Simon Hawke - The Cleopatra Crisis

Caesar stiffened and his cheeks flushed red. “I do notrequire Egyptians to be my counselors!” he snapped. “And Rome does not wait onEgypt’s pleasure. The tribute will be paid in due course, and speedily, else Ishall instruct my army to seize it for themselves in whatever manner they sochoose! It is I who have been patient, Pothinus. But my patience hasbeen sorely tried. I would advise you not to try it further.”

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the chamber. withTravers hurrying to catch up with him.

“I will rid Egypt of this insolent eunuch if it is the lastthing I ever do,” stormed Caesar as they headed back to their rooms.

Afterward, several of Ptolemy’s ministers came to speak withhim discreetly and Travers wondered which of them would send word to Cleopatra.He was excited at the thought of actually meeting her face-to-face, a woman whowas one of the most legendary beauties and seductresses in all of history.

Despite all the years he’d spent at Caesar’s side, therewere still times when he found himself looking at that handsome, scholarlyprofile and thinking, “My God, I’m actually sitting here with Julius Caesar !”At such times, it seemed almost like a dream. And at other times, the world hecame from seemed unreal.

He had been born in Dallas, Texas and had acquired aninterest in ancient history at a very early age, a result of a typical boyhoodfascination with the glamour of the Time Wars. Childhood play had led him tothe library, to look up certain historical details so that he could settlearguments among his playmates about what sort of armor was worn by medievalknights and how ancient Romans fought. He was able to point out historicalflaws in the design of the toy weapons that their parents purchased for themand was soon making his own from wood in his father’s workshop. He sold them tohis friends, who found that they held up to rough use far better than theflimsy plastic swords they bought in stores and made a far more satisfyingsound when they were stuck together.

He became the local “Armorer,” constructing wooden swordsand shields and daggers for his friends, and with practice, he became moreskillful at it.

Determined to be authentic at all costs, he did his researchcarefully and the more he read about ancient times, the more fascinated he becameand the more he wanted to know. His interest in research helped him to acquirebetter study habits and his grades in school improved dramatically. His father,pleased with this development, as well as with his growing skill incraftsmanship, encouraged him and bought him better tools and books. Whilestill in his early teens, Travers had graduated to working in metal. He startedsmall, with handmade knives, but soon moved on to larger blades. By the time hewas ready to enter college, he had made quite a bit of money selling replicasof Spanish swords, medieval maces. Viking blades and battle axes.Sinclair-hilted sabers, French rapiers and Scottish basket-billed claymores tocollectors and would-be Time Commandos who were happy to pay hundreds ofdollars for authentic, exquisitely crafted “souvenirs of campaigns in Minustime.”

Travers entered Harvard on a scholarship and it was therethat his area of interest narrowed to a specialization in classical times. Hestudied Greek and Latin and took graduate degrees in history, now certain ofhow he planned to spend his life. He intended to apply to the Observer Corpsand be commissioned as an L.T.O., with hopes of a long-term posting in ancientRome. His timing could not have been more perfect. He completed his Observertraining at the head of his class, just as the Temporal Crisis struck and thefocus of the Time Wars shifted from the settling of international disputes todealing with the new and greater threat from the parallel universe. Themajority of the world’s temporal forces were being converted to TemporalObserver status, to function under the senior officers of the Observer Corps,and there was a drastic need for personnel with the sort of qualificationsTravers had, especially as L.T.O.’s. They were as anxious to get Travers asTravers was to join them and he was able to write his own ticket. Without hesitation,he requested to be assigned to Gaius Julius Caesar. ‘Now, the future that hecame from seemed less real to him than the time in which he lived. He hadbecome a Roman in almost all respects. except for that certain distance that healways had to keep, to remind himself of who and what he really was and whathis task entailed. For over a decade, he had lived the dream. Caesar had becomehis friend and it was difficult for him to think that in a couple of years, hewould be murdered in the Senate, beneath the statue of the very man whom he haddriven out of Rome and to his death in Egypt.

He thought of Casca. striking the first blow, and Brutus,delivering the last. Travers felt the blade of the parazonium he wore athis side. Of Macedonian origin, it was the knife worn by almost every maleRoman and the secondary weapon of the soldier, a lethal, bottle-shaped bladewith a strong central rib, three inches wide at the hilt, narrowing slightly atthe midsection and then flaring out once more and tapering to a sharp point. Hehad seen the horrifying wounds the foot-long blade could make and he shudderedat the thought of having something like that plunged into his body. Caesarwould be stabbed a total of twenty-three times by the conspirators, from theneck down to the groin, and he would fall at the foot of Pompey’s statue, whichhe himself had ordered put back up after the mob had torn it down. His bloodwould splatter on the pedestal. causing all of Rome to talk for yearsthereafter about the supernatural influence at work in the assassination, as ifthe spirit of Pompey himself had presided over it in revenge. And part ofTravers’ job was to see that it happened exactly that way.

He had come to have a great deal of respect and affectionfor Caesar. not only as a scholar studying his subject. but as a man and as afriend. It was hard to think that he would have to stand by and watch him die,and in such an awful manner, without being able to do anything to prevent it.But that was precisely what he had to do. If necessary, he would even have toget involved himself to make sure that history wasn’t changed. As much as thatthought disturbed hint, the thought that forces from the parallel universecould be at work to change that disturbed him even more.

Over the next few days, Caesar grew more tense andirritable. He avoided Pothinus and the king as much as possible, which seemedto suit the two of them just fine. He took long walks in the gardens, alwaysarmed and always with Travers at his side and several soldiers close by. It wasin the gardens that several of Ptolemy’s ministers contrived to meet with him,or to send informers, to keep him advised of what Pothinus was doing. Thelonger they remained in Egypt, in the midst of palace intrigues, the more dangerthey were in. If Pothinus found out about Caesar’s plan to reinstate Cleopatra.he would waste no time in having them removed. Travers would have felt muchbetter staying with the army, but Caesar insisted upon staying in the palace,both to claim the treatment due Rome’s emissary and to keep an eye on things.

They were dining in their chambers one evening when one ofthe ministers arrived, along with a servant carrying a rolled-up carpet overhis shoulder.

“I have brought the additional bedclothing you requested. Caesar.”said the minister, shutting the door behind him as the servant carried it in.

“Bedclothing?” said Caesar with a frown. “I did not ask forbedclothing.”

“Perhaps Caesar does not recall.” said the minister with asmile. “Lay it down upon the floor, Apollodorus.”

Caesar got up from his chair. “What is this? I am quitecertain that I asked for no-”