Colleen McCullough - 5. Caesar

Hours later Philip and the slave crept to the place where Pompey's headless body lay on the deserted beach, its toga a browning crimson as the blood grew old yet still seeped through the porous woolen fibers. "We're stranded in Egypt," said the slave. Worn out from weeping, Philip looked up from the body of Pompey apathetically. "Stranded?" "Yes, stranded. They sailed, our ships. I saw them." "Then there is no one save us to attend to him." Philip gazed about, nodded. "At least there's driftwood. No wonder they came in here; it's so lonely." The two men toiled until they had built a pyre six feet high; getting the body onto it wasn't easy, but they managed. "We don't have fire," said the slave. "Then go and ask someone." Darkness was falling when the slave returned carrying a small metal bucket puffing smoke. "They didn't want to give me the bucket," said the slave, "but I told them we wanted to burn Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus. So then they said I could have the bucket." Philip scattered the glowing coals through the open network of sea-silvered branches, made sure the toga was well rucked in, and stood back with the slave to see if the wood caught. It took a little time, but when it did catch the driftwood blazed fiercely enough to dry the fresh spate of Philip's tears. Exhausted, they lay down some distance away to sleep; in that languorous air a fire was too warm. And at dawn, finding the pyre reduced to blackened debris, they used the metal bucket to cool it from the sea, then sifted through it for Pompey's ashes. "I can't tell what's him and what's wood," said the slave. "There's a difference," said Philip patiently. "Wood crumbles. Bones don't. Ask me if you're not sure." They put what they found in the metal bucket. "What do we do now?" asked the slave, a poor creature whose job was to wash and scrub. "We walk to Alexandria," said Philip. "Got no money," said the slave. "I carry Gnaeus Pompeius's purse for him. We'll eat." Philip picked up the bucket, took the slave by one limp hand, and walked off down the beach, away from stirring Pelusium.

FINIS