Page 152 of Cleopatra

She reached for my hand and squeezed it painfully. “Tell me this is not the end.”

I looked at her but still I refused to cry. “I will not lie to you.”

She fell to the ground at my feet, pulling me with her.

“No, Cleo, you must come with us.”

I kissed her wet cheeks. “I cannot. My presence here is what will give you and the children the means to escape. Let him know where to find me, and when he comes ashore, you and the children must leave.”

“You will let him take you prisoner?”

I shook my head and said fiercely, “Never.”

Charmion cried even harder. I leaned my brow against hers. “Give me my medicine bag, Charmion. It is time for me to carry its load.”

She started to lift the bag, but her arms grew weak and she collapsed again. With gentle hands I took it from her.

“I need you to go and look after the children, Charmion. Hide with them in the tunnel until you see Octavian come ashore. I will make certain he knows where to find me.”

I brought my lips to hers for the final time. “Go, my dearest friend. The other half of me.”

Charmion stood on shaking legs and I embraced her for the final time. I whispered against her hair, “Live this life for the both of us, Charmion.”

She released me and said, “You were all I ever needed in this life, Cleo.”

I rested my forehead on hers and whispered, “One for the past and the happy years well spent, one for the present and the patience we extend, one for the future and the love that never ends.”

Then Charmion left, and half of my soul went with her.

—

Eiras helped dress me in my finest clothes. I wore the gold dress I had worn the day I had married Antonius. Over one shoulder I draped the purple cloak that Caesar had given me. At my neck, a turquoise and gold mantle handed down through generations. My hair was knotted with two golden pins. Finally, I wore my uraeus crown, the three rearing cobras pressing heavy on my brow.

“Eiras, will you bring me an obsidian slate? There is one final task I must attend to.”

When she had gone, I looked at myself in the mirror.

I had achieved much in my life, though I was not yet forty years of age. Some of my successes lived on in my body: the lines of the smiles Antonius had solicited, the scars on my stomach from my children. Then there were my failures beneath the surface: the wound of Caesar’s death, the betrayal of my younger siblings.

This body had carried me through good and bad. And it was beautiful.

Do not let your historians tell you I was not. Your professors scrutinise my face on a coin and tell me my legacy was unsightly.

But I stand before you now, clad in gold and purple with all my flaws and all my scars. And I am the very essence of beauty.

Eiras returned, an obsidian slate in one hand, a carving knife in the other.

I began to write my final message to Antonius.

Marcus, I will see you again in the field of reeds. Our love is more than this life; it is blood, it is bone, it is breath.

I handed the finished tablet to Eiras. “Be sure that when Marcus arrives, he is given this.”

She read the message and blanched. “Pharaoh…”

I nodded, confirming her suspicions.

There was only one more thing I had to do before my death. I stopped in the throne room, where Faunus sat with his head in his hands. He looked up as I called to him.