The Seven Hills

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"A ship," the signals officer announced. The massive army of Titus Norbanus the younger was encamped outside the walls of Massilia, an old Greek colony established on the southern coast of Gaul, where it had prospered mightily. Norbanus had demanded their immediate surrender, but the citizens feared Roman reprisal because they had contributed troops to Mastanabal's army.

Norbanus looked up from where he stood on his command platform. The city was not yet formally under siege, pending a decision of its council, but Norbanus liked to keep control from a position that left no one in doubt of his military preeminence.

"What sort of ship, and is it alone?" he asked.

The signals officer stood with the rest of his staff to one side of the platform. He was squinting toward a small headland to the southeast, where lights flashed from mirrors of polished silver. "A single vessel of unknown type," he reported.

"Unknown type? How many are there? Is it military or a merchant vessel?"

From where they stood the sun was at the wrong angle for mirror signaling, and there was too much wind for smoke, so the signals officer ordered certain flags raised on long poles and waved according to his direction. More flashes answered. "Says he doesn't know."

"Doesn't know, eh?" Norbanus said. "If it turns out to be some common vessel, I'll have his balls for lunch."

"My staff know their work, General," the signals officer replied stiffly.

Norbanus had lost interest. He studied the walls opposite him, assault plans running through his head. He did not want to lay siege to this place, but he would if necessary. He had several reasons for reluctance. One was delay. He was impatient to come to grips with Hamilcar before some other Roman commander, even his father, should have a chance to. Another was a certain proposal he had in mind to put before the Massiliotes; one he thought would surprise them. But barring a favorable outcome, he would massacre them all. He did not really wish to slaughter civilized Greeks, particularly the inhabitants of a city that had sided with Rome in the wars with Carthage. But if an example had to be made, he would make it here.

"There it is!" someone shouted later. Norbanus looked to see a bizarre little ship rounding the cape. Actually, he thought, the ship itself was not especially odd. But its long, triangular sail was unlike anything he had seen before. Not that his nautical experience was vast. Like most Romans, he had never laid eyes upon the sea until crossing south of the Alps less than three years previously. Only a few Romans who had traveled or soldiered as far as the Northern Sea had seen such a body of water, and seafaring was utterly new to them. Still, all the sails Norbanus had laid eyes on before were square.

"Go get the fleet master," he ordered, and a messenger hurried off. Norbanus's fleet filled Massilia's splendid harbor, and while Roman officers commanded it, most of the ships had Greek sailing masters under the direction of a Greek fleet master. The Romans were still too new on the water to trust their own skills. The weather-beaten Greek climbed to the platform and saluted.

"What sort of ship is that?" Norbanus asked, pointing to the little craft just making its way through the fleet in the harbor.

"Never saw the like of it," the man admitted. "I've heard of Indian ships that must look like that, but never laid eyes on one. The hull looks Alexandrian, so I'd say what we have here is one of the toys they've been playing with. I'd like to get aboard her and see how that sail works."

Even as they spoke, the yard lowered and the blue sail with its hippocampus was furled. Long sweeps, three to a side, were run out and the ship was laboriously rowed up to a stone pier.

"Scipio," Norbanus said, shaking his head. "Does he think he can impress me with another of his playthings? If so, he should have sent one of those flying men I hear he has. Now that would impress me." His officers chuckled. Nobody knew whether they should believe the stories coming out of Alexandria.

Norbanus studied the angle of the sun. "It's late," he announced. "There won't be any fighting today. If that boat carries anyone of importance, send them to my tent."

Later, he was sitting at dinner with his officers when two men were ushered in. They were Greeks with the look of scholars, but they carried a number of document cases that bore Roman markings. They bowed before the general and introduced themselves.

"Zeno and Izates?" Norbanus said. "I've heard of you. Some sort of philosopher-historians with a roving commission from the Senate as messengers and envoys, aren't you?"

"That is roughly the situation," said the handsomer of the two. I can't claim that we have any official status, but we've been enjoying the duties immensely."

