Marcellus nodded.
“He was killed in the battle. Caesar was mightily upset at such a loss.”
Servius’ mouth was getting dry from talking at length. He took a gulp of wine.
“Is that when Ptolemy was killed?”
Servius shook his head.
“No. Last month, it was the beginning of March, Mithridates arrived at Pelusium with an army from Syria and Arabia and Palestine. As you know General Marcellus the Palestinian Jews suffered under Pompey and were only too keen to ally themselves to our master. Also the Jews hoped to reach out to the large Jewish population in Alexandria itself.”
“Pompey destroyed or tried to destroy the temple in Jerusalem and took much of the land so it’s no wonder the standing Jewish army hailed Caesar as their ally.”
“I didn’t know that,” Servius said.
“Didn’t know what?”
“That Pompey had damaged their temple, took their land. I had heard that they’d suffered under him and assumed he’d persecuted their people.”
“He probably did. Please continue.”
“Mithridates quickly sacked Pelusium and upon reaching the Nile he turned and headed southwest. Someone tipped off the Alexandrians and Ptolemy ordered his army to confront them. When Caesar saw the Alexandrian army leaving he marched his army around the great lake Mareotis and joined with King Mithridates. When Ptolemy arrived his army set up camp on a hill west of the Nile. The following morning our master attacked. He drove the Alexandrians from their hilltop and trapped before the banks of the river our forces slaughtered them. Ptolemy made it to his royal boat and from the middle of the Nile he goaded our master with taunts. A great cheer went up from the Romans however when the young king’s boat capsized and he drowned. After three months of conflict our master had finally rid Egypt of one of its monarchs. Caesar was so happy at this victory that he rode at the head of the cavalry all the way back to Alexandria. The people of the city begged for mercy and Caesar, hard to contain his temper, reluctantly granted them a full pardon. Cleopatra of course welcomed back our master with open arms. Caesar read out Cleopatra’s father’s will again and appointed the young Queen and the youngest brother, now Ptolemy the fourteenth, as rulers over the lands of Egypt and Cyprus.”
“Cyprus! So he kept his word.”
“Yes sir. Some say he only did it to infuriate Marcus Cato in Rome who spent so many years pushing for Cyprus to be under Roman rule.”
Marcellus laughed.
“Our master is never done is he? But tell me what of the other sister Arsinoe.”
“Ah yes. She was captured, placed in chains and will be sent to Rome as a slave. Maybe Caesar will kill her. Who knows what he’ll do.”
“Did he mention a Roman garrison in Egypt?”
“Yes sir. He will be leaving three legions with Cleopatra to, as he put it, secure Roman-Egyptian relations. Some say the great General Marcus Antonius may be called for.”
“Mark Antony. He’s in Rome isn’t he?”
“I believe so sir yes.”
Marcellus shook his head to clear it. He was buzzing from so much information. He put his wine down. He cross questioned Servius over and over, verifying facts, checking that he knew the story accurately.
‘It’s truly incredible’ he was thinking, ’When the Persian King Darius walked into Egypt he was met with no resistance. When Alexander of Macedon came he was met and hailed as a conquering hero. When Caesar arrived he was met with hostility and urban warfare on a scale he had, the world had, never seen before, “Despite the odds he has done it.”
“Begging your pardon sir?”
Marcellus hadn’t realised he’d spoken out loud.
“Our master has done it, conquered the land of the Pharaohs, something no one has ever done before.”
He stood and raised his glass.
“A toast!” he said, “To our master, to my friend, the greatest Roman who has ever lived, Gaius Julius Caesar!”
Marcellus stopped his horse at the top of a rise, his officers flanking him. The desert seemed endless. In the very far distance they could see other travellers on the road. Below them the desert opened up into a wide, crescent gorge.
“According to the map this used to be a river, recorded thousands of years ago by Pharaohs of the second dynasty.”
“Does it still flow sir?”
“I think it’s long since dried up.”
“What a desolate place,” someone else said, “What does Rome want with such a territory?”
“Africa is Rome’s biggest province Quintus. We will never give it up.”
A shout from behind made them turn. A centurion was some distance away running towards them. Behind him the caravan had picked up pace. The two hundred legionaries had stopped and were staring across the desert. Suddenly as one they turned and began running along the line on the road, chased on by the other centurion. The first centurion was still running towards them, shouting and pointing. Marcellus raised his hand up to his eyes to block out the sun.
“Who is it? I can’t see clearly in the sun. Is it Cassius? What’s he shouting?”
“It is Cassius. Can’t hear what he’s shouting though.”
Marcellus looked back down the road expecting another messenger or an enemy attack or something, anything, but could see nothing.
Marcellus was about to order Quintus to ride down to see what the fuss was about when he thought he saw something.
He had been scanning the desert and had been about to give the order when something caught his attention. Miles away on the horizon where the land met the sky he saw a distortion, a discolouration. They were all used to seeing heat haze but this was something different and what was more it seemed to be moving closer.
Cassius the centurion was still shouting. Quintus had also seen the horizon change.
“What is that?”
A huge gust of wind suddenly blew Marcellus’ cape up, making the horses start. Marcellus pushed his cloak down. There was now sand in his mouth brought by the sudden gust. The next big gust stung his face and he closed his eyes to it. The sand was stinging him. He opened his eyes again. The distortion on the horizon had appeared to have got bigger, then he felt dread rising.
“Sandstorm!” he shouted.
He kicked his horse in the ribs and it whinnied and bolted down the hill.
“Sir there’s a sandstorm coming,” Cassius shouted as Marcellus raced past him.
“Get everyone moving as quickly as they can. I want all of the sarcophagus carriers working at once. I don’t care if some of them are resting. Everyone! Understood!”
“Yes General.”
Cassius began running, with difficulty, back down the hill towards the column.
Quintus reined his horse in.
“Judging by the way the wind is blowing it may miss us.”
“We can’t wait around and take that chance.”