The Memoirs of Cleopatra
Chapter 52 : "That is what makes you a good queen--you have the fort.i.tude to endure it,"

"That is what makes you a good queen--you have the fort.i.tude to endure it," said Mardian.

"Mardian, I need to know how my absence was looked on here." I trusted him to be honest with me.

"ln the palace? Why--"

"No, not in the palace. In Alexandria, and in Egypt herself. I know you always have your ear to the ground, and your family is in Memphis. What did people think?"

"They wondered if you were coming back," he said bluntly. "They thought--they feared--you might remain in Rome, that that would be the price, of Egypt's independence."

"What, that Caesar would hold me prisoner?"

He looked horrified. "No, of course not. But that it would take a constant monitoring--and mollifying--of the fickle Senate, which cannot be done from far away."

"And what did they think of my liaison--my marriage--with Caesar?"

He shrugged. "You know Egyptians--Greeks too. They are practical. They were proud that you'd selected a winner, not a loser, in the civil wars."

Yes, it was the Romans who were obsessed with morality. The older peoples of the east had more wisdom. "At least I don't have to contend with that. Mardian, you cannot imagine what it is to live for two years among a people who do nothing but judge, moralize, lecture, and condemn. It's more than the climate that's gray and oppressive there!" Until I had said it, I had not quite realized the weight of that crus.h.i.+ng mantle of judgment. Suddenly I felt quite giddy to be out from under it.

"Ugh!" he said, making a face. "Well, now you are back where we understand you. And treasure you. Welcome home!"

Home . . . but why, why, did it feel so odd? . . . but why, why, did it feel so odd?

"Thank you, Mardian. I longed for it all the time I was away."

He paused, as if wondering whether to speak further. Finally he did. "I must tell you, though, that now that things have--changed--there are those who will say that your policy was a failure, that your efforts have achieved nothing lasting for Egypt. It all vanished on the Ides of March, and we are back where we were before Caesar even came here. Who can guarantee our independence now?"

"I will guarantee it. I must." But I felt as though I had climbed an enormous mountain range only to find myself not on a fertile plain, but facing another range just as high. A second climb would be almost beyond imagining. And then there was the other thing.

"Mardian, I must tell you of what I discovered on the voyage. I am with child. There will be another 'Caesarion'--a little Caesar."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, that will upset the balance of politics once again. How do you manage to affect people, and lands, hundreds of miles away? It's your peculiar magic."

"I doubt that it will change things in Rome. Caesar did not mention Caesarion in his will, and this one will have even less claim."

"Don't be so sure. I would guard Caesarion well. It was all very well to joke with Ptolemy about the poisonous plants, but it's Caesarion whom someone would have a reason to kill."

I felt cold. It was true. Caesar's will or not, the world knew about his son. And my own father had been illegitimate. The royal b.a.s.t.a.r.d, perpetual threat, was not only a stock figure in stories and poems, but he often attained the throne.

Was Octavian capable of murder? He seemed too squeamish and law-abiding. But. . .

"By leaving no Roman heir, Caesar left three--now you say four--contenders for his name. The adopted son, Octavian; his cousin, Marc Antony, the natural successor to his military and political legacy; Caesarion, his natural son by a non-Roman; and now another." He paused. "Of course, he has another heir--the mob, the Roman people. It was they to whom he appealed, they to whom he left his villa and gardens. Don't leave them out of any political calculations. It's they who will decide if Caesar is to be a G.o.d, not the Roman Senate."

"I cannot wish that my children inherit any of the mess at Rome. I just wish they could have known their father as they grew up. And I wish I had something of his--besides just this pendant." I held it out to show it to Mardian. "It was a piece of family jewelry. But I wish he had given me something for Caesarion, as well."

"Well, all he will have to do is go into any forum or temple throughout the Roman world, and he'll see a statue of him. They'll make a G.o.d out of him, mark my words. Then there'll be busts, and little statues and plaques, available from every hawker and merchant from Ecbatana to Gades!"

Dear, irrepressible Mardian! "He can start a collection!" I said, tears of laughter welling up as I pictured a shelf full of Caesar statues, all sizes and shapes. There would be muscular naked Greek Caesars, Syrian Caesars with big eyes and formal robes, desert Caesars mounted on camels, Pharaoh-Caesars, Gallic Caesars clad in wolfskins.

I held my sides and bent over. When I could finally catch my breath, I said, "Oh, Mardian. This is the first time I have truly laughed since--" I shook my head. "Thank you."

He wiped his eyes. "Since everything pa.s.ses through Alexandria, think of the duty. We shall profit by the fas.h.i.+on!"

Chapter 37.

A high, breezy day in June, when all of Alexandria was an aquamarine set in silver, so bright that I had to s.h.i.+eld my eyes.

