Glaucus' Story

Chapter 46 - The Niles

Very early the next morning, Glaucus and Maxima stood on the docks of Lake Mareotis amidst the bustle of fishermen bringing in their produce from the Nile, whose westernmost branch was about twenty miles away. The docks were laden with dates, papyrus, precious woods and spices as well as wine from the vineyards of the Delta.

The boats that sailed the canals were small -- just barely large enough to sleep on -- for the two-day journey to Memphis. They set sail eastward across the lake just as the sun was rising over the bristly papyrus thickets and rushes that bordered the shore, with the prevailing winds in their favor. The early breeze swept across the water and filled their sail, and they headed straight toward Re. It was late afternoon before they reached the far side of the lake where the it met the Canopic branch of the Nile. The boatman dropped anchor among the sheltering reeds and huge, cup-shaped leaves of the bean plants and they slept peacefully, lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat and the chirping crickets in the thicket.

They set sail again early the next morning as the mists still rose from the marshes and were soon on the narrow Canopic Nile. Date palms and vineyards dotted the fields surrounding the water and the land was moist and green -- surprising for Egypt. The river reflected the greenish hue of the surrounding fields.

Maxima lay back and trailed her fingers in the water as she gazed at the mud-brick houses and hundreds of irrigation canals that flooded the fields. Apollinarius had told her all about this, of course, but it was so different seeing it in person. She felt a world away from him and from Ostia... and from her mother. She looked at the broad back of her brother as he sat just ahead of her in the boat, he too gazing out at the shore, and felt a great sense of peace. She was where she should be, there was no doubt in her mind. She had made no mistake in accompanying Glaucus. He was everything she hoped he would be... everything she dreamed her father to be.

Sending her gaze, Glaucus glance back at her and grinned. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"It truly is."

"I'm glad you 're sharing it with me."

She was amazed at how quickly the tears rushed to her eyes and she dropped her gaze. "Thank you, brother."

"Watch your fingers."

"Why?"

"Crocodiles."

She leaped up in panic, rocking the small boat alarmingly. "Where? Where?" Her closed fists knotted the stola at her breast.

Glaucus laughed and pointed to a spot near the shore. "Look in the reeds. The long, brown shapes."

"A hippopotamus is worse," added the boatman. "They lie completely submerged with only their eyes showing, then they rear up and tip boats over. Please sit down m'Lady. Don't make it worse than it is."

Maxima regained her seat and clutched both sides of the boat, then deciding that her fingers were still too close to the water she pulled them away and folded them on her lap. She leaned forward and hissed at her brother. "Can you swim?"

"Yes. Can you?"

"Not well. Watch for hippopotamus!"

Glaucus laughed again and patted her knee with great affection. Already he couldn't imagine his life without this remarkable young woman.

That evening they dropped anchor again near the shore but visions of hippos and crocodiles prevented Maxima from restful sleep. Her brother's soft snores told her that he had no such problem.

They rose with the sun again and hoisted the sails. A few hours later their boat drifted around a long bend in the river and the Nile suddenly widened as all of its seven branches knit into one.

Maxima was puzzled. "Glaucus, haven't we gone too far? I think we missed the Pelusic branch that will take us further east."

"Yes, I know."

"You know? But we'll just have to go back."

"Yes, but the boatman assured me that it would be worth it." Glaucus grinned. "Keep your eyes to the right."

Soon the endless green of the Delta fields narrowed to a ribbon of green on both sides of the river. Just beyond that, as if someone had drawn a line, the desert began -- flat and golden. Suddenly three pointed tips appeared above the horizon, glistening in the morning sun. Maxima gasped and stood again, the hippos forgotten. The pyramids slowly expanded in size as they sailed closer, growing skyward until they seemed to disappear into the fathomless blue. She couldn't peel her eyes away as the boat docked and Glaucus rented two donkeys to take them the three miles or so to the monuments. Maxima could barely contain her excitement and she nudged her unresponsive donkey then slapped its rump. This animal was not hurrying for anyone.

Under the burning heat of the sun they slowly made their way through the golden sand to the three sharp-edged piles of exactly the same color. Maxima drew her stola over her head for protection from the rays and Glaucus wiped his brow. There was no shade anywhere and both of them knew that this was only a taste of the next part of their journey.

When they finally stood at the base of one and looked up it seemed as big as a mountain -- solid, formidable and impenetrable. The polished stone gleamed reflecting the sun like an amber mirror. There was no break in the stone, no ornament -- just flat, solid rock.

Suddenly Maxima's head began to spin and she shaded her eyes to search for a cooler place. But the sun was directly overhead and the massive monuments cast no shadow. Feeling that she was about to faint, Maxima looked for her brother. She could only see swimming, indistinct shapes shimmering in the heat. "Glaucus--" she started as her knees buckled.

He caught her just before she fell and swiftly shaded her with a parasol which he had gone to purchase from a nearby vendor. He tilted a jar of water to her lips and she gulped the warm water greedily. When she'd had enough, he poured the rest over her face and throat. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he muttered. "The heat is too much." He fanned her face and throat with his hand and the color started to return to her cheeks. After a while he hoisted her atop the donkey again and headed for the meager shade under the chin of the great Sphinx. There, they spread a blanket in the shade between the lion's paws, under its chin. Maxima lay with her eyes closed and Glaucus studied her with concern. "This is a place of death," observed. "Nothing could live here."

