Page 85 of Cleopatra

“Now, Serapion,” she continued. “We must think of a solution.”

I felt defeated, my bones aching from bending over the babe, my nipples sore. I shook my head. “Let the rumours swirl. I have no power and my child is not even blessed by the gods. Let my reign end in the turmoil I have lived.”

Charmion narrowed her eyes at me. “Must I slap sense into you?”

The question was so dry, I laughed. “No.”

“Then perhaps we can try something else. How can we convince the court of your divinity?”

The sting of defeat began to subside as a plan formed in my mind.

I returned to the throne later that evening. The free-flowing wine had left a collective flush across the cheeks of the courtiers. Merriment could be heard throughout the hall, but my arrival subdued some of it.

It was clear that Serapion’s request had spread disquiet, resurrecting the rumour I had spent years trying to eliminate the last traces of.

Caesar saw me return. He approached the throne and Bastet rolled onto her back so that he could stroke her belly. She had a particular fondness for Caesar, I believe because he often slipped her pieces of meat at the dinner table.

“Is all well?” Caesar asked, concern etched into his features. He too had sensed the shift in the room.

“All is well.”

I held my hand out to him and he clasped it before pressing my palm to his lips.

“Where is our son?”

I had left Caesarion with the newly reinstated wet nurse, and I told him so. I required full focus as I did not want the plan to falter.

“Go, rejoin the festivities, I am fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Something caught his eye as he turned.

“Who is that?” he asked.

A courtier had entered the hall, wearing a long indigo gown styled like a Greek tunic. The wig on her brow was heavily beaded, her eyes lined with thick kohl. If questioned, I knew, she’d speak Greek fluently with an accent of the south.

I waited for Caesar to recognise Charmion, but he didn’t.

I smiled, a little smugly. “She must be from Upper Egypt.”

We both watched as she swept through the room, quickly drawing an audience, including Serapion. Though I couldn’t hear her, I knew she was engaging them with a lively tale of her late arrival. A hakawati in a noble’s dress.

Bastet pawed at Caesar’s leg and he once again dutifully petted her. I was grateful the cub distracted him, because though he did not recognise Charmion by sight, there was more danger of him knowing her voice.

“You’re gaining too much weight, little one, much more than your brother.”

“She gains weight because you feed her too much.”

Caesar looked as though I had struck him. “But she must be fed.”

“Yes, indeed. But perhaps not a whole duck at every meal.”

There was a commotion behind us and I leaned forward, feigning shock. “That woman, she’s afflicted.”

Charmion was coughing violently. Her face was red, and the veins in her neck bulging. When she collapsed to her knees, I stood from my chair.