The Memoirs of Cleopatra
Chapter 27 : "Yes, it is as straight as a Roman road," he said. "The problem is the w

"Yes, it is as straight as a Roman road," he said. "The problem is the winds at this time of year. They blow in exactly the wrong direction. And the expanse of water is so great that there is a natural limitation on the speed of the rowers. This galley has four men to each oar, but they cannot row without rest for days on end."

Because I had decided to enter Rome with little fanfare, and to go quietly to my place of residence, I had selected a modest s.h.i.+p. Now I wondered if that had been a mistake.

"A larger s.h.i.+p is not necessarily faster," said the captain, as if he had read, my mind. "Their heavy timbers require much more wind and muscle to move them. That is why the pirates, the best sailors in the world, keep their vessels relatively light and small. No, my lady, this is the best speed we can hope for."

Disappointment and anxiety flooded me. Travel was so slow!

A private cabin had been outfitted for me and my attendants inside the deckhouse where the captain and officers would retire. Although they had painted it in bright colors, I could see by the paint already peeling that it would be a damp journey. They had built a bed bolted to the floor, and a smaller one for Caesarion, with guardrails. Charmian was to sleep on a pallet on the floor, which was rolled up during the day. Our chests of personal belongings were chained to rings on the floor and walls.

Little Ptolemy XIV, my consort, had a separate room of his own. I had brought him along because he had been so curious about Rome, and besides, seeing what had happened to Arsinoe would be a warning to him, although he was a sweet child so far. Also, leaving him behind might prove a temptation to enemies to use him as a figurehead and start another dreary round of civil war--the last thing I needed.

I went in to see what Caesarion was doing; he was playing with a bag filled with lentils, which one of the sailors had given him. While I watched him, his fingers released the bag and he dozed off to sleep.

Poor child! I thought. This will be a long journey.

The next morning I could barely make out a golden smudge on the far horizon; it was the coast of North Africa, the desert that lay to the west of Egypt. Gradually it receded from sight and we were alone in open water, the sea stretching endlessly on all sides.

On the eighth day a squall came up; the skies blackened and released torrents of rain. But in its wake came a gratifying change in the wind's direction: it swung around and turned into an easterly Levanter, blowing us where we wished to go. Up went the sail to harness it.

Now we seemed to be flying--for as long as the wind continued. We reached that point in the sea where we were opposite Crete, then Greece; and then we were swept out into the greatest stretch of open sea on our entire voyage.

Charmian was not faring well on this voyage; for the first few days she had been grievously seasick. Now, pale and shaky, she emerged from the cabin and stood beside me.

"How much longer will we be on this wretched sea?" she moaned.

"I'll put you on a camel for the return journey," I said. "You can go the long way round--by the time you reach Alexandria we shall both be old. Caesarion will have made me a grandmother."

"I don't care to waste my youth on a caravan journey," she said. "But I feel as if this journey has already made me old."

Strange, but it had had the opposite effect on me: I found the sea air invigorating, and the unfamiliar smells and sounds I encountered every day fascinated me. There was, first of all, the pervading sea-salt odor, and the smell of the wind, bringing with it the faintest tang of the land it had blown over. There was the rich smell of the fresh-caught fish--so different from those sold in markets--and the musty dampness of the soaked ropes. The tar and resin found everywhere on board gave off a warm, raisinlike aroma that grew stronger as the sun rose.

As for the sounds, I loved the slap-slap-slap of slap-slap-slap of the water against the hull of the s.h.i.+p; it lulled me to sleep. The creaking of the rigging and the the water against the hull of the s.h.i.+p; it lulled me to sleep. The creaking of the rigging and the whoosh whoosh of the sail as it filled and deflated was like nothing else. How ordinary the sounds of street and market were by comparison. of the sail as it filled and deflated was like nothing else. How ordinary the sounds of street and market were by comparison.

Water had lost its terror for me, for which I was deeply grateful. First I had ventured the harbor, then the Nile, now the open sea--I was cured of my fear, thanks be to all the G.o.ds!

"You will not even remember the misery as soon as you set foot in Rome," I a.s.sured her. "You will recover readily enough in Caesar's villa."

I hoped it was true. I was beginning to lose count of how many days we had been traveling. Every night I moved a bead on a bracelet to keep track. We were sailing even at night, since it was impossible to anchor in these deep waters. For some days the moon had been dark, making it easier to see the stars, but nothing else.

To my disappointment, the captain had decided to take the long way around Sicily.

