"It does sound more attractive than these rough soldiers' camps," Roxana admitted, "or the crude palaces of Judea, with their throngs of ignorant, uneducated women of the great families."
"You would not believe the sort of petty intrigue that prevails there should we tell you of it," said Glaphyra.
"I think we can imagine it," Izates assured her.
"We must consider what you have told us," Roxana said. "These are weighty matters, and not to be taken lightly. Will you be here for long?"
"We sail in a day or two, bearing General Norbanus's correspondence," Zeno said. "But now that the new sea-courier service is under way, the Roman establishment of Egypt and that of the peripatetic General Norbanus will keep in close touch. It may well be that we shall have occasion to call upon you ladies again, soon should that be your pleasure."
"Be sure to inform us upon your arrival," Glaphyra said.
"It may be that we shall have much to speak of." She gestured toward the table full of astrological paraphernalia. "We have not begun to disclose to you our deepest knowledge."
That night the two Greeks lounged in the fine tent Norbanus had put at their disposal.
"Well, our first roll of the bones came up Venus, as the Romans would say," Zeno commented.
"Thus far, we have succeeded beyond our expectations," Izates agreed, sipping at his wine. It was very fine wine, and he found that he was growing accustomed to fine things. This was unworthy of a philosopher, he knew. He also knew that he didn't care.
"We must be very careful with those two," Zeno said.
"It goes without saying."
"You noticed how they spoke in turn?"
Izates nodded. "It's meant to baffle people; confuse them and throw them off guard."
"That's what I thought. Even after a lapse in conversation, one would speak forthrightly while the other kept silence. Never once did both try to speak at once. I wonder how they arrange that. Some secret signal, do you think?"
"Twins share a bond that others lack. Perhaps no signal is needed, so sensitive is each to the other's thoughts and will. In some ways they are uncanny, but in most ways they are just common women. Better born, more learned than most, but ordinary, mortal women for all that."
"Ordinary?" Zeno said. "But how? I found them most extraordinary."
"No matter how high they started and how much higher they have risen, they have the same fears that haunt other women. Men, too, if truth were known. They fear loss of all they have. They fear old age and mortality."
"They fear being supplanted by other women," Zeno said, nodding. "And now we know what they want that Norbanus cannot give them: a secure future."
"And that is the weakness we will exploit," Izates said. "We have come a long way from our studies, my friend. We have gone from contemplation of the ideal and the ineffable to the manipulation of human beings for our own purposes."
"Then it behooves us to do this well. Power is more dangerous than wisdom."
In his own tent, Norbanus was contemplating his own future. The acquisition of Massilia was a great coup. It would cause outrage in the Senate, but so what? Every great Roman sought to increase his clientele. If he used his army to do it, he would not be the first. Others before him had placed tribes and nations in clientage to their families. He had merely done it better. Jonathan of Judea and the city of Massilia were now his. More would be his soon. Always assuming, of course, that he remained victorious.
Now he looked at the scroll before him. It held his future in a way that the predictions of the Judean women could not. Another boat had put in that day, this one from far west. It had sailed from Cartago Nova, and it carried a messenger: a taciturn man who had refused to speak to anyone but the general. The man had shown him a seal, and it had given Norbanus a little thrill that told him the gods had something exceptional in store for him. It was the seal of Princess Zarabel of Carthage.
Great Proconsul Norbanus, the message began. The time has come for us to make common cause, as we did while you were my guest in Carthage. Your countryman Scipio and his Egyptian queen are preparing to make the Middle Sea their own, while my foolish brother tries to emulate Alexander. With what I send you, you can make yourself master of the world. Make good use of this, and you and I can rule that world together.
This was bald enough, he thought, though why she thought he would need her, having destroyed Hamilcar, he could not guess. Desperation, he supposed. But what she had sent him was invaluable. It was nothing less than Hamilcar's campaign route and schedule and his order of battle, complete with numbers and units.