The Seven Hills

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"My instructions are quite unequivocal," Marcus Scipio explained. "I am to proceed against Carthage upon orders from the Senate, which, it is implied, will not be long in coming."

"You won't frighten the Carthaginians much," said Selene. "Just two Romans, though I've given you impressive uniforms."

The Romans and the de facto queen of Egypt were alone in her conference room, as Scipio had insisted.

"It is understood that I will arrive at the harbor of Carthage with a sizable navy, including the new vessels designed by the Archimedeans."

"I believe the navy you refer to is the Egyptian navy, not the Roman. It is mine."

"And, Your Majesty," Flaccus said smoothly, "it is for that very reason that we speak with you today. Rome is at war with Carthage. Egypt is at war with Carthage. An alliance only makes sense."

"Why?" she asked. "Hamilcar attacked Alexandria. Hamilcar was defeated. He has gone back to Carthage. I do not see why I should undertake an expensive, destructive war out of pique."

"Majesty," Scipio said, trying to hold his temper, "it is not enough to drive an enemy away. To be safe, you must track him to his lair and destroy both the enemy and the lair. It is the only way."

"Say you so?" She studied him coolly. "I am most grateful for your contributions to the defense of Alexandria, yet I recall that there were Roman legions with Hamilcar's army. They were instrumental in defeating my brother's force in the first battle, and then they ravaged their way down the Nile doing great harm."

"Yes," Flaccus agreed, "but there was no Rome-Carthage alliance. The agreement was purely one of convenience, and terminated when we invaded Sicily."

"I see," she said without expression. "And what if it should suit your 'convenience' to turn against Egypt as well? How am I to know that you will treat me any less treacherously than you treated Hamilcar?"

"Treachery?" Scipio shouted, his face going crimson. "There was no treachery! Hamilcar insisted on regarding the legions as mercenaries, mere hirelings. That in itself was a deadly insult! Rome owed him no friendship, no loyalty."

"If, on the other hand," Flaccus added, "Your Majesty signs a treaty of alliance with Rome, your position will be absolutely unassailable. Your enemies become ours and you may call upon the legions of Rome at any threat. This is no small thing. Rome is most scrupulous about observing the particulars of treaties."

"Let me think about this," she said. "You will have my answer tomorrow. You have my leave to go now."

The men bowed and withdrew. They left the conference room and passed through a crowd of courtiers, their faces set in the impassive Roman mask. They crossed a wide courtyard and entered their own quarters, where Scipio threw his helmet across the room against the wall. It fell to the floor, flattened on one side and its precious plumes tattered.

"Damn the woman!" he shouted. "Two years of sweet talk and cooperation-I save her city, her kingdom, her throne and her life, and this is how she treats us! How am I to face the Senate if I can't get an Egyptian alliance after all this!"

"Calm yourself, Marcus," Flaccus said, pouring them both some wine. "She is just playing with us. She wants to remind us that she is a sovereign queen-"

"She's not a sovereign queen," Scipio reminded him. "She's a princess and her brother is the king. She rules through our actions and favor."

"Nonetheless, she does not want to be seen as our puppet. Her court and the city of Alexandria must perceive her as a divine ruler and descendant of Ptolemy the Great, not a client of the Roman Senate. They've deposed other rulers who showed themselves to be under the thumb of foreigners. Believe me, she knows that her only future lies in alliance with Rome. She just has to grant it, not beg for it."

"Graciously grant this to me, eh?" He thumped himself on his bronze-sheathed chest. "The man to whom she owes everything?"

"Rulers don't like to be reminded of their debts," Flaccus told him. "They'd rather be praised for their greatness." He paused. "You must face it, Marcus: You have no legions. You can't impose your will on a foreign ruler, like Norbanus."

"Norbanus!" Scipio said, exasperated. Friends in Rome had sent them word of his new march and the war plan. "The gods must love him. He will be immortal."

"He's just been lucky," Flaccus said. "He was born to an important family; he was chosen for the reconnaissance mission; he was on the spot when a commander was needed and it coincided with his father's consulship. Then he made his march just at a time when the territory he went through was disorganized and fought over by petty princelings."

"Luck like that is proof of the gods' favor."

"This is not like you, Marcus. You shouldn't allow a schoolboy rivalry to sour you. Your own accomplishments have been fabulous."

"I don't envy the reputation he's won!" He took a deep swallow from the golden cup, then set it on an ivory-inlaid table. "Not much, anyway. No, the man is a menace to the republic. He wants to make himself dictator, or king."