"If this Levanter keeps blowing, it will be much safer, even if longer," he said. "The Strait of Messina is best approached from the opposite side, with a north wind at your back. That way you encounter the whirlpool and the rock at the outset, when you have the most maneuvering room."

"Scylla and Charybdis," I said. "Are they as fearsome as legend says?"

"Indeed they are," he said. "The rock--Scylla--is almost impossible to avoid if you are trying to escape the whirlpool, Charybdis. Of course the whirlpool is not there all the time, only when violent water boils up at the tide changes, four times a day."

"Have you ever seen her seize a s.h.i.+p?"

"Yes, I watched from land as a fis.h.i.+ng boat got pulled down into her maws. The water swirls--a big, oily-looking circle--and anything nearby gets drawn into the circle. Then, once in it--the boat spins faster and faster. I saw it break up, saw its timbers come apart where they had been fastened, and the fisherman was thrown out. He clung to a piece of timber, but he disappeared right into the center of the funnel--it has an indentation that's dark and sucking. The pieces of the boat followed him. At the center they were spinning so fast they were just a blur to my eyes; then they disappeared."

I shuddered.

"Charybdis disgorges things, but not the things she swallows," he said. "The fisherman never returned. But the monster vomited up deformed fish-- fish without eyes and with grotesque appendages on their heads. Enormous strands of seaweed erupt from that evil center, like huge sea serpents." He paused. "So we'll go the other way, with your permission."

"My permission? I am no navigator, no sailor."

"Yet you have a feel for the sea, I can tell."

Surprising but true. "I will leave the command of the vessel to you," I a.s.sured him.

Landfall! The mountains of Sicily became visible, their rugged tops s.h.i.+ning like a mirage. We steered for her, and the mountains grew slowly clearer. I felt relief flooding through me. We had reached the other side of the Mediterranean.

Then, as unexpectedly as one of Homer's G.o.ds, the wind s.h.i.+fted quickly to the south--a hot, damp wind, oppressive and heavy. At the same time, Sicily suddenly became wreathed in fog. The wind was forcing us toward that sh.o.r.e, and we could see no rocks or other natural features.

"No more sail!" ordered the captain. The deckhands rushed to disengage the now-dangerous sail. "Oars! Oars! Row to the west!"

I was standing, watching all this with bright interest, when I saw the little s.h.i.+ps emerging from the foggy sh.o.r.eline. They were moving at breakneck speed--how could they go that fast? They must be all oarsmen and no cargo.

"Look!" I pointed them out to the captain. I expected him to say "Sicilian fis.h.i.+ng boats" or "racing boats," and explain about them.

Instead he went pale and cried, "Pirates! Pirates!"

They were making for us--three boats.

"Hemiolias," he said. "Of the fastest kind."

"I thought Pompey had destroyed the pirates," I cried, as if saying it would make them disappear. I was still so ignorant then--I trusted in so many things.

"Most of them, yes. But some linger on--like lions in the far mountains of Syria." He found his voice, and his courage, again. "Sails again! Sails again!" he yelled. "Come about! Make for the strait!"

The s.h.i.+p spun wildly around as the sail was let out and the fierce wind filled it, dragging the s.h.i.+p northward. We were headed toward the sh.o.r.e, where rocks waited in the mist. Behind us the pirates had swung their s.h.i.+ps to follow. They were hoisting their sails now, too.

I could hear the das.h.i.+ng of the waves against the rocks ahead, even though I could not see them through the fog.

"Turn! Turn! Hard astarboard!"

The s.h.i.+p thrust itself to the right, riding on the crest of a wave. Suddenly we were in the channel, the opening of the strait. Was the current flowing north or south--with us or against us?

I was dismayed as I saw the pattern of the waves. The current was coming toward us; the wind and the waves would battle, and we would make little headway. The pirates would catch us easily--if they dared follow us into the strait.

We plunged on, the boat dipping and bucking. The wind was pus.h.i.+ng us forward, but the waves were hitting and slapping us in the opposite direction, thudding against our bow and trying to turn us sideways, to drive us onto the rocky sh.o.r.e.

"Port-side oarsmen, row with all your strength!" cried the captain. Only that would keep us from drifting to the side.

The channel narrowed, becoming more dangerous by the minute. In one stretch of relatively calm water, a pirate boat caught up with us, and a grapnel was thrown on board. They tried to board us, but our soldiers hacked off their lines and let them fall into the sea. All the pirates had elected to follow; the other boats were closing in on our wake.

Now the channel narrowed even more, and the sea began to churn. Ahead of us, in the white, clingy mist, I could see only darkness. The channel was veering to the east, rightward.