"Yes, it is a place of death," said Maxima as her eyes flew open and she proceeded to relate the story of the pyramids in great detail..

Glaucus smiled and knew that she would be just fine. When the sun started to sink casting long, pointed shadows on the sand, they headed back for the boat for the short journey back to the branch of the Nile that would take them further east into the terrible Egyptian desert.

Chapter 47 - Desert

Outfitted like Bedouins, with barely an inch of skin showing, Glaucus and Maxima sat perched atop camels with enough supplies secured to their saddles to last the long, arduous journey to Petra. They would replenish fresh water at desert cisterns along the way. At first wary of the lanky, foul-natured beasts, Maxima had gamely climbed on then gasped and grasped the saddle as her ungainly camel lurched to its feet. She nicknamed the animal 'Brutus¹ the very first day and bumped along happily in her perch. She took to the camel with far more ease than Glaucus who cursed his smelly, ponderous mount with the bone-jarring gate, and talked incessantly about how much he missed Ultor.

Their taciturn guide was Nabataean -- the Arab peoples who had settled Petra as their capital city and claimed the desert lands around it. The Natabteans grew rich and powerful by controlling trade between the Roman empire and the east before being conquered and marginalized by the Romans under Trajan in 106. Their land was reduced to a small province and trade was diverted, instead, to Petra's rival city to the north, Palmyra.

The four-week journey would take them southeast along the old caravan route through desolate country of rock and desert, from watering hole to watering hole, until they reached the red sandstone mountains that created a north-south barrier pierced by a valley that accommodated the city of Petra.

The excitement of the first few days soon gave way to tedium as the landscape became monotonous -- the crest of each dune revealing only more of the same as far as the eye could see. Within a week tedium yielded to outright boredom. Maxima¹s happy chatter about the history of the trading route and the wondrous goods silks and spices it had brought to Rome dwindled to an occasional comment about the landscape or sparse wildlife

Glaucus tried a few times to engage their guide in conversation but learned nothing beyond the man's name -- Hamoudi. He seemed completely disinterested in further communication and simply shrugged in answer to Glaucus' questions. Discouraged, Glaucus fell into line behind Maxima, who trailed Hamoudi, and listened to the howling winds and the swish-plop, swish-plop of the camels' plate-sized feet through the sand that drifted across the trail in waves. Even Maxima was silent by the end of the second week a shrouded figure wrapped from head to toe in linen in an attempt to keep the blowing red sand out of her eyes, nose, ears and mouth. It was a fruitless battle. Every breath sucked in fine grains of sand, every mouthful of food was gritty. No amount of spitting or swallowing could relieve the discomfort of constantly grinding and choking on sand. Grains were so fine they seeped through the weave and clung to the sweat on their bodies causing constant chaffing and itching. Within two weeks their skin was parched and lips were cracked from the dry, heated winds. Glaucus constantly had to remind his sister to drink water to avoid dangerous dehydration. It was sadly comical to watch her tip the flask to her lips without exposing an inch of skin before she slumped wordlessly back into a soft, formless lump again. Glaucus didn't need to ask how she was feeling -- her posture spoke volumes.

Glaucus had a permanent headache from constantly squinting to keep the sand and sun out of his eyes and the exposed skin of his face was lacerated by wind-whipped grains that stung like thousands of tiny bees. His neck ached from continuously twisting his head to check behind him for intruders, keeping one hand on his concealed sword in case robbers descended from behind boulders that lined the road.

They camped near the shelter of rocks under wood-frame and black goat skin tents, and blazing stars. The problem at night wasn't heat... it was cold. When the sun dropped so did the temperatures and each traveler shivered in their small tent under layers of blankets, knees drawn to chest, as daytime sweat turned to nighttime chilled dampness. There was plenty of time to think during the long frigid nights when the only sounds were howling winds and flapping skins. It was a lonely time too and Glaucus longed to hear his sister's good-natured chatter. She was in the tent right beside his but she may as well have been on the other side of the world. He missed the easy companionship that had developed aboard the ship and had continued throughout their visit to Alexandria.

They rose early each morning, dug through the drifted sand that inevitably half-buried their shelters and traveled as much as possible in the chilly early hours before the sun heated the air and sand like a furnace. During the first three weeks they passed only four other caravans of camels and ox carts travelling in the opposite direction but few words had been exchanged and even those had been in a language that Glaucus did not understand.

Near the end of the fourth week a worried Glaucus approached Maxima when they stopped for water at a cistern. When she peered out of her wrappings he was startled to see the purple hollows under her dull eyes. She looked positively retched. "Are are you alright?" was all he could think to say. She stared back with a listlessness that was alarming and wordlessly accepted the water. Thoroughly frightened by her unresponsiveness, Glaucus grabbed her arms and was shocked to feel how thin they had become.

He marched up to the guide. "How much longer until Petra?" he demanded. The man simply shrugged and started to turn away, raising the cup of water to his lips. Glaucus grabbed his arm, causing some of the precious liquid to slosh down his arm. "No. That's not good enough. I have put my trust in you completely but now we are weary, hungry and filthy and I want answers. I am worried about the health of my sister. How much longer?"

The small man with the brown, weathered face spit on the sand then said, "Over the hill," as he turned on his heel leaving Glaucus to wonder which hill. Reluctantly he helped Maxima mount her camel again then climbed on his cursing vilely under his breath. He was beginning to feel very uneasy about this journey. He should have made sure Marcianus was in Petra for sure before he started. He should have insisted that Maxima wait for him in Alexandra or even sent her back to Ostia aboard her mother's ship. He should have hired a more forthcoming guide. He should have--

The guide threw up his hand and drew the small convoy to a halt. "Petra," he pointed.

