Page 117 of Cleopatra

His eyes travelled from my crown-topped head to my bare feet. “Very much so.”

A hedonist indeed.

“Would you care for some hibiscus tea?” I said. The servant who held the palm frond above me moved to serve Marcus. Free of the shade, I closed my eyes and tipped my head to the sky.

“Bronze,” Marcus said, his voice much closer than it had been.

When I opened my eyes, he was sitting by the water’s edge, resting back on his elbows. His gaze still lingered on me.

“What is bronze?”

“You are. A resplendent statue in the sun.”

“Not gold?”

Marcus shook his head seriously. “No. Gold is luxurious, but bronze is durable. It can weather a storm and emerge in triumph, more beautiful than before.”

I snorted. “You mean tarnish?”

“No; the green patina that comes from exposure is as becoming as the robe you wear.”

“I have never been compared to such a common metal.”

“Then I must beg your forgiveness, Isis. For you are anything but common. My intention was to flatter you.”

“You failed.” He hadn’t failed. “You cannot sway me with simple words like I am a Roman plebeian.”

He had swayed me. But this was a sport, and I could not reveal to him my strategy.

Antonius took a sip of his tea before speaking again. “It is a horror to have caused you such distress. How must I be punished?” His eyes sparkled.

“If you weren’t an ally, I’d suggest drowning,” I said.

“A fitting sentence,” he said seriously. Then, without pausing for breath, he jumped into the pond.

I watched, mouth agape, as he sank beneath the lotus flowers.

A few bubbles drifted to the surface and then the water was once again still.

“Marcus?” I called out across the pond.

My servant shifted uncomfortably beside me as the time stretched out. “Pharaoh, should I send for someone?”

“No, he will surface. Marcus is a jester first and foremost.”

But as we waited, I began to think I had taken our game too far. Had I just killed a triumvir of Rome?

As panic buzzed in my ears, like a bee about to sting, there was a splash in front of me. I had no time to move backwards as Marcus pulled himself from the pond and lay gasping beside me, shaking with laughter and showering me with water.

“I thought you dead,” I said.

“Well, you did sentence me to drowning.”

This elicited a rueful smile from me.

“You deserve to die for pulling such a mean trick.”

“You think so?” he said, getting to his feet.