Page 24 of Cleopatra

“In a land not far from here, in a time not long from now, there was a great king, known to us as Alexander. He hailed from Macedonia to liberate Egypt from the Achaemenid Empire. But the gods called to him, and so he passed into the beyond, to rule beside Osiris.”

The hakawati let out a piercing wail that stole a beat of my heart. “Oh, what there was! Oh, what there wasn’t! Egypt mourned his passing. For who would herald our land, and shepherd our people?

“Alexander in his greatness bestowed the land on a worthy advisor: General Ptolemy, who sailed to us in our need.

“But Ptolemy knew little of how to rule Egypt. Without a pharaoh steering the oars of the ship, Egypt would soon be torn asunder. And so, he turned his face from Mount Olympus and looked to the Egyptian sky. For nine days and nine nights he prayed to the gods of Egypt, begging for acceptance and guidance.”

The hakawati sank to the floor, prostrate. His hands reached towards my feet as he acted out my ancestor’s prayers—as though I were the gods he prayed to.

My guards tightened the circle around me, but I waved them away.

The old man was just a storyteller. What harm could stories do?

When the hakawati looked up from his play-acting, his eyes locked with mine. He rose from the ground, stepping closer to me, and said, “But the gods were silent.” I saw a glimmer of something malicious in his gaze. Whether it was for me or for the fictional god, I did not know.

“Oh, what they had! Oh, what they hadn’t!”

Those of us closest to the hakawati started at his sudden loud cry. A tittering of laughs followed.

“But our benevolent king did not concede. ‘I must know Egypt to rule it,’ Ptolemy said. And so, he began to read. A year he spent collecting scrolls and reading books. From the seeds of his collection, the Library of Alexandria would come to grow. Once he learned all he could, he prayed again, hoping he was now worthy of the gods’ blessing. But again, they were silent.

“Oh, what they did! Oh, what they didn’t! Ptolemy was not ready to surrender to the whims of mortals. Perhaps I must know the people of Egypt to rule them, he thought.

“And so he walked the Nile, meeting everyone he could. Once he came to love his citizens, he prayed again, hoping he was now worthy of the gods’ blessing. But again, they were silent.

“Oh, what there were! Oh, what there weren’t! I have come to know the living, and perhaps I now must know the dead, he concluded. And so he walked the valleys and tombs of those who had come before.

“Once he came to respect Egypt’s ancestors, he prayed again, hoping now he was worthy of the gods’ blessing.”

The crowd was silent, enraptured by the hakawati’s words. I, too, was taken with the tale, despite its familiarity.

“This time, a god spoke back.” Though the hakawati whispered, his voice carried. “ ‘Ptolemy!’ the god cried. ‘We have heard, and seen, and felt your plight. You are Egypt’s rightful keeper. Not only shall you be blessed, but your descendants too, hereafter. Each will be bestowed with a kernel of a god’s power. I, Serapis, will be the first to bless you.’

“And with divine brightness, Ptolemy’s hands began to shine. ‘We name you Ptolemy Sōter; go now, and reap your reward.’ Ptolemy ruled Egypt with hands touched by the gods. The buildings he raised took half the time to construct, aided by Serapis’s power. The serapeum, gymnasium, lighthouse and library are just some of his divine feats.”

The hakawati stepped close enough that I could smell the fish on his breath.

“And we stand now in the presence of one so blessed. A descendant of the legend who built Egypt from the rubble of war.” His hand went to his waist as he bowed towards me.

“Will the very same gods save you now, Pharaoh?”

With remarkable speed, the hakawati withdrew an ivory blade from his robes and lunged towards me.

In that instant the spell of his story, which had slowly bound me with its threads, broke. I blinked, seeing a premonition of my death beneath my eyelids; my blood misting across the crowd like sea spray, my heart stopping, my eyelids fluttering. They would gasp, as loudly as they had for the hakawati’s tale. For that’s all I would be.

A story.

A legend.

My death, the ultimate plot point.

A premonition indeed.

But as you and I know, I did not die that day.

Charmion proved quicker than the guards on either side of me. She pulled me behind her in time for the blade to strike.

Something warm struck my face. I brought my fingers to it and drew them back.