The Gods of War

  “I knew she would be behind this!” Ptolemy burst out. “I knew it! You think I want her back? She treated me as a child.”

  “You are a child,” Julius snapped, instantly regretting it. Sighing, he seated himself once more. “Your courtiers honored your every wish, I suppose?” he said.

  Ptolemy hesitated. “When I acted with honor and with the traditions, they did. They respected the office and the blood, despite my youth.” His eyes would not meet Julius’s as he spoke, but then he stiffened in fresh anger. “Your men struck me, invaded my private rooms. You will be burnt and torn when . . .”

  “From what I saw, Panek barely listened to you,” Julius murmured.

  Ptolemy’s eyes flashed. “You know nothing of my life, Roman! I am a child and I am a king. I carry the god flame within me. Panek is . . .”

  He hesitated again and Julius spoke quickly, wanting to probe the weakness. “Panek is the power behind the throne, I think. Are you expecting him to stand back when you are older? It would never happen. There would be an accident—a tragic fall, or an illness—and Panek would have another decade to rule while the next child grows. I have known the compulsion of power, lad. Take that warning from me, if nothing else.”

  He watched while the boy considered his words, quietly surprised at Ptolemy’s composure. Julius had half expected him to be in tears when he entered, but instead he had found himself addressed as an equal or a servant. The king may have been a child, but he had a sharp mind and Julius could see him thinking and planning.

  “Panek will be furious when he hears I have been taken,” Ptolemy said thoughtfully.

  Julius could see the idea amused the boy and he waited for more.

  “You will have to show him I am unharmed, or he will raze this place to the ground.”

  “I can do that,” Julius said. “If you wish it.” Ptolemy glanced quizzically at him and Julius went on. “You might not want to be returned to him. Have you thought of that? I could demand that your courtiers be banished, and you could rule with Cleopatra once more without their influence.”

  The boy’s eyes were dark and unfathomable. Julius did not know him well enough to see if he had reached him.

  “Why are you doing this?” Ptolemy said at last. “Are you lusting after my sister? Or is it my younger flesh you desire?”

  Julius controlled his temper. “If you were a son of mine, I would have you beaten for speaking to me in that way,” he said. “I may still.”

  “You would not dare,” Ptolemy replied, with such confidence that Julius was taken aback. He considered calling for a switch, but settled himself, resting his hands on his knees.

  “You were very rude to Panek,” Ptolemy said, clearly enjoying the memory. “He had to lie down afterwards, with cool drinks and slaves to massage away his anger. You are a rude people, I think.”

  “He is an irritating vulture,” Julius replied.

  Some of the tension eased out of Ptolemy and Julius suspected he had struck a chord at last.

  “May I see your sword?” Ptolemy asked suddenly.

  Without a word, Julius drew the short gladius and handed it over. The boy seemed astonished as he took it from Julius’s hand and immediately pointed it at the seated consul.

  “Are you not afraid I will kill you with it?” he asked.

  Julius shook his head slowly, watching for the slightest move. “I am not. The blade is nothing without the man to hold it. You could not strike before I had taken it from you.”

  Ptolemy looked into his eyes and saw nothing but honesty. He turned away and tried to swing the short blade, his wrist bending under the weight.

  “Would you like to learn its use?” Julius said.

  For a moment, he saw Ptolemy’s face light up, then clouds of suspicion dimmed his interest. He turned it round awkwardly and handed it back hilt-first.

  “Do not pretend to be my friend, Roman. I am nothing more than a bargaining piece to you, yes? Something to be used for whatever it is you really want. You are my enemy and I will not forget it.” He paused and clenched one of his fists. “When I am a man, I will make you remember how you kept me prisoner, Roman. I will come for you with an army like locusts. I will see your joints smashed with hammers and your skin burnt. You will know me then!”

  Julius stared at the ferocious expression on the boy. “You have some growing to do first,” he said, rising to his feet.

