~ ~ ~ ~
Just as the doctors had predicted, the man in the 28th died without ever regaining consciousness, creating another problem because of all the paperwork that is involved when a man dies in something other than battle. If he had died just the day before, during the fight for the docks, no questions would be asked. But since there had been no skirmishes taking place anywhere when the man died, we would have to come up with a reason for his demise. Actually, Cartufenus would have to come up with the reason, but since we were more or less bound in this together, I was not surprised when he showed up in my quarters, a stylus and wax tablet in hand, ready to write down what we came up with.
“We can’t list him as a fever because it'd be too sudden. Besides, he’s beaten from head to toe. If any of the Tribunes or Legates got curious and saw the body, there'd be too many questions.”
I nodded, thinking about it. “Why don’t we just dump him over the wall? He was going to desert anyway; we can just say that he disappeared.”
“I already thought of that,” Cartufenus said glumly. “The problem is that the doctor is chummy with our Tribune. He might not say anything, but I can’t be sure. If he hadn’t been brought to the hospital, that would have worked.”
“Who brought him?” I asked, annoyed that some ranker had complicated matters.
Cartufenus shrugged, indicating that he did not know. We sat there disconsolately, not even able to suck down wine because it was being rationed. Finally, we decided to say that he had been found beaten and unconscious, but had no idea of the circumstances. This fiction had the advantage of being partially true, and was completely deniable. Oh, there would be a raised eyebrow, and perhaps even suspicions, except matters like these occurred all the time in the army, and our superior officers were all experienced men who had been under the standard for several years. They knew that there were things that they did not know, and that they did not want to know. I think they may have been surprised about how much they actually were not aware of, even Caesar, although he was better informed than any of the other generals I ever served with. The other thing in our favor was that Caesar and his entire staff had much more pressing problems than the death of a single Gregarius, no matter what the circumstances, meaning that we made our report, then heard nothing more about it.
~ ~ ~ ~
In the larger world, the Egyptians had sent out a call for a dilectus of their own, this one going out to the whole kingdom of Egypt. Men began streaming into the city, drawn by the promise of booty, glory, steady meals, or whatever motivated them. Standing on the roofs of the buildings, we watched the Gabinians put the new men through their paces, while the rest of the Egyptian army continued to build towers and walls, constructing them to a height that overlooked our own positions. From prisoners, we learned that Achillas had ordered the conversion of every local smith and metalworker into a military endeavor, where they were churning out weapons and ammunition. Woodworking shops were similarly working on ballistae and scorpions; in short, the entire city had been mobilized to destroy us. With thousands of mouths to feed, along with more than 900 horses, only the horses were eating well, thanks to the marsh grasses that men went out to gather under cover of darkness. The salt grass of the marsh was so rich and plentiful that not only did the horses not suffer from hunger, they actually filled out some, indirectly ending up as a help to the men later. The Egyptians also were focusing their efforts on exacting revenge for the loss of their fleet by attacking ours, moored in the Great Harbor. For their first attempt, they sent small boats loaded with men through the arches from the Inner Harbor, and Caesar’s foresight in placing a detachment with artillery on Pharos Island was fulfilled, with every boat destroyed. Undaunted, they tried again, this time sending boats loaded with combustibles that were set afire, except the wind was against them, causing the boats to do more damage to Egyptian shipping than to ours.
It was also about this time that the snake Pothinus was discovered sending secret messages to Achillas, urging him to maintain his pressure on us and not lose heart. He also included what information about our dispositions he had gleaned from his own spies, so it was with a great deal of happiness that the men gathered in the theater to watch Pothinus’ head leave his shoulders. True to his nature, he acted like a woman, shaking and crying, having to be dragged onto the stage, where one of Caesar’s Germans did the deed. The men cheered lustily at the sight of his bald head rolling across the stage, spraying blood in a trail across the stone floor. His head came to rest not far from where I was standing, and I could plainly see the look of terror and surprise still plastered on his face, his eyes sightlessly staring into the void. I noticed that for once, his face was devoid of that horrid makeup, and remember wondering if he had thought that to be some sort of punishment, not being allowed to paint his face before he died. These Egyptians with their customs are a strange lot, and I have no idea if there is some deeper meaning to all of the paint, but I suspect there is. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, the death of Pothinus did not deter Achillas in the slightest, the Egyptian general continuing with his training and manufacturing all day and night. He was an implacable foe, with his army gaining strength every week. Consequently, the men grew more worried watching the progress his army made in both their training and their investment of our position. That is why what happened next was further sign of the gods’ favor of Gaius Julius Caesar.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Achillas is dead!”
Appolonius came immediately after hearing the news, ostensibly to tell Diocles, but knowing that I would want to hear the news as well. That I did; this time I did not even pretend to be busy in my quarters, coming straight out into the outer office.
“What happened?”
Appolonius looked smug, as only the bearer of news that he knows others wants to hear can, and said, “It appears that our young Arsinoe and her man Ganymede have a bit more ambition than just being a figurehead.”
That was indeed interesting, my expression giving him all the encouragement he needed to continue.
“Well, as you know, Arsinoe volunteered to set herself up as the symbol of Egyptian resistance against the Roman oppressors, a role which Achillas was more than happy to give her. But something changed; Caesar thinks that the real string puller is that Ganymede, and that he convinced her that she, or more likely he is just as capable of leading the army as Achillas. So she had Achillas murdered.”
Even though we had heard that a rivalry had developed between the two that split the army, we had no idea that it had grown so bitter that one of them would kill the other. From our spies, we were informed that the division in the army was between the Gabinians and the rest of the professional arm of the army, consisting mainly of Cilicians and a few other nationalities, who understandably favored Achillas, against the provincial levies and native Egyptians, who rallied around Arsinoe. Now that Achillas was dead, it was a fair question to ask just how hard the professionals would fight now that the general they favored was gone. The Gabinians in particular had developed a reputation for choosing inopportune times for demanding pay raises, usually by threatening to turn on their masters, so perhaps they would choose this time to do the same to Arsinoe. When word of Achillas’ death became known to the men, there was a period of optimism at the idea of facing a 15-year-old girl and her tutor. Unfortunately, that optimism was as short-lived as it was unfounded, because we quickly discovered that while Ganymede may not have possessed the military experience of Achillas, he more than made up for it in other ways.