Page 125 of Cleopatra

I spotted a carving on the edge of the table which held my interest. “Except that one,” I said.

The market seller nodded fervently. “Yes, yes, your wife has an impeccable eye, this is a fine specimen, popular with our Greek brethren—Dionysus.”

Antonius did not correct the market seller’s assumption that I was his wife. His attention was wholly on my hands, cradling the small token.

“Dionysus,” he whispered, and I knew we were sharing memories of the night we’d first met. I held it up to his eyeline. The little carving was finely crafted, depicting the god with a grapevine resting on one shoulder and a cup of wine held aloft in his hand.

Antonius reached for the figure, his hand briefly closing over mine. In turn he offered me the talisman of Isis, seated on her throne with Horus on her knee and the cow-horn crown on her head.

He watched as I placed the carving in my robe against my chest.

“We should move on,” I said quietly. I had noticed that the market seller’s good fortune had already been spotted by two other traders nearby, who were desperately trying to flag us down.

I led the way to the herbalist in the centre of the market. After securing the willow bark, we stopped at one more stall.

“Fresh bread like you will never have had before,” I said.

The baker smiled at my compliment as she pulled the lid off her clay pot, releasing the aroma of the baking bread.

“The smell would make the gods weep,” Antonius said.

“I will take one extra,” I told the baker.

We sated our appetite, Antonius confirming that indeed it was the best bread he had ever had. As the evening grew darker, the market began to quieten, the stalls emptying.

“I must make one more stop before we return.” When I didn’t elaborate, Antonius didn’t press me.

I led us down the quieter streets to the south of the city, where stonework turned to mud bricks, and entered one of the smaller dwellings.

“Who goes there?” The voice was gruff, as if scarcely used.

“Apollodorus, it is me,” I said.

“Pharaoh?” He moved out of the gloom and into rushlight.

I handed him the extra bread I had brought as well as some of the willow bark. “Food for your stomach, willow for your leg.”

His eyes shimmered as he took the bundle, offering me a seat at his table. I had tried offering Apollodorus accommodations elsewhere, but he’d claimed this was home, and so home it was.

“This is Antonius,” I said, gesturing behind me.

Apollodorus bowed low, wincing as he did. “Careful,” I chastised him. “Sit before you cause more damage.”

The weaver lowered himself into a chair, his leg lying straight out in front of him. I could see beneath his tunic that the joint was swollen.

“How goes the pain? I am sorry I have not been able to visit sooner, but I hope the healers I sent were sufficient?”

Apollodorus smiled weakly. “You need not have worried about me, Pharaoh. I have my hands and so I can still weave.”

“Good. I have some more requests for material, but I will send them with a servant on the morrow.”

“You are too giving, Pharaoh. I wish to offer you a drink, but I have only water. With Nilah gone…” His throat bobbed and I bowed my head.

“I heard of your loss and I am sorry. She will be well looked after by my ancestors in the afterlife.”

My words seemed to comfort him.

“We will not intrude on your hospitality any longer, but please do send for me should you need anything,” I said.