"I would hope so," I said. "Must've made the whole palace uninhabitable, otherwise." Another jab from Julia.

"The body," the priest went on, "was swathed in Si-donian linen of the finest quality and then, as you shall soon see, was completely encased in plates of gold exquisitely wrought so as to preserve and display the exact contours of both frame and features. This was encased in a coffin, also of gold, with the spaces between filled with rare spices. The lid of the coffin, likewise of gold, was also wrought in the exact likeness of the late king.

"A funeral carriage was prepared, of a splendor never seen before or since. It was cunningly crafted to endure the shocks of travel through Asia. Its superstructure combined the elegance of Greece with the barbaric magnificence of Persia. On a throne base covered with a Tyrian carpet of fabulous weave lay the sarcophagus of Pantalic marble, carved by a master sculptor with episodes of the king's heroic life. The sarcophagus was protected by a cover of gold, over which was spread a purple robe, heavily embroidered with gold thread. Atop this were placed the arms of the king.

"Housing the sarcophagus was a mortuary chamber ten cubits by fifteen cubits in the shape of an Ionic temple, its proportions identical to the temple in which we now stand. Its columns and roof were of gold, embellished with precious gems. At each corner of the roof stood a statue of the winged victory wrought of gold. Instead of cella walls, the temple-chamber was surrounded with a golden net, so that the king's subjects could see his sarcophagus as the funerary procession passed by. The netting bore painted tablets, taking the place of an Ionic frieze. The tablet on the front portrayed Alexander in his state-chariot, with his Macedonian bodyguard on one side and his Persian bodyguard on the other. The tablet on one side displayed war-elephants following the king and his personal entourage. That on the other, cavalry in battle formation. The rear tablet showed ships of war ready for battle. Golden lions stood at the entrance of the mortuary chamber."

I was beginning to wonder whether there was any gold left in Alexander's empire. But there was more to come.

"Over the roof was a huge golden crown in the form of a conqueror's wreath. As the great vehicle moved, the rays of the sun were dashed from it like the lightning of Zeus. The car had two axles and four wheels. The Persian-style wheels were shod with iron, their spokes and naves overlaid with gold, the axles terminating in golden lions' heads, with golden arrows in their mouths." This, I was sure, had to be the end of it. But such was not to be.

"The funeral car was drawn by sixty-four selected mules. The mules wore gilded crowns, and golden bells on each cheek, and collars of precious cloth adorned with gold and gems. The carriage was accompanied by a staff of engineers and roadmenders and was protected by a select body of soldiers. The preparations for Alexander's last journey required two years.

"From Babylon the king traveled through Mesopotamia, into Syria, down to Damascus and then to the Temple of Ammon in Libya, where the god might behold his divine son. From there the funerary carriage was to proceed to Aegae in Macedonia, there to rest among the tombs of the former Macedonian royalty, but in crossing Egypt the procession was met by the king's former companion, Ptolemy Soter, who persuaded the leader of the procession to allow him to perform the final rites instead, at Memphis."

"Hijacked the body, eh?" I said. "Good for him. You wouldn't catch me letting that much gold leave my kingdom, either." Jab.

"The king lay at Memphis for a number of years," the priest went on, ignoring me, "until this splendid mausoleum could be completed. Then, amid much rejoicing and solemn ceremony, the king, Alexander the Great, found his final resting place in the city named for him."

He let us contemplate all this splendor for a while, then signaled for us to follow him again. We entered a room where Alexander's robes and armor were displayed, then another which held the marble sarcophagus the priest had described, along with the outer coffin with its wonderfully carved golden lid. After a few minutes of contemplation, he led us into the final chamber.

This was a room of relatively modest dimensions, perfectly circular, with a domed ceiling. In its middle lay Alexander, sheathed in thin, perfectly molded gold, looking as if he might wake up at any moment. After the Macedonian custom, he was laid out on a bed, this one carved from alabaster. I leaned toward Julia and whispered in her ear:

"Short little bugger, wasn't he?"

Unfortunately, the chamber was one of the magical sort that magnifies sound. My whispered words boomed out as if shouted by a herald. The priest and the other tourists glared at us as we made our embarrassed way out, bestowing effusive thanks and proclaiming our appreciation.

"Have you been drinking early again?" Julia demanded.

"I swear I haven't!"

I thought she was going to attack me, but she couldn't keep it up, and by the time we fell into our litter we were both laughing helplessly.

"Must be a lot more fun in there than it looks like from out here," Hermes said.

"To the Heptastadion!" I said, and the bearers hoisted us to their shoulders and off we went.

"Have you learned anything?" I asked Julia as we drifted through the streets.

"It's difficult to get Alexandrian ladies to talk about anything except religion and clothes. Nobody talks about politics in a monarchy."

"Forget the Alexandrians," I advised. "Work on the wives or other womenfolk of the foreign ambassadors, specifically the ambassadors of those yet independent nations that fear being the next additions to Rome's empire."

She looked at me sharply. "What have you learned?"

"Very little," I admitted, "but I suspect that Iphicrates, despite his protestations, ran a profitable sideline in designing weapons for our enemies or those who expect to become our enemies soon. Parthia would be a good place to start. Now that the nearer East is subdued, King Phraates is the one who has Pompey and Crassus and, forgive me, your uncle barking at the gates like so many starving Molossian hounds. The last truly rich kingdom left independent."

"Except for Egypt," she said.

"Egypt isn't: well, Egypt is nominally independent, but that's a joke."

"Perhaps it isn't funny to the Egyptians. They're only poor because the recent generations of Ptolemies have been stupid. Once they were the mightiest nation in the world. The Pharaohs ruled in Egypt when the Greeks besieged Troy. What nation that has fallen from power doesn't dream of regaining it?"

"A good question. That would explain Achillas's interest in Iphicrates. But whatever the military gentry is up to, it's still stuck with the Ptolemies. Everyone except Egyptians considers brother-sister marriage an abomination. Such matings seem to work well enough with horses, but not with humans. It certainly hasn't improved the Ptolemaic line."

"Degenerate dynasties are easily toppled by strong men who have the army behind them," she said. Leave it to a Caesar to take the pragmatic view of power politics.

"But the Egyptians are awfully conservative. They prize their royalty even if they weren't Egyptian to begin with. An Alexandrian mob toppled the Ptolemy before this one just because he murdered his rather aged wife, one of the Berenices. What would they do to a usurper, who wasn't even a part of the family?"

"I'll look into his pedigree," she said practically. "I'll wager he has some sort of family connection. And the traditional way for a usurper to legitimize his power is to marry into royalty. There is a selection of princesses, you'll recall. Besides, he could ease his way into power by acting as regent for young Ptolemy."