Author's Note

Hi Everyone. Yes, it's been a while since the last post. This next chapter has gone rather slowly, plus in Real Life™ I've been busy with end-of-the-year rush stuff at work. Anyhow, I thought I'd go ahead and split things up, to give you something to read while I carry on plodding away at this in my spare time.


Chapter 3 – Search and Rescue - Part I

Inside the Royal Palace, Alexandria, Egypt 48 BC

Rewind to the day before….

His business concluded for the day, Caesar turned and swept out of the throne room. Tomorrow, he would see this so-called Circle of Ma'at. Pothinus, Theodotus, and Achillas watched as Posca wrapped part of his toga around the head of Pompey Magnus, scooped it up and hurried after his master.

"If you will excuse us, your Majesty," said Pothinus, bowing deeply. The boy king, still feeling intimidated by Caesar's presence, silently nodded his assent.

All three men bowed to His Majesty King Ptolemy XIII, and backed away a few steps before turning to leave the throne room. No one spoke as they walked down the hall, servants occasionally bowing out of their path. Finally, they came to Theodotus' office. As they entered, Theodotus dismissed the doorman, and closed the doors himself – an unusual act. That alone would be enough to have the servants talking, but at least they could now speak in private.

"I must say, that did not go as well as I had hoped," said Pothinus.

"If by 'did not go well' you mean your cunning plan to get into Caesar's good graces by killing his opponent fell completely apart, then yes, it did not go well," said a sarcastic Theodotus.

"A plan both of you endorsed, as I recall," Pothinus replied dryly. "Who knew Caesar would prove to be so capricious? It goes against the natural order to mourn the loss of an enemy. Romans are a strange people."

"I suspect he's simply putting on a show to keep us off balance," said Achillas.

"Whether Caesar is genuinely upset or putting on a show, the result is still the same," pointed out Theodotus. "When it comes to Egypt, all he really cares about are regular grain shipments."

"And to ensure that, he will do whatever it takes; he will interfere in our internal affairs," said Pothinus. "That could mean anything from arbitrating a truce between Ptolemy and Cleopatra, to allying with Cleopatra to overthrow Ptolemy altogether."

"We must limit his options," said Achillas. "Cleopatra must go."

"I agree," said Theodotus. "But how best to proceed? Or more importantly, when to proceed?"

"We should not risk bringing her back here," said Achillas. "If he gets wind of it, Caesar will stop any attempt at an execution. I can dispatch guards loyal to me to kill her on the spot, out in the desert. If need be, we can always claim she was set upon by bandits. As for when, the time is now. If we wait, we risk losing the opportunity as well as our heads."

One did not easily move against a living God on Earth. It was one thing to spirit Queen Cleopatra out of the city, quite another to order her execution. After all the planning and manipulations from behind the throne, Pothinus and Theodotus hesitated for a moment. Events seemed to be moving of their own accord now, and Achillas was right. Both men nodded their agreement.

"I'll give the order," said Achillas, his face expressionless. "My men can be there by sunset."

***

Lucius Vorenus, you are to take Titus Pullo with you south in search of Cleopatra. Find her, rescue her, and bring her back here. Do it quietly. If she is discovered with you, you will be set upon by more men than even you and the great Titus Pullo can defeat.

"Titus Pullo! Titus Pullo! Report to Lucius Vorenus." The call went out, relayed from man to man, spreading out like a wave until the entire camp had heard the summons. The men nearest Pullo looked at him expectantly. There was no way he could feign ignorance. Cack! Of all times to get new orders, thought Pullo.

"Well my friends, I'll leave you to it," he said.

"More for us," the men laughed back. Fuming at that parting comment, Pullo headed off in the direction of the officers' tents in search of Lucius Vorenus.

After a few minutes, Pullo found Vorenus, looking more humorless than usual. This can't be good. "Salve Vorenus."

"Salve Pullo. We have a mission."

"What, now? Have you seen the girls hanging around camp? A lot prettier than the ones in Gaul, I can tell you, and reasonably priced too. We were just about—"

"Yes now, Pullo. Save your strength for another time. We need to pick fresh horses and get moving. I'll explain on the way to the camp prefect."

***

Achillas walked down the hall, his footsteps echoing slightly. Everything seemed oddly still to him. Perhaps he was imagining it, but the servants seemed to be avoiding him. None were in sight. Finally, he reached Theodotus' office, and threw open the doors, the sudden noise and motion startling the anxious men waiting inside.