"Spoken like a true Greek," Norbanus said. "Have a seat and join us for dinner while I look over what you've brought us." The first document to come beneath his eye was from Marcus Scipio. This one he set aside for later, so as not to ruin his appetite. Others were from the Senate and from contacts in Rome and on Sicily. The little ship had stopped at Syracuse and Ostia on its way to him. These he perused with interest. His father was now at Lilybaeum, amassing his army. The city was the westernmost point of the island, just a short hop across the strait from Carthage-always assuming that the Carthaginian fleet would not interfere with the hop.

The elder Norbanus informed his son that there had been great anger and bitterness when he arrived to take over command. Scaeva and his principal officers were outraged that, after securing Sicily for Rome, they were to be shunted aside in favor of a proconsul just sent out from Rome with his own clique of senior officers. The old family officers, headed by the Cornelia Scipiones, were his enemies to a man. Had they not been Romans, he wrote, and sticklers for subordination to Senate orders, there would have been mutiny.

The legionaries grumbled a bit but there had been no serious insubordination. With the huge expansion of the legions, the bulk of them were new family men, most of them just a generation or two removed from their Gallic and German tribal origins. They might admire the officers who had led them to victory, but they resented the aristocratic airs of too many of them to allow a takeover by a Norbanus to upset them.

The Senate communications he scanned briefly and set aside. A pack of fretting old women, he thought, afraid now because they've just realized that practically every Roman soldier is away from.Italy. They were sending him several cohorts of the newly raised auxiliary forces, mostly Italian natives and many of them freshly retired from their vocation as bandits. He looked forward to trying them out. They might prove useful and would certainly be expendable. Highly trained Roman legionaries were never expendable.

"One other thing we've brought you," said the Greek named Zeno. "It's a gift from Quee-that is, the Princess Regent Selene." He produced a beautiful wooden box inlaid with shell and ivory. It was about a cubit long. He slipped its delicate latch and opened the lid. Inside was what looked like a tube of dark wood, both ends ringed with bronze chased with a Greek key fret. From one end protruded a circle of ivory shaped like a shallow cup.

"What is it?" Norbanus asked, intrigued despite himself. The thing looked valuable.

"Another product of the Archimedean school." Zeno took the thing from the box. First he showed Norbanus and the others the end lacking the ivory finial. It was covered with a cap of thin bronze, which he removed, displaying a large piece of glass that seemed to be slightly convex. Then he reversed it and showed the ivory end. In its center was a much smaller piece of glass. He grasped the ivory circle andtugged at it. A tube of bronze slid from inside the wooden cylinder.

"This is a device for making distant objects seem nearer. You gaze through the small lens in the ivory eyepiece"-he put the thing to his own eye-"and you aim the larger lens toward the object you wish to examine." He turned and pointed the instrument toward the tent entrance, which faced the landward gate of Massilia. "If the object appears fuzzy, you adjust the length of the instrument until it becomes clear." He showed how minute adjustments could be made to the sliding tube. He handed it to Norbanus. The general put the ivory piece to his eye and aimed the thing toward the gate.

"Can't see a thing. Just a little dot of light that comes and goes away."

"It takes a bit of practice," Zeno told him. "Keep trying and you will get that little dot of light under control. It will open up and then you need merely adjust the length as I demonstrated."

Norbanus played with the thing and was about to give it up when suddenly the light filled the vision of his right eye. Slowly, he worked the tube in and out and, abruptly, the gate of Massilia leapt into stark clarity, seeming a hundred paces closer. He gasped. "It's magic!"

His other officers clamored to try it next and he handed it to Niger. "So they've come up with something useful at last. Please convey the princess my thanks, when you return."

"I shall certainly do so," Zeno said. "And allow me to say that your great feat in marching your army from Egypt all the way back to Italy, and now to Gaul, is the talk of Alexandria: of the whole world, if truth be known."

"So I am told," Norbanus said, nodding. "But I have far more to accomplish before I take my place in the Senate."

