Marching With Caesar - Civil War (32 page)

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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.

~ ~ ~ ~

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.

~ ~ ~ ~

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.

I walked to meet him, whereupon he held up a hand in greeting, which I returned cautiously, then he spoke, but since he spoke in Greek and the only Greek I knew at that point was not likely to help smooth diplomatic relations, I shrugged and said, “I'm sorry, sir. I don't speak Greek.”

A look of what could be considered distaste flashed in his eyes, except he covered it so quickly that I might have imagined it, immediately switching to Latin.

He spoke our tongue flawlessly, although something in the tone of his voice that I found disquieting, but I knew not why at the time. “
Salve,
Centurion. I am Paulinus Eupator. I am one of the city’s magistrates, and I hurried here as soon as I heard you and your general landed. What is his name, if I may ask?”

“Gaius Julius Caesar, Consul of Rome and commander of the Eastern Army.”

This last bit I made up on the fly; we had no official name, but this he did not know. The reaction to Caesar’s name was gratifying, his eyes immediately widening and in some sort of reflex, his hand went up to touch the amulet he wore around his neck.

He recovered nicely, however. “We are most honored to receive a personage as great as Caesar; his fame is well known, and deservedly so, throughout the civilized world.” He cleared his throat. “And what is the purpose of such a great man who visits our humble city?”

I shrugged. “That I can't tell you, Paulinus. You'll have to ask Caesar. I do know that right now he intends on marching to the royal palace to pay his respects to your sovereign.”

Now there was no hiding his discomfort and he pursed his lips, making me notice for the first time that his lips were painted along with his eyes. And there was that voice, I thought.

Almost like a woman’s voice, not just in pitch but in inflection as well. “I regret to say that there is a difficulty with his request, Centurion.”

Despite myself, I barked out a laugh. “Request? It’s not a request. Caesar is coming to pay his respects.” Then my brain registered what he had said. “And what do you mean by ‘difficulty’?”

Oh, he was very uncomfortable now, and I saw a bead of sweat pop out on his forehead. “It’s just that our laws are very specific, Centurion. The men who precede Caesar who carry those bundles of rods and axes? As I understand it, they represent Caesar’s power to punish men if he deems it necessary, correct?”

“Not just Caesar. Any Roman who's served in a type of office, both currently and if he's held this office in the past, is entitled to his lictors. The number depends on the office. What of it?” I asked impatiently, aware that while the noise had died down, now there was an air of anticipation hanging over us, and it was not just coming from the Egyptians. Caesar was not renowned for his patience.