Chapter Twenty-Nine
have never felt relief like I did when I had the Lighthouse of Alexandria in my sights.
I am home again.
A flock of ibis flew overhead, one relieving itself on the ground in front of me. I sprang back, then laughed. “Arsinoe mocks me still.”
As we docked in Antirhodos I saw my children gathered at the end of the pier. I did not want to tell them the news I brought: that we had lost the battle, and the war was yet to come.
I held them close to my chest, even Caesarion, who tried to pull away.
“Mama, where is Antonius?” he asked once I had taken my fill of his closeness.
“He goes to Cyrene to bring back more soldiers.”
“The war is not won?” he said, a flicker of fear in his eyes. His nerves had never quite recovered from the assassin’s attack.
“No, Octavian will be swift on the wind. We must ready the city.”
Caesarion nodded grimly, then without my prompting called the commanders of the remaining fleet to the throne room.
“He has become a capable king.”
I turned to her voice and opened my arms.
Charmion came to me, smiling. “I did not enjoy our time apart,” she said into my shoulder.
“Neither did I.”
“War is to come to Egypt after all?”
“Yes.” My voice was tight with unreleased emotion, but I did not let Charmion draw out my tears.
She pushed me to arm’s length and scrutinised me.
“We will fight for our city and our country,” she said.
I looked into her eyes. “And our children.”
We walked together back to my chambers.
“If anything should happen—” I began.
“Please do not—”
“No, listen.” I stopped her before we walked into the palace. “If anything should happen, I need you to use the tunnels in my room and escape with the children. Use the boat we have down there and flee.”
“I would never leave you.”
“You must.” I raised my voice so she might hear the desperation in it. “I need your word, Charmion. Please, give me this gift.”
Her features twisted with grief. “But where will we go?”
“Anywhere,” I said fiercely. “Anywhere but here. Raise them as commoners, away from the poison of the courts. You must hide them from Octavian, for he will never let them live.”
“You are acting as though this is a certainty.”
“I hope not. I hope that the legions we raise in Cyrene will be enough to win this war.”
“Then we shall hope, and not speak on this again,” she said.
“Not until you promise me, Charmion. Promise me you will do this.”
She met my gaze and nodded once. “I will do as you say.”
Breathing more easily, I continued on into the palace.
Caesarion had started the war council without me, and I watched proudly as he strategised with the leaders there. He was patient and respectful of their experience, recommending tactics he had learned from studying.
You were always destined to be a better leader than either of your parents, my son. It pains me that history will never see the ruler you were to become.
—
We prepared the city for war once more. Days passed and there was no word from Antonius, nor sight of Octavian’s army.
The city was tightly coiled with apprehension. I spent most of my time in the temple praying before my god, leaving Caesarion to manage the country’s affairs.
It was where Charmion found me.
“Cleopatra.” Her voice was full of fear.
I rose from the altar. “What has happened?”
“Look to the sea.”
I went to the temple’s steps and looked north. A fleet of at least five hundred ships floated on the horizon.
“Could it be Antonius?” she asked.
“Marcus is marching from Cyrene by land; this is Octavian’s fleet.”
“But we do not have the means to defeat him without Antonius’s army,” Charmion said, her voice high with panic.
I felt the dread that had built in me over the last few seasons dissipate in one single breath.
“The worst has happened,” I said, and found myself grinning.
“Why do you smile?” She reached for my medicine bag from around her waist, as though to cure me from my malady.
“Don’t you see? It’s over.”
Death beckoned to me.
There was a movement in the bushes that drew my attention away from the fleet; a mother cobra, pressing her nose to the sky. I understood her meaning and was comforted by it.
“It is time to join the gods.”
If I had bent low, would she have climbed into my clothing, as your tales claim? Perhaps. But certainly not to strike at my breast. She would have coiled around my brow and joined the rearing snakes on my crown—for cobras are proud things, just like me.
I retreated back into the temple and bowed low. “It won’t be long now. Bring me the children.”
When Charmion didn’t move, I said sharply, “Now, Charmion. Every moment is precious.”
I watched as the ships drew closer to Alexandria. They were the only indication of the passing of time, for everything else stood frozen, even my breath.
Octavian would not kill me. Not at first. I would become a trophy of the Roman senate. Paraded. Ridiculed.
