The Seven Hills (31 page)

Zeno and Izates stepped aside. "What kind of Cynic are you, Izates?" Zeno asked, grinning. "I've never known you to flatter a man's vanity like that."

Izates shrugged. "Of late, I find myself becoming less of a Cynic and more—what shall I call it? A utilitarian? It's
the atmosphere of this place. It encourages a less rigid, more
flexible frame of mind. One does what is necessary to produce a desirable result."

"And this place was once your very model of hidebound,
inflexible conservatism," Zeno noted.

"We live in a new age, my friend," Izates said. "Come on, let's go find some lunch. That is a necessity as well."

Hamilcar, shofet of Carthage, found to his surprise that he was pleased with the world. The failure of his Egyptian expedition was no more than a temporary setback, the usurpation of Carthaginian territory by resurgent Rome nothing more than a worthy challenge whereby he could prove to the world his greatness, that he was no mere inheritor, but a conqueror in his own right.

The news from the River Arnus had filled him with satisfaction. Two whole Roman legions utterly annihilated! The myth of Roman superiority destroyed! And he was not at all displeased that Mastanabal had been forced by his
losses to retreat. For the general to have continued to march
against Rome, even to capture the city, would have given him more honor than he should have. Then Mastanabal would have been the hero of this war, not his shofet. That would have been unfitting, and would have resulted in the general's immediate execution, lest he march against
Hamilcar and seize the throne for himself. With Mastanabal
safely in Gaul, raising troops for a renewed assault upon
Rome from the north, he served his purpose perfectly. The
Romans would strip badly needed legions from the South to
guard against that renewed attack, which would not come until Hamilcar was ready.

True, the great delay in his war plans caused by the fire rankled, but it might have been a blessing sent by the gods of Carthage, restraining him from moving too fast. There was no doubt that he was now in a far better position than
he had been. Perhaps, they had also sent him Queen Teuta,
who had so stimulated his mind, bringing out his true genius and helping him to recognize his destiny.

As a bonus, news of the victory had deflated Zarabel's
pretensions. The priests of Tanit did not call quite so loudly
for a
Tophet.
They could not claim that the gods of Carthage
had deserted her. Possibly, it was time to do something about Zarabel, as Queen Teuta urged constantly.

"Princess, this is no more than a setback," Echaz said, wringing his hands. "Who could have foretold
that General Mastanabal would prove so capable, or that all
the Roman legions are not as formidable as those we saw here?"

"How, indeed," she said bitterly, glaring at the eunuch. "Or that Hamilcar would strike from the north before even setting sail with his main army? Has my brother suddenly grown crafty? I doubt it." With a hiss, she threw herself upon her couch. Slaves rushed to fan her.

She shook her head. The priest was useless in this crisis.
He could think only in terms of the temples and the city of Carthage itself. He was incapable of thinking on a world scale. This very thought set her mind along another course.

She had let herself be distracted too long by the ancient
struggle for power between priest and shofet, between Tanit
and Baal-Hammon, between herself and her brother.

New powers were at work now. Rome was back. Parthia
threatened to engulf the East. Even Ptolemaic Egypt, sunk
in decadence and torpor, was waking under the influence of
the strange Roman soldier-savant Scipio and the bizarre Archimedean school of the Museum. It was time for her to take action on a world scale. She must bend some of these powers to her own purposes or go under along with Carthage. Courses of action began to come together in her mind, and it was like waking from a long sleep. She sat up and waved her slaves aside. She leapt from the bed and began pacing back and forth.

"Echaz, call in my scribes. Then send out servants to
summon my confidential sea agents. I have letters to deliver over a wide area of the sea, and I want this done quickly."

"At once, Princess!" the priest chirped, overjoyed to see
his sovereign and high priestess taking decisive action.

The faces of important men appeared in her mind's eye, and she ticked them off one by one: Hamilcar, her brother,
was the enemy. Marcus Scipio was lost to her, now involved
with Selene of Egypt. Titus Norbanus, the would-be new Alexander, was both capable and malleable. And General
Mastanabal, victor of the Avernus, was an ambitious man.

Swiftly, her. lethargy now gone, she put them in order and made her plans for what to do with each of them.

"What are we to do with them?" Agathocles
asked. He was the head of the Athenian Council, a board of the glorious city's richest men.

"Do with them?" said Herophilus, his eyes twinkling maliciously. "You mean, they are ours to do with as we
please? The question is: What are they going to do with us?"

"They look awful and smell worse," Laches said, "but
they are not all that numerous and they are in our territory."

The council had been in emergency session since word had come of the arrival of the Romans. It did not come as a
total surprise, since Greek skippers had been reporting regu
larly of the amazing progress of the Roman legions from Egypt through Judea and the Seleucid territories and along
the coastline of Ionia. The speed of the march was phenomenal, and the Roman commander's almost offhanded acquisition of a naval arm was stupefying. Still, when they woke up to find that the Romans occupied Piraeus, just a quick march down the Long Walls from Athens, the effect was stunning.

"What advantage is it that they are in our territory?" Herophilus demanded. "Can we just call up an army of veterans to repel them? Half the fighting men of Greece have turned mercenary and are signing on with Hamilcar of Carthage. Many of our best naval officers are helping the Romans build and officer a fleet."

"There have been no threats of hostility so far," cautioned
Libon, the greatest banker in Athens. "Let's not talk as if war was in the offing. These Romans seem to be eminently practical men, except for their somewhat obsessive need to humble Carthage. The Roman ambassador has already requested that we render every assistance to their wandering army, and that we will incur the gratitude of the Senate thereby."

