Fortuna Page 15

  “With respect, dux. You are describing gods. We’re flesh and blood like you.”

  Before he could finish, Caesar moved with deadly speed. He whipped out a knife and held its point to Felix’s throat. Carolyn stepped forward, but checked herself. She couldn’t lay a finger on Caesar, not without risking a huge butterfly effect.

  “You’re right,” Caesar spoke with icy calm. “Gods don’t need rescuing from angry crowds. You’re all too human and will die if I stick you. Unless you care to tell me the truth. Now admit it. We ate with Crassus, Aceticus, and Cicero.”

  “You’ve omitted one name,” Felix gasped, grasping that he would have to come clean, but hoping to throw the general off-balance. “Gnaius Pompeius Magnus was present, as well.”

  “How dare you mention him!” Caesar yelled. “No one says his name in my presence!”

  “Why? Because your former friend is dead because of you?”

  For an instant, Felix thought he’d gone too far. The fire in Caesar’s eyes was so out of control that Felix almost felt it scorch his skin. The general’s teeth were bared, his nostrils flared, and a growl was mounting at the back of his throat. Carolyn swallowed hard. There was no way she could stop him.

  Just as quickly his expression changed. It was like glass shattering from the blow of a brick. “Pompey,” he gasped in a strangled voice. He took two steps away from Felix. “Pompey,” he repeated, his tone even sadder. His knife slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. “Pompey,” he spoke a third time, looking out the window to conceal his grief.

  A roar intruded from outside. It was coming from the city’s docks, on the far side of the harbour. Masses were assembling and creating a ruckus. The sun had set. A full moon was peeping over the horizon, casting an orange glow over the city. Ten thousand torches beat the shadows back. To judge by a thousand pinpoints of metal, these were soldiers getting ready for combat. Caesar didn’t care.

  “You’re right,” he sighed. “Once upon a time we were the best of friends. He married my daughter and furthered my prospects. I was surrounded by vipers and he kept them at bay. He was frank, generous, and true to his word. Without him, I would never have been consul or been awarded legions to subjugate Gaul. I liked him. No, I loved him. And now he’s dead. He was stabbed here in Egypt and I was shown his head. They killed you like a cockroach, my dearest Pompey.”

  The moon was stroking Caesar’s features. Felix was shocked. The general was trembling and tears trickled down his cheeks.

  “And he is not alone in death,” he continued. “There are many who opposed my rise. They preferr-ed to fight me, to die in battle, rather than calmly accept my rule, and die they did, by the tens of thousands, Romans, citizens, senators, my countrymen. And then there are the Gauls I slaughtered. For the glory of Rome, they were given a choice: yield or die. They too chose war and in numbers past counting they littered the soil. Everywhere I’ve gone, and I’ve seen much of the world, death has followed in my wake; sorrow, tears, and destitution. Friends and enemies have tasted death at Caesar’s hands. That day I crossed the Rubicon? Jupiter should have struck me with his lightning bolt.”

  Across the harbour and along the docks, the Egyptians’ ranks were swelling. Wagonloads of weapons appeared. There was a clash of metal, the tumult of movement, and the clangour of troops getting ready to fight. And they weren’t preparing to war on land alone. Ships were overflowing with sailors, most of whom were wearing armour. The upcoming battle would be no small matter.

  “But I’m not to blame,” Caesar spoke, as if in a trance. “My honour was always dear to me, but it was not the primary source of these woes. The true cause of this strife has been cold, hard Reason. It is Reason that pushes Rome to expand. It is Reason that insists men shouldn’t be different, that their variations should be weeded out, so that all will think and plot the same and love their neighbour as they love themselves. It is Reason that necessitates lies, bribery, arms, and battle. Reason argues borders must be expanded, that the new should crowd out all things old, that men must learn to speak one language, that one culture should guide us, one law should judge us, and one city should rule over all the world. Precise, sharp, unfeeling, and unanswerable, Reason urges humans to ignore memory, tradition, friendship, and laughter, and to advance with our eyes on the future alone, and never to glance at our origins with longing. So Reason dictates. And so I have acted.”