  For a moment, he thought Ptolemy might attack him, before the boy turned his back in impotent fury. Julius left him alone in the little room, walking out to the day with a light step.

  Panek arrived with a delegation of courtiers at the first light of dawn. They approached the guards Julius had placed in the gardens and suffered a rough inspection for weapons before the three most senior were allowed inside.

  Julius stood as they were brought into his presence, feeling again the wave of dislike from Panek’s cold eyes. It did not matter, now that he had the king.

  Julius gestured to a stone block and sat down on a padded couch facing them, enjoying their discomfort. Five soldiers of the Tenth stood nearby and Octavian took position directly behind the courtiers, making them nervous. Panek’s face and neck shone with oil or sweat, Julius could not tell. His eyes were unpainted and he looked a little more human in the morning light without that decoration. The omission spoke volumes.

  “You cannot hope to survive this crime,” Panek said, wrenching out the words as if the barest trace of civility was painful. “If the citizens learn that you are holding the king, I will not be able to restrain them. Do you understand me? You have only hours before the rumors spread and then they will come to burn you out of this nest.”

  “I do not fear untrained men,” Julius said, casually. He signaled to a guard to bring him wine and sipped at it.

  Panek raised his eyes in exasperation. “What do you want then, for the boy’s return? I’m sure you have a price.”

  Julius reflected that Panek was not the best man to have sent. His anger was too obvious, and if it had merely been a matter of gold, he would have asked for more after such a sneering tone.

  “We will start with the free run of the city, obviously,” Julius said. “No more of this seven days you mentioned. I want to see the library and Alexander’s tomb. Perhaps you can arrange guides for my officers.”

  Panek blinked in confusion. “You would be torn apart by the mob, Consul, the first moment you set foot outside these walls.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Julius said, frowning. “My second demand is for the court to leave Egypt. I have ships to take you to Cyprus or Sardinia, far away from the difficulties of your lives here. I imagine it will be a peaceful retirement and I’m sure I can arrange for a little gold to make it comfortable for you.”

  The three Egyptians went very still and Panek’s eyes glittered dangerously.

  “You mock me in my own city, Consul. Do you think I will not respond? The army has been summoned. The city is filling with soldiers crying out in rage at what you have dared. If you do not return the king, they will sweep your small force away in the flood. Understand that I do not lie.”

  “The boy will not survive an attack on this place,” Julius told them. “You will be killing him if I see a single sword drawn in anger. I suggest you do your best to keep the peace.”

  “You cannot hold him here forever,” Panek replied. “How long do you think your food will last? Your water?”

  “We have enough,” Julius said, shrugging. “Perhaps you are right. We should not be threatening each other. Instead, you can begin by telling me how much you value his life. What can you offer me for your king?”

  The three men conferred in their own language for a few moments and then Panek spoke again, his anger rigidly controlled.

  “Trade deals could be arranged between Roman ports and the Egyptian interior. I can arrange to have your merchants given first access to our goods.”

  “Excellent,” Julius said, signaling that wine should be br
ought for the men. “I believe the negotiations have begun.”

  It took thirty days of argument and discussion to reach a final agreement. Neither Julius nor Panek attended every hour of the meetings, instead sending subordinates to make offers and counteroffers. It could not have worked without Cleopatra’s influence, but she seemed to know exactly how far the delegation of courtiers could be pushed in each area.

  She did not attend the negotiations herself, instead spending her days with her younger brother, who had been given the run of the palace. It was strange to see the pair of them walking the halls, deep in discussion, and stranger still for Julius to consider their relationship. She was his elder sister and a mature wife used to the intrigues of the court. He listened to her as to no one else and his angry outbursts had not been repeated.

  At night, she told Julius how much her brother had hated the stifling life of court. It seemed his smallest request would have to be approved by Panek, and Ptolemy had admitted his hatred for the man. In a sense, he had been confined far more thoroughly before Julius stole him away. Panek spoke with the voice of the king, and the army would obey his every order.

