Pompey’s pale face looked up from under fragrant oil. Julius could see the gleam of his Senate ring resting against his cheek. He reached slowly down and broke the surface, touching the cold flesh as he drew out the gold band.

He had met Pompey first in the old Senate house, when Julius had been little more than a boy. He recalled the sense of awe he had felt in the presence of legends like Marius, Cicero, Sulla, and a young general named Gnaeus Pompey. It had been Pompey who cleared the Mare Internum of pirates in forty days. It had been he who broke the rebellion under Spartacus. For all he had become an enemy. Julius had bound his family and his fate with Pompey in a triumvirate to rule.

There were too many names on the scrolls of the dead, too many who had fallen. Pompey had been a proud man. He deserved better than to be murdered by the hands of strangers, far from home.

In front of them all, Julius wept.

Part Two

PART TWO

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

As the chamber doors swung silently open, Julius caught his breath at what he saw within. He had expected his audience to take the form of a private meeting, but the vast hall was filled with hundreds along the sides, leaving a central aisle free right up to the throne. They turned to see him and he was astonished at the range of colors that swirled and mingled. This was the court of the king, painted and bejeweled in opulence.

Lamps on heavy chains swung in unseen currents above his head as he crossed the threshold, trying not to show his awe. It was not an easy task. Everywhere he looked, there were black basalt statues of Egyptian gods looming over the courtiers. Among them, he recognized the figures of Greek deities and he could only shake his head in amazement when he saw the features of Alexander himself. The Greek legacy was everywhere, from the architecture to the customs of dress, subtly blended with the Egyptian until there was nowhere else like Alexandria.

The scent of pungent incense was strong enough to make Julius feel drowsy, and he had to concentrate to keep his wits about him. He wore his best armor and cloak, but against the finery of the courtiers he felt shabby and unprepared. He raised his head in irritation as he felt the pressure of hundreds of eyes on him. He had seen the edges of the world. He would not be cowed by gold and granite.