Glaucus peered into the distance. He could see nothing but the rocky hills, pink cliffs and golden-red sand under a blazing blue sky. "Where?" he asked.

The guide muttered some unintelligible words then said, "There." He pointed again at a distant red ridge.

Once again Glaucus scoured the hills for any sign of civilization. There was nothing. No people. No buildings.

Encouraged by the guide¹s words Maxima raised her head and pulled the linen away from her face. She scanned the skyline with hopeful eyes then dropped her head and pulled her hood over her face again.

"Maxima, I'm sure we¹ll be there soon." Glaucus hoped he sounded more encouraging than he felt. She offered no response.

As they continued on the sandy trail he kept his eyes on that distant ridge fully expecting familiar forms of columns and rooftops to emerge in front of the rock walls. But, as they drew closer to the sandstone mountain range it became evident that there was no city there at allŠ no valley. His hand tightened on his sword as he regarded the back of the guide's neck. What was going on here? Was this a trapŠ an ambush? Was Hamoudi working for the praetorians? For the emperor?

Much to Glaucus' surprise the guide stopped in the shadow of a red sandstone cliff and dismounted. "From here we walk," he said. "We need to guide the camels through the wadi." At Glaucus' blank look he explained "Wadi are rocky watercourses... wet in rainy season... dry now. Fastest way to Siq."

"What is 'Siq?'" rasped Maxima, the first words she had uttered in days. Glaucus breathed a huge sigh of relief. Despite her parched throat she was still alert.

"Passage into Petra. Must approach city from the east, not west."

Glaucus pretended to check the security of his packs and he muttered to his sister. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"Is there a reason why he wouldn't be?" she croaked.

"I don't know," said Glaucus as he handed her a flask of water. " I am beginning to get a bad feeling about this." He watched his sister's slender throat contract as the water slid down.

"Hot," she said and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I long for cool water. I realize now how much I took the amenities of the villa for granted. I never knew that people lived under such harsh conditions as this." Then she frowned and considered what he had said. "Why are you feeling uneasy? We just aren't there yet, that's all."

"You're right... it's probably nothing. I'm just tired." He gently touched her cheek with his rough fingertips. "Sorry if I worried you." He shielded his eyes and peered at the beginning of the steep, rocky trail that twisted and disappeared behind a rock. "Why don't you ride. It looks very uneven with loose, sharp rocks and you could turn your ankle easily. I'll lead Brutus and tie my camel to the back of his saddle."

Maxima hesitated and regarded the trail thoughtfully. Then she nodded and sighed as she stared at the saddle which had been her seat for the past four weeks. "I'm so stiff, sore, dirty and thirsty now that a few more days won't make any difference."

Glaucus held Brutus' saddle while she mounted but he needn't have bothered. The camel's eyelids drooped, his huge brown eyes obscured by long, thick lashes. If anything, the young Spaniard realized he'd have trouble getting the stubborn animal moving again. As he pulled on the bridle he said encouragingly to his sister, "It'll be cooler in the mountains and not as sandy." The animal honked loudly in protest and Hamoudi ambled over. Wordlessly he took the reins and pulled the camel to his feet. Then, after casting a derisive look at Glaucus, he took the lead of his own camel and headed up the narrow trail. Glaucus followed with Maxima's camel, his hand on the hilt of his father's sword, his eyes scanning the cliffs that towered over the trail.

The longed for heat relief didn't develop and after an hour of climbing Glaucus was soaked with sweat. The narrow passageway was edged by high jagged cliffs that choked off all air and baked the travelers. He stopped and leaned against an uneven wall of sandstone, wiping his face with his sleeve. Then he stood on one foot after the other and emptied the sharp pebbles from his sandals, seriously considering donning the boots which were in his pack. He rubbed chaffed and broken skin unused to such abuse.

Hamoudi continued on without stopping.

"You bastard!" Glaucus screamed at him, his voice echoing off the rocks. "You wait for us. We hired you, don't forget!" There was no answer. Glaucus hastily tied his sandal again and lunged up the trail. Just around a corner Hamoudi stood waiting for them.

The guide raised a brown hand to deter Glaucus' tirade. "We arrive before nightfall. You sleep in Petra tonight."

His chest heaving with exertion and anger Glaucus gave him a black look. He didn't like this little man -- didn't trust him at all. But, he had no idea where he was or where Petra was and knew, for now, he must follow the Nabataean guide. He took a swig of water then nodded for Hamoudi to proceed. But Brutus had other ideas and as the rope lead tightened unexpectedly Glaucus skidded on the loose rocks and slid to his knees sliding down the rocky slope a few strides. He yelped as the gritty sandstone scraped his skin right through the linen. His mood even more foul than before, he rose and yanked hard on the rope but the stubborn camel refused to budge. Suddenly, on a ridge high above the head of the camel, Glaucus detected movement. He unsheathed his sword and crouched ready to spring at an opponent who might drop from above. Nothing happened. He yanked his linen hood down to get a better view of the cliffs then turned in a slow circle, every muscle tense.

"Glaucus, what is it? What's wrong?" asked an alarmed Maxima.

"There's someone on the cliffs," he said in a whisper.

Maxima peered upwards from her seat on the camel. "I don't see anyone. Are you sure? It may have been a bird, or something."

