She was dead.

He picked her inert form up and cradled her for a moment. His beautiful wife. Perhaps she would be all right. He put her down gently, her head bumping the floor slightly.

Otto Wurtz went into the bathroom and leaned on the basin. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment then put the plug in and ran the cold water tap until the basin was half full. He cupped both hands and splashed the cold water over his face. With his eyes closed the unexpected shock of the coldness made him gasp. He looked at himself in the mirror again, his fringe dripping. Then a thought struck him. This would finish his career. There would be no North Africa now. No promotion. All because she couldn't keep her knickers on. And what about him? Whoever he is. He's gotten away with it.

'Should I wait for him to return to her? If they are having an affair he won't be away for long. But I don't have the time. I'm leaving in a few days. I've got to get away from this apartment if I'm to survive this but what to do about her?

He stepped back a few paces and peered around the bathroom door. She was still laying there motionless. He returned to the basin splashed more water on his face, dried it with a towel, looked at himself in the mirror yet again and smiled.

"I'll make it look like she was murdered."

He went to the door and locked it and put the chain across . Next he went to the windows and peered out briefly before drawing the curtains. This made the room dark so he put a bedside light on. He emptied every drawer he could find, tipping the contents on the floor to make it look like an attempted burglary. He took one of the new stockings and lifting her head pulled it tight around her throat. So tight it should cause bruising.

Next he wiped the glass he had used with a cloth to eliminate his fingerprints. Then he picked up the telephone. The wire had been yanked out and he repaired it with a screwdriver. He set it down and picked up the receiver. After a moment there was a click and then a dial tone. He rang the police, gave the address, refused to give his name and told them that there had been a disturbance above his mothers flat.

"What is your mother's name please?"

"Frau Drescher."

He promptly hung up. They may try to trace the call but he doubted it very much. He quickly went round the apartment and took what he wanted. He found some cash amongst her underwear and left closing the door quietly after wiping the handles. He tiptoed silently past the next floor and once clear he hurried to the lobby. Once outside he took a deep breath. It was late afternoon now, the sky grey still from the rain that had just stopped. He got to the corner of the street when he heard the first of the police cars approaching. Three of them. They sped past him, painted black with the bells ringing. No one paid him any attention. He watched as the men in leather coats jumped out of the cars and rushed inside the apartment block. He would get his friends to give him an alibi for this afternoon. He hadn't actually told them he was going home to see his wife.

'I'll tell them I was with another woman,' he said to himself.

After a minute he saw the curtains of his wife's apartment open and faces peered out of the windows. Seven storeys straight down to the street. No escape there for the assailant. He had to have gone down the stairs. The Drescher woman would be taken in for questioning.

'Hopefully they'll be a bit rough with her.'

He hadn't thought about where he was going to go next. He decided to call on an old friend.

'Will I recognise that bastard of a Colonel again?' he asked himself.

Otto Wurtz continued watching the windows of the apartment for a few minutes more from the street corner. He could see shadows moving within the room. Then he turned away and headed off as the air raid sirens began sounding across the city.

PART TWO.

CHAPTER TWO.

ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT, 2 OCTOBER 48 B.C.

Small waves lapped at the Roman fleet as it lay at anchor half a mile offshore from the city. Apart from guards and a handful of officers patrolling, the decks appeared deserted. Marines and legionaries were in their bunks getting much needed rest or playing dice. A common source of entertainment for the many hours, days or weeks at sea. The slaves chained to their oars slept where they sat.

Admiral Menenius Agrippa was patrolling his ship. He stopped at the stern and watched as men, his men, clad in only loincloths tied ropes around their waists, put knives in their mouths and dived over the rail cleanly into the sea. He peered down and watched as they broke the surface of the water, took a deep breath and dived. Their job was to clear the hull and steering oars of barnacles and any other parasites clinging to them. Each man carried a small very tightly knitted mesh net and they would work feverishly to be the first to fill their own net. It was a personal competition amongst them.

Agrippa admired these men. The way they held their breath for minutes at a time. The way they showed no fear as to what could lurk beneath the waves. He had been a sailor all of his adult life. He had been overboard twice in his career, once in a storm and it was a miracle he'd survived both times and he'd never lost respect for the power of the sea.

He reached into his tunic and pulled out his small leather purse and reached in and extracted a fairly large coin. He gave it to the supervising officer.

"This to the winner."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir."

Pleased, he moved on, leaving the officer watching the lifelines for any signs of trouble. He stopped a short way away and bellowed at a sailor coiling ropes.

"These knots are not tied correctly. Do them again."

The sailor dropped what he was doing and rushed to the admiral.

"If I see sloppiness like this again you'll take your place at the oars with the slaves. Do I make myself clear."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

Agrippa watched until he was satisfied the knots had been re-tied correctly then continued on his round. At the Corvus he met General Marcus Marcellus and Centurion Falco. Agrippa nodded towards the shore.

"Everything seems quiet now."

"Yes," Marcellus replied, "The crowd that had gathered at the dock this morning has now gone."

"And probably just as well. They seemed to be quite angry."

"Angry at us sir, but why?" Falco asked.

"Who knows what Pompey has told them?"

"If he even landed here."

"He did Falco. he must have," the Admiral replied, "There is nowhere else he could have fled to, to get help."

