The Gladiator (31 page)

Yannis steered the boat around Pharos island towards the second, smaller harbour. It was only as they approached the lighthouse built on to the end of the island that Cato fully appreciated the scale of the structure, built on the orders of the second Ptolemy. A vast square base with walls and low towers served as the platform for the main tower, which soared into the sky, over four hundred feet in height. The first level was square, pierced with rows of windows. Above it was an eight-sided section leading up to the final, smallest level, which was round. The fire was housed in the upper floors of the highest level, and above that gleamed the huge brass reflector. There was a tiny flurry of white specks swirling about the top of the lighthouse as one of its keepers hurled scraps of food to the gulls. Cato and the other Romans were stunned by the building. In all their lives they had seen nothing to compare to it, not even in Rome, with all its grand buildings. Yannis laughed at their awed expressions.

‘Somewhat humbling, isn’t it? Not so sure that Rome is the centre of the world any more?’

‘I had no idea it was as magnificent as this,’ Cato admitted. ‘How on earth could they have built it?’

He had been raised with the idea ofRoman omnipotence. Rome was the greatest city, its people the greatest race, and its gods were the most powerful. He had not been fool enough to take this smugness at face value, but he had travelled the empire from Britain to Palmyra and seen nothing to compete with the magnificence of Rome. Until now.

T h e boat passed the end of Pharos island and a short while later Yannis altered course and headed into the port that opened out beyond the lighthouse. The wind was now abeam the fishing boat, and it heeled as Yannis adjusted his mainsheets. The main concen- tration of shipping was over to the right, and Cato saw a fleet of large vessels heading directly for them. Yannis altered course to avoid them.

‘The grain fleet,’ he explained.

Cato nodded as he examined the vessels more closely. They were built like the
Horus,
but on a larger scale, with high sides that bulged outwards. A purple pennant rippled from the top of each mast. He watched them as they sailed past with almost stately grace, as the faint swell had almost no effect on them. Each vessel was filled with grain destined for Rome, where it would feed the common people for the next four months while the fleet returned to Alexandria for the next consignment. Ever since the Emperor Augustus had finally annexed Egypt and made it into a Roman province, the fertile fields watered by the great river Nile had become the breadbasket of Rome. Unfortunately the mob had come to rely on the free handout, and successive emperors had not dared to put an end to the dole, no matter how much gold it cost them.

The courses of the fleet and the fishing boat diverged as Yannis steered the craft towards a small port at the base of the peninsula that protected the harbour. A fleet of Roman warships lay at anchor in the sheltered waters, and beyond them steps and ramps rose up from the sea towards a large palace complex.

‘That’s the old royal port,’ said Yannis. And the palaces built by the Ptolemies. Except for that building to the right. That’s the Great Library.’

Cato looked towards the building Yannis had mentioned. He had assumed that it was yet another palace, but now that he looked more closely he could see a steady stream of people moving in and out of the vaulted entrance. More were visible on the balconies on the upper floors, scanning racks of scrolls or talking in small groups.

As the fishing boat approached one of the ramps that emerged from the sea,Yannis uncleated the mainsheets and thrust them into the hands of two of Cato’s men. ‘Let them go the moment I say’

He judged the approach carefully, and when the boat was no more than fifty feet from the shore he called out, ‘Now’

The sail flapped up and billowed freely in the wind, and the fishing boat rapidly lost way through the water. Just before it grounded, Yannis heaved on the steering oar and the craft surged round and bumped gently on the stone ramp a short distance below the surface. Their arrival had been noticed by some of the sentries guarding the steps up to the palace, and a section of legionaries led by an optio came marching down the ramp.

‘What’s all this then?’ the optio called out. ‘You gypos know you ain’t allowed to land here. Off limits. Military only, so piss off.’

Cato felt his temper rise. After eight mostly sleepless days of being confined to the small fishing boat, he was desperate to be on dry land again. He was about to tear a strip off the optio for insubordination when he realised that he was so tired he was not thinking clearly. His clothes, and those of his men, were grimy, and they had not shaved since leaving Gortyna. It was no wonder the optio had mistaken them for common fishermen.

‘What are you waiting for?’ The optio folded his arms. ‘Get lost before I have the lads give you a good hiding.’

