Steven Saylor - The judgement of Caesar

The leader looked Rupa up and down, then sneered at me. "Ah, well, then. Leave them to it. Now let's go kill some Romans!"

They ran on, in the direction of the palace.

Rupa gestured to me: I wasn't afraid of them. Really!

"I can still call them back, if you like," I muttered. "You big, lumbering-"

Rupa grabbed my hand and resumed pulling me toward the building that housed the Tomb of Alexander.

The armed guards who usually flanked the entrance had vanished in the melee, along with the line of sightseers waiting to get in. The huge bronze doors stood wide open.

We stepped inside. The lofty foyer, opulently decorated with multi-colored marble, was eerily quiet. Our steps echoed around the deserted chamber. The hubbub outside was reduced to a distant roar. A doorway to the left opened into a stairwell, presumably the means by which Ptolemy had ascended to the balcony to address the crowd.

Rupa pulled me through a different doorway and down a long hallway lined by pillars. We descended a flight of stairs, passed through a small antechamber hewn from solid alabaster, and then stepped into a subterranean vault. The air was cool, as in an underground cellar, and smelled of chrysanthemums. The long, narrow chamber was dimly lit by hanging lamps and dominated by a gilded statue at the far end. The windswept mane of hair, the serene countenance, and the beautifully molded shoulders and limbs made the identity of the statue unmistakable. Alexander stood naked before us in all his youthful glory, towering over an open sarcophagus in which lay the mummified corpse of the conqueror, draped in glittering robes from head to foot and crowned with a golden laurel wreath. Brought by the many sightseers and strewn about the base of the sarcophagus were bouquets of fresh flowers and wreaths of dried flowers-mandrakes and mallows, irises and poppies, larkspurs and lotus lilies.

But Alexander's was not the only dead body in the room.

The light was so dim, and the images at the far end of the room were so arresting, that I failed to see the obstacle at my feet. I stepped against it and tripped, and only Rupa's strong hand and quick reflexes saved me from falling flat on my face. I staggered back and looked down at the body of an Egyptian soldier. He lay on his back, his open eyes staring at the ceiling and his fist still clutching his sword. If he had put up a fight, he had failed to wound his adversary, for there was no sign of blood on his blade. But of blood there was plenty; it formed a pool around him, flowing from a wound in his abdomen.

"Why have you brought me here, Rupa?"

He made no answer, but merely gestured for me to follow. We crossed the room and approached the golden chain that bisected it, beyond which sightseers were not permitted. From its perimeter, the sarcophagus was still several arm's lengths away, but one could clearly see the familiar profile of Alexander and the play of the dim light upon the strands of golden hair tucked beneath the golden laurel wreath. The sight gave me a shiver, and I appreciated the patience of the multitudes who waited for hours to stand in that spot for a brief moment and gaze upon eternity.

Without hesitating, Rupa ducked under the chain and strode directly to the sarcophagus. I felt a pang of superstitious dread, then did likewise. There were no guards to stop us, and the watchful stare of the conqueror's statue showed no signs of displeasure at our invasion of his sanctum.

I stood beside Rupa, and the two of us looked down at the face of Alexander the Great.

I frowned. At such close proximity, the sight of that mummified countenance was not as edifying as it had been when viewed from a few steps farther back. Some semblance of the original flesh remained, but the inner life that had given it beauty had long since fled. The skin was like worn papyrus stretched thin over the bony protrusions of the cheeks and the chin. Those responsible for admitting visitors to the tomb seemed to have gauged exactly how far back to place the golden chain so as to take full advantage of the flattering effects of soft lighting and distance.

"What do you think, Rupa? A bit the worse for wear, isn't he?"

Rupa nodded. Then a youthful voice piped up: "But he's not all that bad when you consider he's three hundred years old!"

I gave a start. "What in Hades-?"

From the dark space between the sarcophagus and the statue beyond, a face popped into view, followed by another.

"Mopsus! Androcles! I might have known. But how-?"

"We came here through the tunnel, of course," said Mopsus.

"What tunnel?"

"The secret tunnel that begins under the rose garden in the palace, runs past the turnoff to the great Library, and then takes you straight on to this place. It comes out just behind that statue. There's a little panel you slide back, some steps to go up-if you're as tall as Rupa, you have to bend a bit and duck your head when you climb out-and then you're here, in Alexander's tomb. It's one of the first passages we discovered."

"We?" said Androcles. "I was the one who found this passage."

"I said, it was one of the first passages we discovered, and we-sometimes you, sometimes me-have discovered quite a few such passages since we started exploring the palace," Mopsus insisted.

"Yes, but I'm the one who found this passage. I found it with no help from you or anybody else, and then I was generous enough to share the knowledge with you. So, properly, you should say, 'It's one of the first passages Androcles discovered.' Admit it!"

"I'll admit no such thing. You're just being stupid. Isn't he, Master?"

I sighed. "So that's what you've been up to, since we arrived at the palace? Snooping in every nook and corner, looking for trapdoors and sliding panels? You're lucky you're still alive!"

"But no one ever stopped us, Master," said Androcles. "Everyone at the palace seems to like us. Some of the guards even give us bits of sweets when they see us."

"Oh, yes!" said Mopsus. "Especially that guard who's stationed in the garden with the long reflecting pool. Sweet Tooth, we call him, because he always has the best sweets, little honey dabs thickened with flour and flavored with rosewater and rolled in crushed almonds. Delicious!"

I imagined the two of them, smiling and laughing, the picture of innocence, charming their way past every checkpoint in the palace. In time the guards had no doubt grown so used to them that they allowed them to come and go as they pleased, even allowing them to bring along their hulking, but harmless, friend, Rupa.

I shook my head. "So you've been here before?"

"Oh, yes," said Androcles. "We like to come after sunset, when the tomb is closed to visitors. They lock those doors to the foyer, and this room is completely empty."

"And dark!" added Mopsus.

"Yes, you have to bring your own lamp. But it's rather nice, being able to wander about and study the murals on the walls, and visit with Alexander the Great with no one else about. They put the lid on the sarcophagus at night, but Rupa is strong enough to lift it off. I think Alexander is in wonderful shape. I only hope that I'll look like that when I'm three hundred years old. You can almost imagine that he might sit up and start talking!"

"For better or worse," I said, "the high art of Egyptian embalming seems to have been lost in the centuries between Alexander's day and ours. They're no longer able to perform this kind of magic. Just as well. Can you imagine future generations lining up to have a look at Caesar's perfectly preserved body? But I still don't understand how you came to be here today. And where has everyone gone?"

"The three of us were in the palace," said Androcles, "minding our own business-in the rose garden, as it so happened, watching Alexander the cat chase a butterfly-when one of the courtiers ran by, telling everyone that the king was on the balcony at the Tomb of Alexander, rousing the people against the Romans. Suddenly the rose garden was empty, and there we were, sitting on the very bench with the false bottom that lifts up to let you into the secret passage. We had to come see what was happening for ourselves, and this was the quickest way. When we came out of the tunnel, this room was empty, except for a single Egyptian guard; everyone had gone outside to listen to the king. We were hiding in the shadows behind one of those big pillars, trying to think of a way to slip past the guard, when suddenly there was a commotion from the foyer, and then the king himself came rushing in. We could tell it was the king, even though he wasn't wearing his crown. I think he was heading for the secret tunnel. But there were Roman soldiers after him. The Egyptian guard tried to stand in their way. That's him over there, lying in a pool of blood. For a moment we thought the Roman soldiers were going to kill the king as well, and I think the king thought so, too. You should have seen the look on his face!"