Page 128 of Cleopatra

She squealed before becoming serious once more. “A man named Cicero speaks against Antonius to the senate. Among many insults he claims he is a degenerate of wanton regard. With an appetite for flesh and drink few have seen the likes of.”

I swirled my hands in the water, making a momentary current. Charmion’s words did not surprise me. I knew exactly who Antonius was. He was Dionysus, a god of indulgence, of pleasure. The slander did not worry me like it should have.

“Mere words. I see Marcus plain.”

When Charmion didn’t respond, I engaged her once more. “Tell me your thoughts. I can see the worry on your face.”

“I am worried. Words have power, and if the senate moves against him while he is here with you…”

She feared war. A foretelling once again.

I moved through the water to clasp her hands in mine. “Rest your worries. Egypt is safe. I am safe, and you too are safe.”

For now.

I questioned Antonius on Cicero later. He laughed. “The man is a withered old fool. Pious and pompous in equal measure.”

But there was a catch to his tone, an inflection that was not all pleasant. I didn’t press him on it. I knew he would bring it to me with time.

It was on the way back to Alexandria that we next spoke on Rome. I could see something troubled him. It was a long journey by camel-drawn caravan and we had no entertainment but each other. Once we had sated our desires, there was little to do but talk.

It took him two nights before he told me the extent of his concerns.

“Fulvia brought arms against Octavian in my absence,” he said quietly. “She has raised two legions from my veterans.”[*]

“Your wife fights against the triumvirate?”

He ran a hand through his hair. It had grown long and wild in the shemu heat. “Cicero has led a campaign against me, weakening my position. She seeks to overthrow Octavian and Lepidus to make me sole ruler and end the dissent. Lucius, my fool brother, has also lent his soldiers to the cause.”

I was surprised Antonius had managed to keep such news so close to his chest. When I asked him why he had not told me before now, he said, “I did not want you to concern yourself with the tensions in Rome.”

“My son is Caesar’s heir; Rome is his home as much as Egypt is. Do not deny me the truth.”

I trusted Antonius, but I also knew his limitations. He did not hide things from me out of spite. He simply avoided discussing matters that did not bring him pleasure. And Fulvia did not bring him pleasure.

“She draws you to her,” I concluded.

“Yes.” He must have seen something in my expression, for he kneeled before me and laid his head on my lap. “But I will not go. Let her have her war; I will not be a part of it.”

So much blood was shed in my lifetime, it was easy to forget the smaller battles. Fulvia and Lucius’s insurgence came to naught except more death. Octavian spared both their lives, but Fulvia died of disease not long after.

It was Charmion who told me the news, not Antonius: “Some say she died of a broken heart.”

I knew she only recounted court hearsay, but the words still stung. I knew who Fulvia had been to Antonius—simply put, she was not me.

Antonius never told me of her death. But the night I found out, he drank himself into such a stupor, four soldiers had to bring him to bed. The next day he smiled once more. For Fulvia had just been a cloud in his sky, and I was the moon itself.

Soon we had news of our own that kept us occupied. I was pregnant.

“I feel them,” Antonius said, his hands resting on my belly. Tears sparkled in his eyes.

“Twins,” the soothsayer had predicted after running her hands over my stomach. The silence had stretched for longer than was comfortable. So when she spoke, both Antonius and I let out a great breath of relief.

Then came the joy, which has not abated since.

“Twins can sometimes be weak, but they are both strong,” I said, placing my hand onto his.

“They have the blood of Romulus and Remus in them. Roman blood,” said Antonius.