Exhausted, they lay down some distance away to sleep; in that languorous air a fire was too warm. And at dawn, finding the pyre reduced to blackened debris, they used the metal bucket to cool it from the sea, then sifted through it for Pompey's ashes.
"I can't tell what's him and what's wood," said the slave.
"There's a difference," said Philip patiently. "Wood crumbles. Bones don't. Ask me if you're not sure."
They put what they found in the metal bucket.
"What do we do now?" asked the slave, a poor creature whose job was to wash and scrub.
"We walk to Alexandria," said Philip.
"Got no money," said the slave.
"I carry Gnaeus Pompeius's purse for him. We'll eat."
Philip picked up the bucket, took the slave by one limp hand, and walked off down the beach, away from stirring Pelusium.
FINIS