Page 89 of Cleopatra

I held Caesarion’s face against my skirts to protect him from the blood that ran like a river through the celebrating masses. I, too, averted my eyes from the slaughter—there was still a softness in me that recoiled at the sight of violence. But though I did not look, I could not hide from the smell. The metallic scent of death coated my mouth as I breathed in.

Only when I heard the crowd cry out for the “Egyptian princess” did I look up again.

Arsinoe was dragged forwards towards the shore of the undulating crowd. They lusted for her blood in a way that sickened me. This was not an honourable death.

I will not be led in triumph, I vowed.[*] I am not sure now if they were my own words or if I have heard them so many times since then that my memory has distorted. Nonetheless, the sentiment remains the same. I would do anything to avoid being executed so.

As the axe was brought forth, I found myself paralysed, unable to move, unable to speak. My sister had betrayed me so completely, and I knew if our roles were reversed, she would not hesitate to have me killed.

Arsinoe stood tall as the executioner approached her. She raised her head until she saw me in the crowd.

The look she gave me was one of pride. As if it were not an axe being brought down on her, but a crown.

“Today you kill a queen!” she shouted.

Caesar nodded to someone on the periphery of the procession and then there was the unmistakable twang of a bow string. Then a thud.

A familiar black and white bird fell from the sky.

The world stilled around me and I was thrust backwards in time.

“An ibis chick has nested in her locs,” Mother said. I had noticed her walking quickly through the palace courtiers with her handmaidens. When I called to her, she didn’t turn to my voice. So I followed in her wake to the foot of my father’s dining table.

“At first I thought to chase the bird away,” Mother continued. “But then our daughter opened her eyes.”

Father hadn’t caught sight of me yet, either. His head was cocked to the side as he listened to Mother speak with clear impatience. “Make haste, my queen; I should come to know why you have disturbed my feasting.”

“Arsinoe spoke as if from a dream, ‘Thoth has plucked a feather from his brow.’ And then she pointed to the bird.” I still didn’t comprehend my mother’s meaning, though she spoke with such pride, I felt my first stirrings of jealousy.

My father stood from the table, and bellowed a great cry of triumph. “She has been blessed!”

Understanding struck me and I took a step backwards. “I am the e-elder,” I said. But my voice was thin, that of a nine-year-old, and it warbled in front of so many.

No one paid me any heed.

The courtiers around the room pounded their chalices upon the table.

Dun, dun, dun.

Their cheers carried forward to the present moment. “Arsinoe! Arsinoe! Arsinoe!”

Envy spread like acid down my scalp. By the time Qar hit the ground, the feeling had gone.

Was that what she felt every time they sang my name? Was the acid more potent because she knew in her heart that I was yet to be blessed?

I looked at Arsinoe, understanding her a little more than I ever had in these final moments.

She lurched forward, her chains going taut as she tried to reach Qar. But it was too late; he was already another sacrifice to Jupiter.

Arsinoe screamed, a sound only the purest form of pain could produce. Though this was more merciless than the beheadings, I did not close my eyes to her.

She deserved that, at least.

The crowd grew silent as she fell to her knees, sobbing.

The executioner stepped forward, his axe prepared to strike its final blow. Another guard came forward to bare her neck, the skin streaked from the splatter of the other prisoners’ blood.

“Have you not punished her enough?” The cry came from somewhere a few rows back. When I looked for the speaker, I could not see them, but I felt the dissent their words produced.