  There was a cry of triumph as several wagons caught fire. They were piled high with bales of straw and the flames spread a ghostly light across the harbour. Felix trembled. Ten thousand men and more stood armed. The ships were bristling with a freight of spearmen. Far from concealing their numbers, the Egyptians were parading them to frighten their foe.

  There was a knock at the door and Brutus appeared. Startled from his reverie, Caesar turned to the doorway.

  “The enemy is mustering. They will attack before dawn.”

  “I’ll be down momentarily,” Caesar said, moving from the window to the centre of the room. “In the meantime, rouse the troops. And send in Nicias.”

  Brutus left and was replaced by Caesar’s servant. At a nod from Caesar, he approached the wooden frame with the armour and began the process of arming the general. He fastened pteruges around his waist, a “skirt” of leather strips. He also took gold-plated greaves from the frame and strapped them firmly to Caesar’s shins.

  “What am I to make of you?” Caesar asked, his gaze fixed on Felix. His emotions were in check and his face was hard. “I’m owed an explanation. Should I force one from you?”

  “Only you can decide that, dux,” Felix answered. “For my part, I can only warn you. By pressing me to explain, you approach another Rubicon. On one bank lies the world you live in and forge to suit your will. Across its waters is a realm that you can’t enter. Even knowledge of its nature is strictly forbidden. If you cross this river and force me to explain, you’ll cause more damage than you can possibly imagine. You said you regret having crossed the Rubicon. If so, forget this second stream and allow us to accomplish what we’ve set out to do.”

  Caesar would have spoken, but the slave was strapping his breast-plate on. This was a shirt of metal that showed two wrestling lions. Felix had never seen anything so lovely. But it paled in comparison to Caesar himself. His eyes were closed and Felix used this moment to regard him. Yes. He grasped the source of the man’s inner greatness. He was unsparing in his logic when reason was required, yet generous with his humanity when emotion was called for. His eyes suddenly opened and he considered Felix.

  “After my first years in Gaul,” he said, “I lost faith in Reason and decided to worship at a different altar.” He opened his left fist, which he’d been keeping tightly clenched. Inside it were four knucklebones. “Fortuna became my goddess of choice. Instead of treading Reason’s path, I have relied on her to guide me as she pleases.”

  “What does she tell you about us?” Felix asked.

  Caesar surprised Felix. He broke into a smile, an expansive show of pity and warmth.

  “She says any general can lead an attack. The best generals know when to retreat, as well. I won’t press you to explain yourself. And if I can help with something, you need merely ask.”

  “Thank you, dux. You have already been most helpful by withholding your questions. But if you could spare a rowboat, my cousin and I would be most grateful.”

  “Consider it done,” Caesar said, as Nicias tied his cingulum in place. “Once we leave this room, we will talk no further. I wish you much success in your mission. And now I have a parting gift.”

  He held out his hand with the four astragali. Felix gasped. He was pleased beyond words with Caesar’s offer, but how could he take his tokens of Fortuna?

  “If my suspicions are correct,” Caesar explained, observing Felix’s hesitation, “my course is fixed and Fortuna will not change it. But maybe she can help you out. When you tire of Reason, my mistress will be glad to whisper in your ear.”

  H
e smiled again. For a moment the entire room was bright and the room seemed suddenly warmer from the heat of his feeling. Then duty beckoned, his features hardened and he exited the room.

  Felix heard his steps echo down the stairwell. Although the general was mere steps away, two millennia already stood between them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Felix was holding his body still. He was trying to merge with the dark and to keep his breathing soft and even. Carolyn was doing the same, as were Caesar’s soldiers who surrounded them. For the last three hours they’d been standing in formation on the causeway joining Pharos Island to the city. A mist from the sea was stealing round them, condensation was beading on their armour, and their muscles ached from waiting so long, but even a short rest was out of the question. Battle could erupt at any moment and they couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.

