Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile (40 page)

“Do you think we’re the only ones left alive?” I said.

Artemon sat unmoving with his back against the wall and his eyes closed.

“Of all the men who were aboard the
Medusa,
I mean. Do you think all the others are dead?”

Artemon opened his eyes, but didn’t look at me. He stared into space.

I coughed and cleared my throat, longing for a drink of water. “I ask, because it may have some bearing on how long the king lets me live. My little life can’t have much value to him, except that I might yet provide a few clues as to what went wrong with his plans for the golden sarcophagus. I only hope that dour chamberlain doesn’t insist on torturing me to get some answers, since I’d gladly tell him all I know. But I don’t suppose I’ll have a choice about that—”

“They’re all dead,” said Artemon, finally breaking his silence. He still wouldn’t look at me. His voice was so lifeless and cold that it raised hackles on my neck. “The captains of the two warships had orders to kill any survivors.”

“What about the men who fell during the raid? It’s possible that some were only wounded—”

“Any man we left behind in the city, who somehow survived, was also to be killed.” Artemon’s lips twisted into a grim semblance of a smile. “I was the one who insisted on that stipulation, but Ptolemy readily agreed. There were to be no survivors, no witnesses … no one who might figure out what had happened and come looking for me later, seeking revenge … and no one who knew where all that treasure was buried, back at the site of the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

“You told me there was nothing in those buried crates worth digging up.”

“I lied.”

He spoke without emotion. His lack of any remorse in the aftermath of so much deceit and death was appalling, but I tried to hide my reaction. The important thing was to keep him talking, so as to learn as much as I could from him.

“What about Metrodora?” I said. “The last I saw of her, she was alive, on the wharf, holding onto the kidnapped girl. Then she seemed to vanish.”

“Why not? She
is
a witch.” Again, staring into space, he flashed that grim smile. “Metrodora alone was meant to survive. She … and the girl. On my orders, Captain Mavrogenis took them ashore while the raid was taking place. He locked the girl in a room in the customs house, and gave the key to Metrodora.”

“So you intended to come back for the girl later. After the fake sarcophagus was loaded and the ship set off, you were going to jump off the
Medusa
and swim to the royal barque, while the
Medusa
sailed to its destruction. Then you and Metrodora would collect your payment from the king and go your separate ways—with you taking the girl. Is that right?”

He nodded.

“Was Metrodora your partner all along?”

“Almost from the day we met. She helped me, and I helped her. You saw how the two of us ran the Cuckoo’s Nest. I gave the orders, but it was Metrodora who knew how to use their fears and hopes to control them. She called it witchcraft. Maybe it was. Between the two of us, there seemed to be nothing we couldn’t get those fools to believe, and nothing we couldn’t trick them into doing.”

Again I suppressed my revulsion. I had never met a man so calculating or so callous. “But at the very end, something went wrong between you and Metrodora. I saw her holding onto the girl, trying to keep you from taking her.”

“At the last moment, when I told Metrodora there had been a change of plans—that I was going to board the ship after all, take the girl and the golden sarcophagus with me and make a run for it—she refused to come along. She thought I was mad. I suppose I was.”

He finally looked me in the eye, with a gaze so full of hatred it made my blood run cold. I swallowed hard and studied the chains holding him, making sure there was no way he could reach me.

“
You’re
the one who caused the trouble,” he said. “You forced the change of plans when you spotted the substitution. No one else noticed, except you—and then you had to point it out to everyone. Then you attacked me when I boarded the ship. Who are you, Roman? You call yourself Pecunius, but Metrodora told me your name is Gordianus. Why did you come to the Cuckoo’s Nest? And how is it that you’re still alive?”

I realized why Artemon had decided to talk to me. Just as I wanted to resolve certain questions that only he could answer, so he wanted to understand the man who had ruined all his carefully laid plans.

“You ask who I am, Artemon, and I’ll tell you. But first, let me see if I understand exactly what happened. Whose idea was this scheme to steal—or pretend to steal—the sarcophagus of Alexander? Did it originate with you, or with King Ptolemy?”

