Chapter Twenty-Six
hat can I tell you of the next few years? Your historians had little to say of that time. But I did much good.
I opened three more hospitals across the major cities of Egypt.
I constructed temples to Isis in Hermonthis and circulated my book of remedies up and down the Nile.
I patronised more scholars to fill the new library with their work and improved political alliances with our neighbouring countries.
My coffers and grain stores were full, as was my heart.
I raised my children as Antonius raised his—a daughter, Antonia, born of Octavia. He had told me of the news in a letter. I had burned the pages and then sent for a man and a woman to share my bed.
I held no grudge against Octavia; she was a woman in Rome and so had scrutiny enough.
No, my frustrations were solely directed at the husband who had left.
Though it had been I who had sent him away, and though I knew that his marriage with Octavia would be required to produce an heir, I had not expected it to hurt quite so deeply.
I refused to be a woman jilted.
“You have been writing this letter for half the night, let the scribe go to bed,” Charmion said with a yawn in her voice.
I looked at the scribe and the shadows that gathered beneath his eyes. “She is right—go, I will call on you in the morning.”
I picked up the half-finished message with a sigh. It had been nearly three years since I had seen Antonius. Far longer than either of us had wanted to be apart. But as with Caesar before him, the battlefield had called to him.
His campaigns took him east across Asia Minor, and at the start of shemu season he had settled in Antioch, a mere ten-day journey from Alexandria. He called me to him from the palaces there. But I have never cared to be summoned.
So I was composing him a letter, a goodbye. His absence in my life had long healed and I did not seek to open the flesh of that wound once more. Better to be free of his love than to be bled by it.
I heard the soft padding of feet and turned to find Selene clutching the hem of her nightclothes, her eyes puffy and red from being awoken.
I opened my arms to her and she crawled into them.
“Papa?” she asked, reaching for the letter where Antonius had sent for me. She had come to recognise his seal, though she had yet to see his face.
Though Antonius had not met the twins, he had sent them regular trinkets and presents. Selene held on to one now, a silver moon hanging on a chain around her neck.
I watched as she brought it up to her lips and kissed it. Then she smiled, and like her father she shone brighter than any star in the sky.
“Does Papa have a story for me?” she asked, for more often than not, Antonius would regale them with tales of his capers and victories.
“Not this time, my child,” I said, looking away from her.
Could I really deny my children their father?
I picked up the letter I had been composing and shredded it in my hands. Selene reached for the remains of the papyrus and threw them up in the air, scattering them like shedding petals. Her laughter was infectious, rousing her brother, who quickly joined in.
As I watched them play, I knew I could not end my alliance without seeing Antonius face to face.
And so to Antioch we must go.
—
Caesarion, now eleven years of age, was old enough to reign over Egypt with the support of Faunus. He was eager to do so in my absence.
“I will receive the court daily, do not worry, Mama,” he said. The crown on his head wobbled ever so slightly and it reminded me of Theos on the day he had been crowned. Time had passed, far quicker than I could fathom.
“It is a mother’s wont to worry,” I said, setting the crown straight.
I had tried to shelter Caesarion from the swirling rumours of the Roman senate.
Occasionally a Roman noble would visit, bringing with them the slander that my son was illegitimate.
If I had not agreed to ally with Rome, I would have killed each one, Octavian’s wrath be damned. But I was still wary of war.
I let Octavian spread his falsities, gently reminding those who visited who Caesarion’s father had been. Not that it wasn’t obvious from the boy’s looks and demeanour. He carried himself like a general and had taken to wearing a purple cloak like his father’s.
“Watch over my land, my son,” I said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He grimaced at my show of affection, waving me away.
“Egypt will be safe while I am safe. For I am Egypt,” he said.
My heart swelled in my chest at his words.
Selene, Helios and I voyaged across the sea to Antioch. As on my last approach to Tarsus, I was apprehensive about seeing Antonius. I had come to sever ties and was unsure how he would receive this news.
I arrived at night, my boat slicing through the black water of the Orontes river. The city was silhouetted by mountains in the east, and like the brow of a great god they looked down on the land, making me feel as though I was always watched.
“Are Selene and Helios asleep?” I asked Charmion. There was a chill in the air and she brought me a sheep’s skin to wrap my arms in.