A dull noise filled my ears, a low undercurrent of sound.

"The whirlpool! It's spinning!" The captain was pointing. "Row as far east as possible! Stay out of its grasp!"

Now, opening up before me, I could see the disturbed water surface, innocent-looking, just a series of large ripples, all curving in the same direction.

"Stay away from those margins!" the captain yelled.

Caesarion was in my arms, and I held him tightly. We would not lose one another to the dangerous waters; no, I would never let him go, as my mother had me. The wind was whipping my face and sending columns of sea spray high over the deck. The noise of the whirlpool was increasing; now it was as noisy as a cart rumbling over a stone road.

Coming up on our left--the whirlpool side--was another of the pirate boats. I. saw the men standing on deck, and one of them grasped a line and swung directly onto our deck, dropping down as lithely as a monkey. He straightened himself and looked around, pulling a dagger from his belt. Behind him, with a steady thump-thump-thump thump-thump-thump, came his s.h.i.+pmates, landing softly, one by one.

My soldiers swung around to confront them as the deck rose and fell. Looming closer and closer ahead of us was the whirlpool. All hands were needed to save the s.h.i.+p; only my guards could be spared to fight the pirates.

"Insignia!" one of them cried, a tall, wild-haired man, with the glee of a child who has discovered a pile of toys. "Royal insignia!"

"It's the Queen's s.h.i.+p, all right," one of them cried. He was red-faced and shouting. "We were right. First one to capture her gets half the ransom!" They advanced, bent over. Again I thought of monkeys.

How did they know I was pa.s.sing this way? The word must have got out quickly, for I had not been gone from Egypt that long.

One of my bodyguards drew his stout sword, and the others around me sprang into action. The fight was on. I clutched Caesarion. They would never get him, even if I had to kill every one of them myself. I was so blinded with rage I wanted to kill, and never doubted that I could.

One of the burly soldiers managed to fling a dark-haired pirate overboard, and he hit the water like a stone, sending up an enormous column of water. He was an excellent swimmer, and soon surfaced. But he had landed on the outer rim of the whirlpool, and I watched in fascinated horror as the mighty force of it lifted him and spun him toward the center, where he disappeared.

One of the pirates on deck, who looked older than the others, gave a bloodcurdling cry and flung himself through the air at me, like a big cat. He knocked me to the ground, but I did not let go of Caesarion.

"You've killed my brother!" he screamed. "Now I have two to avenge!" He slashed with his dagger, but his hand was trembling so much that he missed.

"Fool! Kill our ransom?" Another pirate, landing sickeningly near, pinned his arm down. "Let Caesar pay for her! Like he paid for himself!" He had a loud, commanding voice.

I twisted and rolled away. One of my soldiers attacked the two men, and another joined him.

They knew exactly who I was, and had some grievance with Caesar. This had been carefully planned.

The soldiers had the pirates pinned, and were about to slit their throats.

"Stop!" I screamed. "This is an attack against Caesar. Let him see them, and punish them!"

Disappointed, the soldiers had no choice but to obey. They savagely hit the pirates on the head to knock them unconscious, then threw their bodies down with the rowers.

The hand-to-hand fighting on the deck went on, but the pirates were retreating, demoralized at the capture of their leaders. One of them plunged overboard, diving directly into the center of the whirlpool in a spectacular arching leap of suicide.

Now we were pa.s.sing just to the side of the monster, and its cry had become a roar. I felt the s.h.i.+p straining as the almost irresistible force of the suction pulled on its timbers; I could smell the foul odor of whatever it was belching up from the deep, perhaps the remains of its digested victims.

"Hold fast! Hold fast!" cried the captain. The s.h.i.+p shuddered and groaned; the whirlpool reached for us; we shot past it.

Ahead of us loomed the ugly, high, jagged rock.

"Quick! Steer to the other side, to the other side!" screamed the captain. The gus.h.i.+ng white foam that surrounded the vicious rock like a skirt touched our sides. There was no escape. We were going right for it! We were going to to burst open on it! burst open on it!

With a wrench, the boat dashed against a seaweed-bed that had been disgorged from the whirlpool and now matted against some rocks. The boat struck them broadside, but the seaweed cus.h.i.+oned the blow and we escaped gouging. The force of it turned the s.h.i.+p so it changed direction and scudded past the base of the great rock of Scylla. The sea monster, she of the six heads who had devoured six of Odysseus's men, missed her meal with us. The boat emerged on the other side of her, and suddenly we were out of the strait altogether, being blown clear of it by our old companion, the south wind.