Glaucus knew that it had been no bird but nodded and reluctantly sheathed the sword. He snarled at the camel who, sensing his mood, commenced his plodding up the trail. This trail was a deathtrap. They were imprisoned between tall rock walls, almost defenseless to an attack from the cliffs.

Maxima clung to the lurching camel as Glaucus charged up the rocky trail fueled by a fear-driven energy. When he caught up to Hamoudi he roughly pushed the nimble guide. "If anything happens to my sister I'll run you through with my blade."

Hamoudi was indignant. "You pay me to get you there safely and I do that." He pointed to a massive sandstone wall now visible above the cliffs. "Over there is Siq."

"Get us there fast," Glaucus demanded as he scanned the cliffs again for any sign of movement. Only the searing sun assaulted his upturned face.

It still took a good hour before they stood before a magnificent massive, jagged wall of red sandstone streaked with veins of pink and purple. "Where? Where is this valley? Where is Petra?" demanded Glaucus with a hint of desperation.

"There." Hamoudi pointed again, this time to a soaring crack in the lofty wall -- a black, twisted fissure that daylight barely penetrated.

"You don't seriously think I'm following you in there, do you? For all I know, this could be an ambush. There's no city! What were you planning to do? Rob us then leave us here to die?"

Maxima stared at her brother in alarm the roundness of her eyes exaggerated by purple shadows.

Hamoudi threw back his head in disdain. "If I wanted to rob and kill you I could have done so many weeks ago. What have I gained in bringing you so far? This is Siq. This takes us into Petra."

"Glaucus!" screamed Maxima. "Up there! Up there! You're right -- there is someone on the cliffs!" Whirling, Glaucus pulled Maxima down into his arms then shoved her under the camel where she sprawled in the sandy pebbles, then he drew the sword with lightening speed ready to fend off any foe. He saw them too. Two men, one on each side of the fissure.

Hamoudi sighed and rolled his eyes. "Guards. They are guards."

"That's exactly what I figured," snarled Glaucus. "Praetorians."

The guide regarded him in astonishment then burst out laughing. "Praetorian? No praetorian here." He wiped his streaming eyes. "Guards of Petra. Nabataean guards."

Glaucus wasn't entirely convinced. He squinted at the cliff tops until a noise from within the fissure caused him to whirl and crouch, the lethal point of his blade aimed at the aperture. The indistinguishable noise increased in volume and Glaucus' muscles tightened. But instead of black-clad, armed praetorians... an old donkey carrying a heavy burden of sacks and a brown-skinned little boy emerged from the darkness. The naked youngster grinned at them, totally disregarding the sword and the tense man brandishing it... and called out a cheerful greeting which Hamoudi answered in kind.

Feeling foolish, Glaucus slowly straightened and sheathed his sword. A second donkey followed the first one also carrying a boy, slightly older than the other. Glaucus pulled his sister to her feet.

Grinning, Hamoudi beckoned for them to follow him. Glaucus took his sister's hand in one of his and the camel's rope in the other, humiliatingly convinced now that his trepidation had been unfounded. They were quickly plunged into darkness as the narrow gorge swallowed the late evening sunshine. As his eyes adjusted, Glaucus noticed the first signs of civilization that he had seen in weeks. "Water pipes," he told Maxima in amazement and directed her gaze to the large pipes running along the wall high over their heads.

"A bath. I would kill for a bath," moaned Maxima as her eyes slid further upwards to the tiny crack of daylight high above.

"Higher than any building in empire," said Hamoudi proudly. "Taller than five temples.

Maxima shuddered, sure that the massive stone walls were slowly sliding together preparing to crush them like bugs. She wasn't entirely wrong. The fissure was growing narrower -- only wide enough now for two animals to pass side-by-side. She closed her eyes and pictured the wide-open spaces and undulating grasses of the villa in Ostia, and breathed a bit easier. The coolness helped too. The rocks around them had never seen sunlight and radiated a chill that was refreshing.

Suddenly Glaucus halted. "Oh," he breathed. "By the gods, would you look at that?"

Maxima opened her eyes and gasped. Through the opening at the end of the fissure she beheld an incredible temple of red-gold sandstone -- carved right into the wall of the cliff behind it and glowing like fire in the dying rays of the setting sun.

"Petra," said Hamoudi proudly. "I accept your apology and your payment."

Chapter 48 - Petra

"Glaucus," Maxima whispered from the doorway of the small, dark room. "Are you awake?"

Glaucus opened his eyes but saw nothing but blackness. "Uh huh, I'm awake. Can't you sleep either?"

"I... I've never seen anything so dark as this inn. At the villa at night -- even with my eyes closed -- it was never this dark."

"I believe we're deep inside a cave. The front of the inn was constructed of sandstone blocks but we're a long way back inside. Probably no natural light has ever penetrated this space. Where's your torch? Do you want me to light a torch?"

"No... it's alright. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Well, follow my voice and come sit beside me," said Glaucus as he swung his legs over the side of his cot.

Maxima used her hands to guide her to his side. "How do we know when it's morning?"

"The innkeeper will come with a torch. Mind your head," Glaucus cautioned. His bed was pressed against an uneven stone wall which radiated refreshing coolness but no dampness. Colorful woven rugs warmed the stone floor. A wooden table and two chairs were the only furniture other than his bed. It was simple but clean.

"Do you think there are bats in here?" asked Maxima as she shuddered.

