Thus with a glimpse, all too short, of the “Black Land,"[183] as its native denizens called it, the royal party reached the half-Hellenized town of Pelusium, where the army was in waiting and a most splendid camp was ready for Ptolemaeus and his train.  Cleopatra had not yet advanced.  The journey was over, and the novelty of the luxurious quarters provided in the frontier fortress soon died away.  Cornelia could only possess her soul in patience, and wonder how long it would be before a letter could reach Italy, and the answer return.  Where was Drusus?  Had aught befallen him in the great battle?  Did he think of her?  And so, hour by hour, she repeated her questions—­and waited.

  [183] “Black” because of the black fertile mud deposited by the
  inundation.

II

Cleopatra’s forces had not reached proportions sufficient for her to risk an engagement, when a little squadron appeared before Pelusium bearing no less a person than Pompeius himself, who sent ashore to demand, on the strength of former services to the late King Ptolemaeus Auletes, a safe asylum, and assistance to make fresh head against the Caesarians.  There was a hurried convening of the council of Pothinus—­a select company of eunuchs, amateur generals, intriguing rhetoricians.  The conference was long; access to its debates closely guarded.  The issue could not be evaded; on the decision depended the reestablishment of the Pompeians in a new and firm stronghold, or their abandonment to further wanderings over the ocean.  All Pelusium realized what was at stake, and the excitement ran high.

Cornelia beyond others was agitated by the report of the arrival of the Magnus.  Rumour had it that Lucius Lentulus was close behind him.  If the council of Pothinus voted to receive the fugitives, her own position would be unhappy indeed.  For a time at least she would fall into the power of her uncle and of Lucius Ahenobarbus.  She was fully determined, if it was decided to harbour the Pompeians, to try to escape from the luxurious semi-captivity in which she was restrained.  She could escape across the frontier to the camp of Cleopatra, where she knew a friendly welcome was in waiting.  Agias, ever resourceful, ever anxious to anticipate the slightest wish on the part of the Roman ladies, actually began to bethink himself of the ways and means for a flight.  When finally it was announced in the camp and city that Pompeius was to be received as a guest of the king, Cornelia was on the point of demanding of Agias immediate action toward escape.

“In a few days,” were her words, “my uncle will be here; and I am undone, if not you also.  There is not an hour to lose.”

But Agias reasoned otherwise.  If Pothinus and Achillas had really consented to receive the Magnus, flight was indeed necessary.  Agias, however, had grounds, he thought, for hesitancy.  He knew that Achillas, the head of the army, bitterly opposed the idea of letting Pompeius land; he knew, what was almost as much to the point, that Pratinas did not care to renew certain acquaintanceships contracted at Rome.  Therefore the young Hellene calmed Cornelia’s fears, and waited as best he might.