'Soon, I'm sure,' I called back, though I was not sure of anything. Threading our way through ranks of marching infantry, the soldier led me across the road and down a ramp set into the embankment of the canal, where the royal barge had pulled alongside a landing spot. The boatmen were taking advantage of the stop to lean against their poles and rest for a moment. As soon as I stepped aboard, the crew leader called out for them to resume their work. The boatmen at the front of the barge on either side raised their poles and brought them down. The barge slowly began to move.
Pothinus peered out from beneath the canopy and gestured for me to follow. Steps led down to the royal accommodations, which were actually below the level of the water; the sunken, shaded area was deliciously cool. The saffron-colored canopy softened the glaring sunlight; sumptuous carpets underfoot softened my steps. Here and there, courtiers stood in little groups. Many wore the nemes, a pleated linen head-cloth such as that worn by the Sphinx, with various colors and patterns to denote their rank, while others wore ceremonial wigs upon their presumably shaved heads. They stood aside to let me pass, until at the center of the barge, I saw King Ptolemy seated on his throne. Two other chairs, hardly less opulent, faced his; both were chased with silver inlaid with bits of ebony and ivory, and their broad seats were strewn with plump cushions. In one chair sat Pothinus. The other was empty.
'Sit,' said Pothinus.
I sat, and realized that Ptolemy's throne was raised on a dais. The platform was low, but sufficient to force me to tilt my chin up if I dared to look at him. If I lowered my eyes, they naturally came to rest upon a large, covered clay jar next to one of the king's feet. It occurred to me that the jar was just the right size to contain a man's head.
'Did you sleep well, Gordianus-called-Finder?'
'Quite well, Your Majesty.'
'The accommodations were adequate?'
'Yes, Your Majesty.'
'Good. Are you hungry?'
'Perhaps, Your Majesty.'
'Then you and Pothinus must partake of some food. I myself am never hungry at midday. Lord Chamberlain, call for food.'
Small tables were brought, and atop them were set silver trays heaped with delicacies-green and black olives stuffed with peppers and nut-paste, fish cakes sprinkled with poppy seeds, millet cakes sweetened with honey and soaked in pomegranate wine.
Despite the lavish spread, I had some trouble mustering my appetite, for I kept imagining what must be inside the clay jar at the king's feet. While Pothinus and I ate, the king's piper played a tune. The man sat at a little distance behind Ptolemy, cross-legged on the floor. The tune was different from the one he had played the night before.
Ptolemy seemed to read my thoughts. 'Do you like the music?'
'Very much,' I said, which seemed the safe answer. 'May I ask who composed the tune?'
'My father.'
I nodded. It was as I had thought; Ptolemy went about accompanied by his father's music to reinforce his link to the Piper and thus his legitimacy as the late king's successor. But then he said something that prompted me to reconsider my cynical interpretation of his motives.
'My father possessed a remarkable talent for music. With his playing he could make a man laugh one moment and weep the next. There was a sort of magic in his fingers and lips. This fellow who plays my father's tunes captures the notes, but not always the spirit, of my father's compositions. Still, to hear his music reminds me of my father in a way that nothing else can. Consider: The monuments that men leave behind, even the greatest men, reach out to only one of the five senses, our sight. We look at the image on a coin, or gaze upon a statue, or read the words that were written; we see, and we remember. But what about the way a man laughed, or sang, and the sound of his voice? No art can capture those aspects of a man for posterity; once a man is dead, his voice, his song, and his laughter die with him, gone forever, and our memory of them grows less and less exact as time passes. I was lucky, then, that my father made music, and that others, even if not with his precise skill, can reproduce that music. I cannot ever again hear the sound of my father speaking my name, but I can hear the tunes he composed, and so feel his presence persist among the living.'
I dared to lift my eyes to gaze into those of Ptolemy, but the king was staring into the middle distance. It seemed strange to hear such a young man utter sentiments so bittersweet; but Ptolemy was not, after all, an ordinary young man. He was the descendant of a long line of kings and queens stretching back to the right-hand man of Alexander the Great; he had been raised to think of himself as semidivine and the possessor of a unique destiny. Had he ever played with the boyish, careless abandon of Mopsus and Androcles? It seemed unlikely. I had interpreted the presence of his attendant piper as a purely political device, a calculated ploy; in Rome, such would have been the case, but gazing upon Ptolemy through jaded Roman eyes, I had missed something. Could it be that Ptolemy was both more mortal and more kingly than I had thought?
'The bond between father and son is a very special thing,' I said quietly, and my thoughts took a dark turn.
Again, Ptolemy seemed to read my mind. 'You have two sons, I understand. The one called Eco, who lives in Rome, and the other, called Meto, who travels with Caesar; but the one called Meto you no longer call your son.'
'That is correct, Your Majesty.'
'You had a falling-out?'
'Yes, Your Majesty. In Massilia-'
For the first time I heard him laugh, though not with joy. 'You needn't explain, Gordianus-called-Finder. I've had my share of fallings-out with family members. If my latest military excursion had been successful, I'd be coming back to Alexandria with two heads to show the people, not just one!'
Across from me, Pothinus pursed his lips, but if he thought the king spoke carelessly, he said nothing.
The king continued. 'Tell me, Gordianus-called-Finder, what do they say about Egypt, where you come from? What do the citizens of Rome make of our little domestic squabble?'
This opened treacherous ground. I answered carefully. 'Your father was well-known in Rome, of course, since for a period of time he resided there.' (In fact, the Piper had been driven out of Egypt by rioting mobs and lived for a while in exile in Rome, while his eldest daughter, Berenice, seized the opportunity to take over the government in his absence.)
'I was very young then,' said the king. 'Too young to accompany my father. What did the Romans make of him?'
'While he lived there, your father was well-liked. His… generosity… wasmuch spoken of.' (Passing out money and promises of money, the Piper had petitioned the Roman Senate for military assistance to restore him to the throne; in essence, he had ransomed the future wealth of his country to Roman senators and bankers.) 'For many months, Your Majesty, Roman politics revolved around 'the Egyptian Question.' ' (The question: Put the Piper back on the throne as a Roman puppet, or take over the country outright and make it a Roman province?) 'It was a delicate issue, endlessly debated.' (Caesar and Pompey staged a titanic struggle over who should get the command, but to choose either man threatened to upset the precarious balance of power in Rome; the Senate finally picked a relative nonentity, Aulus Gabinius, to pacify Egypt.) 'The people of Rome rejoiced when your father was rightfully restored to his throne.' (Gabinius, with the aid of a dashing young cavalry commander named Marc Antony, routed the forces of Berenice. Back in power, the Piper as his first act executed his rebellious daughter; his second act was to raise taxes, so as to start paying the vast sum in bribes he had promised to Roman senators and bankers. Egypt was impoverished, and the Egyptian people groaned under the burden, but the sizable Roman garrison left behind by Gabinius assured that the Piper would remain in power.)
I cleared my throat. 'The sudden death of your father two years ago caused grief and consternation in Rome.' (The senators and bankers worried that chaos would overtake Egypt and that further payments from whomever succeeded the Piper would dry up; there were vicious recriminations from those who had argued for annexing Egypt outright while the pickings were easy.)
The king nodded thoughtfully. 'And what is the attitude of the citizens of Rome regarding affairs in Egypt since the death of my father?'
