R. Cooke - Rome - Sword of the Legion

“Lucius Domitius, centurion of the Tenth Legion.”

“The Tenth? Please, do not bore me with tricks, Centurion. My agents inform me that Caesar has but two legions in Alexandria, and those are the Sixth and the Twenty-Eighth.”

When Lucius did not respond, Ganymedes went on. “But no matter. And you were born in Italy, were you?”

“Spain,” Lucius replied.

“Even better.” Ganymedes smiled. “And I suppose you are wondering why we are so interested in keeping you alive.”

“I am not,” Lucius replied, kicking one of the freshly severed heads at his feet. “The Egyptian lust for torture is well known.”

“No less than the Roman’s. But, dear me, that has nothing to do with it. Do you not realize, Roman, that I have a hundred slaves at my disposal, day and night? I could have any one of them thrown to the crocodiles with a snap of my fingers – were I as blood-thirsty as you assume.” Ganymedes’s eyes wandered to the crimson-stained gladius gripped firmly in Lucius’s hand, and then quickly shot back to his face. At any other time, I would not hesitate to have you flayed alive and your skin hung from the wall, but there is a time for everything. For now, you have been, shall we say, chosen.”

“Chosen by who?”

“You have demonstrated remarkable skill with the sword, Centurion. Your bravery is unquestionable. Clearly, you are a warrior without equals, and only the greatest of warriors can stand up to the quest that lies before you.”

“What quest?” Lucius said abruptly.

Ganymedes eyed him thoughtfully, and then said, “Not here. There are too many ears. You must come with me, Centurion, if you want answers – if you want to live. I assure you, it will be lucrative for you – that is, if you have a penchant for gold. The alternative is to remain here and die under the spear. I am sure Demetrius will be more than happy to accommodate you.” Ganymedes cast a glance at the Alexandrian officer, who surprisingly appeared anything but eager to carry out such an order.

So they both had a stake in this quest, whatever it was, thought Lucius. As much as he wanted to bury his sword to the hilt in Demetrius’s throat, he was intrigued. Lucius could not imagine why these Alexandrians wished to keep him alive, and he wanted to know more. That and the prospect of gold, his entire reason for joining the Roman expedition in the first place, was quickly driving the battle rage from him. Perhaps, if he cooperated, and this was not some elaborate ruse, there would be time and opportunity for taking care of Demetrius later.

Ganymedes sighed impatiently, tapping one foot and looking at the sun. “I do not have all day, Centurion. So, make your choice. But I warn you, this is my final offer.”

Lucius sat on a bench in the open courtyard of a large and ornate house, shoving handful after handful of olives and grapes into his mouth while the silent slave girl stood by holding the platter of food. The courtyard was entirely encircled by the house, much like a Roman house, and he could see the clear blue sky through the skylight above him. The house was large enough to be a palace, but it was not anywhere near the palace complex, as far as he could tell, judging from the many twists and turns through the city’s backstreets and alleyways that he had been led through to get here.

Now, he hardly resembled the blood-covered warrior that had been fighting on the mole only yesterday. His clothes and armor were gone, removed by a contingent of curvy, black-haired slave girls in sheer white gowns. They had bathed him in waters that smelled of lotus petals, the touch of their silky skin and nudging breasts against his aching body awakening a lust in him that had lain dormant through weeks of siege and fighting. But his advances had all been spurned. The girls simply smiled with their lips and continued rubbing him down. Evidently their orders only went so far.

After withstanding an equally arousing oil rubdown by delicate hands, he now lounged on a padded bench while filling his aching belly.

He was just beginning to wonder if he had really been killed out on the mole and had somehow entered the afterlife, when a door opened and Demetrius entered the courtyard.

His expression was not altogether happy, but not unpleasant either.

“I see that you have been well cared for,” he said, cordially. “You see? I keep my word.”

“You did not keep your word when my men surrendered.”

“You will find, Centurion, that in this part of the world you must listen carefully to anyone making you an offer. I had extended the assurance of safety only to you. Your men wrongly assumed that their lives, too, would be spared.”

“I’ll admit they were fools.” Lucius eyed him while fingering the hilt of the blood-stained gladius that lay beside him on the bench. He had refused to let the girls take it from him. “But they were Romans, Egyptian. And they were my men. I will repay you someday. Mark you me.”

Demetrius smiled. “Yes. Well, that brings to mind a point that I am afraid I must insist on.”

“And that is?”

“You must relinquish your sword.”

“Now who’s going back on his word?”

“It is nothing to concern yourself with. Would we have taken the pains to bathe and feed you had we planned to harm you in any way? I simply cannot allow an armed Roman to be in the presence of Her Majesty, the queen. You understand.”

“Queen?”

Demetrius appeared somewhat uncomfortable when he assumed the droning tone, “The all-powerful Queen Arsinoe, ruler of the Two – “

“Alright, alright. I’ve heard all of that before. But I didn’t realize the Alexandrians had a queen. I understood the old king died and now his whelps are squabbling for the thro -”

“Her Majesty is coming here to meet with you,” Demetrius curtly interrupted him.

“The queen comes to me?” Lucius chuckled mockingly. “I’m honored.”

“Don’t be. This is Her Majesty’s house. You are a guest of Ganymedes. It is at his prompting that my queen comes.”

“The queen takes her orders from the eunuch then?”

Demetrius shot a baneful look at him, and Lucius detected an aspect of contention in the Alexandrian officer’s expression. The dark-eyes actually looked pained more than they did angry, as if there was some truth to what Lucius had said.

“Now, Centurion,” Demetrius said, after regaining his cordiality and extending a hand. “Your sword, please. You have no need of it here, I assure you. You are quite safe.”

“I’ve heard of your queen, and this Ganymedes character. They stand much to gain if Caesar and Cleopatra are defeated. Your people will accept them as their new rulers, is that right?”

“Your point?”

“The point is, I think that before long, you and that Ganymedes are going to ask me to betray my comrades.” Lucius smirked, while placing the gladius in Demetrius’s hand. “When I refuse, I suspect I might need that again.”

Demetrius smiled, but said nothing. He handed the weapon to one of the slave girls who padded away with it on bare feet.

“Cover him,” Demetrius commanded abruptly to another pair of girls, who quickly produced a silky white sheet and draped it over Lucius’s bare loins.

The next moment, the doors were thrown open by two brawny, black-skinned guards cradling immense, flat-bladed swords.

“All hail Her Majesty Queen Arsinoe!” one of the guards boomed.

The entire courtyard assumed a bowed position, with heads held low between outstretched arms. Demetrius angrily motioned for Lucius to do the same, but Lucius refused mirthfully.

A small woman in a wispy flowing white dress entered the room. Her face was stoic, making her delicate features all the more alluring. She had skin as pure as jasmine, and her shoulder-length black hair was woven with gold flakes. A wide gold band high around her slim waist accentuated her rounded hips. The dress was open down the front revealing the inner curves of what appeared to be nearly perfect breasts.