164 B.C.

Popilius snapped his fingers, beckoning for his staff which was swiftly handed to him by one of the slaves. Grasping the smooth piece of olive wood in his hands, Popilius strolled over to the King, met his eyes in a firm gaze of steel, and then plunged the end of his staff into the sand. He then proceeded to draw a circle around the appalled and perplexed King. Antiochus’ lips moved but no words escaped. His throat felt like closing up and sweat began to bead upon his forehead. He turned with the Senator as the old man continued to move slowly around him. When the circle was complete, the Roman stepped out, tossing the staff back to his slave. Popilius calmly faced the king: “Before you step out of the circle give me a reply to lay before the Senate.” The King’s body stiffened as his eyes fell to the circle that surrounded him. For a split second, Popilius thought he saw resistance, and he braced himself for explosive anger to spew from the Seleucid King. But the King merely looked up and gave a nod. “I will do what the Senate thinks right.” Popilius returned the nod and stepped forward, finally grasping the king’s wrist. He whispered to Antiochus, “I am Legate Gaius Popilius Laenas, and I will take word back to Rome that you have withdrawn your army from these lands and returned to your kingdom. Good day to you, your majesty.” Antiochus watched the representative of Rome and his party turn and make their way back to the longboat. Antiochus swore under his breath and stared at the distant shape of the one hundred and thirty-eight metre tall lighthouse which stood on Pharos Island in the harbour of Alexandria. He would not march there, at least for now. The Ptolemies would survive for the time being. Antiochus had been beaten by a shrivelled old man with the power of the growing Republic. He understood this better than most, because he had lived in Rome as a hostage for more than a decade as a young man. It had all started with the shameful defeat at Magnesia during the rule of his father, Antiochus III, and the backlash of the treaty of Apamea that had sealed the deal. Antiochus III had lost the bitter war with Rome, and the heavy iron hand of the Republic was destined to sting. To the aging Seleucid king, it was as if Rome would steal his world. The Republic’s list of penalty was a dagger in the back. Great swathes of Seleucid land had to be renounced, war elephants turned over, the fleet disbanded and given to greedy Roman hands, and thousands of talents in silver and gold to fill Rome’s coffers. However, the greatest cut had been for Antiochus III to pick twenty hostages and hand them over to the Republic to ensure that full accountability and cooperation would continue and that all monies would be paid on time. One of those hostages the king had been forced to give up was his own son, the future Antiochus IV. Antiochus IV had been treated well. He had been educated on Roman policies and diplomacy, and had been granted the privilege to observe and study Rome’s legionary war machine. Antiochus had been impressed by the incredible ingenuity of the Romans, but he had always kept hidden in his heart one truth, that he would have to defeat Rome one day if he wanted to hold onto his eventual emperorship. Now that he was king and possessed such astounding power, he knew he had failed. It seemed as if Magnesia was gawking at him from around the corner. Rome had intimidated him. He was no fool. Antiochus knew what the Republic was capable of, and he could not tangle with such a power, not now. Not till he was ready. But he knew that the day was near when he would be able to face them. Antiochus watched the legate climb awkwardly into the longboat. The Seleucid king cursed loudly and stormed back to his chariot. His plans had been thwarted in a humiliating manner. His mind racing, Antiochus made a vow that if he could not yet destroy the Ptolemies, he would strengthen his empire so that he could one day challenge the Roman legions. Antiochus had often spoken of this in the past, sounding more and more like Alexander of old. He knew that only by forging his kingdom into a nationalistic pan-Greek empire would he have the strength and unity to stand before legions and trample the Ptolemies. Antiochus’ plan for national unification was simple. He would convince his subjects to adopt the Greek lifestyle. If they would all worship the same gods, speak the same language, and honour the same pleasures, then his empire would see days that the Seleucid Kingdom had never known. Antiochus’ resolve hardened as he climbed back onto the chariot and growled to the driver. If any of his subjects would refuse such a strategy of becoming Hellenized, he would bring down the full force of his will upon their heads. He had been planning this for a long time. Now he was resolute. Whether his people liked it or not, he would enact his rigid and harsh policies. Woe to anyone who stood in his way.