The Silver Eagle (52 page)

‘Gracchus!’ There was no mistaking the tone of command. ‘What’s going on?’

The man fell silent. A moment later, a short figure in dark brown robes arrived, the same the friends had seen earlier. He moved to confer with his
vilicus
.

‘These two just breezed in out of nowhere, sir,’ Gracchus muttered. ‘They’re looking for work!’

The deeply tanned newcomer had a mane of grey hair, a wild beard and shrewd brown eyes. With its metal-shod tip, the well-worn staff in his hands looked more like a weapon than a crutch. A weighty purse dangled from his leather belt, while a number of thick gold rings adorned his fingers. This was a wealthy man.

Romulus and Tarquinius waited patiently.

At length the short man had heard enough. ‘I am Hiero of Phoenicia. A
bestiarius
,’ he said, speaking Egyptian in a sonorous tone. ‘And you are?’

The haruspex repeated their names slowly and calmly.

Romulus racked his brains. He had heard of a man called Hiero before.

The
bestiarius
frowned at Tarquinius’ accent. ‘You’re Roman?’ he asked, switching without effort to Latin.

His men looked on uncomprehendingly.

‘We are,’ replied Tarquinius.

‘What are you doing here in the wilderness?’

‘We were guards on a merchant vessel,’ announced Romulus in a confident voice. ‘It was attacked by pirates south of here two days ago. When the ship was taken, the two of us managed to swim ashore. The others weren’t so lucky.’

‘Guards, eh?’ Hiero’s beady eyes lingered on Tarquinius’ scarred face and Romulus’ rusty mail shirt. ‘Not pirates?’

‘No,’ Romulus protested. ‘We’re honest men.’

‘Curious,’ said the
bestiarius
. ‘The local trireme only left its mooring near our camp yesterday. Before he left, the
trierarch
mentioned that he hadn’t seen any pirates for a while.’

Romulus did not rise to the bait.

Tarquinius intervened. ‘A trireme? On the Erythraean Sea?’ he scoffed. ‘No such thing.’

‘There is now, my friend,’ replied Hiero smugly. ‘We merchants complained so much that the Roman authorities in Berenice saw fit to commission three ships. They now patrol the seas south of Adulis, and piracy in the area has dropped, thank the gods.’

‘Excellent,’ cried Romulus. ‘With Jupiter’s blessing, they will find and punish the whoresons who killed our friends.’

The haruspex murmured in agreement.

Clearly sceptical of their story, Hiero stroked his beard. There was an uneasy pause. ‘Why have you approached my men?’ asked the
bestiarius
at length. ‘Do you need some water? Or food?’

It was patently obvious that the ragged-looking friends needed more than this. Hiero is playing with us, thought Romulus bitterly. He wants to know if we can benefit him in any way. But we have no ruby now, like the one Tarquinius had to buy the silk from Isaac. Nothing to buy our passage.

‘My thanks for your kind offer,’ murmured Tarquinius, bowing his head.

Romulus was quick to emulate him.

There was a small smile of recognition, but nothing more.

‘We had actually hoped to join your party,’ ventured Tarquinius. ‘As you know, the journey to Alexandria is long and dangerous. Especially for two men travelling on their own.’

Hiero pursed his lips. ‘I have little need of more mouths to feed every day.’

Tarquinius hung his head, waiting. It was time for Romulus to act on his own.

Romulus’ heart sank. No doubt the
bestiarius
had plenty of labourers and guards on his well-planned and well-funded expedition. He stared upwards, and a flock of small, brightly coloured birds caught his eye. Darting this way and that, their feathers shimmered brilliantly in the sun.

Tarquinius watched him sidelong.

We are worth far more than the average man, Romulus thought angrily.

Hiero turned to go.

‘My friend here has some medical knowledge,’ Romulus volunteered. ‘He can clean and stitch wounds as well as an army surgeon. I can also, although not to the same level of proficiency.’

