"Pothinus will tell no more lies," said Caesar. "And I am pleased to see that you are voluntarily eating such sparse fare, when there are fine foods aplenty in the kitchens. It will build your character. A man shouldn't care overmuch about food. I myself once accidentally poured ointment over a vegetable dish and didn't notice--even after I ate it."
"Barbarian," muttered Arsinoe.
"What's that, my dear?" asked Caesar. "Barbarian? Yes, perhaps so. I came to have great respect for them in the nine years I fought them in Gaul. They have a different mentality from some of the degenerate minds of the east. For example, they do not kill their chiefs."
Arsinoe gave a sour smile that still did nothing to ruin her beauty. Caesar lifted his wine goblet to her and took a sip.
"I do not feel well," she said, putting hers down. "I must return to my quarters to rest."
That night she escaped from the palace, accompanied by her eunuch-tutor Ganymedes, and went to join Achillas and his forces.
I expected Caesar to be angry, now that he could no longer claim the Egyptian troops were simply a treasonous faction in rebellion against the entire royal family, but he was not, even when the troops proclaimed Arsinoe their queen.
"Well, she's lost Cyprus," he said. "And she never even went to visit it. You and I must do that when the war is over. Venus was born on the seafoam and washed ashore there; it would be most fitting for us to be together there." He gave that seemingly lighthearted smile that did not extend to his eyes.
When the war was over . . . how certain he was of victory!
That night, before retiring, he stood a long time on the roof of the palace, looking at the harbor and its configuration. His lined hands gripped the railings, and I could see the muscles pulling in his arms as he clenched and then relaxed his fingers.
"It will not be easy," he conceded. "It is a long way, and the width will not allow very many men on it at any one time."
Behind us the servants were lighting the evening torches, and the sun was sinking, turning what would be tomorrow's battlefield into a basin of red.
"Tonight the sun, tomorrow the blood of men will color it," he said.
"How can you ever get used to it?" I wondered. "How can you accustom yourself to death in advance?"
"Death," he finally said. "Perhaps I am like that king of Pergamon who had a garden of poisonous plants that he enjoyed cultivating. Perhaps I surround myself with death in order to accustom myself to it."
"And does it?"
"I think so," he said. "I can honestly say death holds no terror for me, only sadness--sadness at what I must leave behind." He turned and looked directly in my eyes. Even in the failing light I was riveted by the intense expression on his face. "I would hate to leave you so soon. We have so much to talk about, to see, to explore together. It is just the beginning for us. When I set out for Gaul, I was forty-two. It was a new world, an infinite green expanse-- forests, mountains, lakes, rivers, all unknown and waiting for me. What happened to me there in those nine years should be enough for any man. But now I want more, not less. It built fires, it did not quench them." He turned back to look at the harbor, growing blue and dim now. "Down there, tomorrow--it seems unthinkable that a short little piece of polished metal could put out my fire."
I put my arm around him and leaned against him. "Don't you Romans believe there are three immortal sisters who control your span of days? One who spins your thread of life, one who measures it, and one who cuts it? Your life is not measured yet."
"Such is the skill of the sisters that one does not feel the thread being drawn out, or perceive the scissors being opened." Then his tone of voice changed. "This sort of talk is bad luck! Come!" Abruptly he quit the rooftop and went inside.
Such was the oddness of the Alexandrian War that I was able to station myself on the roof to have a commanding view of the action the next day. I did not want to watch it, and yet I had to, for I needed to know what happened, and not from any messenger.
Early in the morning, before the sun's rays had even reached beyond the tops of the temples, and when the streets were still dark, Caesar and his men poured from the palace grounds in full force, taking the enemy by surprise. The streets were quickly theirs, and by the time the sun was shining fully on the waterfront, I could see fierce fighting by the docks. The Romans were easy to spot because of their helmets and their distinctive military attire, in contrast to the forces of Achillas in their varying, pieced-together costumes.
I could see Caesar himself in his purple general's cloak, and although I wished I could look elsewhere, I could not for a second take my eyes from him.
I saw how he led the men into the most thinly guarded and dangerous areas, putting heart into them by his reckless bravery. He did not spare himself, but rushed out into the thick of the fighting. But then the superior numbers of Achillas began to tell, and suddenly the Romans seemed to be swallowed up. I felt a horrible cold fear as Caesar disappeared from view under a swirl of swords and shields. The tumult of metal against metal, of stones being lobbed and smashing against the docks and houses, and the screams of dying men, rose, like the cry of a monster, all the way up to my rooftop.
I saw a trace of fire arcing across the dock; someone had thrown a torch. Others followed, and suddenly one of the warships was on fire. The flames caught in the rigging and quickly spread to the deck.
One of my warships! I gasped. No!
The flames spread so fast it was obvious that tar and pitch on board had caught fire. Men poured from the ship and dived into the water. Then the ship next to that one caught fire. Screams rose as the water filled with escaping sailors. The fighting on the docks continued as furiously as ever.