"It is done," said Achillas. "As we speak, my men are riding to the south."

"Good," said Pothinus, relieved.

"Shall we tell him now?" asked Theodotus. King Ptolemy XIII was just a boy, and Pothinus, as regent, could make decisions on his behalf, but Ptolemy was their divine king and needed to be kept informed.

"Let's wait for a bit," said Pothinus. "If we are too quick, the deed can be undone."

***

Vorenus and Pullo had been riding south for just under an hour, and already the climate had changed from the temperate sea breezes of Alexandria to still dry air and a hot burning desert sun.

"Sons of Dis! This place is hotter than Vulcan's dick," complained Pullo. "Why would the Gypos want to live anywhere like this?"

"Show some respect," said Vorenus. "This is an ancient place. The Egyptians and their Gods were here long before the founding of Rome."

"Well if you ask me, their Gods abandoned this place a long time ago, and for good reason. Just have look around! Sensible people, their Gods."

Vorenus was, in fact, looking around, but for his own reasons. "There!" said Vorenus pointing to an outcropping of rock ahead. He gave his horse a light kick, picking up speed from a walk to a trot. Pullo followed suit. Sure enough, the other side of the outcrop was in shade. Not much shade, but it was better than nothing. Vorenus stopped and dismounted.

"We wait here," said Vorenus.

"Wait here? For what?" asked Pullo, somewhat perplexed.

"Do you know where to find Cleopatra?" asked Vorenus.

"You said she's south of the city. So we ride south. What's the problem?"

"The problem is these hills and valleys. Not much to look at, but enough to hide a small party that doesn't want to be found. We could ride right past and not know it. If they burn only dry wood, we'll never spot their camp fire either. So rather than play a game of chance, we wait and let the Egyptians lead us to them."

"But I like games of chance," Pullo said playfully. Vorenus didn't respond. No sense of humor, that one. "Well, any excuse to sleep off the heat is good enough for me. I can spend my time dreaming about that camp girl with the pretty hair."

"I wouldn't count too much on her pretty hair."

"Why not?"

"I've heard it said the prostitutes around here shave their heads and wear wigs."

***

The throne room guards saluted, and opened the doors wide. Ptolemy was sitting on the dais in front of the throne, playing with a toy. He quickly threw the toy behind the throne and stood up, hoping his tutor had not seen what he was doing. Theodotus was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about the transgression.

"Excellency! Most glorious news," began Pothinus. "You know how much you have wished your queen dead? And how we kept advising you the time was not right?"

"Yes, of course!" said Ptolemy impatiently. "My sister was always bossing me around when we were growing up. She was not humbled either, as a wife should be, after we married. I hate her!"

"Well then, sire, you will be glad to know we are now in complete and utter agreement. It is my pleasure to inform you your queen will be dead before sunrise tomorrow."

Ptolemy clapped his hands in delight, and did a little skipping dance around the room, humming a happy tune before coming to a stop in front of his advisors. "Let's not make it too early," he said. "I want to see her before she goes. Make a couple of hours after sunrise." The men looked at each other.

"But your majesty, it's too risky to bring her back here to the city. Caesar's men are bound to be on the lookout. It's far better for her to be executed where she is, quietly, out in the desert," Pothinus said in a reasoning tone.

"No!" said Ptolemy as he stomped his foot. "I said, I want to see her before she goes. I don't give a fig about Caesar, and I don't want her killed out in the desert. You know what I want."

All three men blanched at the very idea. "Your majesty," said Theodotus, speaking as gently as he could. "We have talked about this before. Whatever your feelings for her, your queen, as a divine being, deserves a proper death here on Earth, not to be thrown into the Netherworld while still alive. If that happened, she could never become a God among the stars."

"Exactly!" pouted Ptolemy. "That's why I want her put through the Circle of Ma'at. I will never have to put up with her again, either here or in the afterlife."

"But the order has been given," blurted out Pothinus. "The men are on their way. We cannot stop them now."

"You had better stop them," warned Ptolemy. "Because if my dear wife and sister cannot be put through the circle, alive, you will go in her place. That goes for all three of you!"

"Sire, I must protest!" said a nervous Pothinus. "I am your regent; Theodotus your tutor; Achillas your general. We are your advisors, appointed by your father King Ptolemy XII himself. You cannot have us summarily put through the circle."