  “But your brother is the king, by the gods!” Julius had exclaimed, when she told him. “Why couldn’t he just have Panek taken out and beaten?”

  “He is a boy and he has known no other life. Panek frightened him,” she said. “He does not frighten me, but even I missed the lust for power in him.” She paused and clenched her fists in the sheets. “A year ago, he brought orders from the king to have me banished. I knew they could not have come from my brother, but I was not allowed to plead my case. Those loyal to me marched into exile and the women tore their hair and rubbed ashes on their breasts. Believe me, Panek is too clever for a sheltered boy to resist.”

  On the thirtieth day, Julius had contracts drawn up and Ptolemy was brought to fix his signature to them. Cleopatra came with him and Panek staggered to his feet as he saw her.

  “My queen,” he stammered, falling to his knees and lowering his head to the floor.

  The other courtiers followed suit and she smiled.

  “Get up and finish what you have begun here, Panek. You have bound us in gold to Rome as I wished and with your king’s approval.”

  Panek’s eyes flickered to where Ptolemy sat watching them. Slowly, Ptolemy nodded.

  “We have reached an agreement, my brother and I,” Cleopatra purred. “Your influence is over, Panek. We will take our places on the thrones of the upper and lower kingdoms once more. We will rule, Panek, though you will not go unrewarded for your work.”

  Panek watched as Ptolemy handed a quill to his sister and she scribbled the words “Let it be so,” as she signed all official documents. The papyrus sheets marked trade agreements that would hurt the growth of Alexandria, not to mention the heavy tithe of gold to be sent to Rome for ten years. Against them, Julius had made the astonishing offer of returning Cyprus to Egypt, as she had been owned centuries before. The Roman’s apparent generosity had troubled Panek deeply, not knowing that the suggestion had come from Cleopatra. Cyprus had been lost since Alexander’s death and its return would have almost been worth the weeks of torment and the insults to the king. Panek realized the queen had been the silent voice behind the negotiations, the reason that his bluffs were revealed and his strategies undone. He stood like a broken man and bowed stiffly to the first family of Egypt.

  “I will await your return, Majesty,” he said to Ptolemy.

  “You will have him tomorrow at dawn,” Julius said, interrupting the intense gaze between the two of them.

  Panek gathered his copies and writing materials and left, his slaves and colleagues going with him. The room seemed empty without the tension he had brought and Cleopatra turned to her brother to embrace him.

  “Now you will truly be king, Ptolemy, as our father would have wished. I will have Panek killed and my army will protect you from his spite.”

  The boy accepted the embrace, looking over her shoulder at Caesar. “You are a strange man, Roman,” he said. “My sister trusts you. I wonder if that is enough.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” Julius replied.

  Ptolemy nodded. “I will go out to them at dawn, for the people to see me safe. There will be a new order then, in Egypt. I will not have my wife taken from me again.”

  His eyes were intense and Julius wondered how much Ptolemy had guessed about their relationship. The marriage was too ludicrous for him to think he had come between husband and wife, and he was not even sure if he had. Despite their intimacy, Cleopatra was still a mystery to him. It was possible that she would simply rearrange her court and resume her role as queen, politely dismissing the Roman who had made it possible.

  “I have a gift for you,” Julius said, signaling the armorer of the Tenth who waited nearby.

  The burly man stepped forward with a bundle of cloth and Julius unwrapped it to reveal a gladius reduced in size for the king. Ptolemy’s eyes widened with pleasure as he took it. He had tried the simple forms of attack and defense with Domitius at Julius’s request, but the heavy swords had been too much for his arms. Julius could see the smaller blade was exactly right and the king’s boyish smile was mirrored in his own face.

  “It is magnificent,” Ptolemy said, rubbing his thumb along the bronze wire and leather of the grip.

  Julius nodded. “I hope you will have time to continue your lessons,” he replied.

  “I will try. Thank you for the gift, Roman.”

  Julius chuckled at the wry tone, remembering the furious little boy he had met on the first morning four weeks before.