Glaucus grasped her hand and smiled into the darkness. "No. They wouldn't be in a place with so many people. There are probably still hundreds of unused caves in the cliffs for the bats to live." He turned his face in the direction of his sister. "Do you feel better now?

"Well, I still have grit in my mouth and my skin is still dry, but I feel wonderfully clean. I think I washed three buckets of sand out of my hair alone." She was quiet for a moment then added, "Glaucus, this is the strangest place I have ever seen. Apollinarius told me about Petra once but I never imagined anything like this. It's amazing.

"Yes... and secure too. I am surprised that even a Roman army could defeat the Nabataeans and claim this place. I can understand why Marcianus would come here -- if he did."

"When will we know?"

"Hamoudi said that he would spread the word and that Marcianus would contact us... if he is here... and if he wants to."

"I couldn't bear the thought of having to cross that desert again without finding him."

"No, me neither. But, let's be optimistic. In the meantime Hamoudi has agreed to stay with us and act as a guide and translator if we need one."

"How did you ever persuade him to do that?"

"He was convinced after I apologized and groveled enough. I also offered him a substantial sum of money."

"Money talks."

"It certainly does... in any language."

There was silence for a long while.

"Glaucus?" Maxima whispered again.

"Hmmm?" murmured the young man who was starting to doze off, his shoulder propped against the wall.

"Thank you for bringing me."

"It is my honor, sister. My honor."

The next morning Glaucus and Maxima toured the city with Hamoudi who was proud to show off the astonishing accomplishments of his people to this Roman man and woman. The city of Petra twisted along a pass in the Shara mountains of red sandstone ranges veined with shades of rose, purple and pale yellow. The rock was beautiful enough but what the Nabataeans had done with the sandstone was truly breathtaking. The fronts of immense, Corinthian columned buildings had been carved right into the soft stone all along the valley with the rooms of the buildings formed from caves that kept the temperature inside consistent and comfortable regardless of the weather outside. Strategically located and almost impenetrable, Petra -- a city of 30,000 people at it's peak -- had prospered as the head of a modest empire. Now under Roman rule, it had declined considerably in size and strength but its beauty was undaunted. Peoples of all colors roamed its streets, trading and living in peace. Peoples of all colors -- and many religions -- as persecuted sects fled to this remote city searching for safety and peace. Glaucus saw evidence everywhere that Christians lived and worshiped here and were buried in the hundreds of tombs dug into the mountain walls. Tiny fish -- the symbol of the Christian -- decorated the soft sandstone in many walls and doorways. The followers of Christ peacefully shared space with the Nabataeans and their head god Dushara. A Christian god of love with a Nabataean god of blood.

Maxima and Glaucus strolled along the curving, graveled main street and marveled as Hamoudi pointed out the lush gardens that trailed up the cliff side and tumbled over walled courtyards irrigated by a sophisticated system which brought water from natural freshwater springs in the mountains. There was plenty of vegetation everywhere and Hamoudi explained that the hills around Petra were used for agriculture and grazing and that the people were experts at conserving what little rain they did get. Spear-leafed oleanders and tamarisk clung to the cliff sides, stubbornly displaying their greenery despite being dusted in a layer of fine red sand.

The great market consisted of nothing more than casual stalls covered with colorful striped awnings that flapped in the breeze, but what it lacked in Roman grandeur it made up for in it's exotic flavor. Maxima could barely contain herself as she flitted from stall to stall sampling precious exotic scents of frankincense and pungent myrrh, fingering eastern silks of chartreuse and fuchsia, and admiring local jewelry made from silver and turquoise. But what was most impressive was the fine Nabataean pottery painted with delicate floral patterns. Somehow, despite the weight and fragility, Glaucus knew they'd be leaving Petra with packs full of pottery.

While Maxima enjoyed the market under the watchful eye of Hamoudi who acted as translator, Glaucus strolled to the edge of the watercourse that ran the length of the main street, about ten feet below. Carved benches near the edge supported elderly Petrans who shared town gossip, their heads bent close together. Steps carved into the sandstone ran down to that lower level and handsome, carved bridges spanned the gully to reach important buildings on the far side such as the old royal palace and one of the monumental temples that dominated this part of the city. These lay on high, wide terraces and were approached by spectacular flights of stairs carved into the stone. Steps ran everywhere up the sides of the cliffs to dizzying heights before twisting and disappearing behind stone outcroppings. Glaucus could only imagine what the view of the city would be like from up there.

The Greek influence in Petra was obvious in the columned temples with their porticoes and pediments and elaborately molded plasterwork but it maintained a personality completely of its own that Roman domination had failed to suppress. The Nabataean still worshiped their god Dushara and their goddess al Uzza in the temples that had not been claimed by Romans for administrative needs. Other than the surreptitious fishes, though, Glaucus had seen no outward sign of Christian inhabitants -- not that he was sure what to look for anyway. The Nabataeans were obvious with their slight builds and brown skin, but what did Christians look like? Had he ever even seen one?

Glaucus glanced back at the markets and found Maxima wrapped in a length of exquisitely embroidered blue-green silk that perfectly matched her eyes and smiled fondly. What a shame, he thought, that Maximus had never known about his beautiful daughter. How he would have loved her. His smile broadened to a grin as he watched her haggle good-naturedly with the old woman vendor over the price of the silk then feign great reluctance as she handed over the pittance that it cost, and he silently thanked the gods for allowing them to find each other. She bundled her purchase under her arm and spied her brother by the watercourse wall. She positively glowed as she approached him.

