Hannibal's children

Chapter 11

It seemed to the Romans that, for such exotic newcomers, they were attracting very little attention on the Alexandrian waterfront. Here in the royal harbor the ships weren't as numerous as in the Eunostos, but they seemed to hail from as many corners of the world. Common sailors were everywhere, but there were also a great many finely dressed people embarking and disembarking. Probably, Marcus thought, they were envoys to the Alexandrian court. There were also many with the look of scholars and these he assumed were bound for the great Library and Museum.

While ships of war and passenger vessels predominated, there were cargo ships, some of them unloading luxury goods for the palace, others that seemed to be laden solely with books. Drakon was just one Alexandrian warship among many and the toga-clad strangers that descended its gangplank rated little more than a glance from the colorful throng ashore.

"I suppose a reception committee was too much to hope for," Flaccus said.

"How could they know we were coming?" said Marcus. "Come on, let's see about some sort of lodgings. Then we can go petition the court." He saw their downcast faces and added: "Our lavish treatment in Carthage was a fluke. We happened to arrive at the right time. Don't expect it to happen twice."

Aeson came ashore and said, "You can bunk at the naval barracks. I'll be delivering my dispatches to the palace. I think you can expect to be summoned soon after that. I don't know about your diplomatic plans, but someone is definitely going to want to hear about that fight with the pirates."

The naval barracks was adjacent to the palace dock. The Romans had not spotted it for what it was because it looked no more military than the palace itself. Aeson saw that they were assigned quarters in a wing reserved for high-ranking officers, then went to deliver his dispatches.

The rooms were comfortable but spartan, their furnishings spare. Flaccus studied the accommodations glumly. "This is a bit of a letdown."

"How soon we grow spoiled," Marcus said. "It beats staying in some flea-ridden hostelry. This will do until we establish our credentials with the court. Then we can see about getting a proper house in the city."

While they saw to the arrangement of their sparse luggage, Marcus mulled over the events of recent weeks. It disturbed him that his fellow Romans of the officer class were so quick to grow accustomed to the luxury of the south. He wondered if the famous austerity of his countrymen was bred from the mere absence of temptation. Of his immediate followers, only young Caesar and Quintus Brutus seemed to show no taste for high living. He found himself worrying that the much-anticipated return to Italy might expose his nation to a decadence unknown in the brutal north.

And there was the matter of the pirate attack. Clearly, the pirates had been put up to it. The others assumed that Hamilcar was behind it, but Marcus was not so sure. There were other powers at the Carthaginian court, and Zarabel was far from the least of them. That she had shown them such favor meant nothing. He knew that, to gain advantage over her brother, she would not hesitate to exterminate a few interloping foreigners.

And, he was all too aware, there was a more subtle motive for her to want him out of the way. With his death, Norbanus became leader of the Roman delegation, and she could manipulate Norbanus far more easily than she could a man like himself. There were traps everywhere, and he feared that Alexandria would prove to be no less perilous than Carthage.

Selena II, Queen and Regent of Egypt, was getting very bored with documents. She sat at her desk with Memnon, the First Eunuch, and Sylphius the Chief Scribe, performing the unglamorous but necessary paperwork of government. The desk, by the standards of the Successors, was a plain and modest item: a thin slab of polished marble laid atop gryphons carved from the same stone.

"The tax accounts from the Fayyum, Majesty," said Memnon, sliding another stack of papyrus before her. She vowed a ram to Zeus-Amon if she could just be presented with something interesting. Her vow was rewarded almost immediately.

The Keeper of the Accounts Room Door came in and thumped his staff on the floor. "Majesty, Captain Aeson awaits with dispatches from Carthage."

Selene ran the naval list through her mind and came up with the man: Aeson, captain of the Drakon, a bireme. "Bring the dispatches to me and dismiss the captain," she said.

"Begging Your Majesty's indulgence, Captain Aeson says that he has an extraordinary report that must be delivered personally."

