"How did he do that?" said a secretary. "It was awfully impressive."

"I propose to find out," I said. People were pointing fingers at us from all over the plaza. We were not yet into a street.

"I haven't heard any anti-Roman slogans yet," said the secretary. These men were used to hearing such slogans in various parts of the world.

"That's because none of us speaks Egyptian," I told him. "The acolytes are spreading a highly colored version of Baal-Ahriman's words."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this, Decius," Rufus groused.

"All it takes is intelligence," I told him. "That's something best left to me. Can't these bearers go any faster?"

We weren't under attack yet, but the jeers and pelting were getting more ominous.

"I suppose they can," Rufus said. He began to rummage among the cushions. "Let's see, there ought to be a whip in here someplace. Aha!" He came up with a long, snakelike lash of braided rhinoceros hide. He leaned out over the railing of our platform and brought his arm down in a mighty swing. "Get a move on, you scum!" Not the most adroit of whipmen, he managed to backlash himself, drawing a stripe from his left buttock to his right shoulder. He fell back howling and the rest of us laughed until tears ran down our faces.

"This is rare sport," said the secretary, "but this crowd is getting meaner."

By this time we were in a street and were almost past the Great Serapeum. The people ahead of us had not yet been told of the divine word, but they were ignorantly blocking our progress.

"That's it," someone said. "Time to lighten ship. You slaves get off."

"Not on your buggering life!" Hermes said stoutly, "That mob's ready to eat anything with a Roman haircut."

"Insolent little bastard," the same someone said. "He needs discipline, Metellus."

"And you need sobering up," I told him. I picked up the whip and climbed over the railing and went down the steps until I stood just above the carrying-poles, I sent the whip whistling through the air and made it pop thunderously. I had taken whip lessons from a charioteer of the Red faction in my youth.

"We are already going as fast as we can, master!" protested the pacesetter.

"Then get ready to run," I said. I slashed the whip over the heads of the crowd in front of us.

"Make way!" I bellowed. "Make way for the majesty of Rome, you silly foreigners!" I popped the whip like a madman and the crowd melted away before us magically. I have no idea where they went. Into doorways and windows, possibly. When their blood was not up, there was nothing more instantly responsive to authority than the Alexandrians.

The bearers began to trot, then to run as I continued to flail the air as if bringing down a harpy with every blow. The Romans in the litter clapped and cheered me on. Soon I was wishing we had another litter to race against, for I think we made it back to the Palace in record time. After the first quarter-mile there was no crowd to speak of, since nearly everyone in the city had gone to the Rakhotis, but this was so much fun it seemed pointless to slow down.

When we were safe within the Palace precincts, the litter almost tipped over as all the right-hand bearers collapsed at once, coughing and vomiting. Somehow disaster was averted, though, and we dismounted safely.

"I didn't know you were so handy with a whip," Hermes said uneasily.

"Keep it in mind," I advised him. The rest of the Roman party congratulated me and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Just don't forget the five hundred denarii," I told them. Then I went to seek out Creticus.

Chapter IX

The leaders of the Roman community in Alexandria gathered in the assembly hall of the embassy to address their complaints and concerns to Creticus and the other officers of the Roman legation. There were quite a few of them, merchants for the most part, It was customary for upper-class Romans to despise merchants, but these were a force to be reckoned with. The wealthy grain traders were among the most influential men in our Empire. The moneylenders were similarly powerful, although if anything even less loved. There were many other merchants as well. Exporters of papyrus and books were numerous, as Egypt was virtually the only source of papyrus and the Library was the greatest book-producing organization in the world. There were dealers in ivory and feathers, in exotic animals and slaves. There was even a man whose sole business was the export of high-quality sand for the Circuses and amphitheaters of the Roman world.

"Ambassador," said the spokesman for the group-a big-nosed, bald-headed individual named, as I recall, Fundanius-"the situation here quickly grows intolerable. We Romans are publicly insulted as we seek to carry out our business in the streets of Alexandria. We are pelted with offal, and our wives are assailed with the vilest of language. Are you going to wait for open violence against us before you take action?"

"What action would you have me take?" Creticus demanded. "I am an ambassador, not a proconsul. I have no imperium and therefore no legions. I cannot whistle up a military force because you are getting nervous. May I remind you that Egypt is an independent nation, a friend and ally of Rome? I will carry your message to his Majesty, but that is all I am empowered to do. I will send a letter to the Senate describing the situation here."

"What cares this mongrel king for our welfare?" Fundanius said, sneering. "And what good will a letter to the Senate do? If you sent it today, it would not reach Rome before we were all massacred in our beds."

"A massacre of Roman citizens would probably stir the Senate to action, if that is any comfort to you," I said helpfully.

"This is an outrage!" Fundanius shouted. "We are treated with disrespect by the Egyptian rabble. Roman citizens!"

"Sir," said Creticus, "you are a moneylender, and men of your trade are universally hated. You should be grateful that you've escaped crucifixion all these years."

"You can speak thus!" Fundanius said scornfully. "You patricians can huddle safely here in the Palace, gorging yourselves, while we who do the real work of the Empire are exposed to every peril!"

"For your information," Creticus said, "the gens Caecilia is plebeian. I admit there is little pleasure in sharing the same class designation with moneylenders and tax-farmers."

A book exporter stood. He was a tall man of dignified appearance.

"Gentlemen, this is unseemly. We need not refight the brawls of the Gracchi when we are in danger from without. In any case, this is not a conflict between Egypt and Rome, but rather the doing of a malignant religious fraud from Asia Minor. Honored Ambassador, can the king do nothing about this man? With his supposed divine revelations he has whipped up the ignorant multitude against us, and it is no more to the advantage of the Ptolemaic house than it is to Rome."

"Well, at least one of you can talk sense," Creticus grumbled. "Just now our situation is delicate. King Ptolemy would like to take action, but he worries that rioting here could spread to the nomes and bring about full-scale civil war. For years Lucullus and Pompey had their legions in Asia, within easy striking distance of Egypt. For all those years the Egyptians had to tread softly. Now such Roman forces as remain under arms are preparing for trouble in Gaul. It could be a long time before we are in a position to intervene in Egyptian affairs."

These were sobering words, and the men in the hall were Roman enough to understand their import. Whether in business, government or the legions, Romans were accustomed to thinking in terms of the world rather than just a tiny corner of it as most people did.

"What about Antonius in Macedonia?" someone asked.