TW11 The Cleopatra Crisis NEW (12 page)

"So I'll stink," she said.

"I don't think you'll have to do that," Andell said with a grin. "Travers has a small bath at his villa. That's a big-time status symbol these days. Just make sure you don't bathe yourself. Have the slaves do it, even if you don't like the idea. It's expected."

"Male slaves or female slaves?" asked Andre.

Andell shrugged. "That's up to you. I guess."

She grinned. "This mission might not be so bad, after all."

"How long have you been on this tour, Andell?" asked Delaney.

"About seven years now," Andell replied.

”All in Rome?"

"First four in Rome, last three in Alexandria. We're not liable to run into anyone who knows me or any of the others, if that's what you're concerned about. Nobody pays much attention to slaves, for one thing, and we've all kept a pretty low profile. Except for Travers, of course, but his case is different. He moves in more interesting circles and he gets to live in a nice villa, instead of the rattraps we've been living in."

"But then you didn't have to go to the Gallic Wars, either," Andre said.

"I wouldn't have minded that one bit. I reenlisted to be a soldier, not a damn Observer. I'm due for a transfer in another year and I'm looking forward to it. I'm hoping I can pull a combat assignment. And I miss wearing pants."

"Watch they transfer you to Scotland," said Delaney.

"If you spent three years in Alexandria, you know about Cleopatra," Lucas said.

"We didn't exactly do dinner and dancing, you know," Andell said. "L.T.O.'s are the ones who get to rub elbows with the rich and famous. But I know about her, yeah."

"What do you think of Travers’ theory?"

"I don't know. I think it's possible. The S.O.G. might've pulled a switch while she was in exile. And she didn't have a great deal of contact with her brother, Ptolemy, after she came back. If there was any change in her, her becoming a queen could easily explain it. People in Egypt aren't exactly in the habit of questioning their monarchs. In any case, she's in Rome now, where nobody knew her from before. If it was me and I was going to pull a substitution. I would've done it while she was in exile, just before she met up with Caesar. There's only one thing about it I can't understand."

"What's that?" asked Lucas.

"Caesar's Egyptian guard. I mean, like that's a real obvious anomaly. It's a documental fact that Caesar made a point of refusing to have a bodyguard around him at this time. It stands to reason that the S.O.G. would figure we'd have Observers back here and that's like running up a flag. Again, if it was me. I wouldn't give my play away like that. That thought's occurred to Travers, too. It really bothers him. He just can't figure it."

"Unless, in their universe, Caesar did have a bodyguard." said Delaney.

"You think so?"

"It's possible. We know their history is different from ours in some respects. That's why the confluence phenomenon is so dangerous. They infiltrated Archives Section and managed to learn a lot about our history through other means. but their knowledge could be spotty."

"Maybe," Andell agreed. "But Rome is a reasonably well-documented period. They could have infiltrated agents into any future temporal scenario and picked up the works of Suetonius or Plutarch or Tacitus or any number of the more modern classical historians. It would be standard mission preparation and not that hard to do. Stands to reason, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," said Lucas, frowning. "It doesn't seem to make sense."

"Not unless they figure there's nothing we can do about it," Andell said.

"And there really isn't, when it comes to that. I mean, what are you going to do, walk up to Caesar and say 'Excuse me, you know you're not supposed to have a bodyguard? Better get rid of them or you might not get killed?' Now that they're there. the only ones who can get rid of them are Caesar and Cleopatra."

"It could also be a way of drawing attention to what they're doing." said Delaney.

"Why would they want to do that?"

"To smoke us out," Delaney said.

Andell nodded. "That's an idea. If you try to do anything about the Egyptians, you're liable to give yourself away. And if you don't do anything about them and they're still with Caesar on the Ides of March, the conspirators may not have a chance to kill him. What happens then?"

"Then we may have to kill him," Lucas said. "Even if it means getting killed ourselves."

They drove the rest of the way to Travers' villa in silence.

People had started arriving at the Circus Maximus before dawn, so the tiered stands were almost completely filled by the time Steiger and Marshall arrived. However, unlike the plebeians, their places were assured. They sat in the front rows, which were reserved for senators, aristocrats, and Vestal Virgins. Steiger decided that he didn't quite fit into any of those categories.