Cato cleared his throat. ‘A word to the wise, Optio. Best to check the lie of the land before you blunder into it. I’m Tribune Quintus Licinius Cato, and these men are my escort.’

The optio’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinised the bedraggled men standing in the boat. He shook his head. ‘Bollocks you are.’

Cato reached down for his leather tube, pulled the lid off and took out his letter of commission, signed and sealed by Sempronius. ‘Here. Read it.’

The optio glanced at the sea lapping a short distance from his boots and shook his head. ‘No, you bring it here. Just you mind. Those others stay in the boat for now.’

Cato eased himself over the side and splashed down into the knee-deep water. He surged ashore and thrust the letter at the optio. The other man took the document, unrolled it and scanned the contents for a moment before he looked warily at Cato. ‘Tribune Cato?’

‘That’s what it says. I have to see Legate Petronius immediately’ ‘Now just wait a minute, sir. What is going on?’ Cato fixed him with a firm stare and there was iron in his tone when he replied. ‘Optio, do I really have to explain myself to you?’ The optio chewed his lip a moment and then saluted. ‘Sorry, sir. I am at your command.’ ‘That’s better. Now, I want my men fed and rested. Have your section look after them. You will take me to the legate.’ The optio nodded, then detailed his companions to help secure the boat and escort the arrivals to the garrison’s barracks. He turned back to Cato and bowed his head. ‘If you’d follow me, sir.’ He led Cato up the ramp and through a towering arch decorated with a frieze ofEgyptian deities. On the far side was a large courtyard with an elegant colonnade running around three sides. Opposite the arch, a hundred paces away, a wide flight of steps rose up to the entrance of the main palace. A section of legionaries stood outside, shields and javelins grounded as they took their watch in the blazing sunshine. Another arch to the right opened out on to a busy thoroughfare of considerable breadth that was thronged with people and pack animals. The din of the street was partly muted by the colonnade, but even so, the hubbub of a teeming population reminded Cato of Rome.

The optio turned to him as they strode across the courtyard, smiling at the wobbly gait of the tribune. ‘Been at sea a few days then, sir?’

Cato nodded.

‘Mind telling me what you and your lads were doing in a fishing boat?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh?’ The optio was puzzled for an instant before he got the point. He clamped his mouth shut and they continued in silence, climbing the dazzling white steps towards the palace entrance. The sentries advanced their javelins in salute as the optio passed, and tried to look straight ahead and not pay any attention to the bedraggled man, reeking offish, who accompanied him. Inside the entrance was a large hall, filled with petitioners waiting for their chance to put their grievances to the legate or one of his officials. At the end of the hall was a large doorway, flanked by eight more legionaries. A table stood in front of the doors, seated at which was a centurion in a light tunic. His vine cane lay in front of him. He was reading through one of the petitions when the optio and Cato approached the desk.

‘Yes?’ he said without looking up.

The optio stood to attention. ‘Beg to report the arrival of Tribune Quintus Licinius Cato, sir.’

‘Yes, just wait a moment,’ the centurion muttered automatically, before he realised what had been said. He looked up, glanced at the optio and then switched his gaze to Cato. ‘Him-a tribune? What nonsense is this?’

‘It’s true, sir. He showed me his letter of appointment.’ ‘Did he? Let me see.’ Cato impatiently produced the document again. The centurion read carefully through it, then examined the seal closely before he puffed his cheeks out and finally returned it to Cato. ‘Seems genuine. What brings you here, Tribune? Shipwreck and rescue by a fishing boat from the smell of it.’

‘I am here to see the legate, on a matter ofthe gravest importance. I have been sent by Senator Sempronius, acting governor of Crete.’