Maxima swept her arm wide, spinning out the delicate fabric that floated momentarily on the warm breeze before it settled gently around her shoulders. "Do you see this?" she demanded with a laugh. "Do you see? I have never purchased anything in my life. It was wonderful!" She twirled like a small girl then clasped her brother's arm. "But shopping is so tiring in this heat. May we rest awhile?"

Glaucus looked at Hamoudi with a questioning brow. Without a word, the Nabataean led them to a far corner of the market where they could sit in the shade of the cliffs, surrounded by sweet-smelling blooms, and sip mint tea and nibble sesame cakes.

Maxima was still bubbling. "Glaucus, even in my wildest dreams I could never have imagined a place like this. Never. It is even more magnificent that Alexandria in its own way. Everyone here seems so... peaceful and content. Nobody rushes. Nobody seems distressed. It is so unlike Rome, or even Ostia."

"It's probably a very good thing for Petra," agreed Glaucus, "that Romans have mostly lost interest in the city. I suppose they see no great financial gain here anymore so have mostly forgotten it." He turned to Hamoudi. "Where are the governors of this city?"

Hamoudi pointed to the end of the main street and massive doors that enclosed a piazza and a stunning temple within. "There, in the old Nabataean administrative buildings. Don't see them much. They don't mingle. Peaceful here. No reason to come out."

Glaucus wondered whether black-clad Praetorians patrolled the piazza behind those doors then mentally shook himself. He was far, far away from Rome and danger.

Maxima fingered her lips, pleased to find them softened and moist again after a few treatments with a lanolin cream supplied by a Petra apothecary. That morning she had luxuriated in a warm bath filled with oiled and scented water. She stretched and unsuccessfully stifled a yawn then glanced at her brother who sat relaxed but alert, his eyes darting from one face to another as locals went about their business. She reached across the table and touched his hand. "Glaucus, you must be patient. He'll contact us when he is ready."

His green eyes shifted to her face then back to the crowd. "I know, but it took me months to find your mother in Rome and I just can't wait that long--"

A shadow fell across the table and a man bowed to Glaucus before politely asking, "You seek Marcianus?"

Glaucus leaped to his feet, his heart pounding. "Yes. Yes. Is he here?"

The man smiled, friendly but guarded. "You have identification papers, I assume?"

"Yes, I have papers."

"May I see them, please?"

Immediately Glaucus became cautious. He could not afford to lose his identification papers. He evaluated the man before him. In his thirties, hair the colour of soft brown sand, gray eyes, slim, wearing a simple white toga with no trim, sandals on his feet. Unarmed, he didn't appear to present a threat but Glaucus had learned never to trust appearances. His eyes never left the man as he reached into his pack and dug for his identification papers. Slowly he straightened, unfolded them carefully, and held them out.

The man smiled and said, "You may hold onto them if you wish. I simply need to read them." He pursed his lips as he scanned the words then his eyebrows slowly raised in amazement. Clearly he recognized the name. He stepped back and appraised Glaucus from head to foot as if forming a mental picture that he would present to whomever had sent him. Then he bowed again very briefly and said, "I will contact you later... at the inn beside the Treasury, I assume?"

Glaucus nodded.

The man bowed again and disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter 49 - The Top of the Mountain

Glaucus puffed as he leaned against a rock wall about half-way up the mountain. Maxima soon rounded the sharp corner behind him and, pleased to see that he had stopped, dropped to the path, panting in the thin air.

Between gasps she asked again, "Why up here, Glaucus? Why does he want to meet us up here?"

Her brother merely shrugged, not wanting to waste his breath on an answer that he had already given more than once. He had no idea why a mysterious meeting had been arranged high at the top of the mountain on the east side of Petra and he hoped, once again, that he wasn't leading his sister into a trap. He had begged her to stay in the city but she had flatly refused and he knew better than to waste his time arguing with her.

They had started early that morning while the breezes were still fresh.

After assembling beside the massive carved lion-fountain which vomited fresh water from a mountain wadi into the main waterway of the city, they climbed the steep, narrow steps that had been carved beside the twisting wadi to the top of the mountain -- and the shrine to the Nabataean god, Dushara. The first hour of climbing had been strenuous but pleasant as oleander and dusty tulips overhung the steps but they were past the point where Petrans cared about vegetation and the breezes now whipped up whirlwinds of fine, red dust that clung to their clothing and hair.

The nimble Hamoudi seemed impatient to continue and he made it quite clear that he stopped only out of pity for his citified Roman clients. Glaucus didn't care what the Nabataean thought as he tipped his head and chugged water from his flask. Maxima did the same then she unthinkingly wiped her lips on her tunic (in a very unladylike manner) and immediately spit out sand in disgust. She stifled a groan as her brother pulled her to her feet and they trudged for another half-hour in silence except for their heavy breathing. The uneven steps made hiking tricky and a stumble down the steep stairs would mean a crash-landing into a sharp rock wall -- or over the edge of a cliff -- so brother and sister absorbed their misery by concentrating on every foothold.

Feeling that her watery legs were about to give way, Maxima begged her brother to stop one more time before they reached the top but he refused to rest long, anxious to meet whomever was waiting at the summit of the mountain -- at the 'High Place'. Never naïve, though, he ensured that the hilt of his sword was free of the folds of his tunic, ready to be snatched and brandished.