  “Until tomorrow then,” he said.

  As dawn came, the army of the house of Ptolemy gathered on the streets of Alexandria, waiting to welcome the return of their king. Julius looked out through a hole in the barricaded windows and whistled softly to himself. There were many thousands waiting there, a show of strength.

  The citizens themselves had come out to catch the first sight of Ptolemy. There had been no mobs to threaten the palace after Julius had spoken to Panek, and he wondered if it had been a bluff, or whether his influence reached further than even Cleopatra knew.

  Ptolemy’s footsteps were loud on the marble as he approached the great doors and looked up at Julius. He carried himself well and Julius was pleased to see the small sword on his hip.

  Julius eased the door open a little further, so that Ptolemy could see the army gathered in his honor.

  “Are you ready?” he asked the boy king.

  Ptolemy did not reply and when Julius looked at him, he was astonished to see there were tears in his eyes.

  “I do not trust Panek,” Ptolemy whispered aloud, his gaze on the warriors in the distance.

  “We have to send you out,” Julius said. “Your army must see you alive. As proof of our good faith, you must be released. Panek is not a fool. He knows you have been united with your sister. He would not dare hold you. I would see him dead and he knows it.”

  Gently, he put a hand on Ptolemy’s shoulder and began moving him toward the doorway. The young king reached up with a jerk and grabbed Julius’s hand in his own.

  “He cannot be trusted! The agreements will mean nothing to him, I know it. If you send me out, I will be powerless once more. Let me remain and we will find another way.”

  Gently, Julius removed the boy’s hands. “We are running out of food, Ptolemy, and I gave my word that you would be released. The negotiations are over.” His voice became harder. “Now do your part and I will see you on your throne later today. First you must be given back to your people.”

  Tears streamed down Ptolemy’s face and he held Julius’s arm with desperation. “You don’t understand! Out there, I will be the king once more. I am afraid!”

  Julius looked away, embarrassed for the sobbing boy. Where was Cleopatra? She had a way with her young brother that calmed his spirits. Julius was on the point of calling for her when Ptolemy wiped angrily at his te
ars and let his grip loosen.

  “I will go out to them,” he said.

  Julius saw terror in his eyes and could not understand it. No matter what Panek intended, Ptolemy would be safe for the few hours it took to return him to his palace and then bring Cleopatra out with the legions.

  “Courage, lad,” Julius said softly, giving Ptolemy the slightest push.

  The king took in a great heave of breath and squared his shoulders, his hand dropping to touch the hilt of his sword as he had seen the Romans do. He nodded once and walked out into the sun.

  The army cheered as they saw his slight figure at the top of the steps. They raised their arms in perfect unison and Julius wondered if these were indeed better soldiers than the ones he had faced on palace duty. Even from the elevation of the doorway, he could not estimate their full number.

  Brutus came to stand by his side with Octavian, each man carefully ignoring the presence of the other. With Julius, they watched Ptolemy descend the steps and make his way to the first ranks of men. Panek was there, waiting for him with his head bowed.

  Horns blew in a crash of sound as Ptolemy reached them, and Julius and the others watched in fascination as the lines of men parted.

  “What’s happening?” Octavian asked.

  Julius shook his head in answer.

  Before their eyes, the cloth of gold Ptolemy had worn at his first meeting was brought forward and draped around his shoulders. The Romans squinted as the rising sun seemed to intensify around him, making Ptolemy shine. Panek lifted the headdress and his voice could be heard crying out a chant to the gods.

  Ptolemy stood looking up into the mask as it was lowered onto him. For a long time he did not move, then slowly he turned to face the watching Roman soldiers at every window and door. The mask hid his youth and had a malevolence that made Julius frown. Time seemed to slow and an oven heat blew across the gardens.

  “He wouldn’t . . .” Brutus said in disbelief, but the golden figure raised his hand and brought it down in a sharp gesture. The army roared its battle rage and came surging into the gardens.