Today the mosaic Caesar had given me was being installed in the floor of my banqueting hall. My memory had been correct; when I had first seen it I had known it was the exact same colors as the sea at Alexandria, and so it was. The form of Venus rising from the seafoam was rendered so finely that it made all mortal women look crudely executed, disappointing.

I sighed. Was art to inspire us, or depress? Was the fact that no living woman could ever approach such perfection to inspire me to come as close to my own perfection as possible, or did it merely throw all my shortcomings into high relief?

Today, with the glorious light and strong fresh breezes of the morning, I felt inspired by her. Once I had felt this newly created, once I had felt I had just emerged from a sea, eager to stand on the sh.o.r.e and claim my inheritance, my destiny. Would I ever feel that way again?

Her golden hair waved in tendrils over her shoulders, so skillfully depicted that I could see the muscles and delicate roundings in the flesh.

How old are you? I asked her, in my mind. Fifty years? A hundred? You would look very different by now if you were flesh instead of stone. Art cheats truth that way.

"I remember when it was presented." Charmian's husky voice behind me made me jump. The sound of the workmen's chisels had drowned out her footsteps.

"It is magnificent, isn't it?" We both looked at Venus, envying her. "You look more like her than I do," I said. "You have the right hair color."

"No one looks like her," said Charmian. "That's why she has the power she does."

Charmian herself had a Venus-like allure. I had seen how men looked at her, like lovesick schoolboys, even the old scribes.

"Charmian," I said, "I think you should consider marrying. It does not mean you cannot continue in my service. I cannot help but feel sorry for the man who would have been your husband--but you pa.s.s him by."

She laughed, that beguiling, low laugh. "I have been thinking of it," she admitted. "But I have found no mortal man yet. You see, just as Venus spoils most women for men, just so Apollo ruins other men for women. I'd like someone like the statues of Apollo, and, well--have you seen any about?"

Yes, I thought: Octavian. But, unlike a statue, he talked, moved, and exhibited unpleasant characteristics. "No, not recently."

"Ever?" She persisted.

"Probably not ever," I a.s.sured her, lest she think I was hiding one. "But I will look harder from now on."

A grunting pair of workmen wrenched a stone out of the floor, and shoved it to the side. They were grinning, and I realized they had overheard us. Did they fancy themselves to resemble Apollo?

One had a hairy back, more like Pan than Apollo, and the other was so short, with long forearms, that he looked like an ape.

Barely able to keep from laughing, we hurried from the hall. As we rounded the door, we leaned against the wall and let ourselves laugh silently.

When I said, "That reminds me, where is my monkey, Kasu?" it sent Charmian into hysterics.

"I am serious," I insisted.

"I think--I think--Iras has her in her chambers," gulped Charmian. "She was fond of her."

We were standing on the steps of the palace, which led directly to the private royal harbor. Directly overhead the gulls were flying, white against the sky.

"Let's go for a boat ride," I suddenly said. It was too fine to be indoors today. "No, not sailing, something more--languorous. Where we can lie and look at the colors of the sea and sky." I had all manner of boats to choose from--a pleasure barge, a small sailboat, a shaded raft, a replica of a Pharaonic boat. That I had come to enjoy being on the water was a tribute to my determination of will--perhaps my most characteristic, and valuable, trait. Will can serve when talent, inspiration, and even luck desert us. But when will deserts us, then we are doomed indeed. . . .

Charmian was eager. "I have never been on the Pharaonic boat," she hinted. "The one with the lotus-bud prow."

"Then that is what we shall take."

We descended the wide, gently curving flight of marble steps--like a theater whose rows of seats overlooked waves. On the seabed below I could see the rocks and bright anemones through the clear, clean water. Far out, the ocean was breaking against the base of the Lighthouse, sending up columns of spray, as high and light as an ostrich plume.

I must have a sister-mosaic made for the Venus one, I decided at that moment. It should depict exactly the scene I am looking at now, and the blue of the seas will match. It must show our Alexandria's harbor on a fine day in high summer.

The boats were kept in readiness at all times, so there was no waiting while the captain made adjustments to the Pharaonic one. Charmian mounted the painted gangplank and hopped onto the deck.

"Oh!" She gave a gasp. "Is this real?"

Joining her, I answered. "If you mean is the wood really wood, and the gold really gold, yes."

"I meant only that it is fantastic, in the truest sense of the word."

"It is meant to satisfy a Pharaoh. I have been a.s.sured that they really floated about like this." Yes, they had lain on couches in the shaded cedarwoocf deck pavilion; they had been cooled by long-handled jeweled fans, should the winds not oblige; they had run their hands over gold-leafed rails. "Come." I led her to the pavilion, where we sank down on the cus.h.i.+ons.

A servitor, dressed in the kilt, collar-necklace, and headcovering of ancient times, appeared, as in a dream, to bring us cool drinks.