They both forgot their screaming legs when they finally reached the summit which was announced by a pair of huge roughly-carved obelisks that had been created by digging away the rock around them. The humans were dwarfed by the imposing monoliths and Glaucus hurried past, glad to put their shadows behind him. Beyond lay a flat-topped building with high openings to allow for ventilation but no apparent front door. He stopped and stared at it. Was this where they were to meet? But, Hamoudi hurried past and Glaucus and Maxima followed close behind. They climbed even higher until they finally reached a windswept promontory. On all sides the jutting rock platform offered staggering views of the circlet of harsh mountains that encircled Petra -- a green slash that snaked its way through the red rock. The massive oval of the three-thousand seat Roman theater dominated one end of the valley surrounded by tombs carved into the rock on the mountain face. In the distance, the houses of Petra looked like free-standing blocks clustered together under stepped roofs with green terraces. Sunlight drenched the façade of the massive Great Temple, miniscule from this height. Glaucus found he could peer into the Roman compound behind the forbidding doors and noticed the sun glint off the helmets of tiny, black-clad insect-like men.

Praetorians.

Hearing Maxima gasp, he twirled in alarm to find himself pointing his sword toward a monumental stone platform. He slowly straightened, dropped his arm and sheathed his sword. In the middle of the raised platform was a tall column of black stone.

"Dushara," said Hamoudi simply as he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

This was the mysterious deity, Dushara? God of the Nabataeans? Glaucus walked slowly around the platform trailed by Maxima who whispered, "Why would they worship this thing?"

Glaucus shrugged but said, "I suppose it makes sense. Their lives are dominated by these mountains and they would surely believe that their god was up here. This rock merely symbolizes his existence." He stopped suddenly and Maxima bumped into his back. "Well...," he said. "It's an altar."

Maxima peered around him. "How do you--?" She stifled her own words when she saw the blood stains that had dripped down the side of the rock and the sticky red fluid that pooled at its base. "Wha... what do you think they sacrifice?"

"Goats, I suppose," he said, keeping his voice calm and even. "I'm sure it would be goats." He grabbed Maxima's arm and pulled her against him. "Walk beside me. Right beside me." He kept a tight grasp on her elbow as he looked around. They seemed to be alone. He slowly walked around the altar and stopped short. On the stone bench in front of him sat an old man with flowing white hair and beard surrounded by four younger men.

The wind was the only sound as the glowering men made it clear by their expressions that Glaucus was to come no closer.

The old man spoke. "What do you want?" His voice was strong and steady despite his heavily-lined face.

"Are you Marcianus... the surgeon?"

"What if I am?"

"I have come a long way to find you."

"Why?" The old man squinted into the sun which was just above Glaucus' head.

"You may have information that I need."

"That you need. And who are you that you need information from me?"

"I showed my papers to that man --," Glaucus nodded at the man on the left side of the bench whose face was unreadable but not unfriendly. "Ask him."

"What is your name?" demanded the old man.

"Maximus Decimus Glaucus. Son of Maximus Decimus Meridius. General of--"

"That is a lie!" The old man sprang to his feet with surprising nimbleness and the younger men moved to form a protective semi-circle around him.

"No sir. No lie. I am as I say."

"Prove it!"

"I have shown my papers to--," Glaucus started.

"Bah," he spit contemptuously. "Papers can be forged."

Maxima nudged her brother's arm and he glanced at her in question. She then poked the sword at his hip and he slowly unbuckled the scabbard and held it

out in both hands. "Do you recognize this, sir?"

The sandy-haired man that Glaucus had already met stepped forward to retrieve it. With a thoughtful frown he placed it in the hands of the old man who sank back to the bench studying the sword with his fingers and his eyes. Suddenly he shuddered and moaned. As hands reached to steady him he turned watery eyes to Glaucus. "Maximus," he whispered. "This is Maximus' sword. The last time I saw it, it was in the hands of his servant on the night Maximus was murdered."

"I... I am his son, sir." He looked at his sister. "And this is his daughter."

"How can this be? How can this be?" rasped Marcianus. "His son died when he did. His family was killed."

"They didn't get all of us, sir, and he didn't die when and where you think he did."

Marcianus shook his head in bewilderment and for the first time the men around him relaxed. "My sons,"explained Marcianus as they stepped forward one by one to offer their hands in friendship. Then he rose on shaking legs and approached Glaucus grasping his hand before pulling him into a hug. "I must hear what you have to say," he whispered into the Spaniard's ear.

"Please sit down."

Chapter 50 - Marcianus

"How do you come to have it?" Marcianus asked as he studied the precious sword that lay flat in his purple-veined hands.

"Quite by accident, sir. I went to Germania shortly after my twentieth birthday searching for information about my father and I found old Jonivus. Do you remember him?"

"I do. I do indeed. He was the legion's chief engineer. I'm glad to hear that he's still alive."

"Yes. He had it. He took it after Cicero -- my father's servant -- failed to return from a trip to Rome a few months after my father was supposed to have died. Knowing what I do now, I think it is entirely possible that they found each other there."

"Your father was in Rome?" The old man's brow puckered like a prune. "I don't understand."

Glaucus ran his hands down the side of his tunic to calm himself down. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm jumping too far ahead in my story. Let me start again with my trip to Germania." Maxima perched at the end of the stone bench, her back against her brother's shoulder and faced the wind as she listened to Glaucus tell Marcianus what had happened to Maximus after he had escaped his executioners in Germania. The old man listened with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving Glaucus' face as he devoured the information, occasionally shaking his head in disbelief but remaining silent. His sons sat at his feet, also attentive to Glaucus' story but equally attracted to the lovely young woman whose black hair playfully lifted and drifted about her shoulders.