"And that is another thing much spoken of," Izates said. "It seems that most Romans receive such great trust only after a lengthy tenure in the Senate."

"Our general is not like most Romans," Cato said. "And times are not what they were. Rome must adapt to a new world."

Food was brought in and the wine flowed. The Romans asked for information and gossip from Sicily and Italy, and the two Greeks obliged. There was little discussion of military matters, certainly not of any future prospects for Massilia. Zeno assumed that they guarded their words in the presence of men who could relay them to rivals and enemies.

"I understand, General," said Izates, "that you have astrologers among your retinue."

"I have," Norbanus said, frowning slightly.

"If you will grant me a favor, I would like to consult with them." At Norbanus's deepening frown, he added: "I understand that they are women of your household, and I would never suggest anything improper. It is just that, in the course of my studies, I spoke with a number of astrologers in Alexandria, most of them claiming to be Chaldeans of some sort, and I found almost every one of them to be utterly fraudulent. Yet it seems that these Judean princesses of yours-they are true princesses, I understand? — give you the most reliable advice. I would very much like to speak with practitioners of the true art."

Norbanus nodded. "I think it can be arranged," he said, thinking: Those two bitches do pretty much as they please anyway, so why not?

"I am most grateful," Izates said.

After dinner the Greeks took their leave and Norbanus put an officers tent at their disposal for the length of their stay. When they were gone, he picked up the message from Marcus Scipio and read it. Once he had its gist, he read it aloud to his officers.

"Just like him," Niger grumbled. "He doesn't command a single legionary, but he wants to keep tabs on us."

"Still," said Cato, "the idea makes sense. Militarily, I mean. Close communication between the armies and navies can be important in a war as big as this one, and it looks like these new boats will do the job better than the older type. Not," he added hastily, "that I'd ever trust a traitor like Marcus Scipio."

Norbanus nodded. "My own thoughts. Well, there's an answer to this: I want my shipmasters and shipwrights to study that little vessel while it's here, learn how to sail it, then build me a flotilla of them. That way I can keep in control of my own flow of information, without everything going through Alexandria and Scipio's hands."

Everyone agreed that this was a brilliant idea.

Outside, the Greeks strolled through the legionary camp, admiring the superb discipline of the soldiers. Norbanus's veterans were easily distinguishable from the men of the new legions recently added to his army. The former were more weather-beaten, and their motley equipment gave them a raffish distinction. The newer legions were made up of mostly younger men, and their arms and clothing were turned out by the new fabricae to standardized patterns. It gave them a uniformity of appearance that was odd to the eyes of men accustomed to armies made up of soldiers who were expected to supply their own panoply, usually whatever they had at home or could afford to purchase.

"They're a fierce-looking lot," Izates said, nodding toward a unit of the veterans. A centurion had found some fault with a legionary and was beating him mercilessly with the vitis: a stick carried by all centurions for just this purpose. The man being beaten did not betray pain or distress by the slightest change of expression. His comrades, clearly the recipients of many such beatings, looked on with amusement.

"There hasn't been anything like them since the great days of Sparta," Zeno agreed. "I've seen citizen militias of the sort most Greek cities produce, and Macedonian professional phalangists, and mercenaries of the sort hired by Egypt and Carthage. But I've never before seen a nation of men who are professional soldiers from the cradle. Did you know that some Roman officers don't consider men truly reliable until they reach their forties? It's an age when most soldiers give up war for good."

"Our friend Marcus Scipio's one-eyed grandfather still serves in arms. I think old Gabinius would pick up his sword if he wasn't so arthritic."

For a while the Greeks admired the colors of the sunset, then Zeno said: "We could be playing a dangerous game, dealing with these Judean women."

"I've found that I have a taste for dangerous games," Izates said. "We were a pair of penniless, itinerant scholars, and by pure chance we were thrust into the regions of power. Perhaps the gods had a hand in it; perhaps it was blind chance. Whichever, I find that it has a powerful attraction. It's a game where one throws the knucklebones not merely for wealth, not even for life and death. The stakes are lordship and immortal fame. It gives life a flavor that scholarship lacks."

