She followed behind him into the street, her mind straining to comprehend what had happened. What had begun as a curious wading into the pool of pleasure had ended in an unnerving plunge.
A dull disappointment permeated her body, slowing her stride. She had not expected him to break his wrist bond. Nor had she expected him to press himself so violently against her. And when his hands had found the knot of her loincloth, a kind of terror had shot through her. For a moment, she was on the rooftop once again, surrounded by hard fists and stifling limbs and a man who meant her harm.
But Titus’s actions had done her no harm and she knew no harm was meant. It was as if he had been overtaken in some great storm at sea and she had been his only anchor.
They came to a street corner. ‘Which way to the palace?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘Not yet, my cara. This is our window. We must stop and look out. Do you not agree?’
She nodded, feeling an unexpected relief. Their parting would not come. Not yet.
‘Follow me,’ he said. He turned towards the harbour.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘To help you overcome your fear.’
‘We are going to find an evil Roman soldier and vanquish him?’ she chided, though he did not seem to hear the forced jest. He was staring out across the causeway-divided harbour.
‘We are going to the Lighthouse.’
‘The Lighthouse?’ A dozen different emotions stirred inside her. They were going to the Lighthouse! The great and noble beacon for the world and for her own life. She was thrilled.
She was also terrified.
They crossed the Heptastadion in a hired chariot. The long, low causeway seemed to stretch out for ever before them, dividing Alexandria’s vast harbour in two and connecting the city to Pharos, its largest island. They seemed to be floating just above the water, like two birds frozen in their glide.
She leaned against Titus and wished for him to embrace her, but he kept his arms at his sides. He was clearly punishing himself for his behaviour in the alley.
‘You did nothing wrong,’ she offered as she touched his limp hand.
But he only gave her a sad smile.
‘You must not be afraid to live,’ she said, repeating what he had told her.
She repeated the words to herself, hoping they would make her brave. She was going to the Lighthouse at last. She would finally set foot upon the most sacred place in her world. She could already see the white plume of smoke twisting from its high perch and the sun glinting off its copper plates.
‘We will climb as high as you are able,’ said Titus, and they began their march up the long ramp that led to the entrance. ‘I will not force you, but you must try to face your fear. That is the only way you will overcome it. Trust me.’
They rose gradually as they neared the entrance. There were crowds of pedestrians on either side of them. The chattering people bubbled with energy as they gazed around at the sights. The island faced the Great Harbour and, as they climbed farther up the ramp, the view of the city improved.
A smattering of boats appeared below—elegantly hewn galleys that lifted their oars from the water and raised their sails to the increasing breeze, until the harbour appeared as a pond playing host to fluttering white butterflies.
Just beyond the water, Wen noticed the tall white buildings of the Royal Quarter, including the elegant columns of what she believed to be the Queen’s palace, all surrounded by the high, protective wall she knew so well.
She increased her pace, keeping to the middle of the ramp and refusing to look down as the land grew farther and farther away. They had not yet even made it to the entrance of the Lighthouse and already her knees were beginning to tremble.
There was a line at the entrance and, as they waited, Titus nodded encouragingly. ‘You must not let your fear defeat you,’ he said.
‘Am I your wife or your legionnaire?’ she chided.
‘You are brave to do this, Wen.’
She did not feel brave. She felt as if she were made of glass, and that the slightest push would send her shattering upon the concrete. She wiped the sweat from her brow as Titus paid the fee and they were directed through the doorway.
What she beheld inside sent a shiver of awe through her body. She had expected to see stairs, but instead observed an endlessly spiralling ramp. ‘Three hundred paces to the middle platform,’ explained the attendant.
The ramp coiled upward in thick concrete spirals crowded with visitors. They were walking and talking excitedly, their voices echoing against the walls. Children shrieked, women cackled, and men boomed their exuberance. Wen thought she heard the bay of a beast.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ she asked Titus. But before he could answer, she spied the lumbering figures of two donkeys being pulled by reins. They carried coal and wood upon their backs.
‘Fuel for the eternal fire,’ said Titus. ‘Shall we ascend?’
She gave a reluctant nod, and he took her hand in his as they started up the terrible ramp. They were only a few paces up when they passed a tall rectangular window and she heard the menacing groan of the sea breeze outside. ‘Speak to me, Titus,’ she said, feeling the needles of fear deep in her belly. ‘Tell me something of the rest of the world.’