The sight of the Circus itself was awe-inspiring. Shaped like a long rectangle rounded off at one end in a semicircle, the Circus Maximus was six hundred yards long and two hundred yards wide, built to hold a quarter of a million spectators. Caesar had rebuilt it. making it even grander than it was before. He had surrounded the arena with a moat, the better to separate the animals from the spectators during shows that involved wild beasts. Marshall explained that Pompey had used an iron fence, but the bars had buckled under the weight of elephants that had been pitted against some hapless prisoners and the spectators had been somewhat upset when the pachyderms decided that they wanted out.

The spina, the built-up "spine" dividing the center of the arena between the turning posts (three on each end). had been adorned with gilt bronze statues of the gods looking down upon the games. It also held the
septem ova
, seven large wooden eggs that were moved to count the laps. Later, during the time of Augustus, seven bronze dolphins would be added to the eggs as lap counters. The triple-tiered stands facing each other across the arena were monstrous. The lowest tiers were made of marble, the second tiers had seats of wood, and the third offered standing room only. They were completely packed and the crowd was still streaming in.

Outside, beggars, wine merchants, pastry cooks, astrologers, and prostitutes vied for the attention of the crowd. The courts had all been closed. Marshall explained that no business would be transacted in the city while the games were on. Indeed, it seemed to Steiger as if all of Rome had packed itself into the Circus. The spectators were a sea of white togas. As they approached their seats. Marshall pointed out a handsome, dark-haired man with a high forehead, an aquiline nose, and a full beard.

"That's Antony." said Marshall.

"What's with the sword?" asked Steiger.

"Antony always wears his sword whenever he appears in public," Marshall replied. "It's part of the image. His family claims to be descended from Hercules, by his son, Anton, and Antony likes to play the part to the hilt. The big macho warrior. Come on, I'll introduce you."

"Ah, Martian!" Antony said boisterously as they approached. "Come! Sit with us! Who is your friend?"

"Greetings. Marc Antony." said Marshall. "Allow me to present Creon Sabinus, who has come to visit me from Ilerda. I've bought many fine strings of horses from him over the years."

"Indeed?" said Antony, turning to Steiger with interest. "And what brings you to Rome from the provinces, Sabinus?"

"A little business and a little pleasure," Steiger replied. "Marcian has decided that I've been charging him too dearly for the horses that he buys from me, so he proposes to purchase my entire farm, so that he can sell them more cheaply to himself."

“That sounds like our Marcian." Antony laughed. "Always counting his fortune and finding it wanting. Take care that you do not sell your farm to him too cheaply, Sabinus."

"He needs no advice from you. Antony," groused Marshall. "The price that he has named amounts to a king's ransom."

"Come now, Marcian. it is a fair price and you know it." Steiger protested.

"Fair? You've been cheating me for years. you scoundrel. As you have doubtless cheated others." He turned to Antony. "He knows that if I buy his farm, I must retain him on a salary as breeder, so it is all to his advantage. He has, I'm afraid, less need for my money than I have for his horses. I've brought him to the races in the hope that I can induce him to lose some of it. Perhaps then he will become more reasonable."

"What, you plan to bet against him?" Antony asked, surprised. "Marcian, I have never seen you wager so much as a denarius!"

"No, not I," said Marshall. "I have already lost enough money to this brigand through our business dealings. I will not risk losing more. However, knowing you to be a shrewd judge of horseflesh and charioteers, I thought perhaps you would be good enough to fleece him for me. I would appreciate it if you would take as much of his money as possible. He's been most insufferable."

Antony threw back his head and laughed. "Did you hear my friends? Marcian brings me a sacrifice of a provincial!”

They all laughed.

Steiger stiffened, as if with affront.

"No, no, do not look so, Sabinus," said Flaminus, clapping him on the shoulder. "I assure you, Antony meant it merely as a joke."

"Yes, doubtless we provincials, being so backward and naive, provide you Romans with much amusement." Steiger said.

"Come now, Sabinus. I meant no offense," Antony said placatingly. "And to prove it, and as much to please my good friend, Marcian, I will offer you a small, friendly wager, if you like. Not so much as you can't afford to lose."

"Indeed? And what makes you think that I will lose?" asked Steiger.

