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Waiting outside the harbor until it was daylight, we got our first good look at what is rightly one of the wonders of the world. It was one of the few times that the men were struck into silence, so awe-inspiring was the sight of the huge white tower looming above us as our ships slid by. Craning my neck upwards, I was struck by a wave of dizziness as I imagined what it would be like to stand on top, looking down. The statue of Zeus that stands astride the top of the tower by itself would have been massive and intimidating; the fact that it stood on top of a tower that was more than 400 feet high made my jaw drop, and I was not alone. The tower consisted of what almost looked like huge children’s building blocks, in three basic shapes. The bottom of the tower is square, built of whitewashed stones and more than 200 feet high. Sitting atop the square is an octagon, but I could not tell with what material it was constructed, and it is not as tall as the square. Finally, there is a cylindrical tower upon which is a cupola where the light burns in front of a huge polished metal mirror. I would learn later that during the day, fire was not used; instead, the sun is bounced off the mirror to send a signal. Around the base of the lighthouse is a high wall, which I was told served to protect the base of the lighthouse from the raging waves caused by storms. Spiraling around the entire tower is a stairway leading to the top, and I did not envy the men whose job it was to ascend that stairway, between the height and the exertion it would require. Sliding by, I could also see that the construction of such a massive structure was not just a matter of vanity; Alexandria is a well-protected harbor, and I instantly understood why it has the reputation of being the most secure anchorage in the world, because the entrance is narrow and the approach is surrounded by rocky shore. The lighthouse is actually on an island called Pharos Island that serves as a barrier, with a huge man-made causeway built out from the mainland that not only links the island but also bisects the harbor, dividing it into a section called The Great Harbor, which is where we were sailing, and the Harbor of Eunostus. The lighthouse was built on a spur of land extending from the eastern end of the island, jutting into the harbor and serving as the upper of what could be called two jaws. The lower jaw is provided by a spur of land that protrudes out north from the mainland, so that the only way to approach the Great Harbor is heading from the northeast; I learned later that it is called Cape Lochias. Between the two jaws are clumps of jagged rocks, further narrowing the entrance.
Taking this all in with the fleet making its way into the anchorage, I was also struck by the sight of so many ships, of all shapes and sizes. I had never seen numbers like it, even when we were in Brundisium, and I was not alone in my wonderment. The men lined the sides of not just my ship, but every transport, pointing at first this sight then the next, talking excitedly about what they were seeing. And we were under just as much scrutiny; I could see men stopping in their work to watch our fleet pass by, some men actually dropping whatever they were doing to dash off down whatever pier they were working on. I would learn that the man-made causeway, lined with docks and being where we were headed, is called the Heptastadion, Greek for Seven Furlongs, which is its actual length. At each end of the causeway is an arched bridge that allows smaller boats to pass from one harbor to another. Caesar’s flagship moored first, followed by my transports then the others containing the 7th Cohort, with the next third of a watch occupied in securing the ships and making ready to disembark. Once all was prepared, I was given orders to secure the dock and the immediate area in preparation for Caesar disembarking. The pier was now swarming with curious people, and although I would not describe their posture as welcoming, I did not see anything that I considered threatening. The gangplank was lowered and I walked down the ramp, followed by the men of three Centuries of the Tenth Cohort. Giving the order to set up a defensive perimeter, I told Fuscus, Sertorius, and Favonius to handle the civilians gently, since I did not know the Egyptian temperament at that time, or how they would react to being manhandled. We were able to clear the area without incident, and I remember thinking to myself that perhaps things would go smoothly the rest of the time we were there. The way events unfolded, I only had a matter of a few moments before the first problem arose.
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When I gave my report to General Pollio, one of Caesar’s staff and the commander of the cavalry, I informed him that the area had been secured without incident, and he in turn strode back up the gangplank of the flagship to let Caesar know. After several moments, there was a commotion and I turned to see that Caesar had decided to make an entrance worthy of his status. Down the ramp marched his 12 lictors, their bundles adorned with the ivy, as was Caesar’s right, having been hailed as Imperator on the field. Following the lictors were a number of Caesar’s other attendants, with the great man himself walking behind, clad in his gilt armor and with his paludamentum flowing behind him. He had barely set foot on the quay when there was a hue and cry from the people standing on the outside of the perimeter formed by the men. Because I could not understand a word that was being said, I had to rely on what I saw, and surrounding us was a very angry mob, shaking their fists, hurling what I have to believe were obscenities down on us. Despite none of them doing anything overtly offensive or violent, it was clear that it would not be long before someone in the crowd reached down to pick up a brick or a stave and then things could get ugly. They began chanting something in their language, shaking their fists in rhythm to what they were saying. I saw that it was beginning to affect some of the men, who stood with their shields raised in the first position, as they started to shift their feet or glance over their shoulder back at their Centurions, waiting for us to tell them what to do. Turning about, I saw that Caesar was as surprised as any of us at the sudden turn of events, and I marveled that he seemed unsure of himself. He beckoned Pollio and another general, Tiberius Nero, to his side and they talked quickly. As they were doing so, Sertorius called to me from his spot immediately behind the men who were the farthest away. Saying something that I could not hear over the racket being made by the Egyptians, he pointed and I spotted what had alerted him. From beyond the fringes of the crowd ran a fairly large group of men that, while not exactly heavily armed, were attired in uniform and appeared to have some official capacity. They were pushing their way through the crowd who, once they saw who was pushing, readily gave way. Leading the way were two men; one was wearing the same uniform as the others and was clearly the commanding officer. He was also the darkest man I had ever seen. The second had lighter, honey-colored skin, but that was not what made him so remarkable, because he wore makeup heavier than I had ever seen on a woman, let alone a man. His eyes were outlined in black, with lines drawn outwards from the edge of his eyes, I guessed in an attempt to make them look larger and slanted, although why anyone would want to do that I could not fathom. His attire was of the finest material, richly brocaded with gold, while around his neck he wore what I took to be some sort of symbol of his office. The uniformed men shoved the people out of his way more roughly than I had allowed the men to handle them, but they made no protest, instead immediately shrinking away when they saw the official. The man’s bearing bespoke of a haughtiness that comes from being accustomed to being obeyed and feared, but he was respectful enough as he approached.