  When the Egyptians had deployed for battle, they’d done so with great fanfare. Then gradually their shouts had died and, like the Romans, they’d stood and waited in silence. For the last two hours they’d been still as death. Their front ranks were visible a short ways off, but these troops weren’t daring to breathe or cough. The same was true of the Egyptians at sea. When they struck, they would do so with the stealth of a shark.

  Felix glanced at the rowboat moored below them. At Caesar’s directive, Brutus had found them the boat. He’d also told them to remain on the causeway until the fighting broke out. If they left before, they’d draw the enemy’s fire. One way or the other, the risks were huge.

  Felix rubbed his legs to keep the blood circulating. His stomach was half raw with tension and his mouth dry as sand. He wished more than anything that the action would start. Even war would be easier than this infernal waiting. How long had it been? Three hours? Four? It felt more like an eternity.

  Carolyn looked his way. Her eyes said it all. She too was impatient and wanted the show to begin. He was just about to whisper something when … they got their wish.

  There was a rush of motion. Moments later a dozen fires broke out, half a kilometre ahead of them. In the burst of light that these fires produced, Felix saw that more wagons had been piled with hay and rolled toward their general position. The lead Roman troops weren’t expecting this tactic. They raised their shields and locked them together, but the wagons punched a hole in their line.

  There was a wild shout from the start of the causeway. As the Romans were shoving the wagons aside and legionnaires were rushing to fill any gaps, their foes sallied forth from the Gate of the Moon and from behind their barricades along the docks. The sound wave formed by their collective shouts practically knocked Felix into the sea. Arrows fell by the hundreds on the Romans, as well as stones from a thousand slings. The resulting sound was horrific and ear-splitting: it was like standing beneath a tin roof in a hailstorm. And besides the racket, the effects were deadly. Felix saw men collapse, one with an arrow sticking out of his throat. He twitched all over; and then was still.

  Trumpets sounded. A hail of arrows sailed forth from the Roman line: a third of them had fiery tips and seemed to slice the very night to ribbons before dipping to earth and ripping into the Egyptians. Still, they ran forward by the hundreds and thousands. More trumpets sounded on the Roman side. Before their notes had died, the legionnaires were stirring. The troops’ first steps were tentative and clumsy, then their ranks locked tight, their discipline caught fire, and they were muscling forward like one hulking machine.

  “This is it!” Carolyn cried. “Let’s get moving!” Reaching for a ladder on the causeway’s side, she used it to lower herself into the rowboat. When she was seated, Felix followed behind. A deafening sound accompanied his efforts. The front troops on either side had crashed into each other. Shields collided, spears struck home, swords clashed together ten thousand times over. Screams of rage mixed with the howls of men being skewered. The air vibrated like glass about to shatter. This is the music of death, Felix thought.

  Not that there was time to think. This was their only chance to strike out for the library. It lay half a kilometre from the start of the causeway and was marked by a stretch of docks before it. If they proceeded at a thirty-degree angle, they would have a kilometre of sea to cover. The trick was to avoid being seen by the Egyptians. A Roman, too, could confuse them in the dark and send the odd projectile flying. There was one way to succeed and a hundred ways to fail.

  Sitting beside Carolyn, Felix raised the right oar. At a nod from her, he shoved off from the causeway. They were floating between two shifting triremes and had to avoid one without hitting the other. By rowing furiously, they quit the shore and entered into the thick of the harbour. A westerly breeze produced a slight swell.

  “Head more to port,” Carolyn said.

  “I always forget which way is port,” Felix grunted, straining at his oar.

  “Bear left. That’s better.” Did she say this with a glint of humour?

  “The sun’s rising,” he observed. He was right. A band of sluggish pink and purple was faintly visible beyond the city’s eastern limits.

  “We have to hurry,” Carolyn gasped. “We have to escape this madness while the darkness lasts.”

