Chapter Nineteen

He should have known better than to fall in love with an Egyptian. He should have known better, yet there had never really been a choice. She had surely cast a spell on him—one of those ancient Egyptian curses they whispered of in Rome. By the time he realised her hold on him, the magic was at work and the only way to lift it was to do his duty and abandon her.

And he would certainly never do that. Never, ever, in a thousand years. Curses on his duty and his philosophy and his wretched dignitas—he would not abandon the woman he loved.

The battle had been short and mercifully decisive. Ptolemy’s exhausted forces were no match for Mithridates’s fresh, well-provisioned ones. The prince’s men fought bravely and well, and quickly sent Ptolemy’s troops running for the River. For the first time in his life, Titus thanked the gods, for he knew that Wen would live.

Caesar’s own exhausted legion met Titus’s at the battle’s end. ‘It took you long enough,’ Caesar said.

‘I should say the same,’ Titus jested.

The Senate would have to think of another way to be rid of Caesar. Titus would not be the one to betray him.

Together they commenced their march towards Alexandria that morning and soon spied its high walls.

Titus was searching the base of them, hoping to catch sight of a welcome party, when a beam of light hit him in the eye. High in the northern sky, he beheld the Lighthouse’s flickering flame, enhanced by the reflection of its copper mirrors. He could hardly believe it. He had never seen the flame directed towards land. He did not even know it was possible.

‘It appears that at least some of the citizens of Alexandria are happy to see us,’ he mused.

‘Happy to see you and the troops you bring,’ corrected Caesar. ‘Though I will certainly take credit for the victory.’

Titus smiled. ‘I would expect nothing less.’

‘You may at least have your spoils.’

‘What spoils are there to be had from a besieged city?’

‘I think you know,’ said Caesar.

When Titus arrived outside the Queen’s palace, he burst into the Reception Hall. ‘Well met, Titus!’ said the Queen. She stepped down from her throne. ‘You have come to our rescue once again. We are indebted to you for our lives.’

‘It is my honour to serve you, Queen.’ His eyes darted about, searching for Wen.

‘I assume you are not searching for my sphinxes,’ said the Queen.

‘Apologies, Queen Cleopatra, I was searching—’

‘For Wen,’ finished the Queen. ‘I know.’

‘Is she here?’

‘She is not in the palace at present, though I can say that she has been awaiting your arrival for some time. She told me to tell you that you must find her. She said you should follow the flame. Take the most direct route.’

Puzzled, Titus walked down to the royal docks and stared up at the Lighthouse. The flame was no longer being directed towards land, but its familiar plume of white smoke twisted up from beneath its wide dome.

Are you there, Wen? he wondered.

He wandered down the dock, finding himself stopped where they had disembarked on that fateful night. Incredibly, their small sailboat was still there, still roped to the dock. He untethered the vessel and stepped aboard, resolving to take it to Pharos Island where he would dash up the spiralling ramp and seek the woman he loved.

But when he pulled back the deckhouse curtains, he realised that he had already found her.

‘Titus!’ she cried, leaping into his embrace.

He could not contain his joy. It burst from his pores and threatened to obliterate his armour. He squeezed her as tightly as he dared, burying his face in her hair and breathing in her scent. Tears came unbidden to his eyes. ‘It is as if I have been imagining this moment for a hundred years,’ he said.

‘And I for a thousand,’ sobbed Wen. ‘Did you see me signalling to you from atop the Lighthouse?’

Titus set her upon the deck. ‘That was you?’

‘Yes! The copper mirrors can be moved. There was an old woman. The Keeper of the Flame. She told me not to fear. Oh, Titus I could see your blue-crested helmet!’ She was breathless, the words tumbling out of her. ‘And the Queen knew my mother. And we ran out of water. And I learned to read and—’

‘Shhh,’ he said. He parted her lips with the force of his own, letting her feel the wind of his breath inside her. It carried the message of his longing for her, a message she received with a joyful sob.

‘Can I tell you a secret?’ he asked.

She exhaled hard, then took a step back. ‘I already know. You are a spy for the Senate. You are trying to preserve the Roman Republic from the threat of Caesar’s kingly ambitions.’

She might as well have delivered him a body blow. ‘How on earth do you know that?’ He looked around nervously, though they were snugly within the deckhouse, with only the seagulls outside to hear them.

‘I am an advisor to the Queen of Egypt. It is my job to know such things.’

He stepped forward. ‘You are an advisor and a sorceress.’