The
bestiarius
spun around, suddenly beaming from ear to ear. ‘Why didn’t you say? Men with your abilities would be most welcome. There are many injured animals that will die without treatment.’ He laughed. ‘And some slaves.’

While exotic beasts were worth huge sums of money, Romulus found it chilling that their lives were more important than those of men.

‘Come! Come!’ Beckoning eagerly, Hiero led the pair away from the nets and pits, leaving Gracchus staring suspiciously after them. Recounting the trials and tribulations of his trip, the old
bestiarius
walked half a mile to the rear. Here, over a large area, sprawled a large collection of wooden pens and cages. The enclosures were all made of rough-hewn timber planks, fashioned from the trees that stood nearby. Many held antelope, from delicate ones with a white belly and black stripe along the flank to larger ones with graceful spiral horns. All of them clustered together, milling fearfully about their enclosures and sending clouds of dust into the air. Others contained buffalo or zebra. They paced to and fro, pawing the dirt and bellowing to register their distress. A single pen nearby had much taller sides than the others, and contained a pair of giraffes.

‘Strange, aren’t they?’ said Hiero. ‘The first two I’ve ever managed to catch alive and unharmed. They usually break their legs in the nets or pits.’

‘How will you get them on a ship?’ asked Romulus curiously.

‘That is something I’m working on,’ cackled Hiero. ‘But the money they’ll fetch in Rome will keep me thinking of ways!’

An old memory surfaced, and Romulus knew why the name Hiero was familiar. Shortly before he was sold into gladiator school, he had overheard Gemellus, his former master, having a conversation with his bookkeeper. They were talking about a venture to capture wild animals deep in the south of Egypt. Raising the necessary capital had been the only problem. And the expedition was to be led by a Phoenician
bestiarius
named Hiero! Romulus stole a glance at the old man. It seemed utterly amazing that he might have dealt with Gemellus. Old rage flared in his heart, and he resolved to find out what he could.

Angry roaring from a nearby cage drew Romulus’ attention.

Hiero saw him glancing at the large crate, which was made of extra thick logs. ‘That’s where I need your help most,’ confided the old
bestiarius
. ‘It contains a big lion we caught a few days ago. He tore open one of his front legs on a wooden spike, and the wound has become infected. It’s getting worse by the day.’

Reaching the cage, Romulus peered between the bars. The smell of pungent urine from within was overpowering. Inside he saw a male lion with a magnificent mane; it was pacing up and down, but with a heavy limp. When the beast turned to walk back, Romulus saw the injury Hiero had mentioned. Deep, ugly and infected, it extended in a ragged line all the way from the left elbow to the shoulder. Thick clusters of flies had been attracted by the smell and they buzzed around the confined space, trying to land on the wound at every opportunity. The lion lashed his tail from side to side in frustration, unable to disperse the annoying insects for more than a moment at a time. Romulus moved closer for a better look. The wound looked awful, and would certainly prove to be fatal if left untreated. Noticing him, the huge male snarled angrily and, despite the bars separating them, Romulus jumped back. Its canine teeth were as long as his fingers.

‘Well? Can you cure the beast?’ demanded Hiero. ‘It’s worth a damn fortune – alive.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Tarquinius replied. ‘First we will have to restrain it.’

Romulus looked in at the lion once more and was mesmerised by its deep amber eyes. He wondered if it felt the same as he had in the cells below the arena before a fight. Trapped. Alone. Angry. How could it be right to capture the big cat for sport? As he had been forced to fight and kill other gladiators? Yet to satisfy the bloodthirsty Roman public, it and countless thousands of others were ensnared and then transported huge distances to be slaughtered in the amphitheatre. Hunting the lion in the wild was acceptable, but not this. Romulus was filled with revulsion, but there was nothing he could do. This was life.

‘And if my slaves manage to tie it down?’ Hiero’s voice was insistent.

