Page 27 of Cleopatra

“The bull must have been maltreated. I will be sure to question the priesthood on their guardianship of the sacred beast,” I said.

Arsinoe nodded and wiped her hand on the underskirts of her dress. “I can go in your stead, if it pleases you. There are many things for you to do here, and I would not mind travelling to Hermonthis for the festivities.”

As much as I wanted to concede, I knew how important my attendance would be. If I did not partake in the service, it would be seen as a slight against an important religious cult.

But Arsinoe was right, Alexandria also needed me. The lack of rain had caused a famine in the southern parts of the country. Taxes needed to be carefully balanced to increase imports. And selfishly, I would miss my work in the library. My research consumed every spare moment I had. What had started as a way to garner Isis’s attention had become a passion, ever since I had put needle to skin to sew Charmion back together. I now knew how to heal an infection of the flesh and the mind. I could brew a tincture to ease an earache, or a balm to soothe a sore stomach.

“It is a long journey. Two weeks, even if the wind is swift,” Arsinoe added.

Pothinus saw my hesitation. “Perhaps the King should remain in Alexandria. It is true what your sister claims: Alexandria needs a monarch in these troubled times. Should Theos stay, you will then be able to undertake this pilgrimage in the name of the gods.”

It was clear Pothinus had heard the rumours too. And despite my dislike of him, his reasoning was sensible.

“Yes, you are right. I will travel to Hermonthis alone. Mikro Theos, you remain here.”

My brother frowned. “I would like to go as well. I have never seen the Buchis bull.”

I reached over and patted his arm. “One of us must stay, for Alexandria must have a ruler.”

“Why not you, sister?” he asked.

Pothinus and I exchanged a glance. We both knew the power of a royal tour, and it was my reputation that needed rebuilding.

“If you stay here, I will make sure you are given more time away from the court to go swimming,” I said, and Theos’s eyes lit up.

“Thank you.”

Theos was merely a figurehead for my and Pothinus’s rule, and if I could grant him an opportunity of solace, I would.

Pothinus turned to leave but I waved him back.

“Any news from Rome?” Caesar had yet to call for Pompey’s remains.

Theos leaned forward in his chair, his eyes brightening. “Yes, does he know it was I who slayed his enemy?”

The younger Ptolemy snorted. “You? It was our sister who brought him down.”

“Be quiet, brother,” Theos replied.

“I cannot hear you, for your lizard tongue twists your words.” Ptolemy’s insults often invoked Theos’s god, the crocodile-headed Sobek, who granted him the ability to breathe beneath water.

“Death-monger,” Theos shot back.

Ptolemy’s god power had come to him the previous season. Blessed by the god Anubis, he had the ability to foretell one’s death. He had simply looked up one day and said to one of our courtiers, “You will die tonight.”

The courtier laughed it off as a youthful jest, for he had been in prime health. But to everyone’s surprise, his heart had failed that night. It was then that we discovered Ptolemy’s ability—and its limitations. He could only predict a person’s death the day it occurred.

I often wondered if he had known about his own demise before it happened. But forgive me, I have skipped forward through the years. There are many more deaths before his.

“Enough,” I barked at them, and the two boys fell silent. I beckoned once more for Pothinus to answer my question.

“No, we are yet to hear from Rome,” he answered quickly.

I had interpreted his agitation as haste to leave the den of squabbling Ptolemies. But how was I to know that the muscle feathering along his jaw denoted a lie?

Arsinoe sighed, drawing all eyes to her, as was her intention. “Sister, can I at least accompany you?”

Pothinus nodded. “I think that would be agreeable.”