Zeno laughed. "What would Diogenes think of you? A Cynic is supposed to scorn all such things as mere vanity."

"Diogenes was never presented with such an opportunity." He brooded for a while. "I once thought philosophy held the answer to everything. Now I see that far too often it is a turning away from the world. One has no power, therefore one despises power. One has no wealth, so one scorns wealth. It is the old fable of the fox and the grapes, and if that is not vanity, what is?"

"Surely you are not giving up philosophy? It is your whole life."

"Certainly not. But I now know that philosophy as it has come to us has taken some incorrect turns. In the days of Heraclitus, philosophy took all of existence as its subject, and nothing in the cosmos was deemed unworthy of study. But then it came under the domination of Plato and the Academics. Plato was a great philosopher, but he had an aristocratic blindness and taught that the material world was unworthy of a philosopher's attention.

"Chilo and the philosophers of the Archimedean school are very different. They are engaged in the world. They do things! They accomplish wonders. True, they sometimes build mere toys for the vulgar mob to marvel at, and they have to please the patron of the Museum, but this enables them to do serious work. I suppose I will always be a questioning Cynic, but I now perceive the world through different eyes. And I confess that playing this game gives me a thrill that even the greatest intellectual accomplishment lacks. I think it must be akin to the exaltation of battle."

"But Marcus Scipio was against suborning these astrologers," Zeno pointed out.

"Marcus Scipio is a remarkable man," Izates said judiciously. "He is a true visionary. But still, he is too much the man of action. He wants to use the Archimedean school and the wealth of Egypt to achieve his ends, whatever those may be. Flaccus, now, he is different. He is more deep-minded, more subtle, more farsighted. He is the least Roman of any Roman we have met thus far. He could almost be a Greek.

"And he wants us to undermine Norbanus through the Judean women. In this instance, far from Alexandria, we are well employed in doing his will, rather than Scipio's."

"And how do you propose to approach these women?" Zeno asked. "Bribery seems the usual method, but with what does one tempt women who have attached themselves to a man who is already outrageously wealthy and successful, and who bids fair to become master of the world?"

"A good question, and one that will require some thought. I must meet them, sound them out and find out their weaknesses and desires. We need to know what they want. Perhaps most of all, we need to know what they fear."

The next morning, a delegation of the leading men of Massilia emerged from the city. Led by a pair of white-robed heralds wearing wreaths of laurel and bearing staffs, they walked to the great awning stretched before the command tent of Titus Norbanus. The general sat enthroned upon his dais, seated in a curule chair, enfolded in his purple robe. Behind him stood his principal officers, looking stern.

"Great General Norbanus," said the senior of the heralds, "here before you stand the governors of the Assembly of Massilia." He introduced them, beginning with Socrates, elder of the council. "They come to you under the protection of Apollo, guardian of envoys. Any harm that comes to them in this place must be regarded as sacrilege, and will surely be punished by the immortals."

"Rome yields to none in observance of divine law," announced Lentulus Niger. "These dignitaries are under Rome's protection for the duration of their visit among us. What shall become of them after their return to their city shall be the subject of these negotiations."

"Socrates, son of Archilochus," Norbanus said, addressing the leader of the council, "you have heard already the terms laid down by me: surrender of your city to me, or utter extermination. How have you decided?"

It escaped no one that Norbanus laid down terms and demanded surrender in his own name, not in that of Rome.

Socrates came forward. He was a white-bearded, dignified man who had the look of one who had already accepted his own death. "Great General Norbanus, the ancient and independent city of Massilia is proud, but we Massiliotes understand overwhelming power when we see it. As once we yielded to Carthage, paying tribute and sending our young men to serve in her armies, so we must now bow our necks to Rome. Your army invests our walls and your navy occupies our harbor. Only fools could ignore this, and we are not fools. I know that it is customary for a conqueror to execute the leading men of a surrendered city and to take hostages of the wealthiest houses to ensure loyalty. We ask only that you spare our city and our people."