‘We can assess how bad the wound actually is,’ answered the haruspex. ‘That’s before cleaning and stitching it.’

‘Will your treatment work?’ queried the
bestiarius
. His face turned crafty. ‘If it doesn’t, I can offer you little more than a meal and a couple of full water bags.’

‘I’m sure that my friend here will be up to the task,’ Tarquinius announced.

Romulus’ stomach turned over with shock. He had never operated on an injury this severe. What is he thinking? He threw an angry glance at Tarquinius.

‘Excellent,’ said Hiero, now looking expectant. ‘I’ll gather a dozen men.’

Chapter XXVII: Alexandria

Three months pass . . .

Lake Mareotis, near Alexandria, winter 48
BC

H
iero was ecstatic. The long, difficult journey from Ethiopia was drawing to an end. All that remained was a relatively short voyage to Italy, and then he would be able to sell every last damn animal in his caravan. Another year of hard work was almost over, and the
bestiarius
would be heartily relieved when it was and his purse was bulging. After being trapped, the beasts had been transported hundreds of miles, by ship and in cages on wagons drawn by mules. The process had not been without its problems. It was simply not possible to capture so many creatures and confine them without some losses.

One of the giraffes had broken a hind leg in the bars of its enclosure and had to be killed. A number of antelope died without any apparent cause. Hiero knew from long experience that stress was the probable reason. It was the loss of a valuable bull elephant which pained the
bestiarius
most though. Panicking when his men tried to herd it on to one of the open, flat-bottomed transports, it had jumped into the sea, attracting attention of the worst kind. Even close to shore, there were always plenty of sharks about – hammerheads and other large types. Hiero had grown used to their constant presence at certain times of the year. Everyone had watched in awe as one daring shark had swum in and attacked the elephant. Feeling the first bite, the trumpeting bull became even more terrified and swam out further. It was a fatal mistake. Attracted by the blood staining the sea, more sharks soon arrived. By the end there were more than twenty, but it still took an age to kill the enormous creature. The piteous noises it made tore even at Hiero’s jaded heart. Eventually the elephant had succumbed though, a small grey island that bobbed back and forth in the reddened water.

But there were still reasons to be content, thought the
bestiarius.
Thanks to Romulus’ ministrations, the lion with the terrible leg wound had completely recovered. Many other animals, as well as injured slaves, had benefited from his and Tarquinius’ treatment. In truth, the expedition had been a resounding success. He had dozens of the more common animals like antelope and buffalo. As well as the big male, there were several other lions, four leopards, a giraffe and three elephants. But the greatest prize of all was a great armoured beast with a horn on its nose, something that Hiero had only ever heard of before. The rhinoceros had short legs for its size but could run faster than a man. Its immensely thick skin resembled metal plates, making it almost invulnerable. Possessed of poor eyesight but a keen sense of smell, the bad-tempered creature had gored two of his slaves to death when being captured. Others had been severely injured since.

That did not concern the
bestiarius
in the slightest. Such minor losses were all factored into his costs. If the gods continued to smile on him as they had up till now, his arrival at Alexandria would make him an even wealthier man. One or two more trips like this and he would be able to retire. Hiero stared surreptitiously at Romulus. Appearing out of the wilderness so unexpectedly, the young man and his quiet, scarred companion had been useful additions to his party. He had spent weeks trying to persuade them to stay on in his employ. While the pair had professed interest, the wily
bestiarius
had gathered that reaching Italy was their main aim. Still, he couldn’t complain. The work they had done had more than paid for their food and transport costs.

‘Well?’ he asked, stepping on to the shore. ‘What do you think of that?’

Romulus could scarcely believe his eyes. Beyond the far edge of the lake, the great walls stretched for miles. This, the capital founded almost three centuries earlier by Alexander of Macedon, was absolutely vast.

