“I will find her,” Achillas said.
“When Achillas. When?”
“I will leave tonight with only a handful of men so as not to rouse suspicion. Our people protesting in the streets will keep the Romans occupied. I have heard this evening that some of Caesar’s men were killed in violent protests.” “When did this happen?” Ptolemy looked from Achillas to Pothinus.
Pothinus smiled a smug smile.
“After Caesar returned to the palace his ship was attacked. Some of his guards were killed. I arranged it….”
“You.”
“It was necessary my King. Our people do not want the Romans here with their laws. The people see it as an end to their independence.”
“Do you know the people call me the bastard.”
“That is merely hearsay and gossip. My King the people love you. You are a good monarch. Taxes are low. The fields are full. The people work hard for you.”
“And Cleopatra. Do they love her too? Which of us do they love the most?”
“A wise question my King. That will be answered when Achillas finds her and brings her back. In chains if need be.”
Achillas nodded to reassure the boy.
“And what of Caesar’s ships? How many men does he bring?”
“He landed with less than five thousand men and only eight hundred cavalry. It is a small amount sire. Achillas has twenty thousand men waiting and ready on the banks of the Nile. He will move them to Alexandria. There are a million people living in this city. Trust me my King the Romans have no chance of making any sort of an impact on us.”
Caesar stood at the window looking out over the harbour. The rooms the Romans had been given were spacious and luxurious. The walls were adorned with murals and carvings depicting the great Pharaohs. The furniture was expensive mahogany. Many lamps lit the rooms. Scented oils burned to help keep the night bugs away.
Julius was watching the ships bobbing gently in the waves. The city stretched from lake Mareotis which was North, to the Mediterranean coast covering several miles. From his window he could see the Pharos, the great lighthouse, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. It stood three hundred feet tall. The open sea was beyond. Caesar gazed at the fire burning at the top of the lighthouse. It was a truly spectacular sight.
His attention was taken away by the sound of running feet. A legionary was running down a narrow street. Moments later a group of men carrying burning torches gave chase. They caught up to the unfortunate Roman when he tripped and fell. They surrounded him and laid into him viciously. One of them took out a knife and drew it across his throat to the cheers of the others. When they moved on they left the crumpled corpse where it lay. The last of them looked up at Caesar high up in the window. He pointed at the dead soldier and then brandished his burning torch angrily at the Roman dictator before he dashed off.
Julius turned away from the window at a knock on the door. As he did so a tiny boat entered the harbour through a very narrow channel. Dwarfed by the Egyptian and Roman war galleys it passed unnoticed. Moving very slowly it was being paddled by only one man. It stopped at some low steps that led down to the water. The man put his oar down and bending at the waist he reached into the bottom of the boat and picked up a large bundle of bed sheets. Then checking that he’d gone unnoticed he moved swiftly up the steps, went into a narrow alley and vanished from sight.
Caesar stood with his wine cup in hand near the rest of his Generals as the door was opened and Marcellus strode in.
“Caesar I have brought a man, a servant of Pompey’s.”
Marcellus moved aside and the servant stood cowering in front of the dictator. Caesar looked him over. He was dishevelled and looked like he hadn’t slept for days.
“What is your name fellow?”
“Philip sire. My name is Philip.”
“You were a servant of my son-in-law Pompey?”
“Yes great Caesar,” Philip replied, clearly petrified, knowing his former master was Caesar’s great enemy.
Julius took a clean goblet and poured some wine into it and offered it. Philip took it gratefully and held it in both hands as he sipped it.
“Thank you great Caesar.”
Julius gestured for his Generals to sit and taking a comfortable couch for himself he spoke.
“And now perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what happened to my son-in-law.”
Philip swallowed some more wine and reluctantly began, knowing his immediate future may depend upon his story.
“My master arrived here four days ago Caesar. The 28 of September. One day after his fifty ninth birthday. He was met by Septimius the centurion and Achillas.”
“General Achillas?” Caesar interrupted.
“Yes General Achillas.”
“Are you absolutely sure it was Achillas?”
“Yes Caesar.”
Julius glanced at his Generals.
“Achillas swore he’d played no part in it.”
Philip waited until he was sure Caesar wanted to hear more then continued.
“Achillas and Septimius met my master in a small fishing boat. I was suspicious and begged him to wait until a suitable ship was made available but they apologised and promised him once ashore he would be received with all the honours he merited.”
“And Pompey wasn’t suspicious?”
“No lord. Even the lady his wife begged him not to go as she suspected a trap but he refused to listen. I begged him to let me go in his place but he wouldn’t listen. He forbade me to go, shrugged his wife off and got into their boat.”
Tears were rolling down his cheeks now.
“I begged him and begged him but I, we, all of us were powerless and could only watch as he left the safety of his ship and got into their little fishing boat. As he was leaving I suddenly remembered the speech we had rehearsed together. It was hand written on a tiny scroll and I handed it to him. He thanked me once, smiled, waved to his wife and then turned his back on us and sat in the boat.”
Philip took another gulp of the wine. He stared down into the dark red liquid for a moment. Caesar waited patiently, giving him time to gather his thoughts. When it was obvious he needed prompting Caesar said.
“What happened after that Philip?”
“We all watched as the small boat crossed the busy harbour. Then members of the Alexandrian royal party appeared at their private steps on the dock. My master saw them and he stood to wave and Septimius rose behind him. Achillas rose also. At first everything looked to be normal for of course it would be impolite for them to be seated while royalty were standing. Then I saw a sword in Septimius’ hand and though I shouted my master didn’t hear.”
The tears were rolling down his cheeks again.
“We all watched in horror as Septimius drove his sword through Pompey’s back. My master cried out only once and Achillas shouted something and drew a dagger and repeatedly stabbed him.”
“You’re quite sure Achillas stabbed him?” Caesar was on his feet now.
“I’m positive sire. It was Achillas, General of the Nile army.”
Dolabella spoke quietly into Caesar’s ear.
“Achillas lied Julius. He said he played no part in it. No part at all.”
Caesar nodded.
“What were his exact words? Generals don’t kill Generals. Send for Achillas. I will see him on the hour.”
Dolabella left. Caesar waited until the door had closed. He poured Philip some more wine.
“What happened after that?”
“The last thing my master did was to pull his toga over his head so none of us could see his poor face. The lady his wife was crying, we all were. Pompey the great, the man who conquered the eastern provinces, consul and general of Rome died in that tiny boat while those that loved him looked on powerless to help as the Egyptian royal party applauded.”