Chapter Nine #2
“Pharaoh, approach the east of the island,” Apollodorus said.
“But the harbour is to the west.”
“Not for the servants—we are required to dock on the eastern shore of Antirhodos.”
“Oh,” I said. “Please, you must stop calling me Pharaoh, you may find yourself returning to it in the presence of others.”
Apollodorus looked stricken. “What should I call you?”
“Selene. It is the only name you would know me by if you hadn’t been so sharp.”
I beached the little boat on the sandbank to the west of the island. A retinue of soldiers had watched us approach the palace and so were ready to question us as our feet struck land.
“State your business,” the commander said.
Apollodorus gestured to the rolled-up carpets in the hull of the boat. “I come to install new furnishings as decreed by the Pharaoh.”
The commander nodded, recognising him. “You may deliver your wares.” His gaze passed over me, dressed as I was in the simple brown robes of an apprentice.
Together Apollodorus and I carried the carpet through corridors of the palace I had rarely seen.
“Do you know where Caesar is staying?” I asked the weaver. Sweat trickled down my back. Though the carpet wasn’t large, it was heavy and it burdened my already fatigued arms.
“Yes, Phar—Selene, he resides in…the Queen’s old chambers.”
Of course Pothinus had stationed Caesar in my royal rooms. I laughed bitterly. “They seek to insult me, but they have given me a way to secure an audience with Caesar.”
Apollodorus raised a questioning brow.
“I have the means to enter my own chambers unnoticed,” I told him.
There was a sound at the end of the hallway and all of a sudden Apollodorus dropped the carpet. I let out a grunt as the weight of it took my breath away.
“Kneel on the floor,” he hissed up at me from his now prostrate position.
It took me a breath to understand what was happening. But then I saw him, his golden tunic warm against his honeyed skin. Though it had only been weeks, he seemed taller, his shoulders broader. No longer was he in stasis between boy and man. Here was a king.
The expression Theos wore was one of barely concealed irritation. When I looked to his side, I understood why. Pothinus strode beside him, his droning voice incessant.
For a brief moment, Theos’s eyes met mine, before I remembered where I was. Who I was.
I dropped to the floor and stretched my arms out like I had seen servants do in my presence. As he drew nearer, I pressed my brow to the dusty floor and prayed that he had not recognised me.
His footfalls didn’t falter, but as they passed, I was able to hear his conversation with Pothinus.
“We have sent our soldiers to find her; it won’t be long before your sister is brought to justice for her crimes against the gods,” Pothinus murmured.
“She must atone for the famine she has brought to the land. The gods have willed it.” Theos’s voice was grave.
I swallowed the sound of shock that rose up from my throat. Pothinus had poisoned my brother’s blood against me.
“Indeed, she must.” I imagined the self-righteous expression on Pothinus’s face.
“And my citizens, they support my right to rule?”
“They long for it, my king.”
I could no longer hear Theos’s reply as they made their way through the palace.
“Selene?” I looked up from the floor. Apollodorus stood above me. “He’s gone.”
I stood, my legs trembling, with rage or despair I wasn’t sure. “I must make haste. Caesar has to know the truth of this matter.”
I helped Apollodorus load the carpet onto his shoulder before saying, “Thank you for your aid, weaver, I will not forget it.”
Apollodorus beamed. “Farewell, my pharaoh. May Isis bless your plight.”
I moved through the palace quickly, keeping the hood of my robes up, making it hard to navigate the many corridors. But I found myself on familiar ground soon enough, passing by the door to my chambers.
My royal guards had been replaced with Roman soldiers clad in chainmail and bronze helmets, the plumes of which brushed the top of the doorway.
I shuffled past quickly. But not quickly enough.
“Apprentice, where is your master?” one of the soldiers drawled in Latin.
I ground my teeth in frustration. I was only five paces from the entranceway to the palace, and beyond that, the means of getting into my quarters undetected.
When I tried to continue on, the soldier stepped into my line of sight. He dipped his head to mine and peered into the shadows of my hood.
