Babylon, p.12
Babylon, page 12
Apama then shouted in her native Sogdian; it had immediate effect: the horsemen slowed and lowered their bows. ‘They are Sogdians,’ Apama said, a look of relief on her face.
At least three hundred of them, I should guess. We won’t stand a chance should this fail. They rode up to the warriors until they were no more than ten paces away from the chieftain; he had an arrow nocked but the bow was not drawn. Dark eyes stared at them over the rim of a scarf drawn over his face against the dust.
‘Why do you chase us?’ Artonis asked in Greek.
‘Why do you flee?’ the chieftain answered.
Apama took the lead. ‘I am Apama, daughter of your former lord and master, Spitamenes.’
This seemed to impress the chieftain. ‘Spitamenes was a great man; I followed him until his defeat and then murder by his wife. She sent his head to Alexander.’ He looked directly at Apama. ‘But then you know that. I remember you as a little girl, Apama; I wonder what you have grown into: your father or his treacherous wife?’
‘I am my own woman; but first and foremost, I am a Sogdian. Why do you threaten a fellow Sogdian?’
‘I serve Antigonos now that Eumenes is dead; and he bids me chase Seleukos.’ He indicated that they could pass. ‘You are free to go.’
‘We all go or none go.’
‘You served Eumenes?’ Artonis asked.
‘I did.’
‘Then would you serve his wife? I am Artonis, the wife of Eumenes.’
The chieftain looked hard at her eyes, her only visible feature. ‘You are really she?’
‘I am.’
‘Then what is my name?’ He unwound the scarf, exposing his face.
And it was with joy that Artonis recognised him from Eumenes’ dinner table for he had dined regularly with her husband. ‘Azanes.’
Azanes bowed his head. ‘I am yours to command, lady, for the sake of your husband.’
‘That pleases me, but first, tell me, why did you join with Antigonos?’
‘A man must fight for someone.’
‘But now you fight for me.’
Azanes turned to his men and addressed them in Sogdian, gesticulating to Artonis and then Apama. A cheer erupted from them at the end; Azanes punched the air with his bow and his men followed his lead.
‘I think we can take a more leisurely attitude to the rest of our journey to Is,’ Artonis commented as Azanes continued the rhythmical cheering.
By the time they reached Is the horses had partially recovered from their ordeal and were docile as they were loaded onto the transport ships awaiting them on the eastern bank to ferry them over to the river port itself which lay on the west bank. Three trips were necessary to bring the Macedonians and the Sogdians across.
Seleukos looked at the Sogdians as they disembarked. ‘Bel Marduk must really be holding his hands over me that Antigonos should make such a mistake in sending Eumenes’ men after us.’
Artonis smiled up at him. ‘He didn’t make a mistake as far as he was concerned at the time. He didn’t know I was with you; he might well have chosen differently had he done so.’
‘Well, that will give him quite a puzzle to solve when he hears that the Sogdians deserted to me. He’ll know it wasn’t for money because I’ve hardly got any and he has more than enough.’
‘Let him wonder; by the time he finds out we’ll be safely with Ptolemy.’
PTOLEMY.
THE BASTARD.
IT SEEMED TO Ptolemy that life had become an endless stream of children: aside from the three he had with his long-term mistress, Thais, he had also two sons with his second wife, Eurydike, and now another daughter with his new wife, Berenice – not to mention the three children from Berenice’s first marriage whom he had inherited when he had married her. It was only his first wife, Artakama, who had failed to provide him with any – but then he had not made much effort to impregnate her, preferring instead to satisfy his other needs during their brief time together; needs that would never result in pregnancy. But the rest of his women had proven very fertile.