‘You want to see the legate?’ ‘At once.’ ‘That’s tricky, sir. He’s in his private bath suite. Left orders that he was not to be disturbed.’ ‘That’s too bad. I have to speak with him now’ The centurion weighed up his orders against Cato’s obvious impatience, and nodded. ‘Very well, sir. Optio, take him up to the roof garden. Legate’s private baths.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The optio saluted and gestured to Cato to follow him as the centurion returned to his petitions, working out which ones might provide him with the best chance of earning a hefty bribe. The sentries opened the doors to admit Cato and the optio, and on the far side they entered an inner hall. Corridors stretched away to the right and left, and directly ahead a staircase led up into the sunlight. Cato followed the optio as he mounted the steps. They emerged on to a wide-open space flanked by tall walls.The sounds ofthe city were muffled and competed with the light splash of fountains. Palms grew in geometrically arranged flower beds and provided occasional shade over the paved walkways that bisected the roof garden. Against the far wall Cato could see a suite ofbuildings and the shimmer ofa plunge pool. Smoke wafted up from the furnace that provided the heat for the steam and hot rooms of the legate’s private bath suite.

As they approached the pool, Cato saw that a small party of men was sitting in the water chatting idly. Two more lay on cushioned benches as slave masseurs worked on their backs, gleaming with scented oil.

‘What’s this?’ one of the men called out as he saw Cato and the optio striding towards the pool. ‘We have visitors! Legate, one of the men has found himself a tramp.’

There was some laughter and the officers looked round curiously as the optio halted and stood to attention, saluting one of the men being massaged. ‘Sir, beg to report that Tribune Cato wishes to speak to you.’

The legate rolled his head round towards the optio, and a brief flicker of anxiety flitted over his face as he looked at Cato. ‘Tribune Cato? Never heard of him. Are you his slave? Tell your master to make an appointment to see me through the usual channels.That is, via my clerks’ office. Now go.’

Cato stood his ground with a determined expression. ‘I
am
Tribune Cato.’

‘You, a tribune? I don’t believe it.’

‘I have already presented my written authority to two of your officers. I can produce it again, if you wish.’

‘Later. First, tell me what a tribune is doing in Alexandria. W h o sent you? Narcissus?’

Cato could not help smiling at mention of the emperor’s private secretary. Aside from being Claudius’s personal adviser, Narcissus also ran a formidable network of spies and assassins to protect his master.

‘I haven’t come from Rome, sir. I sailed here from Crete.’ Petronius’s nose wrinkled. ‘You stink of rotting fish.’ ‘A fishing boat was all that could be found to bring me here. Now send these people away, Legate Petronius. We must talk.’ ‘Send them away? H o w dare you?’ ‘I must speak with you alone, on a vital matter. I have been sent here on the orders of the acting governor of Crete.’ ‘Acting governor? Has that fool Hirtius been replaced?’ ‘Hirtius is dead, along with the majority of the senior officials of the province.’ ‘Dead?’ The legate pushed the masseur away and rolled round to sit on the bench facing Cato. ‘How?’ ‘There was an earthquake on the island. He was entertaining his officials and local dignitaries when it struck. Much of the palace collapsed, burying Hirtius and his guests.’

‘Earthquake?’ The legate raised his eyebrows. ‘There have been rumours in the city about Crete being destroyed by a giant wave.’

‘The island’s still there. But there was a wave, and between it and the earthquake nearly every city and town has been reduced to ruins.’

‘So who’s in charge now?’

‘Senator Lucius Sempronius. We were travelling together when the wave struck.The ship was forced to head for the nearest port, and that’s when we learned that the disaster had struck the island. He took charge of the situation.’

‘Sempronius?’ the legate mused.’I knew him once. A fine officer. So he’s taken charge in Crete? Well, good for him. But forgive me, how can I be certain that you speak the truth? You’ve just washed up from the sea with some fanciful tale of disaster. Why should I believe you?’

Cato took the ring from the leather tube around his neck and handed it to Petronius. ‘There, recognise the crest?’

Petronius held it up and examined the design, a wolf’s head over crossed forks of lightning. He nodded. ‘It belongs to Sempronius. All right then, why has he sent you here?’

Cato looked meaningfully at the other guests, all of whom had been listening to the preceding conversation in avid silence. ‘Sir, I really must insist on speaking to you alone.’

‘Alone, eh?’ Petronius stared at Cato for a moment before he clapped his hands. ‘Out! Leave us! At once.’

His officers and other guests hurriedly climbed out of the pool and, picking up their robes from the benches and seats that surrounded it, made off towards the far corner of the garden, where a terrace overlooked the harbour. Once the last of them was out of earshot, the legate waved the optio away. ‘Stand over there, at the end of the pool. If I call for you, come running.’