"Your enemies in the Senate say exactly the same of you," Flaccus pointed out.

"Yes, but my enemies are wrong, whereas I am right. His own father to command the main army! How could he make his dynastic ambitions more plain? And taking his army on a complete circuit of the Middle Sea! He's just doing it because no one else has done it before!"

Flaccus nodded somberly. "Yes, the expense in boots and hobnails alone must be staggering."

"Don't be flippant," Marcus said disgustedly.

"You know he's overreaching himself. His battle experience hasn't been great, and Carthage will be throwing its best against him. He's being set up to fail; that's the only explanation why the Senate has gone along with his harebrained scheme."

Scipio refilled his cup and stared into it gloomily. "It's not that bad a scheme, you know, just ambitious. I might have proposed such a thing myself, only I would have waited until all these new legions were more experienced and our leadership had a better grasp of how to command and coordinate so many men. As it is, there are too many ways for things to go wrong. We'll be trying to coordinate the movements of large armies over vast distances…" He trailed off, his eyes going vacant.

That was more like it, Flaccus thought. Now his friend was going over the possibilities in his mind, finding applications for the new inventions of the Archimedean school.

"They say Norbanus has a pair of Eastern women to read the stars for him," Flaccus remarked. "Alexandria is full of astrologers and I have been speaking with the Egyptian and Greek priests about them. They seem about evenly divided whether the stars are of any use in foretelling the future. Norbanus seems to set great store by these two."

"It's a weakness," Scipio said. "They're just telling him what he wants to hear."

"That has long been a major part of the seer's art," Flaccus said. "That and being equivocal, making statements that could be interpreted more than one way and fitting any outcome."

"What are you getting at?" Marcus asked, knowing his friend all too well.

"As you pointed out, this reliance upon soothsayers is a weakness, and an enemy's weakness is something to be exploited."

"Subvert his astrologers? But how? They are rather far away, you know."

"True, true. But we are in the process of turning the Middle Sea into a Roman lake. The Archimedeans have designed some extremely swift vessels. Why should we not wish to keep in contact with Norbanus's army on its march? It only makes military sense."

"It does," Scipio agreed. "The Senate will resent such collusion. They would prefer to hold the reins."

"What of it?" Flaccus asked. "We now have armies spread out over vast distances. Our generals will be nearly autonomous of necessity, whatever the Senate wants. What's sitting in Rome right now is an elderly pack of old soldiers reminiscing about their younger days when Roman soldiers were real Romans. They think what we're doing is the same as fighting German tribesmen on the Northern Sea."

Marcus was silent for a while. "No, we can't do it."

"What? Keep in contact with Norbanus's army?"

"No, that's an excellent idea. I mean we can't subvert these prophetesses or whatever they are."

"Whyever not? The opportunity is there. Norbanus is your enemy. Do something to him before he does it to you. It's the sensible thing to do."

"Should I endanger Rome for the sake of a personal vendetta? My sabotage might result in a Roman defeat. It's not something I can do just to trump a man I detest."

Flaccus sighed. "Marcus, you are a splendid soldier. You are a genuine visionary. But you are a political infant. To defeat a rival, you use whatever comes to hand. These Judean woman are a gift from the gods which you spurn at your peril."

"Still, I reject them. Let the gods punish me for rejecting their favor."

At this Flaccus held his counsel.

The next morning they were at the naval shipyard, which had been all but taken over by the Archimedean school. There were vessels under construction and on the slips and in the water that were unlike anything ever seen before.

There were also many craft of foreign design brought by the queen's order from the most distant waters. Their hull and sail designs were copied, analyzed and experimented with.

"What about that madman with the steam project?" Scipio asked the ship philosopher, head of the facility. He was a Spanish Greek named Archelaus.

"Worthless," he said. "He's trying to adapt it to water wheels and screw-type water raisers using a system of metal tubes and rods and sliding cylinders, but it can't possibly work."

"Why not?" Scipio asked.

"Two reasons. One is the weight. Even if the machine can be made to work, it will require a great weight of metal. Another is the fire. The last thing you want on a ship is a big fire. And you'd have to go ashore constantly to replenish the firewood. No, it has no real advantage over rowers, who need nothing but food."

"Well, what else, then? I know we've been concentrating on coastal warships and harbor defense, but I need a cutter that can cover great distances on open water fast. It can't carry a lot of rowers. I don't want it putting in to shore every day or two. It should keep on the move every hour, even traveling at night."

"That's a challenge. What is it to carry?"

