"I believe the navy you refer to is the Egyptian navy, not the Roman. It is mine."
"And, Your Majesty," Flaccus said smoothly, "it is for that very reason that we speak with you today. Rome is at war with Carthage. Egypt is at war with Carthage. An alliance only makes sense."
"Why?" she asked. "Hamilcar attacked Alexandria. Hamilcar was defeated. He has gone back to Carthage. I do not see why I should undertake an expensive, destructive war out of pique."
"Majesty," Scipio said, trying to hold his temper, "it is not enough to drive an enemy away. To be safe, you must track him to his lair and destroy both the enemy and the lair. It is the only way."
"Say you so?" She studied him coolly. "I am most grateful for your contributions to the defense of Alexandria, yet I recall that there were Roman legions with Hamilcar's army. They were instrumental in defeating my brother's force in the first battle, and then they ravaged their way down the Nile doing great harm."
"Yes," Flaccus agreed, "but there was no Rome-Carthage alliance. The agreement was purely one of convenience, and terminated when we invaded Sicily."
"I see," she said without expression. "And what if it should suit your 'convenience' to turn against Egypt as well? How am I to know that you will treat me any less treacherously than you treated Hamilcar?"
"Treachery?" Scipio shouted, his face going crimson. "There was no treachery! Hamilcar insisted on regarding the legions as mercenaries, mere hirelings. That in itself was a deadly insult! Rome owed him no friendship, no loyalty."
"If, on the other hand," Flaccus added, "Your Majesty signs a treaty of alliance with Rome, your position will be absolutely unassailable. Your enemies become ours and you may call upon the legions of Rome at any threat. This is no small thing. Rome is most scrupulous about observing the particulars of treaties."
"Let me think about this," she said. "You will have my answer tomorrow. You have my leave to go now."
The men bowed and withdrew. They left the conference room and passed through a crowd of courtiers, their faces set in the impassive Roman mask. They crossed a wide courtyard and entered their own quarters, where Scipio threw his helmet across the room against the wall. It fell to the floor, flattened on one side and its precious plumes tattered.
"Damn the woman!" he shouted. "Two years of sweet talk and cooperation—I save her city, her kingdom, her throne and her life, and this is how she treats us! How am I to face the Senate if I can't get an Egyptian alliance after all this!"
"Calm yourself, Marcus," Flaccus said, pouring them both some wine. "She is just playing with us. She wants to remind us that she is a sovereign queen—"
"She's not a sovereign queen," Scipio reminded him. "She's a princess and her brother is the king. She rules through our actions and favor."
"Nonetheless, she does not want to be seen as our puppet. Her court and the city of Alexandria must perceive her as a divine ruler and descendant of Ptolemy the Great, not a client of the Roman Senate. They've deposed other rulers who showed themselves to be under the thumb of foreigners. Believe me, she knows that her only future lies in alliance with Rome. She just has to grant it, not beg for it."
"Graciously grant this to me, eh?" He thumped himself on his bronze-sheathed chest. "The man to whom she owes everything?"
"Rulers don't like to be reminded of their debts," Flaccus told him. "They'd rather be praised for their greatness." He paused. "You must face it, Marcus: You have no legions. You can't impose your will on a foreign ruler, like Norbanus."
"Norbanus!" Scipio said, exasperated. Friends in Rome had sent them word of his new march and the war plan. "The gods must love him. He will be immortal."
"He's just been lucky," Flaccus said. "He was born to an important family; he was chosen for the reconnaissance mission; he was on the spot when a commander was needed and it coincided with his father's consulship. Then he made his march just at a time when the territory he went through was disorganized and fought over by petty princelings."
"Luck like that is proof of the gods' favor."
"This is not like you, Marcus. You shouldn't allow a schoolboy rivalry to sour you. Your own accomplishments have been fabulous."
"I don't envy the reputation he's won!" He took a deep swallow from the golden cup, then set it on an ivory-inlaid table. "Not much, anyway. No, the man is a menace to the republic. He wants to make himself dictator, or king."
"Your enemies in the Senate say exactly the same of you," Flaccus pointed out.