“It all started when the king’s chamberlain, that stick insect, Zenon, first contacted me a few months ago, through intermediaries. The messages we exchanged were tentative at first, as we felt each other out. Then the plan seemed to hatch itself, and we were off and running. Some nights I could hardly sleep for the excitement. The fact that I had to keep the scheme a secret from everyone at the Cuckoo’s Nest made it all the more thrilling. Even Metrodora knew only the bare outlines.”

“What was in it for the king? What did he hope to gain from it?”

“Enough gold to pay his troops!” Artemon laughed harshly. “The king is desperate. His brother’s forces far outnumber his own, and they’ll be here any day now. His own men have been deserting him for months. It’s because he’s run out of money. Ah, but how to get some more? By melting down some fabulous treasure—but which one? For the king’s needs, only the grandest treasure of all would suffice: the golden sarcophagus of Alexander.”

“The people would never stand for such a sacrilege,” I said.

“Exactly. But what if the sarcophagus were to be stolen? What if there was a daring raid, and pirates absconded with it? Or better yet, pirates led by some traitorous member of the king’s own family, some wicked bastard cousin and pretender to the throne?”

“The people would still be furious.”

“Yes, but in such a circumstance their fury could be directed away from the king. If he lacked enough soldiers to protect the sarcophagus, whose fault was that? He could say, ‘I might have stopped those scoundrels, if the few soldiers I have left weren’t busy quelling that riot over at the Temple of Serapis!’ In the end it would be the fault of everyone
but
the king—his brother, for marching on the city and causing chaos, and his own troops, for deserting their posts, and the people themselves, for going on a rampage and distracting the few loyal soldiers left, who should have been defending the city’s greatest treasure instead of putting out fires.”

“But in fact, the sarcophagus was not to be carried off. It was to stay here in Alexandria.…”

“Where the king could strip the jewels and melt down the gold. As if by magic, the royal treasury would be full again. The king could buy back his army, and have so much gold left over he could pay off the invaders as well.”

“But what if the plot had been discovered?” I said. “What if something went wrong—as it did?”

“It was a risky business, to be sure. But the king had little choice. A wild gamble was the only thing that could save him.”

“And you, Artemon? What was in this scheme for you?”

For the first time, his features softened a bit. He stared into space and sighed. “The days of the Cuckoo’s Gang were numbered. Whoever ends up on the throne in Alexandria, the destruction of the bandit gangs in the Delta will become his highest priority. For a while, I thought about fleeing to Crete and taking the gang with me. Crete is wide open, they say—but that means every bandit king and pirate captain in the world is headed there, thinking to make himself master of the island. That’s too much competition.” He shook his head. “For all its delights, banditry is a dangerous profession. I’d had enough. I wanted a way out, preferably with my head on my shoulders, a royal pardon, and enough gold to last me a lifetime.

“So, when Zenon contacted me and put forth his scheme, it seemed that my prayers had been answered. I responded cautiously at first, and then with more and more enthusiasm. It was fascinating work, planning all the details of the raid. It was I who suggested that the Jackal would be the perfect man to make the duplicate wagon and crate, and the fake sarcophagus to put inside it.

“And when it was all over, with a full pardon from the king and a very large payment for myself and for Metrodora, I could travel anywhere I wished. I could begin a new life with…”

“With Axiothea?”

He bowed his head. “Yes. But then
you
had to spoil everything. You and that stupid lion!”

He glared at me and lurched against his chains. I flinched and pressed myself against the wall, but the chains held him fast.

“The kidnapping of Axiothea,” I said. “Whose idea was that? The Jackal’s?”

Puzzlement was added to the hatred on his face. “How did you know the Jackal was involved in that?”

“Answer my questions first, Artemon, and then I’ll answer yours. Why did you kidnap that girl?”

“For money, of course. Her lover is very rich. And … for revenge.”

“Revenge against whom?”

“Her rich lover, of course! His name is Tafhapy. I didn’t just want his money. I wanted to make him as miserable as I could, by taking the person dearest to him.”

“But why? What grudge do you have against this Tafhapy?”

“That’s none of your business, Roman!”

