The Judgment of Caesar by Steven Saylor Read Free Book Online

me, Finder, this way will be much better for all concerned.”
    “Including Pompey.”
    Her face hardened. “I don’t want to see him make a spectacle of your death, especially not with King Ptolemy watching. He’ll take out all his rage against Caesar on you. Can you imagine how pathetic that will look? He should know better, but he’s lost all judgment.”
    I stared at the vial in my hand. “He’ll be furious if he’s deprived of the chance to punish me himself.”
    “Not if the gods decide to take you first. That’s what it will look like. You’ll swallow the contents—even the taste is not unpleasant, or so I’m told—and afterwards I’ll throw the vial overboard. You’ll die suddenly and quietly. You’re not a young man, Finder. No one will be surprised that your heart gave out; they’ll assume that you were frightened to death by the prospect of facing Pompey’s wrath. My husband will be disappointed, but he’ll get over it—especially if we do somehow manage to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Then there will be countless multitudes upon whom he can vent his rage.”
    “You intend for me to swallow this now?”
    “No, wait. Pompey’s about to board a small boat that will take him ashore to parlay with King Ptolemy. Swallow it after he’s gone.”
    “So that I’ll be cold by the time he returns?”
    She nodded.
    “And if I refuse?”
    “I’ll make you a promise, Finder. Accept this gift from me, and I’ll see that no harm befalls your family. I swear by the shades of my ancestors.”
    I pulled out the cork stopper and stared at the colorless liquid inside: Nemesis-in-a-bottle. I passed the vial beneath my nose and detected only a vaguely sweet, not unpleasant odor. Death by poison was not among the many ways I had imagined dying or had come close to dying over the years. Was this how I was to exit the world of the living—as a favor to a woman who wished me to spare her husband the embarrassment of killing me?
    A rap at the door gave me a start. The vial nearly jumped from my fingers. Cornelia gripped my hand and pressed my fingers around it. “Be careful!” she whispered, glaring at me. “Put it away.”
    I stoppered the vial and slipped it into the pouch sewn inside my tunic.
    It was Centurion Macro at the door. “The Great One is almost ready to depart. If you wish to bid him farewell—”
    “Of course.” Cornelia collected herself, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the cabin. The centurion ushered me out. Keeping my hand inside my tunic, I tightly clutched the alabaster vial.

CHAPTER IV

    Amidships, Pompey was descending the ramp toward a royal Egyptian skiff that had just arrived. Despite its small size, the craft was ornately decorated; images of crocodiles, cranes, and Nile river-horses were carved around the rim, plated with hammered silver and inlaid with pieces of lapis and turquoise for the eyes. The prow of the ship was carved in the shape of a standing ibis with wings outstretched. Besides the rowers, three soldiers stood in the boat. One of them was clearly an Egyptian of very high rank, to judge by the gold filigree that decorated his silver breastplate. The other two were outfitted not like Egyptians but like Roman centurions; presumably they were officers from the Roman force stationed to keep the peace in Egypt. While the Egyptian officer hung back, the two Romans stepped forward and saluted Pompey as he descended the ramp, addressing him in unison: “Great One!”
    Pompey smiled, clearly pleased to be properly addressed. To one of the men he gave a nod of recognition. “Septimius, isn’t it?”
    The man bowed his head. “Great One, I’m surprised you remember me.”
    “A good commander never forgets a man who once served under him, even though years may pass. How goes your service in Egypt?”
    “These are eventful times, Great One. I can’t complain of being bored.”
    “And you, Centurion? What’s your name?”
    “Salvius, Great One.”