat formation.
The bulk of Jonathan's soldiers were peasants who fought as spearmen, providing both light and heavy infantry. The shepherds of the hill country fought unarmored, with small shields, javelins and curved knives. They were excellent scouts and skirmishers. Best of all, the country abounded in slingers and archers, arms in which the Romans were weak.
The wellborn young men provided Jonathan's cavalry. They were excellent horsemen and their mounts were surprisingly fine. This was an added bonus, for the Romans were at best indifferent cavalrymen, despite the splendid horses of Noricum. The hilly, wooded terrain of Noricum did not favor cavalry warfare, and the Romans had never emphasized its arts.
"We can put together a finely balanced expedition force with these men as our allies," Norbanus said to his subordinates.
"At least until we've taken Manasseh's kingdom and given it to his brother," Cato said.
"Of course," said Norbanus. "Then, it will be time to renegotiate." He swept his commanders with his blue-eyed gaze and he approved of their appearance. Gone were the rags and grime of their desert crossing. Jonathan had been generous with his new allies and had given each officer rich clothing in accordance with the man's rank. Nor had the legionaries been neglected. They wore fine new tunics, and their helmets sported colorful crests and plumes.