Chapter Four
he next two years passed quickly. Once I realised I did not have to replicate my father’s reign, I found I enjoyed ruling Egypt.
First, I cut away the rotted roots of the court, ridding the local councils of corruption. Next, I improved upon the trade routes, increasing levies on imports, which bolstered the economy.
The only true strife the country had suffered from was the unseasonal weather. Akhet had come and gone and the Nile had not flooded.
But even that, I prided myself in navigating deftly. I anticipated the drought by constructing new aqueducts in the larger cities.
The two years had proven I was a just and capable leader. I was Egypt’s sun, and she blossomed beneath my light.
“The new temple is impressive, is it not?” I said to Charmion in Arabic.
We stood on the west side of the island between the buildings of the royal necropolis. The setting sun burnished the temples in a copper glow. Despite the time of day, the air was filled with the pounding of diorite hammers.
I looked over the site that was soon to be Isis’s temple. Large blocks of granite were being dragged across the newly turned soil by teams of workers. A white haze shimmered around them as those with tools ground the granite into smaller bricks.
“The temple is exquisite,” Charmion said.
Pothinus sighed beside us, as his language ability was limited to Greek alone.
I had learned to tolerate his presence, if not his odour. Though he disagreed with how I handled the ruling class, he too had come to accept my rule.
Accept, not respect. A nuance I only learned to distinguish later in my life.
I beckoned over the lead stonemason. “I’ve been told you are the greatest of builders.”
“Yes, Pharaoh.” Dust had settled into the creases of his wide face, streaking his dark skin. “My ancestors’ hands placed the bricks that raised the pyramids from the earth. My blood is mortar, my bones are stone.”
“Will the main structure be ready by the year’s end?”
“No, Pharaoh. We will need another season, maybe more.”
“I will send you more workers. Pothinus, please arrange it.”
I felt, rather than saw, the regent’s disapproval beside me.
The construction of Isis’s temple had been one of the first tasks I had ordered as Pharaoh.
The building would one day be my tomb, and though its construction might have seemed premature, I was hoping the gift would draw the goddess’s attention, for I was still without my divine power.
I spared no expense, utilising the royal coffers that had grown lighter during my father’s reign to send for red granite from Upper Egypt.
The bones of my ancestors warmed the ground beneath my feet. Many of the temples were large enough to house the remains of pharaoh, spouse and siblings—though the latter two were often one and the same.[*]
To my right lay the resting place of Ptolemy VIII. As the second child, he hadn’t been destined for the throne. Though unlike me, he had fought for it, assassinating his nephew to clear the line of succession.
The tomb of his mother, the first Cleopatra of my dynasty, stood in its shadow.
Though smaller, the sealed door was decorated with an intricate sea-shell mosaic depicting the Syrian hills of her birthplace.
The iridescent tiles glowed in the sunlight, drawing me to this quiet corner of the necropolis.
Some of the shells were cracked, the pattern too distinctive to be coincidence. I wondered whether someone in the past had taken an axe to it when war had broken out against Syria.
Battles and assassinations. Patricide and betrayal. So few of my ancestors died peacefully.
When I’d been a child, I and the young servants of the palace had traded stories of their deaths like currency. How could I have known that the myth of my death would outlast them all?
“The temple will be larger than any other on the island,” Charmion remarked.
“Yes. Smaller only than Ptolemy Sōter’s.”
Built for the god Serapis, Sōter’s tomb stood in the centre of the temple district on the mainland. It was large enough to see even with the sea that separated us. Its columns rose up from the earth like great teeth. The doorway was guarded by a statue of Serapis holding a sceptre to the sky.
“All I ask now is that Isis blesses me like Serapis did Sōter,” I said solemnly. My ancestor was the first to be bestowed with the power of the gods.
“Isis has not forgotten you,” Charmion said.
“What if she has? No Ptolemy has been presented their gifts so late in life.” I was aware that I sounded wounded, but I knew not how to staunch the bleeding. Isis’s neglect was a lesion on my soul.
“What of Arsinoe II, whose god Heh granted her the lifetime of two men? She did not know of her power until long past your age.”
I listened, but Charmion’s words did nothing to alleviate the pain I felt.
“Besides,” she continued, “the temple is large enough to draw the gaze of every god. Perhaps there is even space for me within its walls.”
Oh, my dear Charmion, you knew your future even then.
