With him was the far-famed invincible Tenth Legion that had ravished Gaul. Cæsar wanted to rest his men and, incidentally, to reward them. They took possession of the city without a blow.
Cleopatra’s troops laid down their arms, but Ptolemy’s refused. They were simply chased beyond the walls, and their punishment for the time being was deferred.
Cæsar took possession of the palace of the King, and his soldiers accommodated themselves in the houses, public buildings, and temples as best they could.
Cleopatra asked for a personal interview, in order to present her cause.
Cæsar declined to meet her—he understood the trouble—many such cases he had seen. Claimants for thrones were not new to him. Where two parties quarreled, both are right—or wrong—it really mattered little.
It is absurd to quarrel—still more foolish to fight.
Cæsar was a man of peace, and to keep the peace he would appoint one of his generals governor, and make Egypt a Roman colony.
In the meantime he would rest a week or two, with the kind permission of the Alexandrians, and write upon his “Commentaries”—no, he would not see either Cleopatra or Ptolemy—any desired information they would get through his trusted emissaries.
In the service of Cleopatra was a Sicilian slave who had been her personal servant since she was a little girl. This man’s name was Appolidorus. He was a man of giant stature and imposing mien. Ten years before his tongue had been torn out as a token that as he was to attend a queen he should tell no secrets.
Appolidorus had but one thought in life, and that was to defend his gracious queen. He slept at the door of Cleopatra’s tent, a naked sword at his side, held in his clenched and brawny hand.