Page 87 of Cleopatra

Its blade had been dry for some time.

“From there you will return to Rome?” I said carefully. Though I said “Rome,” I meant “Calpurnia.”

Caesar sighed heavily, as if it was a great burden for him. “Yes.”

His assent did not hurt as it should have. We both knew this had always been on the horizon.

“But I will call for you when I am settled. You will enjoy the sights of my city.”

Could I leave Egypt?

I looked past Caesar to the clerks, working at their desks in the belly of the room. They exchanged scrolls with messengers, their quiet murmuring setting the drumbeat of my country’s flourishing trade. Courtiers moved in and out of the palace, exchanging pleasantries.

Beyond them, through the open door, I could see a slip of sea and the outline of the new harbour full of ships.

Egypt thrived in peacetime. It was such a shame it was so infrequent.

I turned back to Caesar and I realised: yes, I could leave Egypt for him. Not for long, but for a while. Though I needed some assurances. “You once said I was your wife in all ways. Is that still true?”

Caesar bowed before me, his knees striking the floor. “Always. Know that in every battle, I bleed for you. Only you.”

I stood from the throne, stepping down so I could press a kiss to his brow.

“Then go, bleed, my husband.”

Veni, vidi, vici.

—

Pharnaces II of Pontus died shortly after his defeat by Caesar. The campaign was a success and upon returning to Rome, Caesar was named dictator.

The year spent apart strained our love, but it did not wane. In every smile gifted to me by Caesarion, in every serious frown I was granted, I saw Caesar.

We had created something so infinitely precious. Our son.

Egypt continued to prosper. My reforms for the governing of the land were slow, but I was able to stabilise the economy once more. Ptolemy was a simple boy, with simple interests, and I could continue my reign without his interference.

Caesarion and I lived a happy life, full of laughter and joy. If I had known what was to come, I wonder if I would have been content to stay like that forever. But Caesar called for me, as he had promised, and so I crossed the ocean. The bindings tying me to him had not frayed over time, and so when he pulled, I came, as fast as the wind would allow.

—

That first journey to Rome was a year after Caesarion was born. We had arrived during the harvest season and the air smelled of freshly pressed olives and toasted wheat.

Caesar welcomed us all to his private estate across the Tiber, in Trastevere. It didn’t have the grandeur of my palace, but it was comfortable, the milder weather providing a lush landscape for Caesarion to explore.

He tottered around Caesar’s legs, happy to be reunited with the father I had told him so much about.

“He has grown into a capable young man,” Caesar said proudly.

I snorted. “Hardly a man, Julius, he still sucks at the breast.” Caesarion gurgled up at me and I laughed. “Though he does have your way with words, so a man he must be.”

Caesar smiled and lifted the boy with one arm. With the other he reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I am so glad you came. My heart ached without you.”

“A year is a long time,” I remarked. “But you had your successes.”

“Yes. The triumph to celebrate my victories begins later. You, Caesarion and Ptolemy will be honoured guests.”

I looked to my younger brother, who sat beneath the shade of a pear tree. He still travelled with his nursemaid, though he was now thirteen years old.