“Move back!” Someone shouted, “Give fat boy some room.”
“Where is his poof?” someone else called.
“Yes. Yes. Where is Pothinus?” came another.
Soon the mob was shouting and hurling abuse as one. Someone passed Ptolemy his crown and he put it on back to front. This caused an uproar of laughter and jeering. He took it off again and put it on the right way to more laughter. Then he took it off and threw it to the ground. People moved out of its way as it rolled past. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
The crowd fell silent.
‘What? What is he doing?’ many of them were thinking.
Individual voices could be heard amongst the crowd that was growing bigger by the second.
Theodotus arrived at the top of the steps, saw Ptolemy surrounded by the crowd and called for guards. They promptly arrived.
“Quick get down there the King is….”
The Egyptian guards rushed past him.
“Wait!” he shouted.
They stopped.
“Form a line here at the top of the steps in case the mob tries to get into the palace.”
“What about the King?” the Captain of the guards asked.
“The King is quite safe.”
Theodotus was gambling but a thought had occurred to him.
’If Ptolemy is killed by the mob perhaps I can win over Caesar. There must be a position in his administration for a man like myself.’
He allowed himself a smile as he saw the crowd getting seemingly more hostile towards the boy King.
“Why is he crying?” someone shouted.
“What’s the matter with the spoilt little brat?” an anonymous voice called.
Ptolemy suddenly looked up. His tears running down his face.
“Caesar has betrayed Egypt! Betrayed us!”
“Heh? What’s he mean by that?” someone asked.
“Caesar has re-instated Cleopatra as sole monarch.”
“What? Never! Pothinus would never allow that.”
“Pothinus is dead,” Ptolemy wailed, “Caesar had him executed. Killed him without fair trial. Under Roman law. Roman not Egyptian!”
The mood of the crowd was starting to change.
“What right does he have to do that? What right?” an angry man shouted.
“Who does he think he is?” the man’s wife asked.
“This is Egypt not Rome!” shouted another.
“He’s humiliated our King!”
“Ptolemy is Egyptian not Roman!”
“I hate the Romans! The Romans stink!”
“Look up there on the steps!” someone cried.
They saw Theodotus and surged forward. The guards rushed down the steps and formed a new line of spears.
“How could you let this happen?” someone shouted and others joined in. Soon the crowd was shouting as one.
“I was unable to stop it!” Theodotus shouted though no one heard him.
Marcellus appeared at the top of the steps alongside Theodotus with eight guards.
“LOOK!” someone shouted and pointed.
Now most of the mob saw Marcellus and the mood turned to anger. They surged forward and engaged the single line of Egyptian spears and though the guards held them at bay Theodotus shouted for more. They ran down the steps and soon guards were five deep, then six, then seven and now they held the mob easily.
Someone threw a large stone which would have hit Marcellus in the head had the legionary next to him not seen it coming and not raised his shield in time. It bounced off harmlessly. Now all sorts of missiles rained down on the steps as the Egyptians threw anything that came to hand.
Someone threw a hammer which hit one of the Egyptian guards in the face. He fell where he stood, his nose broken. He left a pool of blood on the steps as two of his colleagues helped him up and rushed him to safety. The line faltered where the three had retreated and the mob was able to push the guards back a step and they gained ground but the line held once more.
Marcellus could see the anger was directed mainly at him. Was it him or Rome he asked himself. The faces and the fists left him in no doubt. He watched for a further minute then turned and strode from the steps to the delight of the crowd.
He passed dozens of his legionaries who rushed past and set up a cordon at the top of the steps. Despite the increase in Roman numbers the mob saw Marcellus’ retreat as a victory.
“LOOK! Look at how the great General runs from us.”
Ptolemy was suddenly at the front of the crowd. The mob began to move back from the guards. Now they were two paces away. Slowly they fell into silence, waiting to see what their King had to say. He held his hands up to