The great lighthouse was perched on a small island, also called Pharos, which was connected to the mainland by an artificial causeway known as the Heptastadium. The causeway, in addition to providing access to the lighthouse, also served to divide the Great Harbor from the Eunostus Harbor on the west.
Built in three huge "stories," the Pharos towered almost four hundred feet high. The lowest section was square in design, the second octagonal, and the third cylindrical. At the very top of the cylindrical structure was a room in which a great fire was kept burning at all hours of the day and night. The light produced by that fire was magnified and projected to seaward by a reflecting device. At night, the light could be seen for a tremendous distance.
She and her troops had seen that light only a few hours earlier, as her fleet approached Alexandria in the early hours of the morning. Now, two hours after dawn, the beam seemed pallid. But in the darkness, the light of the Pharos had truly lived up to its reputation. And now that they could see it clearly, so did the lighthouse itself.
Her soldiers were absolutely packing the starboard rails. Antonina was on the verge of issuing orders-futile ones, probably-when a cry from the lookout in the bow drew her attention.
"Ships approaching!" he bellowed. "Dromons! Eight dromons!"
She scrambled down the ladder from the poop deck and hurried along the starboard catwalk to the bow. Within a minute, she was standing alongside the lookout, peering at the small fleet which was emerging from the Great Harbor.
Eight dromons, just as he had said. Five of them were full-size, the other three somewhat smaller. In all, she estimated that there were at least one and a half thousand soldiers manning those dromons. Most of them were oarsmen, but, after a quick count, she decided there were well over four hundred marines aboard as well.
Armed and armored. And the oarsmen would also have weapons ready to hand, in the event of a boarding action.
As she watched, seven of the dromons spread out, forming a barrier across the entrance to the Great Harbor. The eighth, one of the smaller ones, began rowing toward her.
She felt someone at her elbow. Turning her head, she saw that Hermogenes had joined her, along with two of his tribunes and the captain of her flagship.
"What are your orders?" asked the captain.
"Stop the ship," she said. "And signal the rest of the fleet to do likewise."
A pained look came on the captain's face, but he obeyed instantly.
"What did I say wrong this time?" grumbled Antonina.
Hermogenes chuckled. "Don't know. I'm not a seaman either. But I'm sure you don't just 'stop' a ship. Much less a whole fleet! That's way too logical and straightforward. Probably something like: 'belay all forward progress' and 'relay the signal for all ships to emulate execution.' "
Smiling, Antonina resumed her study of the approaching dromon. The warship was two hundred yards away, now.
"I assume that dromon is bearing envoys."
"From whom?" he asked. Antonina shrugged.
"We'll find out soon enough."
She pushed herself away from the rail. "When they arrive, usher them into my cabin. I'll wait for them there."
Hermogenes nodded. "Good idea. It'll make you seem more imperial than if you met them on deck."
"The hell with that," muttered Antonina. "It'll make me seem taller. I had that chair in my cabin specially designed for it." Ruefully, she looked down at her body. "As short as I am, I can't intimidate anybody standing up."
As she hurried down the catwalk toward her cabin, Antonina noted that the appearance of the eight dromons had at least had the salutory effect of eliminating the danger of capsizing her ships. The soldiers of her fleet had left off their sight-seeing and were taking up battle positions.
She stopped for a moment, steadying herself against a stay. Now that Antonina's fleet had come to a halt, the flagship was wallowing in the waves, drifting slowly before the wind. The sea was calm that morning, however, and the wind not much more than a light breeze. The ship's motion was gentle.
Searching the sea for John's gunship, Antonina spotted the Theodora within seconds. To her satisfaction, she saw that John was already tacking to the northwest. In the event of a conflict, the gunship would be in perfect position to sail downwind toward the dromons blocking the harbor.
Ashot came to meet her.
"There'll be several envoys from that ship"-she pointed to the dromon-"coming aboard. Hermogenes will usher them into my cabin. I want you and-" She broke off, studying the officers in the oncoming warship. Taking a count, to be precise. "-and four of your cataphracts to be there with me," she concluded.
Ashot smiled, rather grimly. "Any in particular?"
Antonina's returning smile was just as grim. "Yes. The four biggest, meanest, toughest ones you've got."
Ashot nodded. Before Antonina had taken three paces toward her cabin, the Armenian officer was already bellowing his commands.
"Synesius! Matthew! Leo! Zenophilus! Front and center!"
The first thing the visiting officers did, after Hermogenes ushered them in, was to study the four cataphracts standing in each corner of Antonina's large cabin. A careful study, lasting for at least half a minute.
Antonina fought down a grin. The visiting officers reminded her of nothing so much as four sinners in the antechamber of Hell, examining the denizens of the Pit.
Four devils, one in each corner. Counting arms and armor, Antonina estimated their collective gross weight at twelve hundred pounds. Two of the cataphracts were so tall their helmets were almost brushing the ceiling of the cabin. One of them was so wide he looked positively deformed. And the last one, Leo, was considered by all of Belisarius' bucellarii to be the ugliest man alive.
Not "cute" ugly. Not pug-nosed bulldog "ugly."
Ugly ugly. Rabid vicious slavering monster ugly. Ogre ugly; troll ugly-even when Leo wasn't scowling, which, at the moment, he most certainly was. A gut-wrenching, spine-freezing, bowel-loosening Moloch kind of scowl.
Antonina cleared her throat. Demurely. Ladylike.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" she asked.
The officer in the forefront tore his eyes away from Leo and stared at her. He was a middle-aged man, with greying hair and a beard streaked with white. He was actually a bit on the tall side, Antonina thought, but he looked like a midget in the same room with Ashot's four cataphracts.
For a moment, the man's stare was simply blank. Then, as recognition came to him, his eyes narrowed.
"You are the woman Antonina?" he demanded. "The wife of Belisarius?"
She nodded. The officer's lips tightened.
"We have been told-that is to say, it is our understanding that you have been appointed in charge of this-uh-fleet."
She nodded. The officer's lips grew thinner still, as if he had just tasted the world's sourest lemon.
"The situation here in Alexandria is very complicated," the officer stated forcefully. "You must understand that. It will do no one any good if you simply charge into-"
"The situation in Egypt is not complicated," interrupted Antonina. "The situation is very simple. The former civil, ecclesiastical and military authorities have lost the confidence of the Emperor and the Empress Regent. For that reason, I have been sent here to oversee their replacement by people who enjoy the imperial trust. On board this fleet are the newly-designated Praetorian Prefect, Patriarch, and the merarch of the Army of Egypt."