Petronius winced. ‘Soldier, I really would rather that you and your companions referred to our provincials in less pejorative terms.’
The man blinked. ‘Sir?’
‘Egyptians, not gypos, eh?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Very well, bring him in.’
Cato looked around at Macro and took a sharp breath as they waited for the survivor from the temple to be brought in to tell his tale.
Hamedes was tall and solidly built. His bruised head had been shaved, but several days without any attention had left it with a dark furze. Somewhat younger than Cato, his eyes were deep-set either side of the wide curved nose that was typical of the native race. He wore a plain red military tunic, which Cato guessed must have been lent to him. He stood before them barefoot and unbowed. He spoke in Greek, fluently.
‘You sent for me, sir,’ he announced, somehow making the last word sound like a condescension.
‘Indeed.’ The governor nodded. ‘I’d like you to tell your story to these two officers.’
‘Why? I’ve already given a statement, which was taken down by your scribe. It’s not necessary, a waste of time.’
‘There’s no need for the high and mighty act,’ said Macro with a frown that would have unnerved a less easily subdued man than Hamedes. ‘Just be a good lad and give us the details.’
The priest looked Macro up and down. ‘And who might I be addressing, if I may ask?’
Macro puffed his chest out. ‘Centurion—’
‘Enough!’ Cato intervened. ‘You are here to answer our questions, not ask your own.’
‘Really? I thought I was here because I am a witness to Roman aggression against the temple of Isis at Keirkut. The temple is now a ruin, and its servants are carrion meat for the vultures. I am here to see that they have justice, sir.’ He paused briefly. ‘That is, if those who come from Rome are familiar with the concept. Meanwhile, it seems that I am a prisoner.’
Macro glanced at Cato and spoke quietly. ‘Quite full of himself, isn’t he? If he wants to play us around then I’m quite happy to take on the role of interrogator.’
‘Not yet,’ Cato replied quietly. ‘Let’s see what we can learn by less obtrusive means, eh?’
He turned to Hamedes. ‘The governor has asked us to join his investigation into the incident. We could read the report, but I would prefer to hear it directly from your own lips. It would be of considerable assistance to us in seeking the justice you desire.’
The young priest stared back, and then nodded. ‘Very well. I am prepared to cooperate on that basis.’
‘How good of you,’ Macro muttered, and Cato shot him a warning look.
‘Tell them what you told me, Hamedes,’ said Petronius. ‘If you please.’
‘Very well.’ He closed his eyes briefly to compose his thoughts. ‘It was the last hour of the day when they came. The high priest had begun the ceremony of Ra’s entry into the underworld. The senior priests were by the altar on the river landing. The rest of us were kneeling on the bank of the river, around the sacred barge. That’s when I first noticed the sail. A Roman warship had entered the river from the sea and was making for the eastern bank of the tributary. The high priest seemed to pay it no attention and continued with the ceremony, preparing the bushel of wheat to be burned as an offering to Ra, the most wise and merciful.’ Hamedes briefly clasped his hands together and bowed his head. ‘The ship continued towards the landing. At the last moment they took in their sail and turned to come alongside the steps leading down into the Nile. At once the Romans threw down a ramp and came ashore.’
‘Were they in uniform?’ asked Cato. ‘Like myself?’
‘They wore tunics like yours but they were white. They had swords, shields and helmets like those worn by your auxiliaries.’
‘Marines then,’ said Macro. ‘It fits with what we know.’
Cato nodded. ‘Carry on. What happened next?’
‘They surrounded us and forced us to gather around the barge of Ra, most wise and merciful.’ Hamedes repeated his earlier gesture. ‘Except for the high priest. They took him aside, to be questioned by their commander. He came ashore last.’
‘Can you describe him to us?’ Cato said evenly, ignoring the glance that Petronius shot towards him.
Hamedes frowned. ‘Tall, muscular. Brown eyes. More Greek-looking than Roman, but then that’s to be expected in Egypt. He wore scale armour, a plumed helmet and a blue cloak. And he had a sword, the same kind that all you Romans carry.’
‘You saw him up close, then?’
‘Yes, I was near him when he questioned the high priest.’
