Tomb of the Lost (27 page)

“
That Pompey had damaged their temple, took their land. I had heard that they
’
d suffered under him and assumed he
’
d persecuted their people.
”

“
He probably did. Please continue.
”

“
Mithridates quickly sacked Pelusium and upon reaching the Nile he turned and headed southwest. Someone tipped off the Alexandrians and Ptolemy ordered his army to confront them. When Caesar saw the Alexandrian army leaving he marched his army around the great lake Mareotis and joined with King Mithridates. When Ptolemy arrived his army set up camp on a hill west of the Nile. The following morning our master attacked. He drove the Alexandrians from their hilltop and trapped before the banks of the river our forces slaughtered them. Ptolemy made it to his royal boat and from the middle of the Nile he goaded our master with taunts. A great cheer went up from the Romans however when the young king
’
s boat capsized and he drowned. After three months of conflict our master had finally rid Egypt of one of its monarchs. Caesar was so happy at this victory that he rode at the head of the cavalry all the way back to Alexandria. The people of the city begged for mercy and Caesar, hard to contain his temper, reluctantly granted them a full pardon. Cleopatra of course welcomed back our master with open arms. Caesar read out Cleopatra
’
s father
’
s will again and appointed the young Queen and the youngest brother, now Ptolemy the fourteenth, as rulers over the lands of Egypt and Cyprus.
”

“
Cyprus! So he kept his word.
”

“
Yes sir. Some say he only did it to infuriate Marcus Cato in Rome who spent so many years pushing for Cyprus to be under Roman rule.
”

Marcellus laughed.

“
Our master is never done is he? But tell me what of the other sister Arsinoe.
”

“
Ah yes. She was captured, placed in chains and will be sent to Rome as a slave. Maybe Caesar will kill her. Who knows what he
’
ll do.
”

“
Did he mention a Roman garrison in Egypt?
”

“
Yes sir. He will be leaving three legions with Cleopatra to, as he put it, secure Roman-Egyptian relations. Some say the great General Marcus Antonius may be called for.
”

“
Mark Antony. He
’
s in Rome isn
’
t he?
”

“
I believe so sir yes.
”

Marcellus shook his head to clear it. He was buzzing from so much information. He put his wine down. He cross questioned Servius over and over, verifying facts, checking that he knew the story accurately.

‘
It
’
s truly incredible
’
he was thinking,
’
When the Persian King Darius walked into Egypt he was met with no resistance. When Alexander of Macedon came he was met and hailed as a conquering hero. When Caesar arrived he was met with hostility and urban warfare on a scale he had, the world had, never seen before,
“
Despite the odds he has done it.
”

“
Begging your pardon sir?
”

Marcellus hadn
’
t realised he
’
d spoken out loud.

“
Our master has done it, conquered the land of the Pharaohs, something no one has ever done before.
”

He stood and raised his glass.

“
A toast!
”
he said,
“
To our master, to my friend, the greatest Roman who has ever lived, Gaius Julius Caesar!
”

Marcellus stopped his horse at the top of a rise, his officers flanking him. The desert seemed endless. In the very far distance they could see other travellers on the road. Below them the desert opened up into a wide, crescent gorge.

“
According to the map this used to be a river, recorded thousands of years ago by Pharaohs of the second dynasty.
”

“
Does it still flow sir?
”

“
I think it
’
s long since dried up.
”

“
What a desolate place,
”
someone else said,
“
What does Rome want with such a territory?
”

“
Africa is Rome
’
s biggest province Quintus. We will never give it up.
”

A shout from behind made them turn. A centurion was some distance away running towards them. Behind him the caravan had picked up pace. The two hundred legionaries had stopped and were staring across the desert. Suddenly as one they turned and began running along the line on the road, chased on by the other centurion. The first centurion was still running towards them, shouting and pointing. Marcellus raised his hand up to his eyes to block out the sun.

“
Who is it? I can
’
t see clearly in the sun. Is it Cassius? What
’
s he shouting?
”

“
It is Cassius. Can
’
t hear what he
’
s shouting though.
”

Marcellus looked back down the road expecting another messenger or an enemy attack or something, anything, but could see nothing.

Marcellus was about to order Quintus to ride down to see what the fuss was about when he thought he saw something.

He had been scanning the desert and had been about to give the order when something caught his attention. Miles away on the horizon where the land met the sky he saw a distortion, a discolouration. They were all used to seeing heat haze but this was something different and what was more it seemed to be moving closer.

Cassius the centurion was still shouting. Quintus had also seen the horizon change.

“
What is that?
”

A huge gust of wind suddenly blew Marcellus
’
cape up, making the horses start. Marcellus pushed his cloak down. There was now sand in his mouth brought by the sudden gust. The next big gust stung his face and he closed his eyes to it. The sand was stinging him. He opened his eyes again. The distortion on the horizon had appeared to have got bigger, then he felt dread rising.

“
Sandstorm!
”
he shouted.

He kicked his horse in the ribs and it whinnied and bolted down the hill.

“
Sir there
’
s a sandstorm coming,
”
Cassius shouted as Marcellus raced past him.

