Chapter Ten
have read accounts that I walked into Caesar’s room clad in nothing but a necklace. That I swayed my hips to sway him to my cause.
But it was far simpler than that—we each had something to gain from the other.
He wanted my coin, I wanted my crown.
The plinth made little noise as I slid it back into place behind me. Charmion had the foresight to keep the tiles by its base oiled in case I ever needed a means of escape in the night. Neither of us would have expected the opposite to happen—me breaking into my rooms.
I hope you are safe, dear friend. Worry was eating away at me, but I knew the best way to save Charmion was to persuade Caesar of my right to rule.
I made my way into the belly of the room. Rushlights glowed in clay pots, and I was careful to avoid their flickering light.
The sleeping chamber was silent, the bedsheets pulled taut with no one inside. Incense burned in a gold basin by the door, the smoke winding its tendrils around the bed. Though it was now late at night, Caesar had yet to retire. I had little choice but to wait once more.
The guard who had so carelessly consumed me with his eyes was only a few paces away from me. The door separated us, but I still felt the threat of his greedy hands shiver along my skin.
I needed somewhere to hide. The room was as I’d left it, with the wooden chest containing my garments lying against the back wall of the room. When I opened it, I discovered that my finest clothes had been replaced by Caesar’s sparse belongings.
His linens smelled of myrrh and fresh sweat—not entirely unpleasant. I crawled inside and closed the chest lid. Through gaps between the wooden slats, the flickering of firelight broke up the darkness.
Despite the tension of the day, I found my mind drifting across the chasm that separated wakefulness from sleep. A few times I managed to call my mind back from the brink, but the softness of the cloth that cradled my body and the exhaustion that ached in my bones lulled me quickly to sleep.
The sound that awoke me wasn’t loud. In fact, it was the faintness of it that alerted my sleeping senses.
Through a gap I watched as a shadow padded across the room.
His body was muscularly built, though shorter than I expected, with a toga made of fine wool draped down from one shoulder. His face was turned away from me.
I shifted in the chest to get a better vantage point. He turned at the sound and I froze. My hand went to the concealed blade at my throat.
Caesar inched closer, his own hand going to his waist where I knew a sword lay. I needed to act now.
I took my time opening the chest lid. I did not wish to startle him, as I valued the blood in my veins.
He inhaled sharply as I unfolded my body from the shadows of his belongings and presented myself before him.
“Julius Caesar, I have heard tales of your charity and have come to exercise the virtue.” I let a smile twist the corner of my mouth to make clear that this was a demand and not a request. A pharaoh does not beg.
I could see his face now. The jaw was softer than I’d imagined, the skin there dusted with the beginnings of new growth, the colour of which was a light grey.
His lips were thin, pressed together as he appraised me.
His sharp nose and proud brow were at odds with his subtle chin, but the composition was not unappealing.
A single lock of curling hair fell over eyes that were as dark as kohl.
His gaze dropped to my clavicle, where I held the gold chain of my necklace in a tight grip. “Cleopatra.” He did not call me Pharaoh, or Queen, but he spoke my name with equal reverence.
Despite the apprentice uniform, he had deduced who I was immediately. Caesar was an astute man. I always wondered how the senate went on to ambush him so easily. To be betrayed so thoroughly in his last moments must have sent his soul into the afterlife a tattered thing.
“Your disappearance has caused quite the commotion,” he continued.
I stepped over the lip of the chest as though descending from a throne. With my chin held aloft, I spoke with a serenity I did not feel. “ ‘Disappearance’ sounds so enigmatic. I’d prefer to call it a timely arrival.”
His lips quirked, pulling my gaze to them. “As you will.”
Caesar was a man of few words, and those he did utter were spoken with intention. I waited for him to say more, but he just watched me with those dark, fathomless eyes.
The silence wasn’t entirely unpleasant as we appraised each other. And though I could have basked beneath his gaze for much longer, I had a queendom to reclaim.
I tried to bring order to my thoughts, to voice my wants—not my wanting—but to my horror, my tongue lay lame in my mouth.
Though the struggle was not plain on my face, Caesar made his impatience known with the single word, “Yes?” Such brevity.