‘The rest of the world,’ he said, as if recalling an old friend. ‘Well, I can tell you that it is wondrous and also terrible.’
‘Why wondrous?’ she asked, despising her obstinate feet.
‘There are forests full of fearsome beasts and cities hewn into rock, and trees that would take twenty men to fell. There is an ocean so endless it makes the Roman sea look like a pond. And there are mountains so high, Wen, that they are covered in perennial snows. They can scarcely be traversed.’
For a moment, her mind filled with wonder and she wished to ask him more. But visions of tall trees and high mountains filled her imagination and she began to feel dizzy. ‘And why is the world terrible?’ she urged.
‘The world is terrible because of those who wish to control it. Kings and conquerors, I mean. They want it so badly that they will kill for it.’
She paused and gripped his arm, searching for some topic to distract her. ‘The night in the labyrinth, why did you not kill the attacking guards?’
‘Because I am tired of killing.’
She stared into his eyes and could see that he spoke truth. ‘But is that not your purpose? As a commander, I mean. To kill?’
‘It is Caesar’s purpose, not mine.’
‘I thought Caesar said that he was also tired of battle.’
‘Caesar lied.’
‘Oh?’
‘Caesar relishes battle, for it brings him glory. He thinks nothing of killing. I have seen Caesar order the slaughter of whole tribes without any hesitation.’
The sun shone in the window on to Titus’s face and it seemed as if she were seeing it for the first time. ‘Then why do you follow him?’
‘I do not follow him.’
‘Then whom do you follow?’
‘Come, let us go.’
They continued in silence. A hundred questions filled her mind, but they seemed to disappear with each faltering step. When they reached the next window, Titus peered placidly out to sea while she doubled over, trying to catch her breath.
‘How are you able to do that?’ she asked him. ‘How can you gaze out the window so fearlessly?’
‘It is a matter of trust. I trust that I am safe.’
‘I do not know how to do that.’
‘Then lie to yourself.’
‘Lie so that I may trust?’
‘So it is. Come, you must see this.’
She shuffled to his side, keeping her eyes upon the concrete floor. When she finally braved a glance out the window, she saw white clouds bubbling high in the northern sky. Closer to the horizon, they coalesced into a menacing grey. ‘It is a storm. It appears to be nearing us,’ he said.
‘The first storm of peret,’ she muttered. A cool breeze buffeted her face, and she closed her eyes and tried to breathe.
‘The augurs of Rome would call it a sign.’
‘And what does it portend?’ she managed, keeping her eyes shut. The wind seemed to be getting stronger.
‘There is a war coming. I fear that our time together has almost run out.’
There was the sudden shriek of a child. Just paces down from where they stood, a little girl had fallen and was sliding down the ramp, her legs greased with donkey dung. Time seemed to slow as Wen watched her small body flailing towards the edge, then pitch beneath the low fence and reach the bar.
‘Hold on!’ Wen screamed. Startled, the girl’s mother noticed the girl dangling over the edge, her small hand gripping on the iron bar.
The girl’s mother lunged, grasping her tiny hand just as it was releasing from the bar. In a sweep of motherly strength, she pulled the young girl to safety.
Wen collapsed to her knees. She could not speak, or move, or even breathe. The world had begun to spin. There was a strong gust of wind and she felt the building begin to sway. There was nowhere to go. No escape. She stared down the ramp and imagined it covered in slippery dung. She felt a man’s hands on her wrists, trying to pull her to her feet. ‘No!’ she screamed. Then she was falling, falling.
* * *
‘You are all right, Wen,’ Titus whispered. ‘You are going to be all right.’ He might as well have been speaking to himself, for she gave no sign of hearing. ‘Please, be all right.’
She was lifeless in his arms. Her feet hung limp. Her long black braid swept along the ramp like a broom. The people eyed him with alarm as he made his way downwards. ‘What did he do to her?’ they whispered.
What had he done to her? He had broken her, that was what he had done. Her fear of heights was like a sickness. He had been a fool to think that climbing a steep ramp could provide a cure.
And she, in her pride, had been unable to refuse him. She had wanted to meet his challenge—to please him and show him her strength.
Had he not seen the colour leave her face? Had he not noticed how she clung so irrationally to the wall? Had he not witnessed the way she had choked for breath, as if she were drowning in the air?
It had been a terrible idea. He had goaded her into doing something she was not ready to do. Worse, he had wasted their last moments together.