"Says he so?" This, at least, seemed mildly intriguing. Either the man was presumptuous or else he had something truly interesting to report. "Send the captain in."

She watched as Aeson made his way the length of the room. He was typical of her captains: a salty, weather-beaten Greek in a faded tunic. He halted before the desk and bowed.

"Majesty, I bring dispatches from Carthage." He set the dispatch case before the scribe.

"And something more, I understand?"

"Yes, Majesty. I bring a delegation from Rome." "Rome no longer exists," she said mildly, wondering if the man was addled.

"These are from the northern land where the old Romans were exiled. I can assure Your Majesty that the Romans still exist, and they are as formidable as ever."

This was an unlooked-for diversion. "These men are from Noricum? I've heard of the place, but never seen anyone from there except for a few slaves sent down to the Euxine markets. They really call themselves Romans?"

"That is the case, Majesty. They speak Latin, though they are passable in Greek. They wear the toga and they are fighting men such as I've never seen before. The old tales from the day of Hannibal must be true."

She leaned forward. "You've seen them fight?"

"I have a most amazing tale to relate."

Selene clapped her hands. "A chair for the captain, and refreshments." She addressed him. "Make yourself comfortable, Captain. Then tell me all about it."

Slaves brought the chair and a table and a platter of honeyed squab, figs, dates, cheeses and a pitcher of wine. The skipper was uncomfortable. "Majesty, I cannot sit and eat before royalty."

"Nonsense," she said, rising and circling the desk. The captain sprang to his feet. "Sit down, Captain." She gestured to a slave, who poured two cups full. Selene took one and handed the other to Aeson. The eunuch and the scribe made scandalized sounds, which she ignored. She perched herself on the desk. "Have something to eat, then tell me about these Romans."

She listened intently as Aeson delivered his tale. He described his annoyed amusement when he was ordered to deliver these primitive landlubbers to Alexandria. He said that his scorn was tempered somewhat when the Romans asked such penetrating and perceptive questions about naval matters. He described these odd men, their dress and manner, their way of speaking, their obvious pride and equally obvious discipline. Then he got to the fight.

"Two pirate vessels attacked an Alexandrian warship?"

"They didn't just attack. They were lying in wait and it was us they were waiting for. They must've had a lookout on top of the cape, because they were already churning the water white when we came into view. They were making straight for us and they weren't mistaking us for any rich merchantman, either. We never had time to properly prepare for battle. The first one was on us before we could even get the mast unstepped."

"And yet they didn't take your ship," she said. "Even after starting with such a clear advantage. We'll leave aside for the moment just why they were mad enough to assault a warship with no prospect of a rich haul. Tell me why you are alive and how your ship returned unharmed."

"Well, Majesty, this is the part you are going to find hard to believe."

"Go ahead. I've heard many marvelous stories and I'd like to hear another."

He told of the unequal battle when he thought Drakon was surely lost, how annoyed he was when the Romans, unbelievably, put on armor and calmly prepared to fight as if this were a land battle. Then, baldly and factually, he told how the Romans made an opening at the enemy rail with their spears, then stepped across and proceeded methodically to turn the enemy vessel into an abbatoir.

"They acted like it was a routine task, Majesty. Like this was something they did all the time. There were no heroics. The unit behaved like a machine for slaughter. When they came back aboard, it turned out the least warlike of the lot, the one named Flaccus, had taken a small wound. The rest of them seemed to think this was hilarious, like getting hurt in such a trifling fight was proof he didn't have the stuff of a real warrior in him."

"You've made my day much more interesting," she said. "I thank you. Now go and tender your report to the naval authorities and see to the replacement of your lost crew and such repairs as your ship needs. You've done well."

The captain rose, bowed and left the room. Selene turned to her scribe. "Find me whatever the library has on the Romans. There should be plenty. They were becoming a prominent nation before Hannibal expunged them."

