The Silver Eagle

the trumpeting bull became even more terrified and swam out further. It was a fatal mistake. Attracted by the blood staining the sea, more sharks soon arrived. By the end there were more than twenty, but it still took an age to kill the enormous creature. The piteous noises it made tore even at Hiero’s jaded heart. Eventually the elephant had succumbed though, a small grey island that bobbed back and forth in the reddened water.

But there were still reasons to be content, thought the bestiarius. Thanks to Romulus’ ministrations, the lion with the terrible leg wound had completely recovered. Many other animals, as well as injured slaves, had benefited from his and Tarquinius’ treatment. In truth, the expedition had been a resounding success. He had dozens of the more common animals like antelope and buffalo. As well as the big male, there were several other lions, four leopards, a giraffe and three elephants. But the greatest prize of all was a great armoured beast with a horn on its nose, something that Hiero had only ever heard of before. The rhinoceros had short legs for its size but could run faster than a man. Its immensely thick skin resembled metal plates, making it almost invulnerable. Possessed of poor eyesight but a keen sense of smell, the bad-tempered creature had gored two of his slaves to death when being captured. Others had been severely injured since.

That did not concern the bestiarius in the slightest. Such minor losses were all factored into his costs. If the gods continued to smile on him as they had up till now, his arrival at Alexandria would make him an even wealthier man. One or two more trips like this and he would be able to retire. Hiero stared surreptitiously at Romulus. Appearing out of the wilderness so unexpectedly, the young man and his quiet, scarred companion had been useful additions to his party. He had spent weeks trying to persuade them to stay on in his employ. While the pair had professed interest, the wily bestiarius had gathered that reaching Italy was their main aim. Still, he couldn’t complain. The work they had done had more than paid for their food and transport costs.

‘Well?’ he asked, stepping on to the shore. ‘What do you think of that?’

Romulus could scarcely believe his eyes. Beyond the far edge of the lake, the great walls stretched for miles. This, the capital founded almost three centuries earlier by Alexander of Macedon, was absolutely vast.

It had been so long since Romulus had seen a large city. The last had been Barbaricum, and before that, Seleucia. Yet the metropolis which sprawled from east to west dwarfed both. Even Rome, the heart of the mighty Republic, could not compare.

Tarquinius was lost for words. For him, reaching Alexandria was the culmination of a lifetime’s expectations. All those years before, Olenus had been correct. It was overwhelming — and frightening. Tarquinius felt as if fate were rushing in on him.

‘A magnificent sight, eh?’ cried Hiero. ‘Practically every street is wider than the biggest in Rome, and the buildings are made of white marble. And then there’s the lighthouse. Ten times taller than any house you’ve ever seen, yet it was built over two hundred years ago.’

‘Don’t forget the library,’ said the haruspex. ‘It’s the largest in the world.’

‘And?’ The bestiarius waved a dismissive hand. ‘What do I need with all that ancient learning?’

Tarquinius laughed. ‘You might not read it, but others do. Scholars come from far and wide to study here. There are books on mathematics, medicine and geography which cannot be found anywhere else.’

Hiero’s eyebrows rose in surprise. The slight, blond-haired man was constantly revealing new qualities. He and Romulus were obviously well educated, which had made their company far more appealing than that of Gracchus or any of his other employees. It was part of the reason that the bestiarius found himself discussing what to do with two strangers. They had spent long hours together on the journey, during which a certain level of trust had developed between them. Hiero had also come to fear Tarquinius a little, although he could not explain why.

‘Look,’ said Romulus.

A fine stream of smoke was rising into the air above the centre of the city.

‘That’s no household fire,’ breathed the bestiarius. ‘A large funeral pyre, perhaps?’

‘No,’ answered Tarquinius. ‘There’s a battle going on.’

Romulus stared in shock. This was most unexpected.

‘How could you know?’ Hiero demanded. He had seen no need to mention the civil war between Ptolemy and his sister Cleopatra, and his slaves knew little of such affairs.

‘It is written in the sky overhead,’ said the haruspex.

Unusually bereft of words, the old man’s mouth opened and closed.

Romulus hid a smile.

‘You’re a soothsayer?’

Tarquinius inclined his head.

Hiero looked aggrieved. ‘You never mentioned it before.’

Tarquinius’ dark eyes bored into the bestiarius. ‘I saw no need.’

Hiero swallowed noisily. ‘As you say.’

‘Who’s fighting?’ asked Romulus.

‘There’s been trouble recently between the king and his sister,’ interrupted Hiero, anxious to retain control. ‘It’s probably just some rioting. Nothing to worry about.’

Romulus studied the sky over the city. There was something there. A different air, was it? He wasn’t sure, but a bad feeling entered his mind and he looked away.

‘But foreign troops are involved,’ said Tarquinius.

‘Greek or Judaean mercenaries,’ Hiero responded triumphantly. ‘They’re commonly used in Egypt.’

‘No.’

Cowed by the haruspex’ ominous tone, Hiero fell silent.

‘I see legionaries, thousands of them.’

His countrymen, here? Romulus wanted to shout out loud with joy. ‘Romans fighting Egyptians?’ he cried.

Tarquinius nodded. ‘They are hard pressed, too. Badly outnumbered.’

Romulus was amazed by the strong urge to help that overcame him. Before, he would not have particularly cared what happened to Rome’s citizens, or its troops. After all, they cared little for slaves. But life had changed him. He was an adult now, bound to no one. Surviving constant and bloody combat as a gladiator, soldier and pirate had given Romulus an unshakeable belief in himself.

And helped me realise what I am, he thought proudly. I am a Roman. Not a slave. And my father is a nobleman.

Beside him, unnoticed, Tarquinius looked on in approval.

Romulus sighed. It was pointless thinking like that. Without proof of his status as a citizen, he would always be open to the charge of being a slave. The tattoo of Mithras on his upper right arm could not entirely conceal the scar where his brand had been. All it would take was an accusation from someone like Novius. No doubt there would be plenty of men like him among the beleaguered soldiers within the city. Romulus’ new-found confidence soured. ‘What are they doing here?’ he asked.

‘Could the Roman civil war have spread this far?’ the bestiarius asked, stroking his beard.

‘Possibly,’ replied the haruspex. ‘But there is no wind, so the smoke is rising in a straight line. I cannot tell much.’

There was a long silence as they pondered the significance of Tarquinius’ words. Naturally, Hiero was very unhappy. It was he who stood to lose out if normal port business had been affected by any trouble in the city. Yet the presence of Roman soldiers in Alexandria affected them all. Romulus and Tarquinius needed a vessel that would carry them to Italy. They didn’t want to attract any untoward attention.

His mind working overtime, the bestiarius spoke first. ‘Are they Pompey’s men, or Caesar’s?’

Tarquinius frowned. ‘Somehow I sense the presence of both men in the city. The struggle is not over yet.’

‘Who cares?’ remarked Romulus angrily. ‘Let’s wait here until it all calms down. We have supplies, and water. There’s no need to rush in and get ourselves killed. Normal trading will resume as soon as the dust has settled.’