It was all very well, as he would need as many children as possible to secure marriages, create alliances and to hold the thrones of client kingdoms that would ensure the birth and survival of his dynasty. Each would be of use according to their status: the children he had with Thais, as well as the stepchildren from Berenice, would do for marrying petty kings and princesses; those of Eurydike would be suited for the offspring of Macedonian generals; and the children he would have with Berenice, who was of royal blood, would be for dynastic matches; powerful marriages that would secure his family’s position in the world for generations to come. And he meant generations, for Ptolemy had grabbed Egypt and intended to stay, creating a dynasty that would be the envy of all. Thus, children were necessary; but was it really necessary for him to take an interest in them until they at least could hold a conversation? I can’t see either of my wives without them being worried about the latest infant, he reflected as he looked out over the Great Harbour of Alexandria to the Heptastadion, the huge mole, nearing completion, joining the Pharos Island to the mainland and dividing the port into commercial on this side and military on the far.
‘How do you keep your children from disturbing us?’ he asked Thais, who was reclining in the shade, on a leather couch, behind him.
‘Our children, you mean.’
‘You know what I mean.’
Thais looked up from her reading – a new comedy by Menander, a young Athenian playwright whose work was proving popular in Alexandria’s new theatre. ‘Do I? It sounded for a moment like you were abdicating all responsibility for them.’
‘What I mean is that Eurydike has two children and each time I visit her I’m expected to take some sort of an interest in the brutes despite the eldest, my namesake’s, temperamental and spiteful behaviour and the youngest being nothing more than a wailing, milk-guzzling bundle. Berenice, who I thought was reasonably sensible, also has one, a daughter, I believe, who is only two months old and I’m meant to find the creature interesting.’
‘Thank the gods that she doesn’t force your step-children onto you.’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s something to be thankful for. You, however, never force me into the nursery.’
‘Which just proves how little you know about our children: Lagus is thirteen, Leontiscus is ten and Eirene is eight; all of them are far too old to be in the nursery.’
‘Well, wherever it is that they spend their days, then; you know what I mean.’
‘You keep on saying that I know what you mean and I keep on denying it. But, seeing as you’ve brought the subject up, it was something that I’ve been intending to talk to you about.’ Thais put the scroll down and sat up upon the couch. ‘Lagus is now of an age where he might well have become interesting in your terms so I was thinking that you should spend more time with him.’
Ptolemy turned to face his mistress, a scowl on his face. ‘I ask you how come you never let your children disturb us and the answer I get is that you are just about to start allowing them to.’
‘Our children.’ Thais smiled her sweetest smile, the smile that had made her the most highly paid courtesan in the world – albeit now with only one client. ‘Now, Ptolemy, it’s about time you got to know Lagus as a man: wrestle naked together or hit one another with wooden swords or whatever it is that men do with each other. I don’t know what you all get up to but it’s time you started doing it with your oldest son.’
Ptolemy grunted and turned back to his admiration of his construction work. ‘Thank Serapis that you stopped at three children.’
‘We stopped; you somehow fail to grasp that it takes two to have a child. And it was nothing to do with Serapis.’
Ptolemy waved away the criticism; he was not in the mood to be lectured. He had only brought up the subject of children in order to divert his attention from the pressing problem irking him: now that matters seemed to have been settled in the east in Antigonos’ favour and with Eumenes dead – garrotted! You didn’t deserve that, you sly little Greek – should he make approaches to Kassandros for an alliance against the resinated cyclops who would emerge, stronger than ever, from the depths of the east? If I were him, my first reaction would be to refuse my offer and attempt to remain Antigonos’ ally thus isolating me; but then I – if I were Kassandros – would wonder what would happen to my position in Macedonia if Antigonos managed to take Egypt – not that he will, but hypothetically.
‘You’ll just appear weak if you approach Kassandros,’ Thais said, surprising him. ‘It will look like you don’t have the confidence that you could repulse an attack on Egypt and want to make an alliance with your brother-in-law – whom you hate, as he is well aware – in order to divert Antigonos’ attention away from you onto him.’
