Suddenly, there was a blur of motion, so startling that I covered my face. I heard a horse cry, and then, through laced fingers, I saw two hands seize the spear and yank it from the Egyptian officer's grip. There was a scuffle, and I scrambled to my feet to see a band of soldiers swarming over Rupa, knocking the spear from his grasp and bending his arms behind his back.
'Don't hurt him!' I cried. 'He's my bodyguard. He was only protecting me.'
'He attacked an officer of King Ptolemy's guard,' sniffed the man who had been poking me, ostentatiously dusting off his forearms. One of his underlings, bowing his head obsequiously, offered him back his spear. The officer snatched it without even a nod of acknowledgment and thrust it against my belly, backing me against the wagon. The point tore through my tunic and scraped naked flesh. I looked down to see a trickle of blood on the bright metal.
'We're peaceful travelers,' I protested.
'From Rome, I presume, to judge by that accent. I think you're spies,' said the officer.
'Like this fellow?' I eyed the man in the tunic.
'Takes one to know one,' said the officer. He turned to the spy. 'And you should have noticed that the bodyguard was unaccounted for. Probably down at the river relieving himself when we showed up. Sneaking up on us like that, he could have killed me! How many others did you observe in this Roman's party?'
'Just the two slave boys, the ones over there.'
Androcles and Mopsus, both heavy sleepers, had been rousted by soldiers and were getting to their feet, rubbing their eyes and looking about in confusion.
'And a woman,' added the spy. 'A bit younger than this fellow, but presumably his spouse.' He trained an angry gaze at me, passing on the hostility the officer had vented on him. 'Where is your wife, Roman, the one who joined you the day after you burned Pompey? Did you lose her somewhere in the Delta?'
I felt a stab of pain, sharper than the spear point pressing against my belly. As fearful as the last few moments had been, at least, however briefly, thoughts of Bethesda had been driven from my mind.
'My wife… went down to bathe in the river yesterday. She didn't come back.'
The officer snorted. 'A likely story! You arouse my suspicions even more, Roman.' He addressed a subordinate. 'Take a party of men and search for the woman. She can't have gone far.'
'I'm telling you, she disappeared yesterday in the river.' 'Perhaps. Or perhaps she's a spy as well, gone off on a mission of her own.'
'This is absurd,' I said.
'Is it?' The officer poked the spear harder against my flesh. 'We have some idea of who you are, Roman.'
'Do you? I find that quite unlikely.'
The spy spoke up. 'Philip told me. Ah, that takes you by surprise, doesn't it?' His snide tone was particularly grating.
'Philip? Pompey's freedman? What are you talking about?' 'You thought the beach was deserted, that afternoon you spent building Pompey's funeral pyre. But when Ptolemy's army withdrew, I stayed behind, to observe. I watched the freedman, wailing over the headless body of his old master. And then you were washed ashore; you could only have come from one of Pompey's ships. I wasn't close enough to hear what you said, but I watched the two of you gather driftwood and build the funeral pyres. And the next day, that merchant ship brought the rest of your party-the woman and the mute and the two boys. Oh yes, there was a woman; of that I'm quite sure! And the next day you parted company with Philip, at the fishing village. I had to choose which of you to follow, and Philip seemed the obvious choice. I joined up with some soldiers, and we apprehended him on the road heading east.'
'What did you do to him?'
'We'll ask the questions, Roman,' said the officer, poking me with the spear.
The spy laughed. 'Philip wasn't harmed. He's quite comfortable, traveling under guard in Ptolemy's retinue. Who knows what important bits of information he may have to give us, in the coming days. But he already told us about you.'
'What could he possibly have told you? I never met Philip before that day.'
'Exactly-and that's precisely what I find so intriguing, because Philip says that he saw you on Pompey's galley just before the so-called Great One came ashore, and you appeared to be on quite close terms with Pompey's wife. Philip says you must be one of Pompey's veterans from the old days-and yet Philip didn't know you, and Philip knew everyone with whom his master associated. How could that be, unless you were one of Pompey's-how shall I say it? — secret associates. An agent, traveling incognito. A spy!'
'Ridiculous!' I said, even though the presumption was perfectly logical. I was treading a dagger's edge, trying to decide how much of the truth to tell them. Pompey's spy I certainly was not, but in fact I had worked for Pompey more than once in the past, digging up secrets. How good was the spy's intelligence? Would he recognize the name of Gordianus? Even if he didn't, someone else in King Ptolemy's cadre of spies very likely might have heard of me. If I lied and told the man I didn't know Pompey, he might discover the truth and presume I was hiding some more damaging fact. If I told too much of the truth, he might make his own false assumptions. I shook my head at the irony: Pompey had wanted me dead, and in death he might yet achieve that purpose, condemning me by association.
'My name is Gordianus,' I said. The spy showed no reaction to the name. 'I'm a Roman, yes. But my wife was born here in Egypt; we met in Alexandria, many years ago. In recent months she fell ill. She came to believe that only a voyage back to Egypt, to bathe in the Nile, could save her. That's why we came here, traveling on a Greek merchant ship. The lighthouse at Pharos was in sight when a storm blew us to the east. That's how I fell in with Pompey. Yes, I knew him, from years gone by, but I certainly wasn't his spy. When he was killed and his fleet set sail, in the confusion I fell overboard. I was lucky to reach the shore alive. Philip asked me to help him build Pompey's funeral pyre. I could hardly refuse.'
'And your party? How did they happen to come ashore?' 'The Greek captain was determined to be rid of them, for bringing him bad luck. As soon as we parted with Philip, we headed here, to find this spot by the Nile. There's a temple in that glade, with a priestess who serves Osiris. My wife consulted her yesterday. She went to bathe in the river, alone. She didn't come back.' I stared steadily at the spy, my vision blurred by tears.
The man was having none of it. 'So, you admit to having been in Egypt before! No doubt that's why you were selected for this mission, because you already know the lay of the land.'
'What mission? This is absurd! I haven't set foot in Egypt in over thirty years-'
'So you say. Perhaps your wife, when we find her, will tell a different tale. The temple you speak of has been abandoned for years. The old woman who haunts the place is no priestess; she's some sort of half-mad witch.'
The officer interrupted. 'This is getting us nowhere. The main body of the army isn't far behind us. I need to push forward with the advance guard. I'll leave behind enough men to secure these prisoners, and you can hand them over to Captain Achillas when he comes through.'
'And the woman? What if we fail to find her?'
The officer looked at me for a long moment. The pressure of his spear against me eased. 'If you ask me,' he said, 'I think the Roman is telling the truth, about the woman anyway. But what would I know? I'm just a soldier. I don't have the devious mind of a spy.'
He stepped back and lowered his spear, poking the tip against the earth to remove the streaks of my blood. At his signal, soldiers came forward to bind my hands behind my back, as Rupa and the boys had already been bound.
'What about our wagon and mules?' I said. 'Those will be confiscated,' said the spy, 'along with that trunk you've been carting with you. I'm curious to see what's inside.' He ordered soldiers to remove the trunk from the wagon.
'If you insist on sorting through our soiled clothing and my wife's toiletries, may it bring you pleasure,' I said.
We were shackled together by our ankles and made to sit in the cart, the boys next to each other at the front, and Rupa and I on either side, opposite one another. The spy emptied the trunk onto the roadside and rummaged through the contents. He turned out to be no better than a common thief, pocketing the coins and the few items of value, such as a silver-and-ebony comb that Bethesda had insisted on bringing with her. He reached into the pouch of my tunic as well, and pulled out the alabaster vial.
