Page 43 of Cleopatra

The thought stirred me from the mud, and with a squelch I stood and made my way northwards.

I walked through fields of wheat and flax, arriving in the outskirts of Alexandria at dawn. My bare feet, unused to such distances, were blistered and raw. Mud had dried in streaks on my face as the sun rose.

I cannot meet Caesar like this.

There was a well in the centre of the southern district and I waited patiently in the early-morning queue.

I wondered if Charmion had made it safely to the palace yet, or if our ruse had been prematurely uncovered.

“The child Pharaoh has ousted the Queen.” The words drew me out of my thoughts and I homed in on the speaker in front of me.

The two women were no older than my twenty-one years.

“Good,” the other replied and I inhaled against the bitterness of disappointment. “The gods smite her reign.”

“They say she lies about her gift, that Isis has not blessed her,” the first said in hushed tones.

“Hold your blasphemous tongues.” The man’s voice came from behind me in the queue. I recognised it, but I wasn’t sure where from.

“The Queen is blessed by Isis and I am proof of it,” he said.

And as I turned around, I knew who I’d find: Apollodorus, the weaver I had treated a few weeks earlier.

He looked angrily at the two women ahead of me. The colour of his skin was warmer than when I’d last seen it, his cheeks less hollow. And though I cursed inwardly at the coincidence, I was glad to see him hale.

I cast my gaze downwards before I caught his eye, thankful for every splatter of dirt that covered my body.

“She came to my home and healed me,” he continued.

The women scoffed at him. “The Queen, here?” one said. “Your illness has rattled your mind, Apollodorus.”

I allowed myself a small smile as the two women moved forward to take their fill of the well water.

When they were done, I stepped forwards.

First, I quenched my thirst, the sweet water soothing my parched throat. Then I washed myself quickly, rubbing at my mud-caked skin.

The linen dress was beyond saving, but there was nothing that could be done about that. Caesar would have to accept me as I came.

I moved away from the well as quickly as I could, for I felt Apollodorus’s eyes on my back. But my swift footsteps proved my downfall as I slipped in a puddle and fell flat on my back.

As I looked up at the cloudless sky, I thought, Isis, I have asked a lot of you this day, but please, see me safely to the palace.

“Are you well?”

Apollodorus’s face filled my vision, at first concerned and then shocked as he took me in.

“It is you,” he breathed.

“Selene,” I agreed, pushing myself to my elbows.

“No, you cannot lie to me, I know you. You’re her.”

Perhaps the gods do smite me, for why else would they send me the weaver?

“I am just a healer,” I repeated slowly. Apollodorus’s excitement was drawing interest, and I had to defuse the situation quickly.

I accepted the hand he proffered and stood up. When I released his grip, he looked down at his fingers as if they’d been marked by a god.