"As Your Majesty wishes," the man said, clear from his tone that he regarded this as a matter unworthy of her attention. Selene had her own opinion on this.

Marcus and some of the other Romans were at weapons drill the next morning when the summons came. They had brought their practice swords from Carthage and were going at it in full gear. Marcus glanced over the rim of his shield when he saw the man in messenger's uniform come onto the terrace. In the instant his attention wavered. Brutus leaned into him with a shield-slam, knocked him off balance and cracked his lead-weighted wooden blade into the side of his helmet.

Marcus blinked the stars from his eyes and signaled for the messenger to approach. "The Queen-Regent Selene desires the attendance of the delegation from Noricum at this afternoon's court," the man said, handing him a document intended to pass him through the doorways of the palace to the august presence.

Marcus dismissed the man and called his following together for a briefing. Before it broke up, Caesar nudged Flaccus. "Better brush up on your seductive wiles, Flaccus. It looks like we're going to call on the old lady."

Flaccus sighed amid general hilarity. "The things one must do to serve the Republic."

Two hours later they arrived at the gate of the palace. Except for its massive scale, the imposing building maintained the pleasing, austere harmony of classical Greek architecture, eschewing the over-elaboration so common to Successor aesthetics. The only Egyptian elements were two sphinxes flanking the great doorway, and these were Greek in execution if not in inspiration.

Instead of a military guard, a steward dressed in a snowy robe met them. "You would be the delegation from Noricum?"

"We are Romans," Marcus answered.

"Your pardon, gentlemen," the steward said gravely, "but Her Majesty has instructed that you be addressed as envoys of Noricum until certain diplomatic questions are answered. If you will come this way."

"She's not taking any chances," Flaccus said in Latin as they followed the man. "The Seven Hills are on Carthaginian territory now, so she's not ready to address us as Romans just yet."

"We'll just have to convince her that Rome is ours, not Carthage's," Marcus said.

The walls were decorated with the ever-popular motif of the battle of gods and giants, with the latter depicted as all manner of grotesques: men with serpents for legs, or bodies covered with eyes or with dragon tails or lion heads. The gods were depicted as idealized humans, identifiable by their attributes: Zeus with his thunderbolts, helmeted Ares and Athena, Apollo with his bow, Artemis in her hunting tunic and boots.

They came to a double door of bronze worked in a foliate design and were admitted to a spacious room they took at first to be an anteroom to the throne room proper. In this they were mistaken.

At one end of the room a young woman in a plain blue gown was deep in conversation with a number of elderly men who had the look of scholars. She glanced toward them and came forward. "You are the delegation from Noricum?" she said.

"Romans," Marcus said. "We are here to meet with your queen." He looked past her for someone more official. "We expected to be presented at court. Who are you, girl? One of the queen's attendants?" He wondered what made the jaws of the old scholars drop in unison. He looked around to see if some prodigy had occurred behind him.

"No," said the young woman. "I'm Selene."

It took a moment for the words to register. "I suppose it's a common name around here. The Selene we wish to see is-"

"Foreigner!" spluttered one of the graybeards. "You address the queen of Egypt! You speak to Selene Ptolemy the Second!"

For the first time since leaving Noricum, Marcus was utterly nonplussed. The young woman before him raised a fine-boned hand and quirked an eyebrow quizzically. He took the small hand in his much larger one, a hand that seemed to have turned numb. Flaccus stepped in and appropriated the queen's hand in his own.

"We are most charmed, Your Majesty. I am Flaccus, and I've been named official-"

Marcus trod heavily on his foot and regained her hand. "You may address me, Majesty. I am Marcus Cornelius Scipio and I am head of the Roman delegation." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I fear our rustic simplicity has played us an ill turn and I apologize. Would it be utterly oafish of me to note that Your Majesty looks very little like her coin portrait?"