My ships were aflame! My navy was being destroyed! I watched in horror as the entire fleet caught fire, and my pride and wealth of sea power vanished. But then--the wind carried sparks from the burning ships and set fire to warehouses on the docks. Well I knew what was in the warehouses--grain, oil, but most precious of all, manuscripts for the Library. An entire warehouse of manuscripts was being annihilated! I began to scream in helpless horror, but I went on watching.
The fires distracted the Alexandrians, which gave Caesar and his men their opportunity to make for the causeway. They swarmed down it and out to the Lighthouse, where I soon saw more smoke and fire rising in the midst of hand-to-hand combat.
It was impossible to tell what was happening, who was winning, until after what seemed hours, when the glint of the sun on the returning Roman helmets told the tale: They had subdued the island and were now going to secure the length of the causeway. The men spread out, and now--thanks be to you, Isis, and to all the gods who held him in their care--I saw the flash of Caesar's purple cloak. He was out in front, leading the men back across the causeway and toward the waterfront.
Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, an enemy warship laden with soldiers sailed through the burning hulks of my ships in the western harbor, and made for the middle of the causeway, cutting the Romans in the forefront off from the rest of their troops, stranding them in one section of the causeway. It was Caesar they were after; they meant to hem him in and destroy him. The newly landed soldiers advanced on him, while the ones from the shore closed in on the other side.
. The Romans decided to retreat to their ships, but the ships had pulled in their gangplanks and cast anchors to prevent themselves from being boarded by the enemy. The Romans dived into the water and began swimming to the ships; I saw Caesar plunge in and make for the nearest ship, but it was so overladen it was near capsizing, so he was forced to swim to one far distant, all the time dodging a hail of arrows and missiles. His progress was slowed by the fact that he was swimming one-handed, holding up a sheaf of papers-- what could be so important, I wondered--and trailing his heavy general's cloak behind him, determined not to yield the enemy that trophy. But at length I saw him throw off the cloak and swim free of it to the ship. The cloak floated back toward the causeway, where it was retrieved by the enem
y with jeers and jubilation.
He was safe. He was safe. The sweetness of realizing that he would return from that day's fighting almost overwhelmed me with gratitude.
He sat in our private room, hunched over his charts. His hair was matted, and he was shivering from exhaustion and the cold water. His arms were covered with cuts, and his legs were bruised, and he kept shaking his head.
"Four hundred men lost," he was saying. "Four hundred!"
"But you won," I said. "You won. And you did everything you set out to do. You captured the island and the Lighthouse."
"And burnt a fleet!" He sounded bitter. "Forgive me! But it had to be done. I could see they were going to capture it, and that would have given them a navy, which they do not now have."
"So it was you who threw that brand!" I said. "It was no accident!"
"No, of course not," he said. "It was my decision. And a good one, too. Look at the damage they managed to do with only one ship!" Again he shook his head. "I lost four hundred men," he repeated softly. "And my general's cloak. They got that."
"At least it was not you they got," I said. "And why did you persist in trying to protect those papers? What was so important in them that was worth risking your life for?"
"Military plans," he said. "Ciphers. Codes. Those must not be lost by us, or gained by them." He withdrew them from inside his sodden leather jerkin and threw them on the table, heaving a deep sigh of relief. "There."
"Manuscripts were lost that were on the docks, waiting to be transferred to the Library," I said.
"I am sorry," he said. "The burning of the warehouses was a true accident."
"Yes," I said. "An accident of war. I can see that war, once launched, is not very easily controlled. It goes wherever it pleases, like a mad but cunning animal. Even the great Caesar cannot keep it leashed!"
"I am sorry," he repeated, throwing off the last of his soaked, tattered clothing and lying down on the bed.
"You are safe," I said. "That is all that ultimately matters."
And as I watched him slide into sleep, I knew that was true for me. He was safe tonight. But tomorrow, when the fighting commenced again?
The Roman civil wars that had spread to us now seemed to infect everything. It did not take long for the murdered Pompey's ghost to exact his final revenge: Achillas did not outlive Pothinus by many days, because Arsinoe killed him and turned the army over to Ganymedes. The knives that the assassins had used against Pompey had now found their way home into their masters' entrails.
Jubilant with power, Ganymedes launched a direct attack on the palace. Caesar and I were dining in the private apartments a week after the fighting on the island when a burning missile was lobbed right onto our balcony, followed by a rain of arrows with messages attached.
Caesar pulled one out of the wooden sun canopy and held it up for me to see.
Surrender, you Roman dogs! it read.
"How original," I said.
"Here's another," said Caesar, bending down to pick one up.
A gold piece for every soldier who comes over to Arsinoe, it promised.
That was more dangerous.
"They have no money to pay," I said scornfully.
"The common soldier does not know that," said Caesar. "I must go below and rally them." He hastened away.
Within a few days the furious ingenuity of Ganymedes was manifested directly in our water supply. Unable to storm the palace or to dislodge us from our holdings in the city and the island, he resolved to drive us out by thirst.
The cooks had discovered that the water in the conduits had turned salty and brackish, and the soldiers stationed in town reported that all the water in the local households had the same problem, which had mysteriously developed overnight.