“They are. Helios kept asking if he might row the ship,” she said, laughing.
I had asked Charmion once why she had not had children of her own. “Ahmose and I spoke on it once and had imagined their faces,” she had said, her voice ragged with an old grief. “I do not wish to replace those images with others.”
“You do not need to replace them,” I had said gently. “For you are already a mother.” And I had pointed to my children.
I held her close that night, her head resting on my chest. I knew she dreamed of Ahmose, for she woke crying.
Some loves are enough to last a lifetime. I was lucky to have had two.
“If the children slumber, then I shall go to shore,” I said.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be wanting your old linens, then? It is good I packed them,” she said, pulling out the threadbare clothing that allowed me to blend in as a commoner.
I smiled. “I fear it will be the last time I will don them.”
“Indeed?” she said lightly.
“I go to end my alliance with Rome.”
“Why?”
“I can no longer abide Octavian’s slights against Caesarion. My son grows older by the day and has yet to set foot on his father’s land since his death.”
Charmion regarded me, her eyes narrowing. “Now tell me the true reason.”
I sighed, annoyed that Charmion could see into my depths as through water in a bowl. “That is not untrue. But I suppose the heart of it is different: I can no longer abide Antonius’s slights against me.”
“I heard Octavia is pregnant again.”
“Yes, though that is not what vexes me. It has been three years and he has not returned to me once.”
“Nor have you gone to him,” Charmion pointed out.
“Am I not here now?” I snapped.
She nodded.
I prompted her. “Then what is it?”
“The love you have for Antonius is rare. If it has dimmed, I understand your choice. But if it still burns bright, do not be fearful to face the fire. It is better to be warmed by love, no matter how distant, than to stand alone.” She turned away.
I held out a hand to her. “You never stand alone, Charmion. And neither will I.” I kissed where sadness creased her brow.
I changed into Selene the healer’s clothes and crossed the plank that rested on the pier. The harbour was still lively despite the time of night, and as I moved through the streets, I quickly learned why.
“Twenty thousand gallons of wine fill the streets every seventh day,” a voice intoned. “And when the sun rises, they say the palace shines so brightly from the gold inlaid in its walls that only those of divine blood can look upon it. Who is it that I speak of?”
What a thing it is to hear your name chanted by a crowd.
The hakawati continued, “She raises lions from cubs to eat at her table, and when a courtier displeases her, she flicks a golden rod and the lions tear the throats from their necks. Who is it that I speak of?”
“Cleopatra!” they called again.
“Four siblings gone. Berenice, the first for the throne, cut down. Next was her brother, a young boy drowned. Then she took Arsinoe, who wished to be crowned. Poison it was, for the last to die. Now just one, when once there were five.”
Six, I thought to myself. Do not forget the Cleopatra who was born blessed for the afterlife.
The hakawati leaned forward, riling the crowd. “Who is it that I speak of?”
“Cleopatra!”
“A queen of gold, a queen of poison. A mother of bastard children…” Enraged, I thought of Helios and Selene asleep on the boat, innocent of the slander spoken of them this night.
My children were the quickest path to my anger. In that way, the asp and I were alike. For I would bite the hand that sought to strike them down without remorse and without mercy. I had little of either left in me.
I pushed forward through the crowd until I could see the hakawati.
I wanted to know him in order to condemn him.
He stood on an upturned crate, his tattered clothing held together with one hand to hide his nakedness.
At his feet lay a wooden chalice where he collected coins.
There were few in there, but every time my name was chanted, I saw him thrust it out towards the crowd.
“Exotic queen, salacious queen. Pharaoh of what might have been, if she had closed her legs and her bed. She may have been queen of us instead! Who is it that I speak of?”
The hakawati met my eyes, waiting for me to lead the chant. But when my lips did not move, he turned to the next person along, who shouted my name like a call to arms.
I could have gone back to the boat and commanded my guards to cut his head from his neck. Or better still, I could use the ivory dagger between my breasts and kill him myself. But my fury was dissipating as quickly as it had come.
This was the first time I had come face to face with my legend. She had my outline, but I did not recognise her face. I knew Octavian’s propaganda had been vast, but to hear it here, spoken in Arabic, was distressing.