Steven Saylor - The judgement of Caesar

From my position I could see little, but I could hear everything. The piper continued to play, but lowered his volume. It was a curious tune, simple on first hearing but repeated in odd variations. Ptolemy's father had been dubbed Ptolemy Auletes, the Piper, on account of his love of the instrument. Was this one of the late king's compositions? For young Ptolemy to go about accompanied by this link to his father was the sort of device that Roman politicians used; in a struggle to the death with his sister Cleopatra, it behooved the young king to use any means possible to lay claim to his father's legacy.

"I thought you would be refreshing yourself in the royal quarters, Your Majesty, after the rigors of the day's journey," said Pothinus.

Ptolemy did not answer at once. He turned from Pothinus and stepped toward me, until I could sense his presence just above me, so close I could smell the perfumed leather of his sandals. "I'm told you've captured a Roman spy, Lord Chamberlain."

"Perhaps, Your Majesty. Perhaps not. I'm trying to delve to the bottom of the matter. Ah, here's one of my scribes now, with the additional information I called for."

I gathered that another scroll had been delivered. While Pothinus read, muttering to himself, the king remained standing over me. I kept my eyes on a horned beetle that happened to be traversing the patch of floor just in front of my nose.

"Well, Lord Chamberlain?" said the king. "What have you discovered?"

Pothinus cleared his throat. "The man is Gordianus, called the Finder. He's made a career of gathering evidence for advocates in the Roman courts. Thus it appears he's gained the confidence of any number of powerful Romans over the years: Cicero, Marc Antony-"

"And Pompey!" said the spy, standing behind me. There was a moment of awkward silence. The man had spoken out of turn, and I could imagine Pothinus glaring at him.

"Yes, Pompey," said the eunuch dryly. "But according to my sources, the two of them had a severe falling-out at the beginning of the war between Pompey and Caesar. Thus, it's quite unlikely that this Roman was a spy for Pompey, as his captor alleges. Quite the opposite, in all probability!"

"What do you mean, Lord Chamberlain?"

"The fellow has a son, Your Majesty, called Meto, who happens to be one of Caesar's closest confidants; as a matter of fact, the other soldiers refer to him as 'Caesar's tent-mate.' "

I groaned inwardly. Meto's exact relationship with his imperator had long been a puzzlement to me, and a vexation when others gossiped about it. Now it seemed that such speculation had reached even here, to Egypt!

Ptolemy was intrigued. " 'Caesar's tent-mate'? What exactly does that imply, Lord Chamberlain?"

The eunuch sniffed. "The Romans constantly spread vulgar sexual gossip about one another, Your Majesty. Politicians insult their rivals with charges of engaging in this or that demeaning act. Common citizens say anything they please about those who rule them. Soldiers make up riddles and ditties and even marching songs that boast of their commander's sexual conquests, or tease him about his more embarrassing proclivities."

"Tease him? His soldiers… tease… Caesar?"

"The Romans are not like us, Your Majesty. They're rather childish when it comes to sexual matters, and they respect neither one another nor the gods. Their primitive form of government, with every citizen at war with every other in a never-ending struggle for riches and power, has made them as impious as they are brutish."

"Caesar's soldiers are fantastically loyal. They fight to the death for him," said King Ptolemy quietly. "Isn't that what you've told me, Lord Chamberlain?"

"So our intelligence would indicate. There are many examples to prove the point, such as the soldier in the naval engagement at Massilia who continued to fight even after losing several limbs, and died shouting Caesar's name; and also-"

"Yet they feel free to make light of him. How can this be? I had thought his men must be so fiercely devoted to Caesar because they recognized some aspect of godhood in him and willingly subjugated themselves to his divinity; is he not said to be descended from the Roman goddess Venus? But a mortal does not make fun of a god; nor does a god permit his worshippers to ridicule him."

"As I said, Your Majesty, the Romans are an impious people, politically corrupt, sexually unsophisticated, and spiritually polluted. That is why we must take every precaution against them."

Ptolemy stepped even closer to me. The beetle under my nose scurried out of the way to make room for the toe of the king's sandal. His nails, I could not help but notice, were immaculately groomed. His feet smelled of rosewater.

"So, Lord Chamberlain, this man knows Caesar?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. And if he is a spy, rather than having been employed by Pompey, it seems more likely, in my judgment, that he was sent here by Caesar to spy upon Pompey and witness his arrival on our shores."

"Then we certainly gave him an eyeful!" said Achillas, abruptly entering the conversation.

"Rise to your knees, Roman," said Ptolemy.

I groaned and felt a stab of pain in my back from the effort of rising without using my hands. The king took a few steps back and looked down his nose at me. I dared to look back at him for a brief moment before lowering my eyes. His face was indeed that of a boy of fifteen. His Greek ancestry was evident in his blue eyes and fair skin. He was not particularly handsome, with a mouth too broad and a nose too large to satisfy Greek ideals of beauty, but his eyes flashed with intelligence, and the twist at the corner of his mouth hinted at an impish sense of humor.

"Gordianus-called-Finder is your name?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"The spy who captured you charges that you were in the employ of Pompey. True or false?"

"Not true, Your Majesty."

"My lord chamberlain suggests that you may be in Caesar's employ."

"Nor is that true, Your Majesty."

"But it is true that you know Caesar?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." I could see that he was intrigued by Caesar, and that it was my uncertain relationship with Caesar that made him curious about me. I cleared my throat. "If it would please Your Majesty, I might be able to tell him a thing or two about Caesar; provided I am allowed to keep my head, of course."

While not looking directly at him, I could see nonetheless that the corner of his mouth twisted into a crooked smile. The young king of Egypt was amused. "You there, spy. What are you called?"

The man gave a name of numerous syllables that was Egyptian, not Greek. Ptolemy evidently could not be bothered to pronounce it, for he continued to address the man by his profession.

"What caused you to think, spy, that this Roman was Pompey's man?"

The spy, in his reedy voice, proceeded to tell the tale of where and how he had first seen me, and of how he had come upon me again near the temple beside the Nile.

Ptolemy returned his gaze to me. "Well, Gordianus-called-Finder, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I repeated the tale of why I had come to Egypt and how I had fallen in with Pompey's fleet, ending with the disappearance of Bethesda the previous day and my capture that morning.

We had all been speaking Greek. Abruptly, Ptolemy spoke to me in Latin. His accent was odd but his grammar impeccable. "The spy strikes me as a bit of an idiot. What do you say to that, Gordianus-called-Finder?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see that the spy frowned, unable to follow the change of tongues. I answered in Latin. "Who am I to contradict the judgment of Your Majesty?"

"It would seem you are a man of considerable experience, Gordianus-called-Finder. Truly, what do you have to say about this spy? Speak candidly; I command it!"