Page 111 of Cleopatra

Again, I refused.

On the third day he brought the invitation himself, but I sequestered myself in my rooms on the boat and did not give him an audience.

My strategy followed Caesar’s—if you make them wait, you strip them of power.

I could feel the tension stretching like a bow string between us. It made it difficult to sleep, so on the fifth night in Tarsus, I found myself sitting on the bow of the boat, watching the sun rise.

When I was younger I had detested the dawn, heralding as it did the start of a new day and with it the burden of being the Pharaoh’s daughter. Whereas night had been a time of pleasure and play, of exploring my body beneath the sheets and whispering secrets in the dark.

Now I was older, I appreciated the new beginning that dawn brought, and had learned to fear the stillness of night amidst the loudness of my thoughts.

As the golden tones of the morning sun struck the sky, I felt myself relax, my worries and anxieties easing.

The sun’s rays glowed pink on the river’s surface and I began to outline the view with my finger. A group of ducklings swam past the ship, crying after their mother, who had reached the riverbank before them.

A shadow caught my eye: something moving in the shallows. I leaned over the railing to try and catch sight of the fish as it neared the boat.

The creature was large, larger than the trout my soldiers had caught the day before. As it moved towards the surface I flinched as it reached forward and took hold of the lower deck.

For it was no fish, but a man.

I jumped up from my couch, my mouth open to call for my guards. But then the man climbed up and over the railing and I recognised him.

“Marcus?”

I cannot help but smile, even now, as I recollect his appearance. He wore nothing but a loincloth, and he would later tell me this was to ensure he was not pulled under by the weight of his tunic, as he was not a proficient swimmer. River-water gathered in the channels of his muscles and my eyes were drawn to the sheen of the skin there. He had grown leaner in our years apart and was battle-scarred in areas of his body I had never been privy to seeing before.

There were other changes, too; his hair was longer and touched by the warmth of the sun, curling in shades of brown by his ears. He had shaved off his beard, though the shadow of it still remained.

He smiled at me in his unique way, like he was about to reveal the climax of a joke.

“Selene,” he said. The name I had once given him in guise. I looked down at myself and wondered if I were not her. I wore no crown, just my bed robes, and my hair tumbled down my back in fine braids.

I felt vulnerable beneath his stare. “What are you doing here?”

“You gave me no choice.”

I recovered myself a little, and said, “You had many choices, and this should not have been one of them.”

“Pharaoh…” Seti ran onto the deck, his spear raised.

I held up a hand to stop him advancing. “If he were a threat, I’d be dead already,” I said dryly. “Please tell the kitchens to provide refreshments in the north stateroom for me and Marcus Antonius.”

“Marcus Antonius?” the guard repeated, his eyes avoiding Antonius’s loincloth.

“Yes, and send for Faunus and the scribes. We have some matters to discuss.”

Antonius’s smile dropped briefly.

“Or do you not wish to stay?” I asked him. He had thought to take me unawares, to destabilise me by arriving so abruptly.

He glanced down at his lack of clothing.

“Of course we could meet at your residence for dinner instead?” I said lightly.

His laugh was quick. “No, I am happy to discuss now, if you are?”

Without responding, I turned and entered the corridors of the boat, stopping only when we arrived at the stateroom. There I sat in the gilded chair I used for formal audiences. Faunus and the scribes had already arrived and were seated on either side of me.