“I asked you a question. Or do you not speak my language?” His pink lips parted and his tongue darted out to moisten them.
His breath smelled of fowl left to fester. It was good I had not eaten that day, as my food may have made a second appearance.
I tucked my chin to my chest to hide what I could of my features, then I replied in Egyptian, “I do not understand you, sir.”
He spat on the floor and said, “Heathen.” He dragged his eyes across my body. Despite the copious amount of fabric covering it, I felt naked. “But not all activities require Latin.”
His fellow comrades laughed and I felt my face flush with rage. I was used to being a commodity of my nation. Like a jewel or an intricate piece of pottery.
But it was aspiration, not desire, that captivated my citizens.
This feeling was new and it sickened me. His gaze felt like swallowing oil and it churned my stomach.
I stepped backwards, away from the oppressive heat of him. But he matched my stride, his hand coming up to my waist to tug on the rope that tied my robes together.
My hood slipped down and the soldier chuckled, reaching for a strand of my hair. I stood frozen, my breathing so shallow it was almost as if I didn’t breathe at all.
His hand ran down my jaw towards the nape of my neck. “Caesar is not using his bed right now; I may as well make use of it.”
I wanted to scream, to shout, but my voice was caged, locked in place by the soldier’s lust.
I had been lucky until then, to never have had my sex used to imprison me. It is a lesson I will never forget: we will forever be our own weapons in the eyes of men.
“Is all well?”
The soldier turned towards the newcomer and I felt the walls of the cage fall away. I took in a long breath as blood rushed into my numb limbs.
“Your help is not required here,” the Roman said with a sneer.
I looked past him to see who had come to my aid. I nearly sobbed with relief when I saw who it was—Ahmose, the head of my royal guard.
He looked at me impassively, as if he didn’t recognise me. “Apprentice, your master is looking for you.”
I bobbed my head. “Yes, I must return to him.”
“And you, to your post,” Ahmose said to the Roman, who scowled in response.
I moved away from the guards, my pace quickening until I was nearly running.
Though the afternoon air was searing and dry, I welcomed the heat of it as my feet struck the tiles in the courtyard.
Ahmose was not far behind. I pulled my hood back up and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Pharaoh, you risk everything being here,” he replied under his breath. He did not look at me, instead lingering as if he were scanning the area during a patrol. “They are searching for you on the mainland.”
“I know. Tell me of Charmion.”
His eyes lit up at her name and I knew then that he shared the affection she held for him. Perhaps, after all of this, they will be wed.
“They have her in chains,” he said.
I let out a long breath of relief. “So, she lives.”
He nodded. “How can I help you?”
Ahmose had always been loyal, but I would not risk his devotion this way. “I do not want to entangle you in the roots of my plan. Only know that I fight for my throne.”
He inclined his head. “There are many who will fight with you, Pharaoh. Know we are ready when the time comes,” he said before striding away.
I felt heartened by his words. Perhaps my plan was less far-fetched than it had seemed.
I had to wait for the tide to go out before I could use the tunnel that led to my quarters, so I lingered by the shore, watching the happenings of the island.
Roman soldiers kept their distance from the regiments of my brother’s army.
The tension between them was palpable and it gave me hope that Caesar could be convinced to join my cause.
I knew a little of Caesar. He had been my father’s ally and friend.
He was a great strategist and respected nobleman and had navigated Roman politics to become consul of the nation.
But how would he react to my arriving in his quarters?
I did not know, but with the tide finally retreating, I was about to find out.
I padded across the wet sand to the crag in the rock face that hid the tunnel to the underground cistern, and from there, the pathway to my rooms. With light steps and keen ears, I walked through the darkness until I reached the stone stairs that led to my chambers.
The rock was cold as I ran my hands along it, searching for the hidden handle that would give me the means to push aside the hollow pillar that hid the opening. I found it, and with a shove the pillar moved, releasing a plume of cold air from the tunnel into the room beyond.
Then I stepped into the bedroom of the consul of Rome, and set history on a new course.