"Do they stand to gain by burning your support fleet?"
"Not directly. They cannot believe that giving victory to Rome or to Egypt will better their lot. But it will be much to their advantage to put it about that Baal-Hammon has abandoned me. They will cry out again that the gods are angry with me for adopting foreign ways. They will demand a Tophet. Zarabel will be their cat's-paw."
Her advice was simple and direct. "Kill her. Then kill the priests and suppress the cult of Tanit."
He smiled upon her. "If only it were that simple. In times of our accustomed peace and prosperity, I could take such extreme measures. But now I must have the people with me, both the commons and the wealthy. A quick war with fat, indolent Egypt was one thing. A swift victory against Selene would have made my position unassailable. But a double war that includes her new Roman allies is very different. I must take back Sicily and Italy. It will be a long, costly war, and the wealthy hate to sacrifice, while the commons adore the gods above all things. In the end, I will give Carthage the world. But for a while, they must all suffer, and the priests will take advantage of that."
She nodded. "I understand. So you think the priests of Tanit are the most likely culprits?"
"I believe so. I further believe that Zarabel put them up to it. She is far more intelligent than any of them, and she has studied the politics of world power deeply, while they understand it only as fought within the temples, the city and the court."
"But you will not take immediate action against them?"
"I cannot. That would be a mistake. I must plan against them as carefully as they have plotted against me. In the meantime, the people must be given someone to blame, and I must not allow them to think that the gods of Carthage have forsaken me."
She inclined her head toward him. "You are sagacious as well as bold. Please allow me to help in any way you think proper."
He walked back across the seawall and spoke to the harbormaster: "I find no fault with your conduct during this emergency. It was enemy action, and so I shall report it to the Assembly. The firefighters and others who died will receive all the proper rites." He gestured toward the line of bodies. "You and your men may speak freely of what you have seen here. It was a treacherous act perpetrated by Rome, seeking to weaken the sea power of Carthage."
The harbormaster bowed. "My shofet is gracious." He spoke as calmly as if the specter of the cross had never intruded upon his thoughts. "I shall see to the cleaning and repair of the harbor."
"See to it. Now go."
For a while Hamilcar and Teuta stood alone upon the seawall, save for the corpses and the guardsmen, who stood a little way off.
"What will you do when you move against your sister and the priests?" Teuta asked him.
He pondered this a while. "You come from a far place and have traveled widely. Do you know of a punishment even worse than crucifixion?"
CHAPTER NINE
Their ship was a cargo vessel from Corcyra named Oceanus. It was an old but trustworthy craft, veteran of more than a hundred years of voyaging to every shore touched by the Middle Sea, or so her skipper boasted. Been in his family the whole time, he said. The ship was bright with paint recently renewed, and its graceful stem, carved in the form of a swan's neck and head, was brilliantly gilt.
They saw the smoking pinnacle of the Pharos lighthouse from many miles out at sea and passed between the island and Cape Lochias at midday. Since they had letters from the Roman Senate, they would be permitted to use the exclusive Royal Harbor. A small cutter drew alongside at the entrance to the little harbor, and Zeno presented his dispatch case, sealed with a lead medallion embossed with four simple letters in the Roman script: SPQR. This was a formula signifying the Senate and people of Rome, and was placed on all official correspondence, decrees and even public monuments. It was fast becoming a familiar sight.
The glittering official, his uniform the brilliant blue and gold of the Egyptian royal house, glanced at the seal and then at the two Greeks. His golden breastplate and helmet, Zeno thought, would not have withstood the assault of an angry bird.
"You two don't look much like Romans," he noted idly.
"All the Romans are busy fighting Carthage," Zeno told him.
"So one hears. Well, your documents appear to be in order. You may proceed to the royal wharf. The palace is hard to miss. Someone will lead you to the quarters where the Romans stay."
"What is that?" Zeno cried, staring upward. The two Greeks gaped, all philosophical impassivity forgotten for the moment. Above them soared something beyond the speculations of Aristotle: a winged thing that was clearly no living creature, but rather a fabrication of wood and cloth, with batlike wings and a great, wedge-shaped tail. So bizarre was this apparition that at first they did not notice the man hanging just below it like the prey of a great, flying hunter.
"But this is marvelous!" Izates said, apparently finding nothing Cynical to say about it. "A man flies!"
"Yes," said the official, "and no good will come of it, I assure you. This is the sort of behavior that draws the wrath of the gods. Flying men, boats that travel underwater-what next? Men should not aspire to the power of the immortals."
As if to show his contempt for such cavils, the flying man swooped low, almost knocking the gilded helmet from the official's head. The official's Greek polish abandoned him and he cursed at the flyer in native Egyptian. The crowd of idlers gathered along the waterfront cheered.
Zeno and Izates proceeded to a wharf and climbed the steps to the huge palace complex. A chamberlain examined their credentials and led them to the suite of apartments occupied by the Romans. There they found a man seated at a desk. He rose as they entered, extending his hand.
"Welcome to Alexandria, my friends. You've brought me dispatches from the Senate?" He had the Roman look, but he was a shade less martial in appearance than most others of his class they had encountered. He clearly was not as obsessed with physical fitness, being just a bit soft around the middle, his jaw and cheekbones not defined with quite the razor sharpness so noticeable in the others. "I am Aulus Flaccus, aide to Marcus Cornelius Scipio."
They introduced themselves.
"I am so pleased that the Senate has for once sent men capable of intelligent conversation and interests beyond war and conquest. Gabinius must be behind this. Only man in the Senate with more brains than ferocity. Please, sit down and I'll have some lunch brought in. You must tell me all about how Rome of the Seven Hills is progressing. It was a wasteland when Marcus and I passed through."
"It was Gabinius, indeed," Zeno told him. "He has become our patron and hospes in Rome. A most remarkable man." He looked around the room and saw the many models of machines being developed at the Museum. Some were clearly catapults and so forth. Others were utterly mysterious. "Remarkable as I have found the resurgence of Rome, however, developments here in Alexandria have been equally stunning. We saw a flying man when we arrived."
Flaccus smiled. "Yes, Marcus has become enthralled with military toys."
"I would think that a flying man has greater significance than the merely military," said Izates.
"I suppose so. At the moment, however, we are at war and surrounded by enemies, so military applications have pride of place. No doubt you've heard of the underwater boats. They are developing new ways to propel vessels, and people are doing amazing things with mirrors: ways to see over walls and around corners, directing light.into dark mines and galleries. And now lenses."