Page 81 of Cleopatra

You know I have killed many people, by order or by my hand. But the soothsayer is one I shall always regret. I never even knew her name.

I thought I was protecting my son, securing his future as heir. For no ruler of Egypt without divine protection would be accepted by the people.

Do you remember my noble endeavours to better Egypt? I hadn’t wanted to be queen, but I had resolved to do more than the kings and queens of the past. I barely recognised that earnest woman who had rid the courts of corruption. Now that I was a mother, I wanted the throne for one purpose—to give it to Caesarion. It might be that this sense of entitlement is what poisoned the hearts of so many of my ancestors, but even if I had had the discernment to see it, I would have done nothing differently.

I wanted it for my son alone.

Chapter Sixteen

47 BCE

did not let anyone care for Caesarion for three days. I had the wet nurses dismissed and reduced my servants to just Charmion and Eiras.

They thought I suffered a malady of the mind, especially when I insisted on being the only one to change the linens he soiled. But I could not let the others realise he was unblemished, unchosen by the gods.

“Blessed by Horus,” I announced the night I executed the soothsayer. The lie was easy, as it felt so close to the truth. My affinity to Isis made the connection so simple—Horus was her son, and together they were the quintessential duo of myth and legend. No one could question my divinity now.

But I knew the lie was not sustainable. On the fourth night after his birth, I sent Charmion and Eiras to the kitchens to retrieve a complex list of food I requested. Caesar was at the gymnasium and would be occupied until much later in the night.

As soon as I was alone, I slipped away down the hidden tunnel in my bedchamber. Earlier that year, during the battle for the city, Charmion and I had stolen away in the night and docked a small boat at the end of the tunnel. It had exhausted both our bodies, but the foresight—born of fear for our lives at the time—was serendipitous now.

I placed Caesarion in the hull of the boat, cradled in his blankets. He slept peacefully, his lips twitching in dreams.

Weakened as I still was from labour, it was harder to push the boat out alone, but the incoming tide buoyed its weight as it reached the shoreline, and I was able to embark in the shallows.

Once I arrived at the new city harbour, I knew where I was going. I had made my enquiries at the hospital the day before.

I shuffled through the streets, my medicine bag bouncing against my hip, Caesarion cradled against my chest.

“Three houses south of the market…” I whispered to myself.

When I arrived, there was no light coming from the entranceway and I cursed.

“Who calls on the gods at my door?”

I started at the sound of the man’s voice. It disturbed Caesarion’s sleep and he grumbled. I clutched him tighter, swaying my arms to and fro.

“Are you Khufu?” I asked the shadow beneath the doorframe.

He lit a torch, lighting his profile, and I swallowed a gasp. His entire face was marked with ink. Down one cheek was a series of hieroglyphics, across his brow a solar constellation.

“What might you need with Khufu?” He set his jaw and I noted the falcon that flew across his neck.

I reached into my pocket and withdrew a bag of coins. “I have a request for you.”

He eyed me before letting me into his home. “It is late at night to be walking the streets with so many coins.”

I felt the hairs on my arm bristle, but when I looked at him, his expression held no malice. In fact, he watched me with curiously kind eyes, which only sharpened after I made my request.

“The eye of Horus? On the babe’s leg?”

“Yes, the coins are not bronze,” I said, pushing the pouch across the table.

He looked at the sleeping Caesarion, who I laid next to the payment. “It will hurt.”

I swallowed. “I know.”

I will never forget the moment my son’s eyes flew open in pain. I had only caught glimpses of his eyes beneath the swollen eyelids of birth, but they grew wide now, larger than I’d ever seen them. And though no tears came, he screamed, his face growing red.