Page 147 of Cleopatra

“We need to discuss with the rest of our allies. Dellius, send for them. It is time to end this battle.”

Dellius returned with the kings and queens of Asia Minor and the East. Together we formed a plan to force Octavian’s hand. We had many more soldiers than him, and if we were able to draw the Romans out to central Greece, the battle would easily be won.

I learned a lesson too late that day: when someone first shows you their true nature, believe the face they turn to you.

Dellius took the plans that we made that day and gave them to Octavian. I will never know what it was that swayed his loyalties. Did he see the end was in sight? Or was it as simple as his hatred of me?

Either way, his defection became one of many. With the lack of food and burning weather, soldiers flocked in their masses to Octavian’s side.

The dread in my belly had sunk into my bones. So much so that I found it hard to conduct my daily routine on the bow of the boat.

“I must sit,” I whispered in Eiras’s direction. My maid came forward just as I began to sway. She caught me and lowered me onto the ship’s deck. That was where Antonius found me.

“Cleopatra? Are you well?”

He kneeled by my side.

“No, Antonius. I am not.” I took the cup of murky water Eiras offered and drank it, despite it tasting brackish.

“What is it that ails you?” he asked. I looked into his hollowed eyes, lack of sleep robbing them of vibrancy. The green in their centre, which I had once thought the most beautiful and invigorating colour, now reminded me of the Actium marshes.

“This war presses down heavy on my heart. We cannot continue like this. We have to retreat before we starve here.”

Antonius collapsed beside me, sighing. Then he laughed, shaking his head. “If the soldiers look to us now, they’ll be greatly disappointed by the figures they see.”

I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “It is time to go home. Let us amass more troops, rally for more allies. Our time in Actium is over, but the battle is not.”

“I see the sense in what you suggest,” he told me, “but how are we to manoeuvre through the gulf? Octavian still blocks our path.”

My father’s voice came to me then across the great distance of my memories. I lay tangled in Berenice’s bloodied sheets, cursing his hand in her murder.

He had gently lifted me from the bed and said, “We are Egypt, and Egypt is us. Sometimes we must sacrifice what we hold dear. But Egypt must live. Always.”

With my father’s words ringing in my ears, I stood shakily and looked back over the fleet.

“We must sacrifice some of our own army. Order thirty of our ships to attack the eastern flank, then while Octavian is occupied, we make for Egypt.” I spoke quietly, too softly for anyone but Antonius to hear. We no longer trusted anyone but each other.

“We’ll be condemning all aboard those thirty ships to death.”

I nodded grimly. “Strip the vessels of all but the sparsest of crews. And tonight, let us invite the commanders who lead them to dine with us. We can empty the kitchen supplies, consume all the wine. Give them a night with the gods before their noble death on the morrow.”

—

The last meal in Actium was a raucous affair. The thirty commanders filled the dining hall of the boat, bringing with them voracious appetites. I had instructed the kitchens to assemble a feast that was reminiscent of the many we’d had back in Egypt.

Stocks were low, but they were able to hunt waterfowl from the bay, roasting them in batches so that the evening wore on far later than I had wanted. We used the last of our wine, ensuring the commanders’ cups were always filled. Tributes were made in my and Antonius’s honour and we accepted them politely, raising our gold chalices up in respect.

But as the dinner came to a close, I urged Antonius to pronounce his final words. And seal their fates.

He begged for silence from the wine-merry crowd and they granted it to him. “Many of you may be wondering what fortune has led to your attendance here this night. I am here to tell you that tomorrow is the day we strike at the heart of our enemy.”

There were shocked murmurs.

“You mean to say we make a move on the blockade?” a young commander asked. He could not have been much older than Caesarion. I looked away.

Coward, my inner voice said. You cannot face the men you send to their deaths?

I forced myself to turn back to him as I stood, drawing the gaze of the room to me. The soldier’s brown eyes were wide and innocent, not seeming the eyes of a soldier.