"You have chosen wisely," Norbanus told the old man. "And I am perfectly within my rights to kill you all, and to sack your town and leave the bulk of the population with nothing but their lives." He paused as if in deep thought. "However, it is also within my power to grant clemency, and in this case, since there has been no fighting and no Roman lives have been lost, I choose to be clement. The lives, houses and treasures of Massilia shall not be harmed. Your young men will now serve with my army and your harbor will shelter my fleet."

Socrates and the rest of the councillors looked stunned. "This is most generous."

"I am generous and just. But you must swear an oath."

"That of course is understood."

"You will swear eternal friendship with Rome. And you will swear yourselves, your city and your descendants to be my clients, and the clients of my family and descendants. You are familiar with the Roman system of clientage?"

"It is similar to that observed by many civilized peoples, is it not? As your clients we vow to support and aid you in all your endeavors. You become our protector in all our dealings with Rome. Massilia and the House of Norbanus will henceforth enjoy a special relationship, beyond that which we will have with Rome."

"That is the case. How do you choose?"

Socrates looked toward his peers, and one by one, in order of rank, they nodded. He turned to Norbanus and bowed. "Most merciful general, let the sacrifices be made. Upon our altars and upon yours, we will take your oath, to bind us everlastingly in the eyes of the gods."

That evening, while a great feast was prepared to celebrate the new relationship between Massilia, Rome and the glorious Titus Norbanus, the two Greeks met with Roxana and Glaphyra. They spoke in the open, within plain view of all, so that the proprieties should be observed. A space of ground near the general's tent had been carpeted and set with chairs and with a broad table to hold the charts and instruments of the women's craft. Slaves stood discreetly by to attend to their needs.

To the cosmopolitan eyes of the Greeks, the women were not particularly exotic. In deference to their master they had adopted Roman dress, which for women was about as modest as their native Judean. They wore far heavier cosmetics than any respectable Roman woman would, but nothing out of the ordinary by Alexandrian standards. But they were twins, always a strange circumstance, and they had a singular attitude that put both men ill at ease. They were like one creature with two bodies, and that creature was not quite human. Something about their speech and movements was not quite right, and both men wondered whether this might be the result of nature or of calculation.

The women told them of the zodiac, and of the nature of birth signs and of the calculation of fortunes therefrom. They learned of the influence of the planets and of the significance of kometes, those "bearded stars" that appeared in the heavens from time to time, marking the advent of momentous events, the death of kings and the coming of great conquerors. Some of this they already knew, for astrologers abounded in Egypt and in other lands as well, but these women truly seemed to possess a far deeper knowledge of the subject than others and claimed access to certain Babylonian texts long thought to be lost.

The men in their turn entertained them with tales of the lands they had visited, of the wonders they had seen, of volcanoes and whales and lands where frankincense was traded by the shipload, where feathers of the giant rukh came in bales, and chests filled with the aphrodisiac horn of the unicorn. Slowly, they steered the conversation toward their city of residence.

"You have come all the way from Alexandria," Glaphyra said. "We have heard so much of Alexandria, and have longed to see it."

"The great palace of the Ptolemys," Roxana said, "the Museum and Library, the Paneum and the Sarapeion and the tomb of Alexander! It must be a place of wonders."

"Jerusalem is such a backwater," Glaphyra said, pouring wine for all of them. "Yet to hear the priests sing of it, it is the wonder of the world."

"Is it not the holiest of your cities, and the residing place of your god?" Zeno asked.

The women shrugged in unison. "Our god is a god of the mountain and desert," Roxana said. "Cities do not seem to be of great concern to him. The prophets of old railed against the wickedness of cities."

"Our faith has a long and unfortunate tradition of unwashed holy men from the wilderness," Glaphyra added. "Thus the values of ragged desert dwellers are exalted as the shining ideal of the cosmos. Anything sophisticated or beautiful, anything pleasurable or artistic-all are condemned as ungodly."