Ptolemy turned to Thais. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’
She smiled, her tongue – the bringer of so many pleasures – moistening her top lip. ‘Why else have you spent so much time with Eurydike since hearing from Seleukos the news of Eumenes’ death and Antigonos’ victory? It wasn’t to see the baby as you have just admitted, and you can’t bear young Ptolemy; nor does she satisfy your needs as your constant complaint about her abilities in bed is that she just endures not enjoys.’ Thais shrugged. ‘I can therefore only assume that you are trying to persuade her to take a letter to her brother because it’s certainly not to learn how to change a nappy – not that she would know how to anyway.’
Ptolemy stared at Thais, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her face, cream skinned, framed by red-gold hair, piled high and cascading down to her shoulder in ringlet-falls, was the most beautiful he had ever seen and always took his breath away; it was the thing that he prized most about her with perhaps one exception: her mind. Her analysis of any situation was always the most pertinent and he had come to rely upon her. ‘I was going to talk to you about it as soon as I had considered the matter further.’
‘As soon as you’ve come to the wrong decision, in other words.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Well, if you were trying to persuade Eurydike to go north to see her brother, then I would say you already had.’
‘I was trying to persuade her to be willing to go to Macedon should the need arise in the future.’
‘And?’
‘And she refused me.’
‘Sensible girl.’
‘Insubordinate girl.’
‘No, she’s preventing you from making a tactical error.’
‘Namely?’
‘Namely, if you want an alliance with Kassandros then you have to wait for him to come to you, begging for it.’
‘And what will make him do that?’
Before she could reply, Lycortas, Ptolemy’s steward, glided onto the terrace, his feet, obscured beneath his long, loose-fitting, white linen robe, seemingly motionless and irrelevant to his propulsion. He bowed, his bald head pudgy and shining in the sun, his arms crossed and his hands hidden up his sleeves. ‘The Jewish delegation is here to see you, lord.’
‘Again?’ Ptolemy sighed. ‘Tell me, Lycortas: what do you think would induce Kassandros to beg me for an alliance?’
‘A direct threat to his position and life, lord.’
‘Obviously; but what form would that take for him to react to it?’
Lycortas pursed his lips. ‘Alas, lord, I am unable to supply the direct threat myself, a failing that causes me deep regret and compounds my sense of inadequacy in your service, for I know that you despise the “pockmarked toad” – as you so colourfully refer to him – with a vigour that surpasses almost, but not quite, your ability to enjoy yourself.’
Ptolemy frowned at Thais as she stifled an explosive laugh. ‘Thank you, Lycortas, for your profound and insightful observation. I shall be down shortly.’
It was another two hours before Lycortas announced Ptolemy’s arrival in the audience chamber, two hours that had been very well spent with Thais in proving the veracity of Lycortas’ profound and insightful observation. And Ptolemy thanked himself for having used the time so well, for his sense of well-being fortified him against the endless speeches of the Jewish elders.
‘And that is the basis of our case, Lord Ptolemy,’ the leader, a grey-beard of many summers, standing before him in a domed hat and a black and white mantle about his shoulders, said having summed up.
Ptolemy took a few moments to return from the pleasant part of his mind in which he had been residing whilst each of the dozen-strong members of the delegation had all made speeches of unnecessary floweriness. ‘Hmmph. Yes; so let me recap on the points that you have made in the last couple of hours.’ He struck his right forefinger with his left. ‘Firstly, you want to have one of your own to collect taxes from the Jews here in Alexandria.’ He then struck his middle finger. ‘Secondly…’ He made a show of thinking, looking puzzled. ‘Secondly? Remind me what your second point was, would you, Matthias? I seem to have lost it amongst all the arguments.’
Matthias looked confused. ‘There was no second point, Lord Ptolemy. It was just that we request a Jewish tax collector to collect Jewish taxes; that was all.’
‘And you took two hours to do that? Two hours of my time?’
‘Well, the arguments needed to be made.’