She stepped backwards. ‘And you are a very good liar. Now tell me why.’

‘Why?’

‘You were ordered to abandon Alexandria. Why did you return?’

‘I—’

‘You betrayed your own philosophy.’

‘I—’

‘You let Caesar’s ambition win.’

He was utterly confused. ‘How do you know that I spied for the Republic?’

‘I read you like a book, Titus. But that does not matter. What matters is that I agree with you.’

‘You agree with me?’

‘My mother was killed by a ruthless king, though her only wrong was educating his daughters. Kings are dangerous. They are like masters. They cannot exist if people want to be free. That is why I must know, Titus. Why did you return? Why?’

She would not let him come any closer until she had an answer, for she believed that was what she deserved. ‘Because I love you, Wen.’

‘You...love me?’ She looked around the room, blinking in confusion.

‘I have loved you from the moment I saw you.’

Stepping backwards, he watched her legs crashing against the lounging platform. She lost her balance and collapsed on to the mattress.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, crouching at her feet.

‘But you gave up your dream.’

‘You are my dream.’

‘You shunned your true duty. You failed to do what was right.’

‘It is going to take more than a single spy to save the Roman Republic. It must come from the will of the people.’

‘Is that what you truly believe?’

‘It is.’

She seemed satisfied at last, though her expression was vexed. ‘You love me?’

‘And I will prove it to you,’ he said. ‘Touch my heart.’

Slowly, she lifted her hand and laid it across his beating heart. ‘Do you feel that?’ he asked.

‘Poon-poon, poon-poon,’ she said.

‘That is the sound of my love for you. It never goes away, no matter how far apart we are. It is like the flame of the Lighthouse—it will always be.’

He lay down beside her on the mat and grazed his fingers gently up and down her arm. The tiny, soft hairs swayed beneath his touch like a field of wheat. Encouraged, he bent forward and planted a series of kisses down her neck. He was rewarded by a soft moan.

‘How I have missed you, my cara,’ he whispered.

‘And I have missed you.’

He dared to move his arm about her waist, drawing her atop him and pushing her tunic to her waist. His hands wandered across her soft thighs, then visited her shapely hips, then explored the small of her back until they found themselves caressing her soft bottom. His heart thrummed. He wondered if she felt it, too—this strange Pandora’s jar of desire, twisting open.

He pulled her lips on to his, waiting at the ready for her tongue, which settled just inside his mouth with a delicious uncertainty. Gently, he coaxed it into his own mouth, and soon their tongues were moving together in an easy, sensuous rhythm.

There was no helping it: they were matched. There was something about their kissing that resembled a dance, or music, or the crashing of waves on the shore. They were like no other kisses Titus had ever experienced and he felt that he could stay here for a thousand years, his lips locked with hers.

With a little encouragement, she scooted up his legs and came to rest straddling his waist. He could feel her feeling him and the jar twisting open just a little more. A wave of alarm traced her expression, followed by that small twinge of delight that sometimes played at the edges of her lips. He arched his hips slightly, letting her feel what she did to him. Her whimper of surprise was so resonant with desire that he thought he might be undone right then.

‘You want me,’ he whispered, letting his hands graze across her breasts.

‘Not at all,’ she said. And there it was—the twinge. Only this time it was playing at the edges of her voice and it made his insides coil with lust.

He resolved to make love to her slowly, torturously, and watch her thoughts turn to silt. It was as if all of the women he had ever known had only been preparing him for the goddess who now sat atop him in her victory pose.

‘We are matched, Wen,’ he said, marvelling at the rare and precious truth of it.

He only wondered if she could comprehend what that meant. There were millions of people in this world—in Alexandria alone, in fact—and she could spend her whole life searching without finding one who suited her half as well as he did. She leaned a little closer, closing her eyes and breathing him in. Then she collapsed on to his chest and laid there, her ear atop his heart.

‘You love me,’ he said.

The control was all hers now. She could do whatever she wished. More than anything, he wanted her to kiss him. On her own. Without any coaxing.

‘The boat is moving,’ she said.

‘Yes, I untied us from the dock.’

‘You what?’

‘Before I stepped aboard, I untethered the deck line. We are floating free now, Wen. There is no telling where we may land.’

Her eyes blazed with excitement, and her lips stretched into a heavenly grin. ‘I love you, Titus,’ she said. Then she leaned over and placed her lips upon his. Softly. Gently. Deliciously.

And they floated off together into the wine-dark sea.

* * * * *

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