He delivered her to Apollodorus just as the storm clouds extinguished the sun. ‘Please tell the Queen that we visited the Lighthouse. Wen suffered an attack of nerves. I believe the Queen will understand and will know what to do.’
Apollodorus did not ask any questions. He only took Wen in his arms and began to walk away. ‘Wait,’ said Titus. A strange emptiness was invading him. ‘Let me say goodbye.’ He crossed to Apollodorus and took her whole body into his arms one last time. He placed his lips on hers and kissed her, and their window closed. ‘Please forgive me, Wen,’ he whispered. ‘I will not bother you again.’
* * *
Caesar was yawning when Titus entered the General’s chamber, having just awoken from the previous night’s festivities. He was fondling an Egyptian wig and wore an odd grin on his face. ‘Look at this, Titus!’ he said. ‘The Queen says it suits me.’ Caesar placed the wig atop his head and laughed. ‘What do you think?’
You look like a man in love, Titus thought.
‘You look...like a man of the world,’ Titus said.
‘Ha! Good answer.’ Caesar walked to his northern window and gazed out at the sea. ‘A storm is coming,’ he observed.
‘General, I fear the storm is already here.’
‘Speak plainly, Titus.
‘Ptolemy’s army marches for Alexandria.’
Caesar pulled the wig from his head and nodded. ‘Cleopatra told me last night, though I did not believe her. I should have known when General Achillas took leave of the banquet.’
Caesar stared at the shiny wig in his hands. ‘Still, I am not yet convinced that he intends to attack, not while Ptolemy remains in my palace. I will send two messengers out to meet with Achillas and discover his intentions.’
‘Let me be one,’ Titus said. He had never feared war before, but he wished to do everything in his power to stop this one. There was simply too much to lose.
Caesar studied Titus closely, then shook his head. ‘I cannot risk you. If Ptolemy’s army means to attack, then we will need to send for help as soon as possible, and Mithridates of Pergamon will not deal with some lowly officer. But let us not get ahead of ourselves.’
That afternoon, Caesar chose two messengers to ride out to meet Ptolemy’s army. Two others would remain with him in Alexandria to begin preparations for war, while the rest would prepare to depart: two would sail to Judea to seek aid, two others to Rome, and Titus would be dispatched to Pergamon along with a companion to be chosen from the ranks.
‘But do not raise your sails yet, Commanders,’ Caesar warned. ‘Let us send our prayers to Mercury that our messengers will succeed. A happy Egypt is a happy Rome.’
As always, Caesar was a marvel of efficiency and composure, and for once it appeared to be in the service of peace. It did not take Titus long to realise the reason: it was Cleopatra. He was doing it for the Queen.
The messengers and other officers had departed Caesar’s company in high spirits, hopeful for a truce. As Titus moved to follow them, Caesar spoke. ‘Do not go just yet, Titus. Sit down.’
Caesar motioned to a leopardskin couch.
‘You know that none of the Roman legions will come to our aid,’ he said casually, pouring Titus a goblet of wine. ‘Nor is it likely for anyone in Judea to send troops. If it comes to war, Mithridates of Pergamon is our only hope.’
Titus nearly spit up his wine. ‘Apologies, General. I do not understand.’
‘There is no incentive for Roman soldiers to fight in a war of Egyptian succession—you know it as well as I. And I am not offering any pay.’
‘You are the leader of Rome’s army. To come to your aid is the honourable path.’
‘To a Roman soldier, the only honourable pursuit is pay or conquest of territory. I am offering neither.’
‘What about the provincial governors? Will the soldiers not do what they say?’
‘Yes, but only if they can see the benefit in it. In so many ways, a kingdom is better than a republic,’ Caesar mused, sending a chill to Titus’s core. ‘The soldiers serve the King and the King rewards them for their service. It is so much simpler.’
But what if the King grows heartless and vain? What if he goes mad? thought Titus. He remembered his oath to Cicero and the other Senators.
‘If we can get out of here alive, Titus, I have been thinking of taking Queen Cleopatra to wife.’
‘General?’
‘Does it not seem fated? Rome and Egypt united? We would rule so very well together. All the peoples of the earth would come beneath our wings.’
‘And those who resisted?’
‘We would have the largest, most powerful army in the world. Resisters would easily be eliminated!’
Titus’s heart hammered as he tried to conceal his horror. It was his worst nightmare coming to pass: the Roman Republic overcome by a vainglorious tyrant. Caesar was waiting for a response. ‘Your children would be beautiful,’ Titus managed.
