From the western end of the camp there came a clatter of hooves, and men dodged aside as a horseman in the livery of the royal messengers pounded toward the Shofet's tent. He drew rein before the council, so sharply that his mount almost toppled. The man flung himself to the ground and all but went down on his face before the Shofet, holding a bronze tube extended in one hand. Hamilcar took it, examined the seal and twisted the cap open. He withdrew a scroll of parchment, unrolled it and read. In moments his face paled and his hand trembled.
"What is it, my Shofet?" Mastanabal asked, knowing that is was bad news from Carthage. "An earthquake? Plague?"
"The Romans!" Hamilcar choked out. "They have completely reoccupied Italy! And they have invaded Sicily!" He cast the parchment to the ground with an inarticulate cry of rage and frustration.
"But that is impossible!" Mastanabal said. "There cannot be that many of them! We have most of their army here with us in Egypt."
"We have four of their legions," Hamilcar said. "At least ten are now quartered in Italy. Six more have invaded Sicily. Syracuse is under siege. So are Catana and Lilybaeum. Many of my garrisons have already surrendered!"
They are under strength because you stripped them for this war, Mastanabal thought. He was not entirely displeased with this development. The Shofet would need every experienced military man at his disposal now, and he could break off the siege of Alexandria without loss of honor. There would be no need to crucify a less than successful general. He considered his words carefully.
"My Shofet, we must return to Carthage at once. Egypt will still be here after this matter of the Romans is settled. Italy and Sicily have been our possessions for over a century, we cannot lose them. Most important, Sicily is less than a day's sail from Carthage. The Romans will be poised to strike in force at our sacred city!" The other counselors signified approval of these words.
"But Egypt is within my grasp!" Hamilcar cried, making clutching motions.
"And it will be again," Mastanabal said. "Already you have shown them your might. They will know that they were saved by the merest chance. They will be already half-defeated when we come back."
Hamilcar brooded for a moment. "What of Norbanus and those four legions?"
"Leave them here," Mastanabal advised. "They are alone in a hostile land, cut off from reinforcement or supply. Ptolemy's men are more than adequate to destroy them."
"I want none of them to leave here alive," Hamilcar said. "They have trained with my army and know all its details, as well as the defenses of Carthage. You saw that model of Alexandria they built. Romans study such things."
"They will die," Mastanabal assured him. "Where will they go? Egypt is hostile to them. If they march west, they enter Carthaginian territory. If they go east, they will meet the Seleucids and the Parthians. If they take to the sea, our navy owns it. Maybe they will go south down the Nile and carve another kingdom for themselves in Nubia or Ethiopia. Whatever they choose, we have seen the last of them."
Hamilcar nodded, but he remembered that once before Carthage had thought to have seen the last of the Romans.
In the Macedonian barracks, Marcus Scipio and Flaccus wrapped up negotiations with the soldiers. After protestations of loyalty for the sake of form, it had come down to money, as Marcus had been certain it would. These men were professionals and they followed a paymaster. They were not citizens of a republic, but hirelings who would serve their employer only so long as he was victorious and brought them loot. In the end, buying their loyalty was a matter of staters and drachmas on a carefully graduated scale of rank and length of service, from the generals down to the common troopers.
"Now that this is concluded," Marcus said, standing, "have your men assembled at the western gate, prepared for a sortie at my orders."
"You want a field battle against the Carthaginians?" said a hard-bitten Spartan commander. "The time for that is past. How would we get through the necropolis in any sort of order?"
"There won't be any field battle," Marcus said. "It will be more like collecting taxes. It may not be today or tomorrow, but it will be soon and I want us to be ready to attack at a moment's notice." Mystified, the commanders signified their assent. This Roman had proven himself able to deliver the goods, which certainly was not true of Parmenion or Ptolemy.
Selene met him at the palace. By her side was her brother-husband. The boy glowered at the two of them, but he said nothing. Young as he was, he knew better than that. The heads of Parmenion, Eutychus, Dion and Alexandras already sat atop pikes over the palace gate, and he had no wish to have his own join them.
"My brother agrees that all is for the best," Selene said. "His former advisers failed him wretchedly and he is ready for mature, disinterested guidance."
We can supply the maturity, at any rate, Marcus thought. He made a slight bow toward Ptolemy. "Your Majesty, I will be most happy to serve you." The boy nodded sourly in reply.
There was a banquet that evening to celebrate the occasion, for it took more than a mere siege to make Alexandrians give up banqueting. Toward the end of the proceedings, a soldier came in and spoke in Marcus Scipio's ear. He turned to Selene and Ptolemy, who had regained some of his usual placidity, knowing that he was not to be executed.
"If Your Majesties will accompany me to the western wall," Marcus said, "I will show you one of the finer sights of this war."
"Another of your new weapons?" Ptolemy said, brightening a little. He had enjoyed watching the fighting in the harbor, with the underwater boat and the bronze-clad warships.
"No, even better."
Huge litters carried them through the broad, straight streets of Alexandria. They were carried up a slanting stair to the battlements that defended the western gate of the city.
"Look," Marcus said. At first they could not make out what was going on. There was a confusion of running forms, men bearing torches, horses and elephants milling, unsettled at this unwonted nighttime activity. The shouts of men mixed with the neighs of horses and the trumpeting of elephants.
"They are leaving!" Selene said at last.
"Breaking camp and heading back for Carthage," Marcus told her. "Hamilcar just got the bad news I mentioned earlier."
"What was it?" He told her of the retaking of Italy and the invasion of Sicily. "So," she said, "you Romans have manipulated us: Carthaginians and Egyptians both. You have used us to your own advantage."
"Carthage and Egypt were going to war whether we were involved or not," Marcus told her. "Why should we not use the situation to our advantage?"
"Why not, indeed?" she said, mild tones covering inner turmoil. Just now, she was too delighted with seeing the Carthaginian army depart to indulge in rage. It would not do to let the Romans see her feelings in any case. But already she was making her plans. These Romans had proven to be far more than the unsophisticated soldiers they had appeared at first. Very well, if they were capable of subtle dealing, let them learn what the Ptolemies were capable of after many generations of royal intrigue. Only let them not learn beforetime.
Flaccus, always more perceptive than Marcus to the subtle nuances, read her expression. "We have been under strictest orders from the Senate to say nothing to anyone about the reconquest of Italy. The whole world will know soon. I think it is now time to establish the closest and most confidential ties of cooperation between Rome and Egypt."
"Certainly," Marcus said, understanding his gaffe somewhat too late. "Between us now we shall have Carthage in a vise. All our future efforts must be coordinated and we will take no military action without conferring with the sovereign of Egypt."