"I quite agree," Izates told them. "I, too, was born in your faith, in the Jewish Quarter of Alexandria. In our quarter there were many reactionary rabbis who condemned the Gentile world as you describe. Fortunately for me, there were also many enlightened, Hellenized Jews, open to the wonders of learning and philosophy. They understood that clinging to the ancient world of our ancestors is futile. At an early age I took up lectures and studies in the Museum and understood the narrowness of our old ways."

"How fortunate you were," said Roxana. "Our mother was Babylonian, and she taught us much of the wisdom of her homeland, but women, even royal women, have never been permitted a true education in Judea."

"Many women study and even teach at the Museum and the other schools in Alexandria," Izates said. "Our city does not share the prejudice of the rest of the Greek world. I have known women of Alexandria who are distinguished mathematicians, philosophers and astronomers."

"Really?" said both sisters, seeming truly astonished for the first time.

"Very much so. And with the Princess Selene as de facto queen, the position of women in Alexandrian society has seldom been higher."

"It sounds like a vision of Paradise." Glaphyra sighed. "But I fear that our lord, the great General Norbanus, would never permit us to travel there."

"He desires to keep us close always," Roxana concurred.

"You are favored far beyond the lot of common women," Zeno said. "You must be the envy of the princesses of the earth. And yet-"

" 'And yet?" said both women in their disconcerting way.

"Nothing," Zeno said, with a dismissive gesture.

"No, tell us," Glaphyra insisted. "You were about to say that our happiness is not without flaw, weren't you?"

"He was," Roxana said.

"My ladies are most acute," Izates said. "I believe that what my friend was too delicate to say-I am a Cynic, and not nearly so delicate-was that all favors of men are untrustworthy and easily withdrawn. Men are changeable, and rulers the most fickle of all. Their unreliability is literally Proverbial, for does not our own holy book advise: 'Put not thy trust in princes'?"

"And how might such a fortune befall us?" Glaphyra asked. She said it coolly, as if it were an idle remark, but Izates could tell that she had given the matter much thought.

"In many ways, Olympus forbid that any of them befall. I would never suggest that you would give him a prediction that might prove to be wrong, but a ruler may easily be displeased with one that proves to be all too accurate."

"Such things have happened to other seers," Roxana murmured.

"And, forgive me, ladies, but the philosophy of Cynics is very hard on the vanity of the world, as hard as the prophets, but even such radiant beauty as yours must fade with time. A new mistress or wife can bring about a catastrophic downfall." He said it with great sadness.

"On the other hand," Zeno said, "wisdom and learning such as your own will last a lifetime, in the right setting."

Both women nodded. "The court of Alexandria being such a setting?" Glaphyra said.

"Nowhere else are women such as you held in so much honor," Zeno assured them. "And the learned ladies of Alexandria are free to come and go as they will, to have their own houses and schools, to found their own salons and control all their own properties. Even husbands cannot forbid this, and no woman of learning and property needs the protection of husband or master. So long as they attend at court upon the queen's pleasure, the rest of their time is entirely their own."

"It does sound more attractive than these rough soldiers' camps," Roxana admitted, "or the crude palaces of Judea, with their throngs of ignorant, uneducated women of the great families."

"You would not believe the sort of petty intrigue that prevails there should we tell you of it," said Glaphyra.

"I think we can imagine it," Izates assured her.

"We must consider what you have told us," Roxana said. "These are weighty matters, and not to be taken lightly. Will you be here for long?"

"We sail in a day or two, bearing General Norbanus's correspondence," Zeno said. "But now that the new sea-courier service is under way, the Roman establishment of Egypt and that of the peripatetic General Norbanus will keep in close touch. It may well be that we shall have occasion to call upon you ladies again, soon should that be your pleasure."

"Be sure to inform us upon your arrival," Glaphyra said.

"It may be that we shall have much to speak of." She gestured toward the table full of astrological paraphernalia. "We have not begun to disclose to you our deepest knowledge."