At this she released a full-throated laugh and even a few of the elders managed dry chuckles. "This explains it! I fear you've been deceived by our propaganda. Since the Successors of Alexander took over his empire, it has been our custom to portray reigning queens as stern-faced old matrons on the coinage. It's thought that people won't take a young queen seriously."

"I see. That does explain it." Gods! he thought. I must sound like an utter bumpkin!

She laced an arm through his. "Come along and walk with me, Marcus Cornelius Scipio. While we walk, you can introduce me to your friends."

She conducted him out of the room onto a terrace, thence to a staircase that descended to a splendid garden. This, for a court proceeding, seemed amazingly informal to Marcus. He introduced the other Romans and she greeted each courteously, putting everyone at their ease until she had them all conversing as casually as if they were home among friends. It was, Marcus thought, an amazing performance.

"These are myrrh trees from Ethiopia," she explained, showing them some shrub-like growths with aromatic leaves. They already knew that the garden contained flora from all over the Ptolemaic dominion.

"I always wondered where that stuff came from," Brutus said.

"Merchants trade it so far north?" she asked. To Marcus's amazement, she wanted to know details of commerce: prices, middlemen's percentages and other unqueenly things. It was hard to imagine anything more different from Carthaginian royalty. It did not make him drop his guard. This might be a pose. She might be playing them for fools. At least she didn't try to put them off balance by appearing nearly naked, as Zarabel had.

"Your Majesty is well versed in the details of trade," Marcus noted.

"Queens usually are," she said. "Kings love war and conquest. Queens know that real wealth and prosperity come through profitable trade."

"Few nations are so favored by the gods as Egypt," Flaccus noted. "You have a great deal to trade with."

"That is true," she agreed. "But peaceful trade is more than just wealth. It is vision. A predecessor of mine, one Queen Hatshepsut, reigned over Egypt as pharaoh in her own right some fourteen hundred years ago. The glory of her reign was a huge trade expedition she sent along the coasts of Arabia and Ethiopia. The ancestors of these myrrh trees may have come to Egypt on that voyage. The details of it are carved on the walls of her temple. She expanded Egypt's knowledge of the world and bettered the condition of the whole nation. She was succeeded by Thutmose the Third, another warrior-king. He killed a great many foreigners but he did nothing to enrich his kingdom."

Marcus disliked hearing conquest spoken of thus dismissively, but he knew that certain allowances had to be made for a reigning queen, especially one as rich as this one. "Truly, Your Majesty, a nation of prominence and power will have neither without both military strength and a profitable balance of trade."

"Well spoken. You people are not as rustic as you would have us believe."

"We lack your level of sophistication. This does not mean we are stupid. Perhaps we overemphasize military virtue to the detriment of foreign trade, but it is our backwardness in the latter that we hope to correct with this mission. You, on the other hand, would be well advised to reevaluate the importance of your military." He could almost hear the eyes rolling behind him. Once again, he was overstepping his authority.

She blinked, seeming astonished for the first time. "Your nation's reputation for blunt speech is not exaggerated, I see. What do you mean?"

"You must be aware that Hamilcar of Carthage is preparing for war against you. He makes no secret of it."

"Certainly. It is far from the first time Carthage has sought to take advantage of us. There will be some fighting on the Libyan border. There will be some naval forays. He will probably make an attempt to take Cyprus. We have met these threats before."

"I saw something of the scale of his preparations. I believe you should take this threat more seriously."

"Why?"

"Because Hamilcar wishes to hire Roman legions for his war. If he does that, you can kiss your kingdom-"

"Scipio!" Brutus barked. "The Senate has not-"

Marcus whirled to face him. "The Senate has bestowed upon me power of negotiation. Do not interfere." Brutus held his glare for a moment, but Roman discipline prevailed. Brutus lowered his eyes and stepped back.

Selene chose to ignore the little byplay. "I know your reputation. At least, I've read of the reputation of your ancestors. I think it would take more than the addition of a few of your legions to turn Hamilcar into his ancestor." She studied his expression for a moment. "You mean it! You really think that you are that good."