I needed something to loosen the cord of tension around my throat. I strode to the terrace that overlooked the gardens below. My intent was to savour not the view, but the palm wine I had hidden beneath the stool there. I reached for it, and for the two chalices that were for my and Charmion’s use.
Caesar followed me outside as I poured myself a cup. The golden liquid warmed my stomach and left my tongue tingling. “I am here to discuss my throne.” The words came easier now.
I poured Caesar some wine and he took a leisurely draught before replying, “Few people could look so regal in such bland clothing.”
I tried not to let the compliment affect me, but my chin lifted a little higher. “You agree, I am Queen?”
He let out a light laugh and I found I liked the sound of it. “It is not I who deny your royalty.”
“No, but neither do you dissuade my brother from his folly.”
He cocked his head. “You think it folly? I think it cunning. He is young to be so ambitious.”
“It is not him writing the words of his story. Pothinus holds the pen.”
“His regent? The eunuch?”
“Yes. I was blind to his machinations until it was too late.”
“I see there is more to the story than what I have heard from your brother. Pothinus has trained him well.”
I thought of the sweet boy I had grown up with, and how the brief glimpse of Theos earlier had been someone entirely different. I had been foolish as well as naive.
“They spread false truths about the gods, claiming I have brought the famine to the land.”
“All of your gods are false truths.” He spoke matter-of-factly, with no hint of an insult. “I paid no heed to his stories of gods and powers. What I did find interesting was his insistence that the people of Egypt no longer see you as worthy of the crown.”
I could feel my blood begin to simmer. “What is worthiness to a Ptolemy? You speak of false gods, but I stand before you.” I tugged the robe from around my waist, releasing my bare shoulder. I tipped my head so my hair swung aside, baring the mark of Isis on the back of my neck.
Caesar stepped closer, until I could feel his breath warm my skin. Despite my anger, I felt myself shiver beneath his scrutiny. “I do not deny your family’s gifts are impressive. But I lay fealty to Jupiter; his blessing is enough for me.”
My skin heated still more, in a wave that ran the length of my body. Between my rage and Caesar’s proximity, it was hard to distinguish the cause. “Impressive? We are the very essence of Egypt. No one can tell me I am not worthy. For Egypt is me.”
Caesar stepped away from me. “Then why is it that your brother sits on the throne, and you are here, hiding in my rooms?”
I hissed through my teeth. “Even gods make mistakes.”
He smiled at that, and his face transformed. Before, I would not have called him a comely man. But as the hollows of his cheeks rounded with the grin, the years that separated us fell away. “It is true. Once, my lord Jupiter sought to destroy all men. Yet here I am.”
I watched him over the rim of my cup before taking a deep drink of the palm wine, which filled me with confidence. “You were a friend to my father. A loyal ally of Egypt. I ask you to stand by his will and reinstate me as Pharaoh.”
“Your father intended for both you and your brother to reign.”
“He did, but it is clear Theos has been turned against me. My father would not deny me in this matter.”
“Your father was a great friend to me. I was sad to hear of his passing.”
“What we have lost, the realm beyond has gained,” I said.
“During his visits to Rome, he spoke of you often.”
“He did?” I tried not to show how desperately I longed to hear my father’s words.
“He did.”
“I pray you, tell me some of what he said.”
“That you were astute and scrupulous. That you would rule Egypt like a mother asp.”
Snakes were sacred things to us. Fierce protectors of their young, they were revered as powerful mothers. I treasured the compliment.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“For what?”
“My father’s words are a welcome gift.”
He reached across me to pour himself more wine, and I smelled the myrrh on his clothing. “Then you are in my debt?”
“You suggest a gift incurs a debt? Your wife must be very poor,” I remarked.
Another laugh. I longed to hear more.
“Not a debt, then, but a moment of your time—since I have been told you are astute and scrupulous—to consider a proposition.”
I dipped my head in acquiescence.
Caesar looked down to the gardens below, where the moon lined the trees in silver light.
A whole day had passed since my escape from the royal barge.
But I was not weary. Talking with Caesar invigorated me in a way I would never come to experience again.
He was thoughtful and assertive, an exhilarating combination.
Despite what you’ve been told, it wasn’t love that blossomed so readily between us that night, but friendship. And perhaps a little lust too.
He turned to face me once more. “Allow me to facilitate a reconciliation between you and your brother. In honour of your father.”