“
Get everyone moving as quickly as they can. I want all of the sarcophagus carriers working at once. I don
’
t care if some of them are resting. Everyone! Understood!
”

“
Yes General.
”

Cassius began running, with difficulty, back down the hill towards the column.

Quintus reined his horse in.

“
Judging by the way the wind is blowing it may miss us.
”

“
We can
’
t wait around and take that chance.
”

“
We certainly can
’
t out run it.
”

Marcellus was gauging the distance. The sandstorm was definitely closer.

“
Sir we can
’
t out run it. Our best option is to cover ourselves here and ride out the storm.
”

“
Cover ourselves? What do you mean?
”

“
We have to lay our horses down sir and cover their faces and ours as best we can.
”

“
And the prisoners? What do they cover up with?
”

Marcellus glanced at the Egyptians. Hardly any of them were wearing any more than loincloths.
”

“
Too bad about them.
”

“
They are carrying Caesar
’
s treasure. We can
’
t let them be lost.
”

“
We won
’
t lose all of them sir. What we do lose the legionaries will have to make up.
”

Marcellus watched the sandstorm. It had got considerably closer.

“
I need your decision sir.
”

“
Get everyone into that gorge.
”

“
We don
’
t know where the opening is.
”

“
Find it.
”

Quintus spurred his horse forward. He raced along the top of the ridge, turned at the end and raced back. Then halfway back he saw it. A natural gentle slope leading down to the dried river bed. He whistled using his fingers. Marcellus turned at the sound.

“
That
’
s it! Quintus has found it.
”

Marcellus
’
officers raced up the caravan on their horses shouting instructions.

Doing their best to avoid panic the legionaries got the entire procession turned around and heading for the gorge.

Then the sun dimmed and the slaves at the rear turned, saw the oncoming terror and panicked. A horse bolted past Marcellus. Its rider being dragged helplessly behind, his body bouncing along the hard track until his head was dashed against a rock leaving a crimson smear. The slaves had dumped the sarcophagus now and were running in all directions screaming to their Gods to save them. Roman soldiers who had been whipping them now threw down their whips and ran, adding to the chaos.

Marcellus
’
horse reared onto her hind legs and he fought her under control. He turned her and kicked her in the ribs and dashed for the gorge.

Quintus saw him go and he made to follow but the storm caught him. His horse reared and threw him causing him to land hard on his back. He got to his feet quickly and tried to grab the horse
’
s reins as it bolted. Then a huge gust of wind almost lifted him off his feet and he bent forward as the sand buffeted his face.

The storm was completely on them now, visibility almost zero. Quintus could see swirling shadows and shapes in the gloom. The screams of despair drowned out by the roar of the maelstrom. He found himself unable to breathe and a new terror gripped him. Slowly he sank to his knees desperately ripping at his toga around his throat, blinded by the sand. He felt the hot touch of death now. The sand in his mouth making him choke. He pitched forward onto his face and rolled onto his back. He opened his eyes one last time. Within minutes he was covered in sand. He felt himself sinking, deeper and deeper and then, he felt no more.

Marcellus raced down into the gorge desperately looking over his shoulder. He brought his horse to a stop. The walls of the gorge climbing over a hundred feet above him.

Had he escaped the storm?

His horse whinnied, foam frothing around her lips. Then he saw an opening in the rocks three quarters of the way up the face.

A small cave!

He got off his mount and scrabbled up the slope. Halfway up he turned to a terrific roar. The dust storm was rushing up the gorge towards him at an incredible speed.

His horse bolted, running past him, her eyes wide with terror.

Marcellus scrabbled up the slope, slipping once on loose rocks and threw himself through the cave opening just as the storm raced past. He felt it pulling at him and he dug in close to the cave wall and hugged it. Twice the power of the storm nearly pulled him back outside but he fought it with all his strength. He managed to move away from the opening, going a little deeper. Inside was pitch black. He had survived for now. Exhausted he collapsed to the ground and was soon in a deep sleep, the sound of the wind howling in his ears.

The first, warm, rays of sun on his face woke him. He opened one eye, the other he was laying on. His mouth was desperately dry. He tried to swallow but had no spit. He tried to spit but couldn
’
t. Slowly he pushed himself up until he was kneeling. He wiped as much sand as he could from his face. His hair was thick and matted with it. He got to his feet and headed towards the light. Once in the cave entrance the bright morning sun dazzled him. He squinted into it. Its brightness making his eyes water.

The bottom of the ravine was different now. Soft dunes of sand where there were none before.

His horse was down in the gorge waiting for him. He blinked in amazement.

’
I
’
m seeing things
’

Then she took a few steps forward and sniffed at a tiny green plant. He let out a laugh and rushed down the slope towards her. He tripped twice but didn
’
t care. He rushed up to her and grabbed her reins. Her saddle had slipped and he rummaged into a bag and brought out a water skin, pulled out the stopper and drank. He drank some more, spat, glad to be rid of the sand from his mouth and poured some water into his hand and offered it to the horse. She gobbled it up, her whiskers tickling his palm.