Page 109 of Cleopatra

Dellius seemed to realise he had gone too far. But I was not yet done with my threats.

“Does Marcus wish to incite my wrath?”

“No, Pharaoh,” he said quickly.

“Leave Egypt,” I said. “Go back to Marcus and tell him I will not answer his call. And the next time he wishes to speak to me he must do so in person, not send someone of such little consequence.” I turned on my heel, leaving Dellius to retreat to his ship with neither refreshments nor use of the baths.

That should have been the end of it. But Antonius was obstinate in his pursuit of an audience with me. My message via Dellius had been received unhappily, and the next time I heard from him it was in his voice alone.

The letter was marked with many smudges and blots of ink, having come directly from his hand and not a scribe’s.

Come to Tarsus, Pharaoh. We must discuss Serapion’s defection. The senate wants answers. And I wish to see you again.

I would not have answered had it not been for the final sentence. I replied in ink of my own:

If you want answers, seek them in the Great Library of Alexandria. Then, while you visit, you may see me in the palace.

I could feel his smile in the answering letter.

It is not books that will satisfy me, but the sound of your voice. And I should cross an ocean for it; but my armies tie me to Tarsus. Come to me.

I was shocked by his blatant flattery.

You pay me compliments, but they are worth no more than the paper you send them on. They will not lure me to Tarsus.

The next letter arrived carved into a tablet of obsidian, and I laughed when I read from it.

Not paper, but something more precious, then. Are my words worth more to you now? Come to Tarsus. The weather is mild, though the wine is milder.

My reply was short:

I enjoy the heat of Egypt’s sun.

Though it had been my intention to discourage his attentions, when I did not receive an immediate reply, I found myself growing morose. Our messages had become a game, and I was impatient for his next move.

When the letter did arrive, I was not to be disappointed.

Let my gaze be your sun and you shall bask in it always. Come—the senate grows impatient for the truth, and I impatient for your company.

“Go,” Charmion said.

“Did you say something?” I said, turning to her from the balcony.

“You have read and re-read his letter so many times the papyrus has started to shred. Go to Tarsus.”

I frowned, placing the letter on the table next to me as if I hadn’t realised what I was doing. “He wishes for me to answer for Serapion’s crimes.”

“No, he wants to see you. Serapion’s crimes are just an excuse.”

I wasn’t so sure. Even though I’d had no proof of Serapion’s deception over the years, I had still suspected, and that had been enough to make him a liability on the battlefield. The commander had done great damage to Antonius’s fleet before he died.

“If you do not pen the letter, then I will,” Charmion threatened.

I surrendered. “Fine.”

I will come to Tarsus, I wrote. And there we may put this matter to rest.

And so I took the first step on the path to my death. But first, let me love once more.