“But the kidnapping was a failure. Tafhapy never replied to your demands.”

Artemon frowned. “That was a disappointment. The Jackal assured me that Axiothea was precious to him. Why did he never respond?”

Because the henchmen of the Jackal took the wrong girl,
I could have told him. But I saw no point in saying more about Bethesda than I had to. “Why did you change your mind at the very end?” I asked. “Why did you put the girl on the
Medusa,
and try to board the ship yourself, when you knew the king’s warships would sink her?”

“Because
you
exposed the fake sarcophagus! What was I to do after that, with all the men watching me and hanging on my every word? If they realized I’d tricked them, even those fools would have turned on me. I decided to do what King Ptolemy had done—take a wild chance. I decided to steal the sarcophagus, after all. Then I’d set out across the sea and do what the men were expecting me to do—make myself king of Crete, with Axiothea as my queen!”

His eyes glimmered at the sweetness of that impossible dream. In my last moments aboard the
Medusa,
I, too, if only for an instant, had glimpsed such a dream.

“What about the warships? You knew they were out there, beyond the harbor, waiting to ram the
Medusa.
”

“We’d have outrun them! They came at Mavrogenis with the advantage of surprise, but I’d have known they were there, and we’d have slipped past them. It wouldn’t have been easy, but we could have done it—I’m sure of it! And if that had happened, I’d be thanking you now instead of cursing you, Roman, for guiding me to the destiny that should have been mine all along. Instead … I’ll end with nothing, not even my own head.”

I felt a stab of pity for him. I suppressed it. Because of him, Menkhep and Ujeb and Captain Mavrogenis and scores of others had died horrible deaths. He had been willing to sacrifice all of them for a few bags of gold and a fresh start.

“Why Crete?” I said. “Why not Cyrene? Why not go there and claim your birthright as the son of Apion?”

Artemon stared at me for a moment, speechless, then threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, Pecunius, when will you cease to surprise me? I thought you’d seen through all my deceptions, yet you still believe me to be the king’s cousin!”

“Then you’re
not
the bastard son of Apion?”

“Of course not!”

“But Menkhep told me … and all the men seemed to think…”

“They believed what Metrodora and I wanted them to believe. And so did you, it seems.”

“Who are you, then, Artemon? Where did you come from?”

“I’m exactly what I told you and the others in that little speech I gave before the raid. ‘The bastard son of a whore’ I called myself, and so I am.”

“But not the son of Apion?”

“Give it up, Pecunius!” He shook his head. “I was born in Alexandria, the son of a whore and a freeborn Egyptian who never cared to claim me. I grew up poor but free alongside my twin sister.”

“So it’s true that you had a twin?”

His face softened. “Artemisia was her name. She was beautiful and clever—far cleverer than I—and always kind to me. Then our mother died. Artemisia went her way, and I went mine. A visiting merchant from Syria took a fancy to me, and took me back to Damascus with him. I’d taught myself to read and write, and he thought to train me as a scribe. How I loved all those books in his library! But while he fiddled with me, I fiddled with his accounts. When he discovered how many shekels I’d stolen from him, he was furious. He would have tortured and killed me, I have no doubt. Instead, I killed him. The Syrian was the first man I ever killed, but not the last. By the time I arrived in the Delta, I was quite experienced in the ways of crime. I fell in with that gang of fools, who desperately needed a leader, and it all worked out beautifully. The rest, you know.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Now it’s your turn to talk, Pecunius. Who are you, and why did you come to the Cuckoo’s Nest? How is it that you know the Jackal? Why did you attack me after I boarded the
Medusa,
and how did you manage to get off? And Axiothea—was she still aboard … when the
Medusa
sank?”

I had intended to answer his questions, as he had answered mine, but now, I hesitated. Though Artemon was in chains, I still feared him. He had revealed himself to be a vengeful and remorseless killer. He already hated me for having ruined his plans. How would he react if he knew I had deceived him from the start and had come to the Delta to take back the girl he knew as Axiothea?

“Go ahead, Pecunius. Speak! What do you have to lose? In a short while, we’ll both be dead.”