"But will they help him?" from Marcellus.

"We'll know soon enough," Agrippa replied.

The men looked at the city for a few moments before Falco said.

"I didn't realise Alexandria was so big, is it as big as Rome?"

"Almost certainly. A population of at least one million. A mix of Greeks, Egyptians, Arabs and Jews."

"And one wonder," Marcellus added.

"Yes," Agrippa gazed at the lighthouse on the nearby island of Pharos. At a height of four hundred and fifty feet, it's fire could be seen for miles.

"It is truly remarkable what men can achieve."

They all turned as an Egyptian war galley passed on the port side. On its bow and sail a brightly painted Egyptian eye. The five banks of oars pulling her along in perfect unison. The sound of the drumbeat drifting across to the Romans. The ship was returning from a two week patrol of the Egyptian coastline. On her deck the Egyptian sailors and warriors stood and stared stonily across at the Romans. The last marine on deck grinned at them and then drew his thumb across his throat from ear to ear. Anger flushed through the Romans at the implied threat. Marcellus' hand went down to the handle of his sword. For a moment he was tempted to draw it and brandish it.

Agrippa grabbed the hand.

"Easy lad. Easy," he said to the much younger General.

"You saw that. Deliberate provocation," Marcellus replied taking his hand off his sword.

"I did. But don't give them the satisfaction of knowing they riled you."

The marine cocked his head and winked at Falco who just stared back, studying the face, memorising it. Hopefully one day soon their paths would cross again.

The galley got ahead of them and soon pulled away joining the other ships and boats in the sea lanes as they made for the harbour. Halfway it changed course and now the Roman officers saw the royal barge heading towards them.

"Now what do we have here?" Agrippa said watching the ship still some distance away.

"An ambassador possibly or an envoy, Ptolemy perhaps or Cleopatra," from Marcellus.

"Really," Falco said studying the barge, "The King and Queen of Egypt coming here. If I'd known that," he said laughing, "I would have worn my best armour."

"Me too," Marcellus replied.

"It won't be Cleopatra," Agrippa said.

"Oh?"

Both men turned to look at him.

"Why?"

Agrippa looked around to make sure no one of lesser rank was within earshot.

"The rumour is that she's fled the palace and is in a voluntary exile. That she and her brother have had a disagreement and she left."

"A disagreement about what?"

"One report states that recent crop failures have been blamed on her by her brothera.Did you know they were married by the way? Brother and sister are also husband and wife."

Marcellus raised his hand.

"I did."

"Well the reports our master received in Rome were that the advisors to her brothers were constantly scheming against her and the Alexandrians are now disgruntled with her. Do you remember Falco the legion of Aulus Gabinus sent here some ten years ago when our master helped Ptolemy Auletes regain his throne?"

"Yes of course," the thirty year veteran answered. Marcellus had only served seven years. At thirty three he was the youngest General serving and knew nothing of this story.

"The legionaries went native and married local girls."

"I remember something of it sir, Yes."

"Now," Agrippa said, more for Marcellus' benefit, "The governor of Syria, Bibulus, sent his two sons to find these men, but rather than give up their new lives the soldiers murdered them. Cleopatra had all those responsible arrested and sent to Bibulus. This is what angered the Alexandrians. She appears to have taken Rome's side in this matter. Which is why we believe she left. It is reported that she is currently trying to raise her own army. It is quite possible that Pompey has either gone over to her or is hoping to recruit the legionaries of ten years ago.

"So if this isn't her coming to us now in this barge then who could it be? This, what did you call him, Aletes?"

"Ptolemy Auletes. Cleopatra's father. No not him. He died three years ago."

"Then perhaps it's him, the son, Cleopatra's brother."

"Well whoever it is," Marcellus said, "I'd better let our master know."

Inside the senior officer's cabin a man was at his desk writing. He put his stylus down for a moment and rubbed tired eyes, then picked the pen up again to continue.

Gaius Julius Caesar, fifty two years old, supreme Roman military commander, the most powerful man on earth was making reports in his journal.

The civil war that has been raging now for almost two years has brought me and my legion to the shores of Egypt. Pompey runs from me and yet I hope, somehow, when he is captured to make a reconciliation with him.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come," Julius said.

The door opened and Marcellus entered.

"I am sorry to disturb you Caesar but a royal barge is approaching."

"Has there been any advanced message or messenger?"

"No sir nothing."

"Any indication as to who may be on board?"

"No sir."

"Very well."

Julius got up from the table and beckoned to two man servants who instantly rushed forward with his armour, cloak and weapons and began helping him into them.

"Assemble all generals and an honour guard."

"Yes sir."

By the time Julius was on deck the Egyptian royal barge, which was a third of the size of the Roman Quinquireme, had already launched its longboat. The generals stood and watched as it came nearer. Three ambassadors sat in full ceremonial dress, guards behind them.

The three were sweating by the time they'd climbed the ladder and faced the Romans, much to the amusement of the officers present.

"Welcome aboard gentlemen," Caesar said with friendliness.

The man in the middle of the three stepped forward.

"I am ambassador Pharnaces. I am the royal messenger for king Ptolemy XIII of Egypt. I have a message for our esteemed friend and guest Gaius Julius Caesar," Pharnaces said extending a be-ringed hand holding a small scroll.