Even as Vorenus thought about him, Pullo came striding out of the darkness toward which they were staring, his head instinctively bowing as he ducked under the final threshold. The big man was smiling. “Why so glum, you two?”
Caesarion seemed distracted for a moment, caught between talking to Pullo and peering back into the dark hallway, but then he, too, smiled, reaching out a hand in greeting. “Oh, nothing, Pullo. It’s good to see you.”
Pullo took the offered hand, then stepped back to look appraisingly at Caesarion. Vorenus guessed they hadn’t seen each other in many months. “You appear well, lad,” the big man said.
“And you, old man.” Caesarion’s mirth seemed genuine as they fell into a familiar banter. A part of Vorenus was surprised how suddenly sure of himself the young man seemed, as if all was right with the world; another part expected it of him.
“Bah,” Pullo said, releasing his grip on Caesarion’s hand to rub the younger man’s head. “Not so old I can’t still best you at arms. Your choice of weapon, too.”
“Pullo,” Vorenus said, coming forward to shake his hand, too. “Glad to see you.”
“And I you, Lucius Vorenus. I was able to see some of the fight from the walls. A tough thing.”
“Could’ve used you.”
“Yes, you could have.” It wasn’t a boast, just clear fact, and no one treated it any differently. “I’m glad to find you both, though I didn’t expect to find you still up, Caesarion.”
“Not just a call on Vorenus, then?” Caesarion asked.
“No. I’m sent for you both.”
“Didymus?” Caesarion’s voice betrayed something like hope.
“Aye. He sends his regrets for being forced to send a big brute like me in his stead. But he’s been busy trying to secure the Library should Octavian take the city.”
“When he takes the city,” Caesarion said, so matter-of-factly that he could have been talking about the weather rather than the destruction of his home, his life.
“As you say, sir,” Pullo said, falling into the old habits of a legionnaire.
“Pullo?” asked a girl’s voice from the darkness of the hallway.
They all turned, Pullo already grinning despite his effort to look stern. “You ought not be up so late, lady Selene,” he said.
The ten-year-old girl melted out of the darkness, a thin shawl over her shoulders. “I couldn’t sleep since everybody hadn’t come back yet. Did I see my father just now?”
“Yes,” Caesarion said, his voice moving toward the fatherly when he spoke to his little half-sister. “He did well today. All the men did. Few losses.”
“He was headed down to the docks,” Selene said.
“Antony will be retiring to the Timonium tonight,” said Vorenus. “He didn’t want to disturb anyone.”
“Oh,” she said as she came forward and wrapped her arms around Pullo’s waist. The man bent down to return the embrace, his big hands patting her as gently as if she were a babe. “It’s nice to see you, Pullo,” the girl said.
“Nice to be seen.”
“Things haven’t been the same without you.”
“I imagine they’ve been better,” Pullo said, smiling as he straightened up and Selene let go of him.
“So the battle went well?” she asked Vorenus.
“It did.”
“How could it not with such men to lead it?” Pullo said.
“But what are you doing here?” Selene asked.
“Oh, I came to fetch these two,” Pullo replied, nodding his head toward Vorenus and Caesarion. “Didymus wants to see them.”
Vorenus saw that Selene’s posture straightened. “A meeting? About the Shards?” she asked.
“I don’t know what about,” Pullo said.
“At the Library?” Vorenus asked.
“No,” Pullo said. “At the temple of Serapis. When I left him he was already preparing to go there to meet you.”
“Now?” Vorenus asked.
“Right away if possible. I’ve probably tarried too long as it is, though it’s hard not to do so with company so lovely.” He looked down at Selene like a proud father.
“Can I not come?” she asked.
Pullo’s face softened toward regret. “I don’t think that would be best. We’re taking a chance traveling across the city at night as it is. Alexandria isn’t as safe for you as it once was.”
“Someone needs to stay with Philadelphus and Helios,” Caesarion said.
“He’s sick again,” Selene muttered.
“All the more reason for you to stay,” Vorenus said. “With your mother and father gone, Caesarion away, and Helios sick, someone has to keep this place in shape.”
“Besides, your father will want to see you first thing in the morning,” Pullo said. “Isn’t that right, my boy?”
Caesarion smiled, but his face was taut. “I should hope so,” he said.
22
THE TEMPLE OF SERAPIS
ALEXANDRIA, 30 BCE
When they’d first left the palace, Caesarion had thought Didymus would be meeting them at the old temple of Serapis just west of the Museum, a triangular building raised where the Canopic Way intersected with the wide boulevard that became the Heptastadion and led out to Pharos and the great lighthouse beyond. But, as Pullo soon told them, Didymus wanted to meet them not there, but at the more distant Serapeum, the newer, grander temple of Serapis set high atop a hill in the southwestern, Egyptian quarter of the city. That massive building, the crowning structure of a three-hundred-year-old acropolis, was a destination for pilgrims from across the world, some coming from as far away as distant Rome to pray before its magnificent blue-stone statue of the god who blessed Alexandria. It made sense that Didymus would want to meet there, Caesarion supposed. The Serapeum had become a repository for many books that had not yet found a home in the Great Library. It was just the sort of place to find the librarian.
Besides, despite its sprawling size, the Serapeum would surely be deserted. The Roman siege had turned the once-bustling city into a place whose citizens locked themselves into their homes as best they could—from fear of the Romans and the inevitable chaos that would follow Alexandria’s capture. Even the most devout worshipers of Serapis would surely be crowding the older temple in the center of Alexandria rather than the more famous complex along the south wall of the city.
Khenti had not only insisted on going with Vorenus and Caesarion himself, but he’d also insisted on bringing along a second Egyptian guardsman: a bruising braggart named Shushu. Together, the four of them joined Pullo in walking the silent midnight streets of Alexandria, dressed as simple, if well-armed, commoners. Caesarion carried only a dagger, but he could see that the other men were making no efforts to conceal the short swords at their hips. He wondered, as they walked, whether they wore the blades so plainly to send a message to anyone who might consider stopping them. Crime had been on the rise in the city, he knew, especially as the night patrols had grown infrequent due to disease, desertion, and death. As Pullo had told Selene back at the palace, the streets were far more dangerous these days.
Not this night, though: The darkened streets of Alexandria were filled not with roving gangs of thugs, but with a tense emptiness. Even the air of the night, loosely woven with scents of smoke and war, seemed to Caesarion expectant. It was as if the whole of the city was ready and waiting to meet its conqueror. Only when the little party reached the Canopic Way did anything other than an eerie silence greet their passing.
They were walking in a close group, Pullo in the lead, with Vorenus and Shushu to either side of Caesarion, and they had just turned the corner onto the wide and empty main corridor of the city—not far from the tomb of Alexander—when Khenti, trailing behind, abruptly signaled for a halt.
“What is it?” Caesarion whispered after they’d stood still for a moment.