Like Arsinoe.
But unlike my sister, I would not be able to sway the crowd’s sympathy. I would die on those bloodied steps to the thunderous cheers of the Roman people.
“I will not be led in triumph,” I declared to the oncoming ships.
The channels of my life had merged into a single river.
There was no going back upstream—I could only let the water carry me forth.
I wonder now: had I not borne children, would I have fought the currents?
But it is too difficult to separate my life from them.
My sacrifice was a small thing to trade for their survival.
“Cleo?”
I emerged from my trance to see the concerned face of Charmion. She had returned with the children.
I kneeled before them. Helios and Ptolemy clutched each other’s hands so tightly their knuckles had turned white.
Selene, on the other hand, looked ready to fight, her gaze flicking to the horizon, and Caesarion was resolute.
He, more than the others, knew defeat was imminent and he faced it unafraid.
Oh, how I loved them. The flesh of me.
“You are to go with Charmion. She has prepared a means to escape the palace. But you must wait until Octavian is sure of victory before you set sail. Let him think you have gone inland. I do not want you set upon on the sea.”
Caesarion shook his head. “No, I’m not leaving you here.”
I reached for him and he let me stroke his curling hair, so much like Caesar’s. “You are everything your father wished you to be, my son.” His eyes filled with tears.
“Selene, you are everything I wish I had been.” She met my gaze. “You are the very best of both my sister and me, and you must know I loved Arsinoe very much.”
“I will look after them, Mama,” she said.
I nodded and kissed the top of her head.
“Helios, your kindness is so much like your father’s; never let it fade. And Ptolemy, my youngest, let your laughter fill others’ lives as it has mine.” I held on to them both for a brief moment, then let them go, as I knew I must.
“Go ahead now, children, let me speak to Charmion alone.”
Finally, I lifted my gaze to Charmion. She was weeping freely.
“Why are you acting as if you will never see them again?” she asked. “Tell me you have a plan.”
I smiled sadly. “This is it—the final plan that comes for us all.”
She reached for my hand and squeezed it painfully. “Tell me this is not the end.”
I looked at her but still I refused to cry. “I will not lie to you.”
She fell to the ground at my feet, pulling me with her.
“No, Cleo, you must come with us.”
I kissed her wet cheeks. “I cannot. My presence here is what will give you and the children the means to escape. Let him know where to find me, and when he comes ashore, you and the children must leave.”
“You will let him take you prisoner?”
I shook my head and said fiercely, “Never.”
Charmion cried even harder. I leaned my brow against hers. “Give me my medicine bag, Charmion. It is time for me to carry its load.”
She started to lift the bag, but her arms grew weak and she collapsed again. With gentle hands I took it from her.
“I need you to go and look after the children, Charmion. Hide with them in the tunnel until you see Octavian come ashore. I will make certain he knows where to find me.”
I brought my lips to hers for the final time. “Go, my dearest friend. The other half of me.”
Charmion stood on shaking legs and I embraced her for the final time. I whispered against her hair, “Live this life for the both of us, Charmion.”
She released me and said, “You were all I ever needed in this life, Cleo.”
I rested my forehead on hers and whispered, “One for the past and the happy years well spent, one for the present and the patience we extend, one for the future and the love that never ends.”
Then Charmion left, and half of my soul went with her.
—
Eiras helped dress me in my finest clothes.
I wore the gold dress I had worn the day I had married Antonius.
Over one shoulder I draped the purple cloak that Caesar had given me.
At my neck, a turquoise and gold mantle handed down through generations.
My hair was knotted with two golden pins.
Finally, I wore my uraeus crown, the three rearing cobras pressing heavy on my brow.
“Eiras, will you bring me an obsidian slate? There is one final task I must attend to.”
When she had gone, I looked at myself in the mirror.
I had achieved much in my life, though I was not yet forty years of age.
Some of my successes lived on in my body: the lines of the smiles Antonius had solicited, the scars on my stomach from my children.
Then there were my failures beneath the surface: the wound of Caesar’s death, the betrayal of my younger siblings.
This body had carried me through good and bad. And it was beautiful.
Do not let your historians tell you I was not. Your professors scrutinise my face on a coin and tell me my legacy was unsightly.
But I stand before you now, clad in gold and purple with all my flaws and all my scars. And I am the very essence of beauty.