"Do not tell me what I can or can't do!" Ptolemy blazed. "I piss on you! You won't be regent forever, old woman. If you fail to do exactly as I order, I promise you, at the very least, none of you will live more than a few painful days past my coronation."

"Sire! I will see to it myself," said Achillas, cutting off any further argument from Pothinus.

"See that you do," said Ptolemy, who stomped off to sit and glower on his throne. All three men bowed, beat a hasty retreat out of the throne room and back down the hallway.

Theodotus look straight at Pothinus. "That went well," he mocked.

"Be quiet! We're not dead yet. Achillas, is there any chance you can call off your men?"

"I don't know. All I can do is try," said Achillas, thinking. "Archers. I may need archers to bring my own men down. Returning with Cleopatra won't be easy if we run into any of Caesar's men. I need good swordsmen, and fast horses." With that, Achillas picked up his pace, turning off in the direction of the royal stables.

"Good luck," both Pothinus and Theodotus called to his retreating back.

***

The sound of horses cantering echoed off the dry valley walls. Vorenus shook off his lethargy and sat up. Three men came into view and rode past, kicking up a cloud of dust, unaware they were being observed. The sound of their passage began to fade away.

"Pullo! Wake up!" said Vorenus, giving Pullo a kick. "We follow those men." Pullo was awake and on his feet in a moment.

"They're certainly in a hurry. Don't look too friendly to me either," said Pullo as he swung up onto his horse.

"No, they're not. Those are palace guards."

"Best not fall too far behind, or we'll have no one to rescue," said Pullo as the two men rode off in hot pursuit.

Trailing perhaps thirty minutes behind, a second, larger group of men were riding south as well, Achillas at the lead, desperate to overtake the first three riders. The group was simply too large for the task – the gap increased as they fell further behind. Vorenus and Pullo were now sandwiched between these two groups, all with the same destination.

***

Cleopatra's camp, somewhere in the desert

Acrid smoke curled up from a hash pipe, scenting the air in what appeared to be a small, but luxuriously appointed bedroom dominated by a large bed. The "bedroom" was, in fact, a litter of unparalleled size. No one in the rest of the civilized world had anything like it. It was simply too large for practical use, limited as it was to only the widest of city streets. Desert travel, however, did not present obstacles.

The occupant of the litter was having a rather pleasant buzz. At twenty-one, Cleopatra was in her prime. To be sure, she was very pretty, but what really got men's attention was her poise, her sensual animal magnetism, and a willingness to look a man straight in the eyes with a steady gaze. For the uninitiated, she brought out primal instincts; a moth drawn to a flame. It took conscious effort to behave with decorum in her presence. The men of the camp, though, were drawn from the palace staff, long since immune to her charms.

Cleopatra was bored. The hashish helped, but it was not enough. She could not leave the litter either. A chain attached to her right ankle saw to her "house" arrest. So she smoked her pipe, and took out her frustrations on her personal slave.

"Charmian you little runt, why don't you amuse me by pretending to be a pig?" said Cleopatra, who gave a pig-like snort and burst out laughing as she imagined Charmian on all fours, grunting and rooting.

"How about I tell you a story instead?" Charmian shot back. "Once upon a time, there was a charming young queen who was locked away by her evil little brother. The queen began to smoke too much hashish, turned ugly and grew green scales. By the time soldiers came to her rescue, they thought a green-scaled monster had eaten her, so they killed it. The end."

"I can stop smoking any time I want," declared Cleopatra. "I could just throw this pipe away."

"Then why is the pipe is still in your hands?"

"I don't have green scales."

"Not yet."

"Hmmp," said Cleopatra, bored with the conversation. She looked out at the setting sun, and in her haze became fascinated with the way the slight breeze moved the curtain back and forth. She was too mesmerized to notice the sound of horsemen arriving.

Charmian was alert and apprehensive. "Your majesty," she whispered, shaking Cleopatra out of her reverie. "We have visitors."

"Visitors at dusk? How very strange," said Cleopatra, who did her best to shake off the effects of the hashish. Charmian quickly mopped sweat off Cleopatra's brow, as Cleopatra resettled herself on the bed to be more presentable.

