~ ~ ~ ~
Boarding ship two days later, the men were sullen and quiet, angry that they had not been informed of their destination, something I chose to ignore. The Centurions were in a similar frame of mind, but were too professional to let it show openly, treating me with an icy professional courtesy, even Felix. At first I was puzzled by his demeanor, yet after thinking about it, I realized that while I thought we had made progress towards establishing a rapport two nights before, it was still too early for him to declare his allegiance openly. Fortunately, the worries that always accompany an ocean voyage soon took precedence in the minds of the men. Their problems with me and where they were going took second place to the fear of drowning. The fact that Caesar chose the most direct route from Pergamum to Alexandria did not help matters, because it meant a voyage across the open sea out of sight of land, something that did not make me any happier than anyone else onboard. Just as it was for the rest of the men, this was my first time on a ship where we spent more than a matter of a couple of watches without land in view, and the only thing I could be thankful for was that I had lost my tendency to get seasick. A number of the men were not so lucky, spending the majority of their time draped over the side of the ship. Luckily, the weather held, the sea never particularly choppy, with the winds blowing steadily. Even so, we spent three full days out of sight of land before the flagship sent the signal that land was sighted. There was a mad scramble as men roused themselves from their misery to run to the sides of the vessel, and I stifled a laugh at the sight. Despite having only gotten a glimpse of the maps of this region, I knew where we were headed and off what quarter of the ship the men should be looking for their first sight of land, but such was their disorientation that the betting was fairly evenly spread around all points of the ship. Watching the frenzy of wagering, I became aware of the sensation of being observed, turning to see Cornuficius standing with his Optio, a man named Furius, his bovine eyes studying me. Even as I turned, I saw Cornuficius speak a quiet word to Furius and hand him a coin purse, whereupon the Optio scurried off, presumably to make a wager. I frowned; it was a bad idea on a number of levels for Centurions to engage in any of the wagering that the men did, although in fact, it rarely stopped many of them. It quickly became clear that Cornuficius was one of the men who saw nothing wrong with it. I walked across the rolling deck and approached him, returning his salute.
“Taking part in the betting action, Cornuficius?”
He nodded.
I regarded him for a moment, then said, “I don’t like my Centurions engaging in betting with the men. With other Centurions and even Optios, it’s fine, but not with the rankers.”
Cornuficius gave a small smile, like there was some private joke he was reliving, and I felt my anger stir, but there was nothing I could fault in his tone.
“As you wish, Primus Pilus, I’ll refrain from such activities in the future. And just so you know, it’s not something I do regularly.” He paused, as if trying to decide if he should continue, then gave another small smile. “It’s just that I seldom have an opportunity where I’m so sure of the outcome, I just couldn’t resist.”
“So you think you know where to look for land, Cornuficius?”
He nodded again. “Absolutely, Primus Pilus.”
“And how can you be so sure?”
Now the smile that had been playing at the edges of his mouth finally won the battle, quickly turning into a laugh. “Because you told me, Primus Pilus.”
And with that, he asked to be excused, which I granted, wanting a moment to myself. What had he meant by that? Thinking about it, I realized that he must have been watching me when the announcement was first made that land had been spotted and seen me look off the port side of the ship. That in itself was not a huge thing, but thinking on it more deeply, I was struck first by a question, then just as quickly by the answer, and the conclusion I drew was deeply unsettling. How could he have known to look at me when the signal came that land was sighted? The answer was that there was no way he could have known, which could only mean that he had been watching me already, and the chance to enrich himself was just, at least as far as he was concerned, a happy accident. It also explained why he thought it so amusing; he was having a laugh at my expense. I think what I found most disturbing was that up until the last moment, I had been unaware that he was spying on me, meaning that he was very, very good at being unobtrusive. My respect for Cornuficius raised a notch, but so did my dislike and distrust. I felt my jaw muscles tighten, determined that he would not best me again, at anything.
~ ~ ~ ~
Our first sight of Alexandria came courtesy of a blinding light that appeared out of the darkness. I am of course referring to the light coming from the great lighthouse of Alexandria, and since it was dark by the time we slid up the Egyptian coast towards Alexandria, this was indeed our first sight of the great city. The sight of such a light, appearing out of nowhere so to speak, caused a near panic among the men, and it was then I was forced to reveal to them our destination, some of the men becoming so frightened of what they thought was some ghostly apparition that they threatened to throw themselves overboard. Calling a hasty formation on the deck, I announced that what the men were seeing was no numen, it was the light from the great lighthouse. Instantly the cries of panics turned to a combination of shouts of delight from the winners and groans of despair from the losers, and in the darkness, I could hear the clinking of coins changing hands. Peering through the gloom and by the dim glow from the light reflected from the lighthouse, I could just make out the bulk of the ship carrying the other Cohort, wondering how Valens was faring with the men of the Seventh. I had little doubt that there was much the same scene being played out on the decks of his ship, although he did not have the advantage of knowing where we were going. It turned out the panic onboard was stopped from what I thought an unlikely source, the Princeps Prior Gaius Sido. As I mentioned, he was an older man on his second enlistment, and had actually served with Gabinius when he invaded Egypt. Therefore, he had seen the lighthouse before and knew it for what it was, none of which I found out until we landed. Now that the men knew where they were going and were not about to be consumed by some great sea monster that had a light on its head that it used to lure ships and men to their doom, the chatter focused on what pleasures awaited them in Alexandria. Like every Legionary serving Rome who has not actually been there, Alexandria was legendary for the supposedly limitless opportunities for debauchery available and was a topic of conversation around every fire I had ever sat around at least once a week since I had been in the army. It generally started with something like, “My cousin served with Pompey when he fought the Parthians, and on the way back they stopped in Alexandria. He said that you could find a woman who. .” Whereupon the man with the cousin would describe the most lascivious, lewd act that he could think of, some of which I do not think were anatomically possible. Alexandria had fired more men’s imaginations, along with their nether parts, than any other location that men talked about, even Rome. Hearing the excited murmurs of men gleefully planning to sink to depths that they had only previously dreamed of, I felt a stirring of pity. These men had not marched with Caesar for long; even when they had served with us in Gaul for those two years, they had done very little but garrison duty, guarding of the baggage or had been under the command of one Caesar’s Legates or Tribunes and not the great man himself. Consequently, they were blissfully unaware that it was highly unlikely that we would be idle long enough to fulfill any of their fantasies. For a moment, I debated the idea of breaking it to them, but decided against it, knowing that they would not hold me in any gratitude for shattering their illusions. So I turned away, shaking my head and going to look for Diocles to make sure we were ready to disembark.