is certain to be destroyed. It’s blazing out of control, helped by five hundred thousand scrolls.”
“It will be a great loss to mankind.”
Their eyes met.
“And Alexander?”
“In immense danger.”
Julius watched as the roof of a building collapsed, sending sparks a hundred feet into the air.
“Then we have little choice. Move the tomb.”
“Yes Sir. What will Cleopatra say?”
Julius smiled at the burning city.
“She will have enough to worry about.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The rider brought his horse to a stop at the top of the dune. It was near midday and the April temperatures were beginning to climb. He had been travelling for six weeks. Six weeks of following a road which sometimes wasn’t even there at all due to the shifting sands of the Sahara.
It had been three days since he’d left the last signs of life. The small oasis in the desert. There he had found fresh water, an abundance of fresh fruit and most importantly, warm hospitality. There he had discovered from the locals that just one week before men dressed like him with the same weapons had stopped by for water and provisions. He had quizzed them with signs in the sand. Neither of them able to understand the other’s language.
There should have been three hundred of them. Officers, soldiers, slaves, horses, camels and a large cargo. He got despondent when the locals knew nothing of any of these. Just twenty men on horses requesting water.
’It had to be them’ he had said to himself.
Then his spirits were lifted when he was shown the Roman coins they had paid with. Now there could be no doubt.
He un-stoppered his water skin and took a mouthful. It was warm despite his having tried to keep it cool under his cloak. He got down out of the saddle and went around to the front of his horse. He patted the side of her face and she nudged him with her nose.
“It shouldn’t be much longer girl,” he promised her.
He poured water into his left hand and let her drink from it. He let her drink until she’d had enough and turned her head. He replaced the stopper, then reached into a bag and took out a handful of fresh figs and broke them open for her and offered them. She munched on them as he walked around her checking her general health.
Servius Catalus was confident his mare was in good health. He walked a few paces from her and eased himself out of his undergarments and urinated in the sand. He moved himself about making patterns in the sand just to amuse himself. It was when he was shaking himself dry that he saw the tracks on the neighbouring dune. He shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun to make sure.
There was no mistaking it. They were definitely tracks and fairly fresh. He mounted his horse and trotted her over to them. The footprints in the sand were deep.
Horses carrying riders!
He followed them to the crest of the dune and saw the caravan ahead. His pulse quickened. He had caught up to them. After six weeks of wandering endless desert, sometimes travelling for a day without seeing anything, any change in horizon, any plants, any life. Now miraculously he had caught up to the caravan that had left Alexandria five months ago.
Servius dug his heels into his mare’s ribs and she reared her head, whinnied and trotted down the dune.
The column stretched along the road for nearly a quarter of a mile. Their numbers had swelled from three hundred to over eight hundred and included forty horses and thirty camels. The camels carrying water and food. Marcellus had moved the column from one piece of water to the next, from river to river, town to town.
At every town and village he had sought out retired legionaries and veterans, men who had seen countless battles and campaigns. He had hired as many as possible to assist with a promise of enough money to return to their loved ones. Many had given up their mundane lives to return to Rome and a chance to serve the city they loved once more. Some had chosen to stay, preferring a quieter life while others were invalids and unable to help. Many men had wanted to bring their families to start afresh but these had been refused and Marcellus and his officers had watched many tearful farewells as husbands and fathers had kissed wives and children goodbye, promising to return.