"And the undying enmity of Carthage," Agathocles said.

"When have we ever known anything but hostility from Carthage?" Laches asked. "I don't like this resurgence of Rome, but they have put a check to Hamilcar's ambitions, and for this we owe them something."

Agathocles was about to say something when the doorman entered and informed them that a Roman spokesman had arrived from Piraeus.

"Well, let's have a look at this prodigy," Agathocles said.
Moments later a man in gilded armor strode into the room, trailing a brilliant scarlet cloak. Under his arm he cradled a
plumed helmet. His handsome face was craggy and fierce, as
they had come to expect from Romans. Agathocles intro
duced himself and the other members of the council. "I take
it I address the glorious Titus Norbanus?"

"I am Decimus Arrunteius, admiral of the Roman fleet. My general sends his compliments to the noble Council of Athens, and regrets that he cannot come to you personally, but must attend to his duties in Piraeus."

"It is most irregular to send a subordinate, when only
eight miles separate Piraeus from Athens," Agathocles said.

"Yes," concurred Herophilus, "I'd think that your commander would be anxious to tour the Long Walls and scout
for weak spots." The others chuckled uncomfortably.

"No need," Arrunteius said. "I can describe every stone
myself. There's a shocking bulge in the wall two miles from Piraeus. I suspect it dates from the rebuilding after Lysander
of Sparta tore the walls down. A little battering at that spot will bring down a section twenty paces wide, and it wouldn't take a whole morning's work." He enjoyed their stupefied expressions for a moment. "But, enough of military matters. My general is most anxious to establish friendly relations with the noble Council."

"We have already established cordial relations with your
Senate," Agathocles said with great dignity.

"Yes, I'm sure," said the very young and impossibly arro
gant Roman. "But General Norbanus wishes to put his es
teem on a more personal footing, something to proclaim his
own friendship with this august body." He clapped his hands. His palms were so hardened by a lifetime of drill with sword, spear and shield that it was like two slabs of
hardwood striking together. Slaves entered, bearing on their
shoulders poles from which hung bronze-strapped chests. These they set down, and soon there were.some fifty of the boxes nearly covering the floor. Arrunteius began flinging back the lids.

"Thus does General Norbanus declare his esteem, with gifts for the noble Council of Athens."

The Council gazed upon the boxes with bedazzled eyes. Each was full of gold in the form of bars or coins. They were
rich men, but the wealth of Greece was trifling compared with that of the East.

"I think," said Libon the banker, "that your general will find that he has many, many friends in Athens."

Titus Norbanus watched the building of his
fleet and fretted at the slowness of the work, although he knew perfectly well that it was proceeding with unprecedented speed. The ship works of Piraeus and the neighboring ports had been put at his disposal, and he was constructing transports for all his men, all his treasure and
even his animals. It would have been feasible simply to use
the hulls he arrived with to ferry men and materiel to Italy,
each vessel making several crossings. But for his own rea
sons, he wanted everything to arrive at once.

Besides, he had much more than a short crossing in mind for his fleet. These ships were destined for a very long voy
age, indeed.

"When do we sail, Master?" asked Glaphyra, drifting
into his line of vision from the right. Roxana appeared from
the left. As usual, he had heard neither of them.

"We long to see Italy," Roxana said. "Will we have a great villa there? We hear it is so much more beautiful than Judea, or Greece."

"I will give you luxury beyond your expectations, never fear," he assured them. "And we sail before the next turning
of the moon. I've already sacrificed at the great temple of Poseidon for a safe voyage."

"We have calculated the best days for sailing," Glaphyra
said, unrolling a scroll. "It must be on the waxing of the moon, so that your fortunes will increase proportionately."

"And your father's birth sign indicates that his destiny and yours will intersect momentously," Roxana added.

"What are my immediate prospects?" Norbanus wanted to know.

"Limitless," said both sisters together.

"Leave me," he said. "I have work to do." The sisters
drifted away and he went over the election results. They had
arrived by courier that morning, the news only a few days old. Courier routes were now established throughout Italy, and swift cutters plied the waters to Rome's ever-growing establishment of overseas bases.

True to his father's promise, one of the year's consuls was
Hermanicus, the new family adherent of. the Norbani. The other was a Gracchus, old family but not a man of great distinction. This was only to be expected with most of the
best soldiers on active service with the legions. The old and
the unfit would be presiding in Rome for some time to come, and that would be bad in the future. Bad for the republic at large, anyway. Norbanus planned to use the fact to his advantage.

The rest of the list of winners was even more satisfying. The key office was the tribunate of the plebs, and this year's slate included no fewer than five whose influence could be counted upon. This was enough to ensure almost any favor
able legislation he might need. The Senate was powerful in assigning military commands, but the Plebeian Assembly could override Senate appointments. A tribune could veto an act of the Senate. A tribune could enact a bill to give command to a favorite of the plebs.

The old families had the prestige of long tenure in the Senate, but the new families were supreme in the popular
assemblies where most of the work of Rome got done. And
greatest of the new families were the Norbani.

He went into the great warehouse he had commandeered
as his headquarters. Here his secretaries copied out his or
ders, his quaestors kept accounts, his officers rendered their
reports. At one end of the huge room a crew of draftsmen worked at a crucial task. Norbanus had ordered maps
drawn: maps of the whole littoral touched by the great Mid
dle Sea. He wanted careful depictions of every port, every
town, every river, with distances noted and resources listed.
He knew how frustrating it was for a general to be lost, and how much easier it was to make plans if he knew what lay before him.