Behind us straggled two of the pirate boats. One went down in the whirlpool, to the ghastly wailing of its crew. The other escaped destruction, but gave up the chase once we had cleared the strait.

I was trembling all over, as if my limbs had incorporated the waves within themselves. I clung to the rail and kept looking behind us to see the dark-toothed rock of Scylla growing smaller, receding behind our wake. The oarsmen were still rowing frantically, and in their panic they started to lose the rhythm of their strokes. Oars started hitting oars instead of dipping and leaving the water in perfect timing. The timekeeper, the keleustes keleustes, calmed them by ordering them to slow down.

In the meantime, the two captured pirates were being chained up before they regained consciousness. They were hauled up from the rowers' benches, where they were hardly wanted, and tied to the mast. They slumped over, their heads lolling to one side.

I studied them carefully. One of them was bald and very muscular; his fellow was a weedy little man. It was the bald one who had tried to stab me, and had yelled about his brother. The skinny one had talked about a ransom from Caesar. They both looked old to be pirates; I guessed them to be around fifty, unless the harsh sun had aged their skins unduly.

"They'll talk soon enough," said the captain. "But why didn't you let them be killed?"

"I wish to make a present of them to Caesar," I said. "It was his name they invoked; this has something to do with him." Although I had brought gifts-- a costly Pharaonic statue that I knew Caesar coveted, as well as the usual gold and pearls--I knew the pirates would please him most of all.

More sail was let out, to give the rower^ a rest. We were now beginning to slide past the coast of Italy itself--Italy at last! Ahead of us in the sea, like a gigantic natural lighthouse, sat the great volcano of Strongyle, its top emitting steam and clouds.

"How much longer now?" I asked the captain, knowing I sounded like a child.

He looked up at the clouds being pushed along with us.

"If this south wind holds, only another few days," he said. "Another few days until we land."

It was ten days--the wind died down--until we approached the port of Ostia at the mouth of the Tiber, the famous Tiber. I stepped onto the landing and felt the solid earth beneath my feet for the first time in weeks. We had made surprisingly good time, considering the prevailing winds and currents, but it had still taken over forty days.

I looked at the stream before me with astonishment. The Tiber was a small river, nothing like my Nile. It looked so harmless, so utterly negligible, a child's river. What kind of people lived on its banks, in their city that sought to rule the entire world?

Chapter 22.

The sun had set; the sky above remained a rich and tender gold-streaked blue. Slowly I turned around to study my surroundings, this first soil of Italy upon which I found myself. The most immediate thing that struck me was the trees--towering pines with wide parasols of bristled branches. I had never seen anything remotely like them. Their trunks were bare until a certain height, like a palm tree, but their twisted limbs and odd foliage, of a deep, dark green, seemed something from a fanciful traveler's tale. Just then a gentle breeze stirred the tops of the trees, and the most extraordinary aroma came out of them: sweet, piercing, seemingly the very essence of greenness.

Under my feet was a thick carpet of gra.s.s, denser than any I had ever seen. There were brittle brown needles in it--dead pine leaves, I a.s.sumed--that my shoes crushed, releasing still more pine odor. The gra.s.s itself felt moist and strangely springy and resilient; alive, not dead like a flat rug.

We had sent messengers to notify Caesar of our arrival, but before they could possibly have reached him, a contingent of officials approached us. They brought sleek horses and several litters, and were headed by a magistrate riding a white horse. He was clearly looking for us; his head was swiveling from side to side. Behind him rode another official-looking man.

Sighting us, he reined in his horse and, dismounting, walked toward us. I saw that he was a middle-aged man with one of those round faces that are difficult to remember, because they are so ordinary. He was wearing a white tunic with narrow vertical bands, and a light cloak over it. He carried a scroll in one hand.

"Queen Cleopatra?" he asked, before bowing his head. "Welcome to Rome. I am here in Caesar's name to greet you, and escort you to your quarters. I am Gaius Oppius."

So Caesar had not come himself. Of course it would have been improper for him to wait on the ramparts for my arrival and then rush out like a schoolboy. My arrival was not predictable; I could have come at any time. Yet I was disappointed. My sting of disappointment told me how much I wished to see him. I forced myself to smile.

"I thank you, my good friend," I said.

The second man had now dismounted, and was making his way over to us. He was tall, with formidable dark eyebrows. He approached briskly, bowed, and said, "Cornelius Balbus at your service, Your Majesty. In the wars, praefectus fabrum praefectus fabrum of Caesar's army." His Greek had a heavy Spanish accent. of Caesar's army." His Greek had a heavy Spanish accent.