‘So you would recognise his face again, if you were to see him?’
‘I am sure of it.’
‘Fine.’ Cato waved a hand. ‘Please continue.’
Hamedes nodded. ‘He told the priest that he was acting under the orders of the governor at Alexandria. The officer announced that a new edict had been issued confiscating all the gold and silver held in the temples. He demanded that the high priest show him where our vault is. The high priest refused. He was angry. He told the officer that the temple was sacred ground and that the Romans were defiling it. He ordered the officer to take his men and withdraw. Instead the officer told his men to bring him one of the junior priests. Then he drew his sword and beheaded the man. He asked the high priest where the vault was again, and killed another man when he did not get a reply. He continued killing us, one by one, until finally the high priest spoke. He cursed the Roman, then took him to the vault. The Romans made four of us carry the caskets of gold and silver coin to his ship. Then, when we had finished, he began to kill the rest, starting with the high priest.’ Hamedes paused, and when he spoke again there was a tremor in his voice. ‘I saw the blood run down the steps and into the Nile . . .’
‘Did you try to escape?’ asked Cato. ‘Did you hide perhaps?’
‘No. I was too scared to move. I think we all were. Before I realised it, I was the last one alive. He came close to me, closer than we are now, and stared at me in silence for a while. I was sure that he would kill me, so I turned to the west to offer one final prayer to Ra, most wise and merciful—’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Macro interrupted. ‘I think we can take that as read. Get on with it.’
Hamedes glared briefly at Macro. ‘I prayed, then he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me round to face him. He said that Rome had had enough of the insolence of our priests. He said that the Emperor had decreed that it was time for the old religions to be erased. He told me that I had been spared so that I might spread the message. The officer said that I was to remember his name, and that he was acting according to the orders of your Emperor, Claudius.’
‘Most wise and merciful,’ Macro muttered, and shook his head apologetically as Cato frowned at him.
Cato turned back and fixed the priest with a steady eye. ‘And what was the name of this officer?’
‘As I told your scribe,’ Hamedes said to Petronius and then nodded towards the corner. ‘He said he was a prefect. Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes. He made me repeat it.’
‘And then?’
‘He struck me on the head with the guard of his sword. I was knocked cold. When I came to I was lying on the bodies of the other priests, my robes soaked in their blood. The Romans had gone. They had set fire to the priest’s quarters, and they had filled the temple with wood, palm leaves and oil and set it alight. The paintings on the wall, the sacred records of the temple, all burned away. It blazed right through the night and in the morning all that remained was a scorched hulk.’ Hamedes winced at the memory. ‘I was alone. The temple was gone. All that was left for me to do was come here and seek justice. That, or revenge. I swear, by all the gods of my people, that I will seek out and kill this Roman, this Prefect Cato.’
‘The man who attacked your temple is no Roman,’ Cato said firmly. ‘He is a slave, a fugitive, masquerading as a Roman. He has been murdering your people along the Egyptian coast for the best part of a month now.’
‘He was a Roman,’ Hamedes replied vehemently. ‘Do you expect me to believe that he isn’t? Were his men pretending to be Roman too? Was his ship pretending to be a Roman warship? What kind of fool do you take me for?’
‘The warship was real. And those were Roman uniforms he and his men were wearing. The man’s name is Ajax. He captured the ship and killed its crew. We have been pursuing him for some months now.’
Hamedes stared at Cato suspiciously. ‘I don’t believe you.’ Petronius nodded towards Cato. ‘Have you ever seen this officer before? Or the man sitting beside him?’
‘No.’
‘Be certain.’
‘I am sure of it. I have never met them until now.’
‘Then would it surprise you if I was to say that this man is Prefect Cato, and his companion is Centurion Macro?’
Hamedes shook his head. ‘What trickery is this?’
‘There’s no trickery,’ the governor told him. ‘Well, none here and now, at least. This man is Prefect Cato and what he says is the truth. The one who attacked your temple and butchered your companions was an imposter. He intends to provoke your people into rebellion. He aims to fill their hearts with a desire for revenge. And he has been succeeding admirably. Now you know the truth. I need you to help us, Hamedes.’