When Glaucus was finished, Marcianus stared across the distant mountain peaks, his eyes glazed, lost in his own thoughts. When he finally spoke, he addressed no one in particular. "I thought he died that terrible night in Germania. I should have known better. I should have known. So... Commodus did indeed kill him but months after I thought he did and under totally different circumstances."

"Commodus -- or one of his men -- delivered the fatal blow but you can be sure it was on Commodus' orders. Probably only Quintus knows for sure how it happened."

Marcianus spat on the ground narrowly missing his oldest son's feet. The brothers stared in amazement at their father's uncharacteristic vitriol. "Quintus, that traitor. What happened to Quintus?"

"Well, he was awarded the position of praetorian commander for arranging my father's execution, as you know. After that... I don't know, sir. I am trying to find out."

"How did you find me here, Maximus?" asked Marcianus with a worried frown. "I thought that no one would ever find me here -- that my sons and their families would be safe here -- free from persecution."

"Please, sir... I go by the name Glaucus, and I assure you that very few people know I am here and they are totally trustworthy. I am sure that I have not brought danger to you or your family. That is the last thing I want to do."

Marcianus nodded. "As you can see, my boy, I am a very old man -- much older than your father was. I had hoped to live my few remaining years in peace in a place that tolerates an individual's right to worship their own god."

"Yes, sir, I understand that."

Marcianus' lips twitched and he cocked his head. "Do you know anything about my beliefs... Glaucus?"

"Um... a little. You believe in only one god. A god who is loving and kind. You believe that a man named Jesus, who lived north of here a few hundred years ago, was the son of that god and he was called Christ. That is why you are called Christian."

Maxima rolled her eyes slightly to indicate that his answer was barely adequate.

Marcianus laughed and his sons smiled. "Well, that's basically it. If I had remained with the legion I may have wound up dying in the same arena where your father met his end... and my sons and their wives and children too."

"Is that why you fled?"

"When I believed that your father was dead, Glaucus, I had no reason to remain with the legion. He is the only reason I stayed as long as I did. He was a good, tolerant man, your father. My beliefs made no difference to him and he treated me as his equal. But he was very unusual that way, I assure you." He sighed deeply. "But now I wonder if I should have stayed. I thought I was doing the best thing for Maximus by fleeing that night, but maybe I could have helped him."

Slightly puzzled, Glaucus replied, "No one knew where he went. Thousands of soldiers searched for him for days with no luck. He simply vanished... or so they thought. You couldn't have done anything different from that."

"What did you mean when you said that you thought that leaving was the best thing you could do for my father?" asked Maxima, weary of her long silence and not willing to let that comment slide by. She ignored her brother's nudge of admonition.

Marcianus smiled at her with the indulgence of a man who appreciates the honesty of the young. "When I left I took many of Maximus' belongings with me... his letters and documents --"

"Do you still have them?" interrupted Glaucus as he half-stood, unsettling his sister. "That is what I hoped to find. Do you have his correspondence with my mother?"

"Yes, indeed I do. And all marvelously preserved, too, in this dry climate."

Glaucus' stomach clenched in excitement as he forced himself to sit again. He glanced at his sister who simply stared at Marcianus in round-eyed amazement. "May I see them, sir? I have come all this way..."

"Glaucus, they belong to you... and your sister. You may have them all."

The young Spaniard abruptly rose to his feet and brushed off his tunic. Maxima did likewise. "Maybe we should head back down," he suggested impatiently.

Chuckling, Marcianus and his sons also rose and they watched Glaucus hurry off towards Hamoudi who had remained at the altar. Maxima took a few steps after him then stopped, confused, when she realized that the old man and his sons were not about to follow. "Glaucus!" she called out and he re-appeared around the altar.

Marcianus grinned, showing a full set of teeth as white as his hair. "So, your guide took you the short cut, did he?"

"Sir?" asked Glaucus.

Marcianus beckoned with his hand then turned in the opposite direction and followed his oldest son. "This way, Glaucus." Maxima was already by Marcianus' side and he tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow as he smiled affectionately into her blue eyes. "This is a much less arduous path. It's longer but less steep so it actually won't take as long."

Glaucus found that he had to scurry to keep up with the spry old man and his sons as they descended the mountain steps at a steady pace, accustomed as they had become to their mountain hideaway in the desert.

Peering into the city below, at one point, Glaucus realized that their path ended very close to the doors of the piazza and the governor's palace. He caught up to Marcianus' sandy-haired son, Gordianus. "Who is governor here?" he asked as they walked abreast on the widened path.

"A man named Petronius. We rarely see him, though." Gordianus waved his hand dismissively. "I don't believe he's fond of Petra so he stays inside the walls with his mistresses and sulks."

"I assume there are praetorians?"

"Of course. They put in an occasional appearance just to remind the Nabataeans who is in charge here. There is really very little for them to do so they mostly drink in Nabataean taverns and gamble at the chariot races. I wouldn't be too concerned about them. This isn't Rome."

But Glaucus knew better than to relax in their presence. The praetorian network invaded every bit of Roman territory, no matter how insignificant, and their communication system was swift and effective. He could only hope that Plautianus still believed him to be in Rome.