"I would not question the quality of Your Majesty's army and navy," Marcus said. "But when was their last war?"

"Four years ago Antiochus of Syria invaded the Sinai and I had to repel him."

"And this war required what part of your military forces?"

"I sent six myriads, but in the event only a third of the force was used. There was a battle near Gaza and Antiochus withdrew."

"I see. Majesty, about how often are your men required to fight?"

She looked mystified but amused. "I would say that there is fighting in two or three out of each ten years. What is your point?"

"It is this. The legions of Roma Noricum have been engaged in active campaigning every year since we left Italy. That was one hundred sixteen years ago. For all those years, at least half the legions of Rome have been committed to active campaigning in any given year. Rarely does any legion go for two years without heavy fighting."

"I see. But you have been fighting barbarians."

"They are hard-fighting warriors and they are not as undisciplined as you might think. I have seen something of the armies of Carthage. They are well equipped and finely drilled, but few of them are what Romans would consider veterans."

"And what is the Roman definition of a veteran?" she asked.

"We rate a man as a veteran if he has ten campaigns behind him. Not ten fights: ten campaigns. A legion is considered inexperienced and unreliable if no more than half its men are veterans."

"You have high military standards."

"So we have. We learned a great deal from Hannibal. We believe that military preparedness is the highest of priorities and we vowed never again to go to war with hastily raised armies of conscripts. No man can seek public office unless he has those same ten campaigns behind him. A praetor- a senior magistrate-is also a qualified general. We are soldiers from birth: farmers, shopkeepers, artisans and the wealthiest equites and patricians."

She nodded. "Captain Aeson reported to me about your fight with the pirates. He was most impressed."

"It wasn't much of a fight," Marcus said.

"That was what so impressed him. I believe you when you tell me you are a nation of born soldiers."

"Not born," he corrected. "Made. Soldiering is something that must be learned early and in a hard school. Your own ancestors, Philip and Alexander's Macedonians, understood this."

"We shall talk about this further," she said. "But let me show you the royal menagerie. We have some of the world's fiercest animals in our collection."

The queen assigned them accommodations in the huge palace complex and when they went to their new quarters that evening, the rest of the Roman party took Marcus to task for his actions that day.

"Wasn't proposing a military alliance with Carthage enough?" Brutus said. "Now you want to do the same with Egypt?"

"And why are you dealing with this woman?" Caesar asked.

"It's that coin portrait," Marcus said.

"Your sense eludes me," Brutus said.

"She said that reigning queens are so depicted on the coins. She does not consider her unripe husband the king and herself the queen-consort. She is the real ruler of Egypt."

"There is likely to be a faction at this court that does not share that opinion," Brutus pointed out.

"Undoubtedly. Would you rather deal with this very clever and sane woman, or with a boy who is almost certainly controlled by courtiers and counselors? I understand that these positions are usually filled by eunuchs at the Alexandrian court."

"Just what is this southern enthusiasm for deballed men?" Caesar wanted to know.

"Kings get nervous when they have too many real men around them," Flaccus told him. "They fear revolts and worry about the paternity of their sons."

"For the next few days," Marcus told them, "we will be organizing our mission here. We will also do what everyone who visits Alexandria does: We will go sightseeing. You all know the drill. Fortifications, naval installations, road approaches. Flaccus, I want you to climb to the top of that lighthouse and draw a map of the whole city."

"All the way to the top?" Flaccus said, aghast. "I'll never make it!"

"Hire a litter to carry you," Brutus advised.

"It's a sad day," said Marcus, "when a Roman official can't manage a few thousand steps on his own feet."

"It's a few thousand steps straight up!" Flaccus said.

"Do it."

"What will you be doing?" Brutus wanted to know.

"I've decided to take up the pursuit of culture," Marcus said.

"Culture?" said young Caesar with wonder in his voice.

"Exactly. I am going to pay a visit to the Museum."