"Aside from sustenance for the crew, just information. I want the water equivalent of a horseback courier. It's to keep me in contact with an army that will be constantly on the march."

Archelaus nodded, stroking his small beard. "I see. How intriguing. And how fortuitous. Come with me."

The two Romans followed the man. He led them past a barge-like boat, its deck holding a number of the flying machines and equipped with a system of towering masts from which to launch them. Other ships were fitted with paddle wheels, with varying arrangements of cranks and treadmills to drive them. They came to a pier to which were fastened several small vessels featuring a bewildering array of masts, yards and sails.

"Here," Archelaus informed them, "we experiment with new sail plans and rigging systems."

"And how do these affect performance?" Flaccus asked.

"In many ways, we have found. We've been using a single, large, square sail spread before the mast since the Argo. With a wind astern, it moves the ship well. But only if the wind is from almost directly astern."

"That much we know from our admittedly limited seafaring experience," Flaccus said. "How may it be done otherwise?"

"Look at this." They came to a small, narrow vessel. It was no more than forty feet long and had the familiar, single mast. But its yard, instead of being set square across the length of the vessel, slanted across it. "You can't get a good idea from this; you'll have to see it sailing. It's copied from a type of ship used off the coast of India. One of our skippers brought one back this season, along with some Indian sailors to show us how it is employed."

"What is its advantage?" Marcus wanted to know.

"It can make use of a wind that is not blowing from directly astern. With skill, using both sail and steering oar, it can even make use of a wind that comes from slightly ahead."

"Sail into a headwind?" Flaccus said. "That makes no sense."

"As I said, you'll have to see it demonstrated. It takes a skilled crew, but it needs only five or six men. We built this one small, because it was to be used just for experiment with the sail. There's no cargo space and precious little for the crew. But it may be ideal for your purpose. If all you want is a courier, this is it."

"Show us," Marcus said.

And so the little vessel set out with its small crew and two Romans, first in the sheltered waters of the harbor, then past Point Lochias into the open sea. All morning and into the afternoon the shipmaster, a hard-bitten old pirate from Cilicia, and his crew of strange men from fabled India, demonstrated the bizarre sail and its seemingly unnatural capabilities. It proved to be triangular, and when set, its extremely long yard almost touched the bow rail on one side of the ship, while the opposite end towered above the stern on the opposite side. It was huge in proportion to the vessel, and the Romans remarked upon this.

"It's a lot of mast and sail for such a small ship," the master agreed. "She has to be heavily ballasted to keep her from capsizing. Her bottom's filled with lead bricks to keep her upright."

He showed them how, by a combination of slanting the sail and working the steering oar, the ship could take advantage of a less-than-favorable wind. After taking the wind from one side for a while, at the master's order the crew performed a breathtaking maneuver, collapsing the sail and slewing the long yard up and across to hang on the other side of the mast and take the same wind from that side. The ship changed direction, but its general trend was still in the direction desired.

"You see?" the skipper said. "When the wind's not right, you travel in a series of zigzags to keep moving ahead. It's not as fast as with a stern wind, but it beats sitting on shore and sacrificing rams for one."

"What about a wind from directly ahead?" Marcus asked.

"Not much you can do about that," the skipper admitted. "This sail's clever, but it's not magical. Still, if you want to get from one end of the sea to the other and you don't want to feed a lot of oarsmen doing it, this rig will beat anything else afloat."

By the time they returned to the harbor, Marcus had decided. The little vessel would be the first of his new fleet of courier craft. As soon as he set foot to the pier, he was bellowing for the master shipbuilder, the harbormaster and the ship philosopher. He said that he wanted twenty of the ships for a start, and training of the crews was to begin immediately, that very day. He named the little ship Hermes. There was no argument. Functionaries and workmen had grown accustomed to the peremptory ways of the Romans.

"And get some paint on that ship," Flaccus said, pointing to Hermes. "She's plain as a fishing boat."

"Any color in particular?" asked the master shipbuilder dryly.

The Romans considered this. "I think blue would be good," said Flaccus.

Scipio nodded. "Blue with gold trim. Paint all our courier vessels that way. And dye the sails blue as well. Can you do that?"

The master shipbuilder rolled his eyes skyward. "As long as you don't insist on Tyrian purple, I think we can manage."

"What about a device?" Marcus mused. "Our new Roman navy uses Jupiter's eagle, but the queen might resent that. What's that sea-horse thing?"

"The hippocampus, you mean?" Flaccus asked. "The front part of a horse and a long fish-tail behind?"