‘The arguments, or argument I should say, was that you wish your people to have as little contact as possible with what you call gentiles; which is just about everyone with a foreskin, am I right? That’s the argument, yes?’
‘Well, it’s not that simple.’
‘Yes, it is. That is the crux of it, is it not?’
‘Well… er…’
‘I am a patient man, and reasonably forgiving, Matthias, as my sitting through the last two hours has proven. Is that or is that not the crux of your argument? Yes or no.’
‘Yes.’
‘Good, we’re getting somewhere, finally. And so, this official, or Alabarch as you would choose to call him, should I decide to appoint one, will, for a small commission naturally, pass on the revenue to my treasury. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, Lord Ptolemy.’
‘And that is it?’
Matthias looked at the ground, suddenly finding his sandals of great interest. ‘Yes, Lord Ptolemy.’
‘It seems to me to be a perfectly sensible and workable solution. I can see no objection to it: you get the degree of autonomy that you want and I get my coinage.’
‘So you are minded to grant the request.’
Ptolemy paused and looked at the grey-bearded delegation with mischief in his eyes. ‘On one condition: that you never waste my time with useless chatter again. I am a Macedonian not a Greek; we don’t have time for all that sort of thing. Now, go away and resolve who shall be your first Alabarch and then send him to me and I will decide if he is suitable. And I promise you, if he should say more than ten unnecessary words in answer to my questions then he’ll end up in the harbour as an integral part of the Heptastadion.’ He pointed over his shoulder to the construction work through the open window behind him. ‘Now, get out and next time you have a request only one of you need speak.’
The delegation stood motionless, their mouths opening and closing.
‘Go!’
Matthias stepped back and then straightened himself up, pulling back his shoulders. ‘There is also the question of my men still held in captivity since you took our land.’
Ptolemy took a deep breath. ‘Then perhaps you should have used some of the time to address that issue rather than making the same point endlessly.’
‘But—’
‘No!’ Ptolemy held up both hands. ‘No! I’ve freed many of your people; so many that you now want an Alabarch because your community is thriving. I still need slaves to build the city.’
‘But what about my men, my personal men who followed me into battle, what about them?’
‘They are young and fit and making a great contribution to the construction of the city; I might yet free them if I were to find another use for them. Now go, before I lose my temper.’
‘If you freed them now—’
‘Go! Or you’ll all be joining them.’ Ptolemy stood and glared down at the delegation.
As one they turned and scampered to the doors, forgetting their dignity.
‘Masterful, master,’ Lycortas said, with genuine admiration in his voice. ‘A masterclass in how to thoroughly enjoy oneself; I shall be ever grateful.’
‘Yes, well, let’s not take it too far, Lycortas. It served its own purpose in that I hope it will get around that, if anyone wants something from me, it’s best not to waste my time with endless rhetoric.’
‘Ah! That is advice which I shall take to heart when I ask you for more generous remuneration tomorrow.’ He glanced through the window to a trireme moored in the royal harbour – the small, private dock next to the royal palace. ‘Your ship is ready and waiting.’
One of Ptolemy’s pleasures in life – and he had many – was to admire his navy, for it was upon sea-power that he relied to keep Egypt safe. Any army coming south through Syria and then west from Gaza in Palestine needed control of the sea, else their lines of communication would be compromised at the very least or, at the very worst, an army could be landed behind them; and so Ptolemy had spent much time and gold building four separate fleets – either through construction or stealing them from Antigonos’ nephew, Dioscurides, who had been left in command along the Syrian coast. Taking great interest in the minutiae of their organisation, he visited the military harbour often.
Thais was already aboard when Ptolemy stepped onto the trireme waiting for him in the royal harbour. That did not surprise him, for she appreciated his inspection visits as much as he did; what did surprise him, though, was Lagus sitting under the awning, next to her. A good-looking boy; but then how could he fail to be, with Thais as his mother? ‘So you’re coming to learn about the Alexandria fleet, are you, Lagus?’