The Egyptian still looked bewildered and Petronius softened his voice. ‘You are a priest. Your people respect you and your word carries weight with them. I need you to tell them the truth. And not just them, but the Alexandrians as well.’
‘What do you propose, sir?’
‘I will summon the leaders of the merchants’ and shipowners’ guilds. I’ll give them an audience in the palace and you can tell them what you have learned here.’
‘Why should they believe me? You must know how the Alexandrians look down on us. Why would they take the word of an Egyptian?’
‘Because I suspect that the ordinary Egyptians despise the Romans even more than the Egyptians are despised by the Greeks. If you take our side, it will give the Greeks something to think about. Better that the truth about Ajax comes from you than from us.’
Hamedes nodded. ‘I understand. I just hope that I am believed.’
The following evening, Governor Petronius sat on an elaborate formal chair on a dais at the end of the audience chamber. He was flanked by Cato and Macro to one side and two scribes sitting on mats on the other side of the dais, one to take down the words of the governor, another the comments from his guests. As was his custom, Petronius ensured that there would be a record of the meeting since it might well become part of his defence at a subsequent trial in Rome should he ever be charged with corruption or incompetence.
The audience chamber was lined with towering columns with capitals in the characteristic lotus flower design of Egypt. This was the same audience chamber where the Ptolemies had handed out their decrees to their kingdom. The last of their line, Cleopatra, had played host first to Gaius Julius Caesar and then to Mark Antony in this hall, seated on the same dais as the present governor. However, the ceremonial glitter and solemn speeches of amity between two great powers had long since faded into history. In their place stood a crowd of anxious and angry Alexandrians, held in check by a line of stern-faced Roman legionaries. Hamedes had finished relating his experience and confirmed that the man who had claimed to be Prefect Cato was not the same as the man at the governor’s side. Further witnesses who had been spared by Ajax were produced to support the governor’s claim that the raiders were imposters.
At first only a few voices were raised to denounce the governor, accusing him of concealing renegades within the ranks of the Roman forces occupying Egypt. Petronius listened to the arguments for a moment, until too many voices were calling out for any sense to be made of what was said. He leaned towards Macro.
‘Centurion, be so good as to shut them up for me.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Macro took a deep breath. He cupped his hands to his mouth and roared, ‘QUIET!’
The chamber was designed to echo the commands from the throne, and in any case, Macro’s parade-ground voice could stop a recruit dead in his tracks a couple of hundred paces away. The tongues of the Alexandrians were swiftly stilled, and when all were silent, Petronius spoke.
‘I can assure you that the men who have been raiding the coastal settlements and raiding your ships are not Romans. The whereabouts of the vessels of the Alexandrian fleet are accounted for. The perpetrators are a separate element, and their leader has been identified as the fugitive slave, Ajax.’ Petronius paused. ‘With that in mind, I trust I can rely on you to return to your communities and help quash the rumours that are sweeping through every quarter of the city. That is the responsible course of action. If anyone here is discovered to have perpetuated the lie that Roman forces have been involved in these raids, I will have no choice but to have them charged with sedition. Those found guilty will face confiscation of their property and exile, or death.’
A handful of the crowd fell to mumbling, before a man stepped to the front and raised a hand. ‘Sir, may I speak?’
Petronius nodded.
‘It is one thing to discover the truth behind the raids, and quite another to put an end to them. This fugitive and his gang are still at large. What do you propose to do about this threat to our trade? I can tell you that word of our losses is spreading to neighbouring provinces. Shipowners are already refusing to sail to and from Alexandria, and those that do are charging ruinous fees. I am sure that I speak for every merchant here when I say that I pay my taxes and in return I expect my business to be protected to the fullest extent.’
‘Of course!’ Petronius responded loudly. ‘And I am sure that you are equally concerned to protect the lives of the crewmen of the ships carrying your goods.’
The merchant shifted uncomfortably as he nodded. ‘Naturally. It goes without saying that the well-being of our employees and shipping contractors is also close to our hearts.’
‘Assuming they actually have hearts,’ Macro muttered under his breath.
‘That’s quite an assumption,’ Cato replied softly.