‘Indeed they would,’ said Caesar. ‘And they would inherit the earth!’
Caesar gazed out towards the Lighthouse, as if imagining his own statue atop it. ‘But let us not get ahead of ourselves. Gaining Mithridates’s aid will be essential,’ Caesar repeated. ‘Without him, I fear we shall not make it out of Alexandria alive. It is up to you to secure that aid, Titus. There is no man shrewder and more convincing than you.’
Titus bowed to Caesar and took his leave. On his way to his chamber, he strained to comprehend what he had just heard. It was as if all his fears of Caesar’s ambition had manifested in a notion that would change the history of the world. I am thinking of taking Queen Cleopatra to wife.
Titus scolded himself for not having seen it sooner. How impressed Caesar had been by the Queen’s intelligence. How fondly they had looked at each other as they sat together atop the throne. The Egyptian wig—by the gods! Queen Cleopatra had successfully seduced the most powerful man in the world and now the two would join forces.
The consequences of such a union for Rome would be fatal. Caesar’s popularity was such that he could simply seize the Senate and fill it with his supporters, turning the sacred Republic into something resembling a Greek comedy.
He returned to his chambers in a blur of dread. He was staring at his sandals when he heard a knock upon his chamber door.
‘What is it?’ he growled.
‘Commander Titus,’ began the guard. ‘Clodius Livinius Caepo begs an audience.’
‘Clodius?’ Titus swung the door wide open. Before him stood his young guard, his fine patrician toga covered in mud. ‘Well met, Clodius!’
‘Well met, Commander Titus.’
Clodius touched his fist to his heart in the formal salute.
Titus returned his salute, then seized his arm in a brotherly greeting. ‘My heart is glad to see you, Clodius.’ He motioned the young man into the chamber. ‘Please sit down and tell me how you fared in the Queen’s camp.’
Clodius took a seat at the edge of the nearest couch. ‘Well enough, though I was quickly found out. Thankfully Mardion took me beneath his wing. He told me that I would not be punished as long as the Queen remained alive.’
‘My identity was also discovered,’ admitted Titus.
‘Indeed? Was it Apollodorus who found you out?’
‘Not quite. But you look famished. Let me get you some wine. When did you arrive?’ He filled a goblet and placed it into the young soldier’s hands.
‘Gratitude, Commander,’ Clodius said, draining his cup. ‘Apologies for my thirst, but I have ridden without stopping all through the night. I was dispatched by Mardion himself yesterday, when Ptolemy’s army abandoned Pelousion. I bring urgent news. General Achillas marches on Alexandria.’
‘I already know,’ he told the young soldier.
‘But how?’
Titus smiled, thinking of Wen. ‘I was visited by a lovely bird in a windowless room.’
‘You speak in riddles, Commander.’
‘Apologies, Clodius. Your haste is appreciated, as will be your aid in the siege to come. I shall have the steward prepare you a room and deliver you a meal.’
‘Gratitude, Commander. But before I depart, there is one more thing.’
Clodius reached into the sheath of his gladius and produced a small, sealed scroll. ‘I promised the messenger that I would give it to you myself.’
Titus noticed the Senatorial seal. ‘Who gave you this?’
‘A believer in our cause,’ Clodius said, flashing Titus a sly grin. ‘Or do you think that you are the Boni’s only spy?’
Titus reached for a chair to steady himself. ‘What?’
Clodius bent his head to reveal the unmistakable B tattooed behind his ear. ‘I believe I wear the mask of spy much better than the mask of patrician senator’s son.’
‘Much better,’ said Titus, thoroughly impressed. ‘I am bested, Clodius.’
Clodius smiled. ‘You have no idea how long I have been hoping to hear that, Commander,’ said Clodius. The young man bowed and took his leave.
Titus collapsed on to his sofa, still reeling from the news. Clodius had been working for the Boni all along, just as Titus had been. He gently opened the scroll, instantly recognising the sprawling script of Cicero, the leader of their cause.
* * *
Dear Watcher,
We are grieved to learn that the great bull has decided to remain in the sparkling city. We assume that he enjoys the smell of the roses there and one rose in particular. It has become apparent that he may try to defend that rose, despite its lost cause, and then to unite with her to conquer the world.
We are certain you will be asked to aid in that defence. In that case, we command you relinquish your duty. Abandon the bull. Seem as if you are going to seek aid for him, but do not do it. Let him die with his flower so that the wolf may live on.
Yours in veritas,
Whisperer.