“Pharaoh,” Pothinus interjected. It seemed we had stretched his patience too thin. “I received your suggested reforms regarding the country’s coinage, and I am concerned about the monetary value of bronze.”
“Pothinus, my treatises are not suggestions. They are law.”
“But if you devalue the bronze in circulation, it lessens the value of the Roman coin in which we do our trade. The nobles will revolt—”
“The nobles are just a droplet among the sea of people in Egypt. I am here to guide the tides of all citizens. By standardising the value of bronze, we may discomfit the nobles in the short term, but our economy will prosper. Is that all you wished to discuss? Because I am not willing to debate it.”
Pothinus looked like he had swallowed sour grapes, but he did not argue. As I turned away, he said, “There is another matter we must consider. We have received word from Rome.”
I dragged my gaze back to the regent’s face. “Tell me, what do our allies want now? More gold? My father gave them enough.”
“Julius Caesar has quelled Pompey’s rebellion at Pharsalus, and the traitor has fled. Caesar believes that he may come to Egypt. We must be vigilant.”
The politics of Rome were abstract things to me then, inconsequential, bordering on dull.
Pothinus read my expression well.
“My queen, we do not want to bring down Caesar’s wrath on Egypt.
It is clear his legions are sufficiently well trained to collect victories as easily as grains of sand.
If Pompey comes to our shores—which he may, given his former friendship with your father—we must kill him or risk making an enemy of the greatest empire in the world. ”
“Egypt is the greatest empire in the world,” I said sharply.
Pothinus recoiled from the edge in my tone. I had spent two years distilling the poison in my voice and knew when to administer a strong dose. I was a proficient alchemist, as you well know.
“I will not become involved in the petty politics of the men of Rome. Their squabbles are many. Who is to say Julius Caesar will remain in favour with the Roman senate? No blood will be spilled in his name.”
Only mine.
Pothinus’s nostrils flared white. “We must be prepared for Pompey’s arrival—”
“Enough.” My voice startled a bird from an acacia tree. It flew away in a blur of black and white that was suspiciously familiar.
“I have made up my mind on this matter, Pothinus. Egypt requires my full attention.” I strode away from him at a brisk pace, a clear dismissal. Charmion followed a few steps behind me.
One of my braids swung free from its weave, the weight of its gold beads pulling it taut at my chest. I tucked it back behind my crown, brushing my fingers on the ibis feathers threaded into the gold—a gift from Arsinoe.
My sister appeared ahead of me as if summoned by my thoughts.
“Where are you going?” she asked. Qar sat preening himself on her shoulder.
“Did you send Qar to overhear my meetings again, Arsinoe?”
Her grin was confirmation enough.
“Was your schooling today that dull?” I asked dryly.
“It was. I am not sure why I am still expected to attend lessons. Sixteen years is quite enough, I think.”
I tended to agree, but keeping Arsinoe busy meant keeping her out of trouble. She had a fascination with all things political and I did not wish for another of my siblings to become entangled with the dangers of the court.
“So, where are you going?” Arsinoe pressed.
“I thought I would go to the library for a time.”
Her shoulders slumped.
“Would you like to come with me?” I added. The previous two years had seen us spend less and less time together than we had before.
She brightened. “I would appreciate some time away from Antirhodos.”
I understood the feeling; the island, though close enough to the mainland to see the people on it, could sometimes feel isolating.
“Let us go, then.”
—
If the lighthouse was where I went for solace, then the Library of Alexandria was my haven.
It was a place of wonder and magic. The bones of the goddess Seshat had been ground into the walls of the building, imbuing the library with her divinity.
Thick columns thrust up from the tiled ground on either side of the grand doorway. People bowed as I passed. My guards flanked me, and Arsinoe found herself pushed backwards by the tightening of the officers’ ranks.
“I need protection too,” I thought I heard her mutter.
We walked through the corridors towards the courtyard where the tree of knowledge grew up from the Egyptian soil.
The seven-branched tree was the most extraordinary feature of the library. Its leaves were a deep brown, almost black, like the ochre used in our inks. The bark was smooth and chalk white. But it was the blossoms that still filled me with awe.
The buds were large, bigger than my two hands cupped together. And when the flower burst forth, the petals would unfurl as scrolls, each one filled with new knowledge bestowed by the sanctity of Seshat.