"The hospitality you have been offered extends for only seven days, Consul. After that, you will board your ships and leave Alexandria."

Julius ignored Panek, his eyes firmly on the gold mask. Ptolemy did not move again and after a time Julius looked away in fury. He could feel the anger of the guards around him and cared nothing for it.

"Then we have nothing more to say. Your Majesty, it has been an honor."

Julius turned away abruptly, surprising Porphiris so that he had to hurry to catch him before the far doors.

As they closed behind him, Porphiris deliberately blocked his path. "Consul, you have a talent for making enemies," he said.

Julius did not speak and after a moment Porphiris sagged under his stare.

"If the king considers you have insulted him, your men will not be allowed to live," Porphiris said. "The people will tear you apart."

Julius looked into the man's dark eyes. "Are you a eunuch, Porphiris? I have been wondering."

Porphiris moved his hands in agitation. "What? Did you not hear what I said to you?"

"I heard you, as I have heard the threats of a dozen kings in my life. What is one more, to me?"

Porphiris gaped in amazement. "King Ptolemy is a god, Consul. If he speaks your death, there is nothing in the world that will save you."

Julius seemed to consider this. "I will think on it. Now take me back to my men in that fine palace your god provided. The incense is too strong for me in here."

Porphiris bowed over his confusion.

"Yes, Consul," he said, leading the way down.

As night came, Julius paced up and down the marble floor of his quarters, brooding. The palace he had been given was larger and more spacious than any building he had ever owned in Rome, and the room where he had eaten was but one of many dozens available. Porphiris had provided slaves for his comfort, but Julius had dismissed them on his return from the king's court. He preferred the company of his own Tenth to spies and potential assassins.

He paused at an open window, looking out at the port of Alexandria and letting the breeze cool his indignation. As well as the eternal flame on Pharos, he could see thousands of lights in homes, shops, and warehouses. The docks were busy with ships and cargo and darkness had changed nothing. In another mood, he might have enjoyed the scene, but he tightened his grip on the stone sill, oblivious to its craftsmanship. He had been awed at first at the level of ornamentation in the city. His quarters were no exception and the walls around him were lined with some blue ceramic, overlaid in gold leaf. It had palled after only a short time. Perhaps because he had been so long in the field, or because his roots lay in a simpler Rome, but Julius no longer walked as if his steps could break the delicate statuary on every side. He didn't care if they fell into dust at his tread.

"I was all but dismissed, Octavian!" he said, clenching his hands behind his back. "You cannot imagine the arrogance of those courtiers in their paints and oils. A flock of pretty birds without enough wits to fill a good Roman head between them."

"What did their king say about Pompey?" Octavian asked.

He had taken a seat on a cushioned bench carved from what looked to be a single piece of black granite. He too had experienced the Egyptian welcome, with half-naked guards preventing his men from exploring the city. Domitius had managed to evade them for an hour, then been brought back like an errant child, with the guards shaking their heads in disapproval.

"The king might as well have been a mute, for all I had from him," Julius said. "From the few words I heard, I'd say he was only a boy. I never even saw his famous queen. More insults! His courtiers are the real power in this city and they have dismissed us like unwelcome tradesmen. It is insufferable! To think that this is Alexander's city and I have a chance to see it. I could have spent days in the great library alone and perhaps gone further inland to see the Nile. Rome would have waited a little longer for me to return."

"You have what you came for, Julius. Pompey's head and ring…"

"Yes! I have that grisly remnant of a great man. His life was not theirs to take, Octavian. By the gods, it makes me furious to think of those golden-skinned eunuchs killing him."

He thought of his promise to his daughter, that he would refrain from taking Pompey's life. How would she react when she heard the news? Pompey had not died at his hand, but perhaps the manner of his passing was worse, so far from his home and people. He clenched his jaw in anger.

"They made it sound as if we would have sacked the city in our search for him, Octavian. As if we were barbarians to be placated and sent on our way with a few beads and pots! He was my enemy, but he deserved better than to be killed at the hands of those men. A consul of Rome, no less. Shall I let it pass without revenge?"

"I think you must," Octavian said, frowning to himself.

He knew Julius was capable of declaring war on the city over Pompey's death. Though the courtiers and king could not know it, almost four thousand men and horses could arrive at the port at any time. If Julius sent word back to Greece, he could order a dozen legions to march. One spark and Octavian knew he would not see Rome again for years.

"They believed they were doing your will when they gave you Pompey's head," Octavian said. "By their standards, they have treated us with courtesy. Is it an insult to be given a palace?"

He decided not to mention the humiliations the Tenth had endured from the palace guards. Julius was more protective of his beloved legion than his own life. If he heard they had been ill-treated, he would be blowing the war-horns before the sun rose.

Julius had paused to listen and in the silence Octavian could hear the tap-tap of his fingers behind his back.

"Seven days, though!" Julius snapped. "Shall I turn tail and meekly follow the orders of the gold-faced boy? That's if they were his orders at all and not just the whim of one of his controlling clique. Alexander would be appalled if he could see this city treat me in such a fashion. Did I say they revere him as a god?"

"You mentioned it," Octavian replied, though Julius did not seem to hear him. He stared in wonder as he considered the idea.

"His statue adorns the temples of their gods here, with incense and offerings. It is astonishing. Porphiris said that Ptolemy himself was divine. These are a strange people, Octavian. And why would you cut the testicles from a man? Does it make him stronger, or better able to concentrate? What benefit is there in such a practice? There were some with the king who could have been men or women, I couldn't tell. Perhaps they had been gelded. I have seen some strange things over the years-do you remember the skulls of the Suebi? Incredible."

Octavian watched Julius closely, suspecting that the tirade was finally coming to an end. He had not dared leave Julius alone in the grip of such a temper, but he could not help yawning as the night slipped by. Surely dawn could not be far off.

Domitius entered through tall bronze doors. Octavian rose as soon as he saw his friend's expression.

"Julius," Domitius said, "you should see this."

"What is it?" Julius replied.

"I'm not sure if I know," Domitius said with a grin. "There's a man the size of Ciro at the gate. He's carrying a carpet."

Julius looked blankly at him. "Is he selling it?"

"No, sir, he says it's a gift from the queen of Egypt."

Julius exchanged a glance with Octavian.

"Perhaps they want to make amends," Octavian said, shrugging.

"Send him up," Julius said.

Domitius vanished, returning with a man who loomed over the three Romans. Julius and Octavian heard his heavy step before he came through the doors, and they saw Domitius had not exaggerated. The man was tall and bearded, with powerful arms wrapped around a tube of gold cloth.