We cast off, the rowers pulling silently with their silver-tipped oars, and rocked gently on the warm water.

The sea, the sea was what made Alexandria great. It brought the riches of the world to our doors, and gave us power. I must rebuild our fleet straightaway. As it was, we were powerless to defend ourselves except with the Roman legions that Caesar had posted here. But should they leave--or turn against us at the bidding of some Roman master, one of the a.s.sa.s.sins, perhaps . . .

The bright day seemed all the more tantalizingly bright for being so unsecured.

My spirits had soared for the first time that day, but by evening, like birds flocking back to their trees, they swooped and fell again. Was I never to be free of this shaded mantle that descended on me? Just as Caesar's love for me had enveloped me, now its absence, and his loss, provided an equally dark cloak that wrapped itself around me, at any time, but most particularly when the light of day faded into night.

I stood watching the stars come out. Venus had appeared first, of course, but one by one the others became visible, taking their a.s.signed places in the constellations. Just so we had stood watching together, here on the roof garden. Just so he had named Orion, his favorite constellation, and recounted the story. . . .

The sky now seemed hard and empty in spite of all the familiar stars. I turned my back on it and forced myself to go to my work desk in the adjoining room, where a pile of treasury ledgers awaited me. At times the figures blurred before my eyes, and it was not because of the flickering of the oil lamps.

Always, even as my mind became absorbed in the additions and subtractions, there lurked that other other, that melancholy, just beyond the line of my vision. So I was not unhappy when a servitor announced that Epaphroditus had come to discuss some business. It was a relief to be interrupted.

He was all apologies about the late hour.

"It does not matter," I said, putting down my papers. "As you can see, I was working. Work hours never cease. And the evening is a good time for them."

Out in the warm Alexandrian night, there were people walking the streets, singing, laughing, drinking, while their Queen was shut up in a room with her ledgers.

"Then we are two of a kind." He smiled. "My wife does not appreciate my continual working, but she enjoys the fruits of it."

It was the first time he had ever permitted a personal remark to pa.s.s his lips. So he was married. Did he have children? But I would wait for him to tell me.

"I have the final reports about the contents of the three new warehouses, built to replace those destroyed in the fire. We have installed shelves that are narrower, so that no inventory will be hidden. It also makes rat control easier." He handed me the papers proudly.

I waited. It seemed an odd errand for him to come on, at this time of night. He could have sent the papers at any time with a messenger.

"I also wanted to report something I heard from one of the captains who arrived today."

So. I was right. "Yes?"

"This is not official, merely what this man heard. But it seems the a.s.sa.s.sins have had to leave Rome. Where they will go is anyone's guess. Caesar's heir has come to Rome to claim his inheritance, and has been rebuffed by Antony. It seems Antony treated him with rudeness and tried to scare him away, because he did not want to admit that he--Antony--had spent most of Caesar's money."

The money! Yes, Antony had obtained it from Calpurnia, to keep it safe from the a.s.sa.s.sins.

"But the young man has not gone away. He has enlisted Cicero on his behalf, and is making a ruckus. Antony will have to come to terms with him. In the meantime, no one seems to be ruling in Rome."

Antony should have known better than to treat Octavian with contempt. The younger and less secure someone is, the more he has to be flattered. "So they are preoccupied with the chaos there?"

"For now," said Epaphroditus. "But will the a.s.sa.s.sins eventually flee to the east and set themselves up here? That is the danger."

"I wish they would, so we could kill them!" I said.

"With what? The Roman legions here? What if they took command of them themselves?"

"I have thought of that," I said. "What Egypt needs now is a strong navy. I must start to build one up. And I can see that the treasury will permit it."

He smiled, pleased and surprised. "Good."

"I would like to discuss the procurement of the long timbers with you soon," I said. "I know you deal with the Syrians."

"Indeed."

He seemed such an enigma--this cultivated man, immensely resourceful, of limitless energy, with his two names.

"Madam, you seem very dispirited," he observed. "Forgive me if I speak out of turn. May I help?"

I was so startled I could barely keep the surprise off my face. But at the same time I was touched and grateful.

"Not unless you can turn time backward, erase events that have already happened." But I said it gently, wistfully.

"That is beyond man's power," he said. "Only G.o.d could do that, and he does not. But he does provide consolation. Our scriptures are full of questions that we put to him, and he answers in verse. Betrayal, and loss--they are all there."

"Teach me/' I said, feeling like a child before a particularly erudite tutor.

"In our main book of poetry, there is one that says, 'Mine enemies speak evil of me, When shall he die, and his name perish? All that hate me whisper together against me: against me do they devise my hurt. Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me.' "

Yes. That was exactly the way it had been, with Caesar and his "friend."

" Tor it was not an enemy that reproached me; then I could have borne it. But it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide, and my familiar friend.' "