“My litter could scarcely make any headway. The jostling and pushing meant that the litter rode as roughly as if we had been at sea—and indeed, that was where we were, attempting to tack through a heaving sea of people. “This is fun!” said Ptolemy, peering out the side. His voice was weak; with the return of the cold weather, his cough and debility had come back. I wished I had not yielded to Caesar and stayed on so long. Now we were trapped until spring. I longed for the wide streets of Alexand...ria, where the thoroughfares were never choked like this. We had started out to visit the quarters of the silver-and goldsmiths, because Ptolemy wished to watch them at work. He had a decided artistic bent, especially for design. The arrangements had been made days in advance; they were expecting us at their workshops, and here we were, stuck en route. What was causing this? I glared out of the litter, as if I could shrivel up the culprit with my gaze. All I saw was the vast throng of heads and shoulders; then I caught sight of an outsized statue lurching along in an open wagon, secured by ropes.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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