There came a brief knock on the litter, and a man entered without waiting for permission. Cleopatra hadn't bothered to remember his name – she just thought of him as her hated jailer.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing deeply. He seemed nervous.

"What do you want Aapep?" said Charmian, a tone of hostility distinct in her voice.

"I'm afraid I have bad news, your majesty. You must prepare yourself."

Cleopatra sat up. "Prepare myself for what?" she asked suspiciously.

Aapep glanced back over his shoulder, out into the gathering darkness, then turned back to face his queen. "I… I'm afraid you must prepare yourself for the afterlife." Aapep seemed close to tears, which surprised Cleopatra. "I'll do what I can to delay these men." With that, he fled out of the litter. She could hear the sound of low talking outside.

"Oh your majesty!" cried Charmian, tears coursing down her cheeks. The two women hugged each other hard.

"It's all right Charmian," said Cleopatra as she comforted her distraught slave. "I will soon be among the Gods, and I would like for you to come with me."

"Thank you your majesty! It will be an honor to serve you in the afterlife."

"No more tears then, eh? We will face our destiny together." Both women laughed quietly, and wiped away their tears.

A man entered the litter without knocking. A palace guard – grim, cold, unsympathetic. He drew a large curved dagger from his sheath without saying a word, and took a step forward. In spite of their earlier words of comfort, both women drew back in fear, clinging to each other.

The guard's progress was interrupted by the sound of a commotion outside – the sound of fighting, the clash of swords. He turned around to see Aapep stagger into the litter – his throat slit open, blood spewing, unable to speak. The guard watched as Aapep collapsed at his feet and died.

The distraction proved nearly fatal as Titus Pullo charged into the litter, gladius held in a low forward thrust. The guard blocked with his dagger, forcing the gladius out of the way, while turning and punching Pullo hard on the chin. Pullo jumped back. There simply wasn't room in the litter to fight with swords. Pullo pretended to be stunned from the blow and dropped his gladius to the floor. Seizing the opportunity, the guard leapt forward for the kill. Pullo blocked and grabbed the guard's knife arm, while swinging up with a punching dagger, stabbing the guard in the gut. The guard fell to the ground, and Pullo followed him down, stabbing repeatedly. Pullo didn't stop until he was exhausted. Meanwhile, the sound of fighting outside ended as Vorenus finished off the final palace guard.

Pullo pulled back from the dead guard, taking in his surroundings for the first time. He found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered, and she stared right back, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, panting with exultation after her near death and sudden rescue. It took a moment for Pullo to recover enough to speak.

"Legionary Titus Pullo at your service, Domina," he said. And by the Gods I would like nothing better than to be at your service.

"You will address her majesty properly!" snapped Charmian, hoping to gain some control on behalf of her mistress. "You are addressing Queen Cleopatra VII, she of the two ladies, she of sedge and bee, daughter of Ra. Cleopatra the Divine."

Divine? Oh yes! No argument there, thought Pullo, who continued to gape while imagining all the things he would like to do with her.

At that moment, Vorenus stuck his head into the litter, interrupting Pullo's fantasy. "I presume I am addressing her majesty Queen Cleopatra?"

In Pullo's eyes, Cleopatra seemed to instantly transform from hot to haughty ruler. "I am," she replied.

How do women do that, thought Pullo as he stood up from the dead guard.

"Your majesty," intoned Vorenus. "Gaius Julius Caesar, Consol of Rome, sends greetings. We are here to protect you from harm, and to return you to your rightful place."

"Caesar is here, in Egypt?" said Cleopatra as she thought about the implications.

"Yes, madam."

"I look forward to thanking him in person. You have my thanks as well. Please take that with you as you leave," she said, pointing to the two dead bodies. "And send in a slave to remove this," pointing to the cuff around her ankle.

"Yes madam," both men said together. Vorenus and Pullo bowed. Each grabbed a limb and dragged the bodies out of the litter and through the camp.

"Wow!" said Pullo once they were away from the litter. "Have you ever seen such cunny?" They unceremoniously dumped off the bodies into a shallow ditch nearby the camp.

"She's way out of your league Pullo," replied the ever pragmatic Vorenus. "For that matter, she's way out of my league too. You'd best forget about it. It's never going to happen."

"A man can dream can't he?" retorted Pullo, but he knew Vorenus was right.

Vorenus sighed, and slapped Pullo on the shoulder. "Come on, let's set up for the night."

***