man carried a small very tightly knitted mesh net and they would work feverishly to be the first to fill their own net. It was a personal competition amongst them.
Agrippa admired these men. The way they held their breath for minutes at a time. The way they showed no fear as to what could lurk beneath the waves. He had been a sailor all of his adult life. He had been overboard twice in his career, once in a storm and it was a miracle he’d survived both times and he’d never lost respect for the power of the sea.
He reached into his tunic and pulled out his small leather purse and reached in and extracted a fairly large coin. He gave it to the supervising officer.
“This to the winner.”
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”
Pleased, he moved on, leaving the officer watching the lifelines for any signs of trouble. He stopped a short way away and bellowed at a sailor coiling ropes.
“These knots are not tied correctly. Do them again.”
The sailor dropped what he was doing and rushed to the admiral.
“If I see sloppiness like this again you’ll take your place at the oars with the slaves. Do I make myself clear.”
“Yes sir. Sorry sir.”
Agrippa watched until he was satisfied the knots had been re-tied correctly then continued on his round. At the Corvus he met General Marcus Marcellus and Centurion Falco. Agrippa nodded towards the shore.
“Everything seems quiet now.”
“Yes,” Marcellus replied, “The crowd that had gathered at the dock this morning has now gone.”
“And probably just as well. They seemed to be quite angry.”
“Angry at us sir, but why?” Falco asked.
“Who knows what Pompey has told them?”
“If he even landed here.”
“He did Falco. he must have,” the Admiral replied, “There is nowhere else he could have fled to, to get help.”
“But will they help him?” from Marcellus.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Agrippa replied.
The men looked at the city for a few moments before Falco said.
“I didn’t realise Alexandria was so big, is it as big as Rome?”
“Almost certainly. A population of at least one million. A mix of Greeks, Egyptians, Arabs and Jews.”
“And one wonder,” Marcellus added.
“Yes,” Agrippa gazed at the lighthouse on the nearby island of Pharos. At a height of four hundred and fifty feet, it’s fire could be seen for miles.
“It is truly remarkable what men can achieve.”
They all turned as an Egyptian war galley passed on the port side. On its bow and sail a brightly painted Egyptian eye. The five banks of oars pulling her along in perfect unison. The sound of the drumbeat drifting across to the Romans. The ship was returning from a two week patrol of the Egyptian coastline. On her deck the Egyptian sailors and warriors stood and stared stonily across at the Romans. The last marine on deck grinned at them and then drew his thumb across his throat from ear to ear. Anger flushed through the Romans at the implied threat. Marcellus’ hand went down to the handle of his sword. For a moment he was tempted to draw it and brandish it.
Agrippa grabbed the hand.
“Easy lad. Easy,” he said to the much younger General.
“You saw that. Deliberate provocation,” Marcellus replied taking his hand off his sword.
“I did. But don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they riled you.”
The marine cocked his head and winked at Falco who just stared back, studying the face, memorising it. Hopefully one day soon their paths would cross again.
The galley got ahead of them and soon pulled away joining the other ships and boats in the sea lanes as they made for the harbour. Halfway it changed course and now the Roman officers saw the royal barge heading towards them.
“Now what do we have here?” Agrippa said watching the ship still some distance away.
“An ambassador possibly or an envoy, Ptolemy perhaps or Cleopatra,” from Marcellus.
“Really,” Falco said studying the barge, “The King and Queen of Egypt coming here. If I’d known that,” he said laughing, “I would have worn my best armour.”
“Me too,” Marcellus replied.
“It won’t be Cleopatra,” Agrippa said.
“Oh?”
Both men turned to look at him.
“Why?”
Agrippa looked around to make sure no one of lesser rank was within earshot.
“The rumour is that she’s fled the palace and is in a voluntary exile. That she and her brother have had a disagreement and she left.”
“A disagreement about what?”
“One report states that recent crop failures have been blamed on her by her brother….Did you know they were married by the way? Brother and sister are also