  And madness it was. The fighting was at its most brutal now. The exchange of blows was growing more frantic; both sides were straining as hard as they could, and still they were equally balanced, like wrestlers unable to get the best of each other. Men were spilling over the causeway’s sides and the din of shouting was so persistent that it sounded like one block of sound, not the product of ten thousand men screaming. One soldier — Roman, Egyptian, who could say — was standing on a length of wall with a spear through his middle. He was doing his best to keep aloft — to fall was to die, he understood clearly. But someone shoved him and he tottered over, to the causeway first, then into the water.

  “You’re too much to the port, I mean left,” Carolyn cried.

  “Okay,” Felix said, pulling hard on his oar. His biceps were on fire.

  “It’s not much farther,” she said. “Maybe five hundred metres.”

  No sooner had she spoken than a deep-toned booming assailed their ears. It was rhythmic, continuous, and vibrated in their bones.

  “Uh-oh!” Carolyn yelled. “We’ve got company coming!”

  She was pointing left. Through the thin mist hovering above the water’s surface and the crack of dawn eating into darkness, a line of shapes was speed-ing toward them. The Egyptians had finally launched their ships to complement the forces struggling on land. Three ships were larger by far than their brethren — tessarakonteres. Each held thousands of troops and would cause the Romans no end of trouble.

  “When Caesar sees these boats he’ll take precautions,” Felix panted. “He’ll set fire to his transports and push them afloat, hoping they’ll crash into the enemy’s vessels.”

  “What do we care?” Carolyn exclaimed.

  “They’ll veer off course and set the library ablaze. We have to get inside before the fire catches.”

  He redoubled his efforts. Despite the breeze and chill in the air, he was pouring sweat. At the same time he was worried that a ship might spy them and chase them down. By swinging right, they could avoid the flotilla, but still a captain might decide to hunt them. If so, they’d be shot at unless they were rammed and crushed to splinters.

  “Almost there,” Carolyn gasped. She was right. The docks weren’t far off and, behind them, stood the library’s rear. Before Felix could smile, something whizzed past his ear.

  “They’re shooting!” he cried. Fifty metres away, a boat was speeding by, its three banks of oars keeping time to a drum. Poised on this trireme was a collection of archers. They could see the rowboat and were trying to hit it. Thwwt, thwwt, thwwt. Three more arrows went hissing by. One buried itself in the rowboat’s side. Drawn by this sport, more archers appeared.

  “They have us in their sights!” Felix growled. “Take a deep breath and jump overboard!”

  Carolyn was slow. Tha
t’s why Felix threw his weight to one side and capsized the craft. Even as it flipped, its hull was hit by several arrows. Striking the water, the pair dove beneath the surface. The water was black and hardly reassuring, especially when arrows sliced through its depths — one grazed Felix and tore a hole in his tunic. They swam underwater as far as they could, broke the surface, and swallowed more air before ducking back into the depths. They repeated this process several times, being sure to stick close to each other. Felix fretted that the ship would chase them, but no, it stayed within the flotilla.

  “We’re out of range,” Felix gasped, coming up for air.

  “Better yet,” Carolyn coughed, “we’ve reached our goal.”

  She was right. The docks lay dead ahead of them. Curls of mist whorled about them; buffeted by the swell, their planks were creaking slightly. Best of all, not a soul was in sight.

  They swam the remaining fifty metres. Aiming for the side of the dock, they found a ladder and climbed its rungs, quiet but for the water streaming from their tunics. They glanced round nervously, seeing threats everywhere. Their apprehension was groundless. All hell was breaking loose on the causeway, but the docks were clear.

  “What now?” Carolyn whispered. She had her arms wrapped around her and was trying not to shiver.

  “We break into the library,” Felix said. “But that might not be easy.”

  He moved across the dock, keeping low. His eyes roved everywhere, on the lookout for Egyptians and Carolyn’s clone. The roar in the distance set his nerves on edge.

  Ahead of them was a three-metre wall. It marked the start of the library’s precinct. He stooped and wove his hands together. Carolyn set a foot on his hands and, as he launched her upwards, scrambled up the wall. Then it was Felix’s turn. He ran at the wall and dashed halfway up its stone when Carolyn caught him and hauled him to the top. She then jumped into the garden below. Before following, Felix glanced behind.