Cleomenes? He's a friend of Perdiccas, so I must walk softly there.”
“There is more,” I said. “A priest named Manetho has come from Memphis, and I think you should talk with him.” And so I told him all I knew.
W E LEFT FOR Alexandria by sea a month later, leaving a garrison at Pelousion. Ptolemy had more men coming, another phalanx and their baggage train that had started later, some thousand men. They would reinforce Pelousion when they arrived.
In the meantime, we and the men and their dependents who had first come to Pelousion would go on to Alexandria. As it was a new city, Ptolemy was offering each man land as part of his pay, a bonus for signing on with him. Each man should get a house lot of a size commensurate with his rank, thus settling the city. Alexander had done this, giving land in new cities to veterans who were retiring. Ptolemy gave it to men who were serving as well.
“They will serve all the better,” he said to me, “when it is their own homes they are defending.”
“And the women will bless your name through all eternity,” I said.
When I had seen Alexandria last it had been nothing but string and stakes. Now I could begin to see the shape of the city to come. Broad streets crossed at sharp right angles, some already clad in white sandstone pavers. The city curved around the natural harbor, the first quay already built, while another was under construction, heavy concrete piers sunk in the mud of the harbor but not yet topped. Out on the barrier island there was a watchtower, but the city walls were not yet built. I could see where they would go, pierced by great gates.
The neighborhoods were odd—each street laid out, treeless, with perhaps one house in ten rising from the dirt, bare walls freshly painted or plastered, with occasionally a struggling vine staked up. The other houses were no more than bare dirt with a stake in it painted with a number.
I saw the women walking in groups through the streets, their children puttering along, trying to find the right number, then stopping and pointing when they did, imagining the houses that would go there, counting the distance to the houses of friends. “Here will be your house and there will be mine.”
Sati would have liked it, I thought. She would have wanted a fountain and a peach tree. I had brought her peaches, once, and she had laughed and kissed me, the taste of peaches on her mouth.
One of the public markets had been built, and the stalls were crowded with traders up from Canopus and other towns, bringing vegetables and fish at exorbitant prices. Something would have to be done about that, I thought. Although there was something to be said for making yourself welcome with your spending money.
The temples were no more than roped-off cordons. Quays were more important just now than temples.
Of course much of the construction was not evident. The huge cisterns that should store fresh water and the sewers that underlay everything were not visible. The vast mountains created by dredging in the harbor were beneath the surface. All of those things could not be seen, yet when it was finished Alexander's city would be the most beautiful in the world.
The original plan had included a palace, and orders were left to build it, but very little had actually been done. The building was long and low, looking more like a stoa or a marketplace than a palace. I supposed another story could be put on eventually. Situated as it was at the base of the Lochias Peninsula, the far right end of the crescent of the harbor, the site could not have been more lovely. It caught the sea breezes, and from the portico looking left the entire city spread before one.
Ptolemy had an office in what looked like it should have been a market stall, three walls and a side open to the portico, and I wondered again what designer of marketplaces had been given the palace to build. But then there had not been architects of note here, after Dinocrates left with the
“There is more,” I said. “A priest named Manetho has come from Memphis, and I think you should talk with him.” And so I told him all I knew.
W E LEFT FOR Alexandria by sea a month later, leaving a garrison at Pelousion. Ptolemy had more men coming, another phalanx and their baggage train that had started later, some thousand men. They would reinforce Pelousion when they arrived.
In the meantime, we and the men and their dependents who had first come to Pelousion would go on to Alexandria. As it was a new city, Ptolemy was offering each man land as part of his pay, a bonus for signing on with him. Each man should get a house lot of a size commensurate with his rank, thus settling the city. Alexander had done this, giving land in new cities to veterans who were retiring. Ptolemy gave it to men who were serving as well.
“They will serve all the better,” he said to me, “when it is their own homes they are defending.”
“And the women will bless your name through all eternity,” I said.
When I had seen Alexandria last it had been nothing but string and stakes. Now I could begin to see the shape of the city to come. Broad streets crossed at sharp right angles, some already clad in white sandstone pavers. The city curved around the natural harbor, the first quay already built, while another was under construction, heavy concrete piers sunk in the mud of the harbor but not yet topped. Out on the barrier island there was a watchtower, but the city walls were not yet built. I could see where they would go, pierced by great gates.
The neighborhoods were odd—each street laid out, treeless, with perhaps one house in ten rising from the dirt, bare walls freshly painted or plastered, with occasionally a struggling vine staked up. The other houses were no more than bare dirt with a stake in it painted with a number.
I saw the women walking in groups through the streets, their children puttering along, trying to find the right number, then stopping and pointing when they did, imagining the houses that would go there, counting the distance to the houses of friends. “Here will be your house and there will be mine.”
Sati would have liked it, I thought. She would have wanted a fountain and a peach tree. I had brought her peaches, once, and she had laughed and kissed me, the taste of peaches on her mouth.
One of the public markets had been built, and the stalls were crowded with traders up from Canopus and other towns, bringing vegetables and fish at exorbitant prices. Something would have to be done about that, I thought. Although there was something to be said for making yourself welcome with your spending money.
The temples were no more than roped-off cordons. Quays were more important just now than temples.
Of course much of the construction was not evident. The huge cisterns that should store fresh water and the sewers that underlay everything were not visible. The vast mountains created by dredging in the harbor were beneath the surface. All of those things could not be seen, yet when it was finished Alexander's city would be the most beautiful in the world.
The original plan had included a palace, and orders were left to build it, but very little had actually been done. The building was long and low, looking more like a stoa or a marketplace than a palace. I supposed another story could be put on eventually. Situated as it was at the base of the Lochias Peninsula, the far right end of the crescent of the harbor, the site could not have been more lovely. It caught the sea breezes, and from the portico looking left the entire city spread before one.
Ptolemy had an office in what looked like it should have been a market stall, three walls and a side open to the portico, and I wondered again what designer of marketplaces had been given the palace to build. But then there had not been architects of note here, after Dinocrates left with the
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