Chapter Two #2
I reached towards the armrests of the throne and clutched the gold lions that adorned their surface.
I looked up and my father’s face stared back at me.
Small tiles of marble and coloured glass inlaid carefully into the back of the chair made up his features.
Depictions of four women surrounded his image, each identified by their crowns.
My mother, his second wife, was among them, wearing a religious cowl fashioned in black stone. In her arms she held a young baby whose eyes were made from carnelian studs. My fingers caressed the warm orange stones before I lowered myself onto my father’s throne.
To my left was another, equally decorated chair that was occupied by my brother. It had once belonged to my father’s first wife, Cleopatra V, Berenice’s mother.
Six Cleopatras had come before me. Aunts, mothers, even sister-wives. So many of your historians have trailed their fingers through the tributaries of my ancestors’ river, parting the water for any sign of my name—Κλεοπ?τρα. Somewhere along the way, Cleopatra VI was lost in the currents.
Let me tell you of her now.
The babe with carnelians for eyes was yet another sister that no longer lived. Though her body had been born in this life, her spirit had been summoned by Osiris, and she did not take her first breath.
And so there had been yet another destined to lead Egypt before me. Was there any wonder I was reluctant to rule? The shadows of my siblings’ souls stretched from the field of reeds to darken my thoughts.
I leaned back in the throne and felt the carnelians press into my skin.
My brother sighed with relief upon seeing me take my seat next to him.
Though we were both chosen by the gods to rule, until my brother came of age at fourteen my word would be absolute.
His small chest was laden with gold and jewels.
He tried to smile at me, but his headdress wobbled precariously and his young face—made for grinning—turned stoic once more.
My other brother, the younger, stood surrounded by his nursemaids.
At seven years old he still insisted on a retinue of servants to sate his appetite for breastmilk.
His eyes lazily met Arsinoe’s as she went to stand by him before drifting to mine with the lack of interest that could only be mustered by someone unburdened by the weight of inheriting a kingdom.
The table in the centre of the room was covered with papyrus scrolls pinned down by the fingers of ambitious advisors of the court. All searching for their names within my father’s will.
Pothinus stood at the head of the procession, his slicked hair a shining beacon. The tree gum he used smelled foul, like fish left out in the sun, and I tried not to gag as a swift breeze carried the aroma around the room.
“Pharaoh!” Pothinus’s voice came out as a shriek. “My queen, this is not appropriate.”
I frowned, wondering what he meant, and then I realised that the throne was colder than it should have been. For there was no fabric between my legs and the gold.
Panic seized me. This was not proper. But what could I do now? It had taken so much effort to reach the throne, I could not bear to ascend it again. So I did what I had learned to do. I performed.
“Not appropriate?” I said. “Who among mortals dares question the blood of a god?”
Pothinus’s thin lips flapped but no words came out.
No longer was I the daughter of Ptolemy XII. Now I was his ruler, his pharaoh. His god.
I gripped the armrests of the chair tighter and sent a silent prayer to Isis: Light your divinity within me, great one. Let me be your vessel as I rule.
There had been three known blessings by the goddess Isis in the last few hundred years of the Ptolemy dynasty. Each had manifested different traits of her legend.
Isis was a talented healer, having brought her love, Osiris, back from the dead. So, two of my ancestors could heal with varying success. She was also known as a great mother, granting one of my forebears the strength to carry five children in her womb.
I did not wish for my gift to manifest this way, but I would sacrifice my body to my growing stomach if that was the blessing I received. It was far better than being powerless.
No Ptolemy had ever ruled without the gods’ divine sanction.
I would be the first, so I needed to secure my authority in other ways. “Is this how you greet a pharaoh?” I said to the room.
The beginnings of a storm thundered across Pothinus’s features. But then his face shifted into a sickly smile.
“May the gods bless your reign, Queen of the Two Lands, Cleopatra Thea VII,” the eunuch said as he bowed.
“Cleopatra Thea Philopator.” I announced my new name to the room—father-loving. A tribute to my father, and a gentle reminder of my legacy.
Pothinus’s smirk was slight. Too slight to call out.
I pointed to the scrolls. “Is that my father’s will?”
“Yes, Pharaoh—would you like me to read it to you?” Pothinus asked.
“No, I think eighteen years of schooling have prepared me enough for this moment.”
My brother snickered beside me, causing his crown to topple to the floor. Pothinus flashed him an angry glance.
“Oh no,” my brother whispered. He fumbled off the throne, his hands shaking as he reached for the fallen coronet.
I stood and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Do not worry, Mikro Theos.” Little god.
The name echoed my own secondary title, Thea—goddess in my ancestors’ tongue.
Though my brother reigned now as Ptolemy XIII, my father had always called him Theos, a reminder that as the eldest-born son, he was destined to be Pharaoh.
His eyes shimmered in distress. He was so young back then. Oblivious to the horrors of his future.
I smiled at him. “Perhaps Pothinus could take you back to your rooms. It has been a hard day.”
Someone muttered darkly. Though my hearing was sharp, I didn’t catch who it was.
Theos nodded, his mouth turning down with misery. “I have been sitting on the throne for half the day. I would like to go now.”
“Half a day, you say. On your own up here?”
Though Pothinus had known I was at the lighthouse, he had not called for me until the day was nearly over.
All expression had fled Pothinus’s face.
I sharpened my voice on my internal whetstone. “Take my brother to his chambers. I will continue with the reading of the will.”
Theos slumped, grateful for my intervention.
As Pothinus began to lead my brother from the room, his eyes flickered to mine briefly.
If only I had known back then that the flame in his eyes wasn’t just a mere spark, but a blazing coal ready to ignite those around me. Maybe things would have turned out differently if I’d known how Egypt would burn in the inferno of his betrayal.