It had been so long since Romulus had seen a large city. The last had been Barbaricum, and before that, Seleucia. Yet the metropolis which sprawled from east to west dwarfed both. Even Rome, the heart of the mighty Republic, could not compare.

Tarquinius was lost for words. For him, reaching Alexandria was the culmination of a lifetime’s expectations. All those years before, Olenus had been correct. It was overwhelming – and frightening. Tarquinius felt as if fate were rushing in on him.

‘A magnificent sight, eh?’ cried Hiero. ‘Practically every street is wider than the biggest in Rome, and the buildings are made of white marble. And then there’s the lighthouse. Ten times taller than any house you’ve ever seen, yet it was built over two hundred years ago.’

‘Don’t forget the library,’ said the haruspex. ‘It’s the largest in the world.’

‘And?’ The
bestiarius
waved a dismissive hand. ‘What do I need with all that ancient learning?’

Tarquinius laughed. ‘You might not read it, but others do. Scholars come from far and wide to study here. There are books on mathematics, medicine and geography which cannot be found anywhere else.’

Hiero’s eyebrows rose in surprise. The slight, blond-haired man was constantly revealing new qualities. He and Romulus were obviously well educated, which had made their company far more appealing than that of Gracchus or any of his other employees. It was part of the reason that the
bestiarius
found himself discussing what to do with two strangers. They had spent long hours together on the journey, during which a certain level of trust had developed between them. Hiero had also come to fear Tarquinius a little, although he could not explain why.

‘Look,’ said Romulus.

A fine stream of smoke was rising into the air above the centre of the city.

‘That’s no household fire,’ breathed the
bestiarius
. ‘A large funeral pyre, perhaps?’

‘No,’ answered Tarquinius. ‘There’s a battle going on.’

Romulus stared in shock. This was most unexpected.

‘How could you know?’ Hiero demanded. He had seen no need to mention the civil war between Ptolemy and his sister Cleopatra, and his slaves knew little of such affairs.

‘It is written in the sky overhead,’ said the haruspex.

Unusually bereft of words, the old man’s mouth opened and closed.

Romulus hid a smile.

‘You’re a soothsayer?’

Tarquinius inclined his head.

Hiero looked aggrieved. ‘You never mentioned it before.’

Tarquinius’ dark eyes bored into the
bestiarius
. ‘I saw no need.’

Hiero swallowed noisily. ‘As you say.’

‘Who’s fighting?’ asked Romulus.

‘There’s been trouble recently between the king and his sister,’ interrupted Hiero, anxious to retain control. ‘It’s probably just some rioting. Nothing to worry about.’

Romulus studied the sky over the city. There
was
something there. A different air, was it? He wasn’t sure, but a bad feeling entered his mind and he looked away.

‘But foreign troops are involved,’ said Tarquinius.

‘Greek or Judaean mercenaries,’ Hiero responded triumphantly. ‘They’re commonly used in Egypt.’

‘No.’

Cowed by the haruspex’ ominous tone, Hiero fell silent.

‘I see legionaries, thousands of them.’

His countrymen, here? Romulus wanted to shout out loud with joy. ‘Romans fighting Egyptians?’ he cried.

Tarquinius nodded. ‘They are hard pressed, too. Badly outnumbered.’

Romulus was amazed by the strong urge to help that overcame him. Before, he would not have particularly cared what happened to Rome’s citizens, or its troops. After all, they cared little for slaves. But life had changed him. He was an adult now, bound to no one. Surviving constant and bloody combat as a gladiator, soldier and pirate had given Romulus an unshakeable belief in himself.

And helped me realise what I am, he thought proudly. I am a Roman. Not a slave. And my father is a nobleman.

Beside him, unnoticed, Tarquinius looked on in approval.

Romulus sighed. It was pointless thinking like that. Without proof of his status as a citizen, he would always be open to the charge of being a slave. The tattoo of Mithras on his upper right arm could not entirely conceal the scar where his brand had been. All it would take was an accusation from someone like Novius. No doubt there would be plenty of men like him among the beleaguered soldiers within the city. Romulus’ new-found confidence soured. ‘What are they doing here?’ he asked.