"How did they manage to do it?" Caesar marveled. "How did they taint all our water without hurting their own?"
I called in our engineers, and the answer was soon clear. Alexandria's water supply comes from underground tunnels that channel Nile water through the city. Ganymedes had divided the water flow, protecting his own, and pumping seawater into ours.
"This war has not been easy," Caesar admitted. "The enemy is resourceful and clever. They force us to be more so. I will speak to the troops." I thought he sounded tired, and nearer the end of his resources than he would wish to sound.
From the upper balcony of the palace he addressed his officers and men, as they waited in the open space below.
"The cowardly Ganymedes and his put-together army of pirates and slaves and corrupted Romans have the knowledge to construct giant waterwheels to draw seawater up to higher ground," he shouted. "How clever! How impressive! Does he think by this to conquer us? By a boy's toys?"
From the way the men were restlessly moving, I could see how uncomfortable they were. They were thirsty. They had probably drunk all the wine available, and now there was nothing.
"A boy should not go to war! A boy's toys cannot triumph over an experienced man's knowledge, and the determination and courage of his troops! You see, I know where there is water to be found, and easily. There are always veins of fresh water in beaches, and not far below the surface. A few hours' digging will yield us all the water we wish!"
Was this true? Or was he merely hoping?
"And furthermore, even if there is no water there, we hold command of the sea, and it is an easy matter to sail forth in either direction and bring back a supply of water. So fear not, but get out your shovels!"
The men did not give their usual cheers. They craved an orderly retreat, to sail away from this mess.
"Think not of abandoning your posts! If they see us boarding ships, they will rush our barricades. An orderly withdrawal is not possible for us now." He paused. "Nor is it necessary! To the shovels!" He hoisted one up and flourished it. "To the beach!"
Once again, the fair goddess of fortune looked upon her favorite son, and Caesar's conjecture was proved right. Overnight digging yielded several wells, and when the sun came up the next morning the problem was solved. The enemy's days of labor had been thwarted in only a few hours by Caesar's efforts.
News came that some supply ships of the Thirty-seventh Legion, arriving ahead of the overland troops, had overshot Alexandria and were anchored to the west. Caesar took his small fleet and went out to meet them. It looked as if the end of the war was near, but even this simple action turned into a battle, as the enemy attacked the ships and Caesar was hard put to avoid being captured. In the end, the seamanship of the Romans defeated the enemy, and Caesar returned safely.
"Each thing has proved harder than I ever expected," he said wearily. "And this has gone on for much too long. I am very tired." He shook his head. "I was expecting Alexandria to provide me with a rest from all my campaigning. Amusing, isn't it?"
Yes, the war had gone on for a long time. And in the last few days I had finally realized something, something I had decided not to tell Caesar until the war was over. But each time I thought it might be over, it proved to be merely one episode that was over. It seemed to stretch out interminably.
One of my odd ways of thinking is that I find it hard to mix things. I like to take each thing in its turn, one at a time. That was what I had meant to do now. But the war went on and on! And seeing Caesar grow more and more worn and tired, his sleep deeper and his footsteps less springy, my heart took hold of my tongue. I also found it harder and harder to keep anything from him, he seemed so much a part of myself.
"You are a great general," I said slowly. "There is now no one in all the world to challenge you. What is occurring here is almost an accident, as if these men have not heard what everyone else knows. I have heard of isolated troops fighting on long after a war is ended and their commanders have gone home. Such is the situation here. Do not lose heart."
"I haven't lost heart," he said, "so much as patience."
"If you conquered the entire world, it is not too late to found a dynasty," I said.
"Rome does not have monarchs."
"I said the entire world, not just Rome. Egypt joined with Rome is no longer Rome. And this new creation would need a dynasty."
He jerked his head up and looked at me as if I were dangling something dangerous in front of him. A forbidden golden object. A sealed will. An enormous bribe. His eyes narrowed, but not before I had caught the quick leap of curiosity and desire there. "What are you saying?"
"I am saying simply that--if you have an empire to bequeath, then we shall have the child to bequeath it to." It was thus I told him.
"A child." He looked shocked and disbelieving. "I had not thought to have a child."
"I know. It is almost thirty years since your daughter was born, your only child. All the world knew of your sorrow when she died."
He struggled not to show his rising joy. "It is possible?"
"Yes," I said. "It is not only possible, it is a certainty. And it is my gift to you. Not Alexandria, not Egypt--for those you could conquer--but a child, an heir of Caesar."
"A gift from the gods," he said, rising slowly and holding out his arms to me. "A most sublime, and unlooked-for, gift from the gods." He held me differently. And I was filled with joy that I had not waited any longer to tell him.
It was, of course, your gift, Isis: you, the Great Mother, had decided to bestow this fortune on us. It is you who can command barrenness to depart at your will, and you did so for Caesar. It was your purpose that--just as your son Horus could avenge his father, Osiris--when Caesar fell, attacked by evil men, he would have a son to avenge him. I know that now, whereas then I only rejoiced in the fact that I was able to give Caesar something that he wanted so badly, which until now had been withheld from him, when all the rest of the world had been laid at his feet.