"That's it. Master shipbuilder, decorate the sails with the hippocampus, and carve them as figureheads, above where the ram would be, if these ships had rams."

"It shall be done," promised the official.

Pleased with their day's work, the Romans returned to the palace. A steward summoned them to the queen's presence. They found her waiting in her privy chamber next to the throne room. She frowned when she saw Marcus.

"Where is the helmet I gave you?"

"It suffered some damage," he told her. "The armorer and the jeweler are working on it now."

"Must you practice at swords in your best dress uniform?" she asked, exasperated. "Well, never mind. Just make the best show you can. We are going to perform before the court. I am going out there now. You be ready to come at my summons." Amid a flurry of serving girls and fan wavers, she strode out into the vast room and took her seat next to her brother. A hundred courtiers and foreign dignitaries bowed deeply and made sounds of worshipful admiration.

"What's it to be, do you think?" Flaccus asked. "A treaty or our execution?"

Marcus gave it some thought. "I don't think she'd have inquired about my helmet if she planned to have us killed."

A few minutes later the steward summoned them and they followed him into the throne room. They passed between lines of dignitaries, many of them attended by their own retinues, most of whom watched the Romans with calculation as they made their way toward the dais that held the twin thrones.

Not quite twins, though. Selene's throne, to the right of her brother's, was slightly higher. Ptolemy, still no more than a boy, sat sullenly, watching the Romans with no favor. They had eliminated his counselors and set his sister above him. She had made him dress decently in Greek fashion, without the wigs and cosmetics with which his former handlers had adorned him.

The Romans halted before the dais and bowed in the only fashion approved by Roman etiquette: a slight inclination of the head.

"I wish it to be known to the people of Egypt," Selene began, "to the Senate and people of Rome, and to all the world, that Hamilcar of Carthage is a menace to the lives and liberties of all people who dwell around the Middle Sea. In all the world, there are only two nations capable of resisting his vicious aggression: the glorious kingdom of Egypt and the Republic of Rome with its dauntless legions. To this end, I proclaim a treaty of alliance and friendship between the nations of Egypt and Rome." She held a hand out to one side and an official placed a scroll into her upturned palm. With a hieratic gesture she brought it before her and unrolled it, with her arms at full extension. It looked impressive, made of parchment from Pergamum instead of the more common papyrus. It bore a great deal of gold leaf, lavishly applied, and carried a large waxen seal stamped with the Ptolemaic device and a somewhat smaller seal stamped with Selene's personal cartouche, with her Egyptian reign-name in hieroglyphics. The text was written in austere Attic Greek letters.

"This document," she announced, "makes official and lasting the relationship between our nations. It specifies trade relations, mutual rights to port facilities, the aid and repatriation of shipwrecked mariners and so forth. It spells out the relative values of goods and spheres of trade influence. These are very simple, because Rome is not a commercial power arid there is almost no problem of competition.

"In the military sphere, our armed forces are to operate as one in the war with Hamilcar of Carthage. Rome's army is formidable, but her navy is in its infancy, small and untried against the naval might of Carthage. Egypt's navy is great, and I shall call upon the ships of our sister kingdom of Cyprus and our allies of Rhodes, Crete and the Greek cities of Asia. Together, we will prove more than a match for Hamilcar.

"Our land formations will be commanded at the unit level by our professional officer corps, under the overall direction of our good and trusted friend, Marcus Cornelius Scipio of Rome." She looked at the Romans. "Marcus Cornelius Scipio, approach."

He took the few steps forward. With an efficient gesture she rerolled the treaty and handed it to him. He accepted it with the same minuscule bow. She held her hand to one side again and a different official gave her a massive collar of gold. This she placed over Marcus's head, forcing him to bend his neck a bit more.

"Show a little humility," she whispered, "you arrogant twit!"

This ceremony accomplished, Marcus backed away a few steps. "On behalf of the Senate and People of Rome, I accept this document for the Senate's approval, which, I have no doubt, will be granted wholeheartedly. This signals a new era for Rome, for Egypt and for the world. Not for many lifetimes have two great powers sworn friendship and cooperation. Never before have two such united to resist the depredations of a would-be conqueror.

"When Egypt and Rome together have eliminated for all time the threat of Carthage, all the world that borders the Middle Sea may look forward to a golden age, for Rome and Egypt together will protect them from any who henceforth would aspire to the crown and empire and reputation of Alexander."

To this Selene said nothing, but her look, and that of the onlookers, said it all: And who will protect the world from you Romans?