The Temple of the Muses(7)

Courts are never simple, but this was getting truly dismal. “So who supports Berenice?”

“Most of the court eunuchs favor Berenice,” Rufus said. “The satraps of the various nomes are divided, and some of them would like to see an end to the Ptolemies altogether. They’ve become like little kings on their estates, with private armies and so forth.”

“So we must pick somebody to back so that the Senate can vote on it, and then we’ll have a constitutional justification should we have to intervene on behalf of our chosen heir?” I said.

I sighed. “Why don’t we just annex this place? A sensible Roman governor would do it a world of good.”

That evening there was a magnificent banquet, at which the centerpiece was a whole roast hippopotamus. I put the same question to Creticus, and he set me straight on a few matters.

“Take over Egypt?” he said. “We could have done that any time in the last hundred years, but we haven’t and for good reason.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “When did we ever turn down a chance for a little loot and some more territory?”

“You aren’t thinking it through,” he said as a slave spooned some elephant-ear soup into a solid gold bowl supported by a crystal stand sculptured as a drunken Hercules. I dipped an ivory spoon into the mess and tried it. It would never replace chicken soup in my esteem.

“Egypt doesn’t represent just a little loot and territory,” Creticus explained patiently. “Egypt is the richest, most productive nation in the world. The Ptolemies are always impoverished only because they mismanage things so badly. They spend their wealth on frivolous luxury, or on projects that bring them prestige rather than prosperity or might.” The Flute-Player was already snoring gently at Creticus’s elbow, and so did not resent these comments.

“All the more reason for some good Roman reorganization,” I said.

“And just who would you trust with this task?” Creticus asked. “Let me point out that the general who conquers Egypt will become, instantly, the richest man in the world. Can you imagine the infighting among our military gentry should the Senate dangle such a prize before them?”

“I see.”

“There’s more. Egypt’s grain production surpasses that of all other nations by a factor so huge that it staggers the mind. The Nile obligingly delivers a new load of silt every year and the peasants work far more productively than our slaves. Two crops a year in most years, and sometimes three. In a time of famine for the rest of us, Egypt can feed our whole Empire, by stretching the rations a little.”

“So the Roman governor of Egypt could have a stranglehold on the Empire?”

“And be in a position to set himself up as an independent king, with the wealth to hire all the troops he needs. Would you like to see Pompey in a position of such power? Or Crassus?”

“I understand. So this is why it’s always been our policy to back one degenerate weakling after another for the crown of Egypt?”

“Exactly. And we always help them: with loans, with military aid, with advice. Not that they take advice very well. Caius Rabirius is working heroically to sort out Ptolemy’s financial problems, but it could be years before he makes much progress.” Rabirius was a famous Roman banker who had lent huge sums to Ptolemy, who in turn had named him minister of finance for Egypt.

“So who do we back this time?” I asked.

“It’ll have to be the infant,” he said, lowering his voice even further. “But no need to let that be known too soon.” He favored me with a conspiratorial grin. “The other parties will court us lavishly as long as they think they have a chance to win Roman favor.”

“The princesses are out of the question?” I said. I had yet to see these ladies. They were living at country estates at that season.

“The Senate has never favored the support of female rulers, and these are too surrounded by predatory relatives and courtiers. I suppose the brat will have to marry one of them, but that’s for the benefit of his Egyptian subjects. As far as the Senate is concerned, he can marry one of the sacred crocodiles.”

“That having been decided,” I said, “just how do we occupy ourselves here?”

“Like all the other Romans here,” he said. “We have a good time.”





2

FOR TWO MONTHS I LIVED THE WONDERFULLY idle existence of a Roman official visiting Egypt. I made the inevitable journey to all the most famous sites: I saw the pyramids and the nearby colossal head that is supposed to have an equally huge lion’s body beneath it. I saw the statue of Memnon that hails the rising sun with a musical note. I toured some very odd temples and met some very odd priests. Wherever I went, the royal officials went into transports of servility until I began to expect them to erect little shrines in my honor. Perhaps they did.