"Oho!" said Antony. "You hear, Trebonius? It seems that we have pricked his pride!"

"Have a care, Antony." Trebonius said in mock warning. "He is a breeder and must know his horses well."

"Perhaps, but does he know his charioteers?" asked Antony. "It takes more than a good team to win a race."

"That is true enough," said Steiger. "But I have had an opportunity to watch them exercise and have formed a few opinions as to the skill of the various drivers. Perhaps they are not as educated as your own, Marc Antony, but I have observed enough to guide my wager."

"Very well, then." Antony said with a grin. "We shall see. Shall we make a wager on the first race?"

"If you like."

"How much would you care to risk?"

“I do not know what is customary," said Steiger. "Would ten thousand sesterces be appropriate?"

"Ten thousand sesterces!" Trebonius said.

"See here, Sabinus." said Antony condescendingly, “pride can be a costly thing. Despite what Marcian said, and I am certain he was only joking, I have no wish to see you lose so much.”

"It is a sum that I could easily stand to lose," said Steiger. "However, if you could not, I would certainly understand."

Antony raised his eyebrows. "I could stand to lose a great deal more than that. my friend," he said with a smile. "Very well. then. Ten thousand it is."

The sound of trumpets rang out through the arena and the crowd cheered as the presiding consul entered in his chariot, followed by his lictors and attendants. After them in the procession came the legionaries and the cavalry, followed by the teams of chariots. The drivers were all attired in colored tunics that denoted their teams. They had the reins wrapped around their chests, leaving one hand free to manipulate them and the other to use the whip. Driving a chariot took great strength and dexterity, as well as skill, and by wrapping the reins around their chests, the charioteers were able to add their full body weight to the task, as well as using it to balance the light chariots. It made the driving very dangerous, because in the event of a spill, the charioteer had to draw a sharp dagger and quickly cut the reins, otherwise he would be dragged along behind his horses. Even if he could cut himself loose in time, there was still the danger of being trampled or crushed by the wheels of the following chariots.

After the chariots came the singers, followed by the priests and the incense-hearers. Then came the images of the gods carried on biers. The crowd cheered and applauded as they made their circuit of the arena to the pounding of the drums and the blaring of the trumpets, then the cheering grew still louder as the Emperor appeared in his box, just a short distance from where Steiger and Marshall sat with Antony and his friends.

Steiger turned to look at Julius Caesar. He stood in the imperial box, wearing a laurel wreath and a purple-trimmed toga with fringes on the sleeves, holding his arms out to the crowd.

"Is that your first sight of the Emperor?" asked Trebonius, raising his voice to he heard over the cheering of the crowd around them.

"Yes." Steiger replied. “I must admit, he looks different than I had expected. More like a philosopher than a conquering general.”

"Do not be deceived by his appearance," Antony said. "He is the finest general that Rome has ever seen. And I am proud to have served with him in the campaigns.”

"A singular honor," Steiger said.

Antony smiled. "Perhaps later, I will introduce you to him. To ease the pain of your loss."

"It would indeed be a great privilege to meet the Emperor." said Steiger. "But I have not lost yet.”

Antony grinned. "We shall see. That first rank of chariots will compete in the first race. And the second rank will race after them, and so forth. As a breeder of fine horses, which team do you fancy?"

Steiger considered the teams as they rode by in the procession. "Of the first rank, I think I like the greens," he said. "The brown
trigae."

He pointed to the team of three dark brown horses drawing a light chariot driven by a man in a green tunic.

"A good choice," said Antony, nodding. "You
do
know your horses. But I think the whites will take the first race."

“Perhaps," said Steiger. "However, I will stand by my choice."

"And be the poorer for it," Antony replied with a grin. "But who knows, fortune may smile upon you."

After the procession completed its circuit of the track, the chariots for the first race lined up at the far end of the arena. The horses were restive, pawing at the ground. The charioteers held them back, easing them into position. The presiding consul gave the signal for the trumpets to sound. He stood above the chariots, dressed in a scarlet tunic, an embroidered toga, and a heavy gold wreath. In one hand, he held out a white cloth. In his other hand, he held aloft an ivory baton with a bronze eagle on it, the symbol of his office.