‘Could the Roman civil war have spread this far?’ the
bestiarius
asked, stroking his beard.

‘Possibly,’ replied the haruspex. ‘But there is no wind, so the smoke is rising in a straight line. I cannot tell much.’

There was a long silence as they pondered the significance of Tarquinius’ words. Naturally, Hiero was very unhappy. It was he who stood to lose out if normal port business had been affected by any trouble in the city. Yet the presence of Roman soldiers in Alexandria affected them all. Romulus and Tarquinius needed a vessel that would carry them to Italy. They didn’t want to attract any untoward attention.

His mind working overtime, the
bestiarius
spoke first. ‘Are they Pompey’s men, or Caesar’s?’

Tarquinius frowned. ‘Somehow I sense the presence of both men in the city. The struggle is not over yet.’

‘Who cares?’ remarked Romulus angrily. ‘Let’s wait here until it all calms down. We have supplies, and water. There’s no need to rush in and get ourselves killed. Normal trading will resume as soon as the dust has settled.’ With plenty of maritime experience, the friends would have little problem finding a ship home. The fact that they had been part of the
bestiarius
’ expedition would make them even more valuable as crew to any captain with intentions of carrying wild animals. And by concealing their armour and weapons, it would be easy enough to avoid unwanted scrutiny.

At this, Hiero grew agitated. ‘I can’t sit here like a fool. Do you have any idea of how much food those beasts consume every day?’ he demanded. ‘If Tarquinius is correct, the best policy might be to move on. Journey to another port.’

‘There is another option,’ said Tarquinius.

They both turned to him.

‘Wait until it gets dark and then check it out for ourselves.’

Romulus began to feel uneasy, but Hiero’s face grew eager.

‘We could reconnoitre the situation. Talk to the locals.’

‘That sounds risky,’ challenged Romulus. Relations between him and Tarquinius were still strained thanks to the haruspex’ repeated refusals to explain why he had left Italy.

‘For seven years we have lived and breathed constant danger,’ Tarquinius answered calmly. ‘And yet here we are.’

Romulus feared the faraway look in Tarquinius’ eyes. ‘Carrhae and Margiana just happened though,’ he cried. ‘We had to deal with those situations as they happened. This can be avoided!’

‘My destiny is to enter Alexandria, Romulus,’ said Tarquinius solemnly. ‘I cannot turn away now.’

Hiero’s gaze switched eagerly from one to the other, fascinated.

Romulus felt unhappy at the prospect of walking into an unfamiliar city that was at war. And the air currents he had seen over Alexandria were full of dark possibilities. He stared at Tarquinius, whose face was set. It was futile to argue with him. Unwilling to look again at the sky over the city himself, Romulus hung his head. Mithras, protect us, he prayed. Jupiter, do not forget your faithful servants.

Hiero was oblivious to the deep emotions flowing between them. ‘Good,’ he proclaimed. ‘I can think of no better men for the job.’

Neither Tarquinius nor Romulus replied. The former had fallen deep into thought. The latter was struggling to control his fears.

Alexandria awaited.

The couple’s rooms were large and airy, the floors covered with thick carpets, the furniture made of ebony and inlaid with silver. Long, column-filled and painted corridors led to a succession of similar chambers interspersed with courtyards and gardens. These last were filled with fountains and statues of the bizarre Egyptian gods. Everywhere the windows afforded stunning views of the Pharos, the lighthouse. Even these could not make Fabiola like Alexandria. Egypt was an alien place, full of strange people and customs. The pale-skinned servants who bowed and scraped obsequiously were driving her to distraction. And luxurious surroundings could only do so much to dispel her claustrophobia. After weeks of being cooped up indoors, she was struggling not to despair. Nor could she go on avoiding Caesar for ever.