That night the two Greeks lounged in the fine tent Norbanus had put at their disposal.

"Well, our first roll of the bones came up Venus, as the Romans would say," Zeno commented.

"Thus far, we have succeeded beyond our expectations," Izates agreed, sipping at his wine. It was very fine wine, and he found that he was growing accustomed to fine things. This was unworthy of a philosopher, he knew. He also knew that he didn't care.

"We must be very careful with those two," Zeno said.

"It goes without saying."

"You noticed how they spoke in turn?"

Izates nodded. "It's meant to baffle people; confuse them and throw them off guard."

"That's what I thought. Even after a lapse in conversation, one would speak forthrightly while the other kept silence. Never once did both try to speak at once. I wonder how they arrange that. Some secret signal, do you think?"

"Twins share a bond that others lack. Perhaps no signal is needed, so sensitive is each to the other's thoughts and will. In some ways they are uncanny, but in most ways they are just common women. Better born, more learned than most, but ordinary, mortal women for all that."

"Ordinary?" Zeno said. "But how? I found them most extraordinary."

"No matter how high they started and how much higher they have risen, they have the same fears that haunt other women. Men, too, if truth were known. They fear loss of all they have. They fear old age and mortality."

"They fear being supplanted by other women," Zeno said, nodding. "And now we know what they want that Norbanus cannot give them: a secure future."

"And that is the weakness we will exploit," Izates said. "We have come a long way from our studies, my friend. We have gone from contemplation of the ideal and the ineffable to the manipulation of human beings for our own purposes."

"Then it behooves us to do this well. Power is more dangerous than wisdom."

In his own tent, Norbanus was contemplating his own future. The acquisition of Massilia was a great coup. It would cause outrage in the Senate, but so what? Every great Roman sought to increase his clientele. If he used his army to do it, he would not be the first. Others before him had placed tribes and nations in clientage to their families. He had merely done it better. Jonathan of Judea and the city of Massilia were now his. More would be his soon. Always assuming, of course, that he remained victorious.

Now he looked at the scroll before him. It held his future in a way that the predictions of the Judean women could not. Another boat had put in that day, this one from far west. It had sailed from Cartago Nova, and it carried a messenger: a taciturn man who had refused to speak to anyone but the general. The man had shown him a seal, and it had given Norbanus a little thrill that told him the gods had something exceptional in store for him. It was the seal of Princess Zarabel of Carthage.

Great Proconsul Norbanus, the message began. The time has come for us to make common cause, as we did while you were my guest in Carthage. Your countryman Scipio and his Egyptian queen are preparing to make the Middle Sea their own, while my foolish brother tries to emulate Alexander. With what I send you, you canmake yourself master of the world. Make good use of this, and you and I can rule that world together.

This was bald enough, he thought, though why she thought he would need her, having destroyed Hamilcar, he could not guess. Desperation, he supposed. But what she had sent him was invaluable. It was nothing less than Hamilcar's campaign route and schedule and his order of battle, complete with numbers and units.

Hamilcar had departed Carthage with his army and was marching west. That meant he was heading for the Pillars of Hercules and Spain. Then he would turn east and march for Rome. But first he would meet Titus Norbanus.

He, Norbanus, would be first to crush Hamilcar. Not his father, not Scipio or any other Roman. The glory would go to Titus Norbanus the younger. He might have to share the glory of taking Carthage itself, but this would be his alone. It was destiny. It was the will of the gods.

He began to pore feverishly over his maps. Hamilcar would be moving slowly. Norbanus had seen the army of Carthage on the march, and it could not move at anything like the speed of the Roman legions. Hamilcar would plan to link with Mastanabal, to add that victorious general's army to his own.

But he could not do that if Norbanus found Mastanabal first. It was always good to destroy the enemy's forces in detail, before they had a chance to mass against the Romans. It was one of the oldest dicta taught in Roman military schools: Bring your greatest strength against the enemy's weakness. This was far better than challenging strength with strength. He studied his maps.

Where was Mastanabal?