Page 90 of Cleopatra

The crowd began to murmur. Then someone else called, “Mercy!” Soon the cry caught fire, and more and more of the crowd called for clemency.

Caesar looked at me, troubled. “If I order her execution, we may have a mob to contend with.”

I felt breathless from the emotions that roiled within me. He mistook my expression for anger.

“But I will risk a thousand riots to carry out this wish.”

All I needed to do was nod and it would be over.

“Mama?” Caesarion whispered. His voice cut through the crowd to my ears alone. I still had him pressed against my leg, but he had turned his head from me, his wide eyes fixed on Arsinoe. He pointed a questioning finger at her.

I bent down low next to him. “That is your aunt. My sister.”

As I said those two words which bound me to her in blood and fate, I knew she would not die this day.

“Let her live,” I said to Caesar. “Qar’s death has sated my need for vengeance for now.”

Caesar walked up the steps to Arsinoe, blood splashing up his legs. He held up his hand for quiet.

“I hear your calls for mercy, and I grant it.” He helped Arsinoe to stand and she collapsed into his side, grief robbing her of stability. “You have been saved this day by Queen Cleopatra’s grace. But the gods still require justice for your crimes. You will live the remainder of your days exiled in the Temple of Artemis in Ephesus.”

The cheer from the crowd was deafening.

Arsinoe’s eyes caught mine as Caesar handed her to the guards.

Weak, she called me once, and I knew, even in her grief-stricken state, she thought it now too. But her death would one day come to strengthen me: not today, but soon.

I watched as she was led down from the temple steps, her bare feet leaving bloody footprints through the streets and to her future beyond.

Caesar came back to me, his face a mask of disappointment. “That did not go as I had planned.”

“No, but the crowd cheer for you still.”

“Are you vexed that the traitor lives?”

I wished he hadn’t asked, as I didn’t want to lie. But lie I did. “Yes,” I said. “Arsinoe was a false queen. Egypt will not be happy she lives still.”

Caesar looked morose. “Your second gift will succeed the first.”

I cupped his cheek, hoping to draw out a smile. “You continue to fight for me, and that is gift enough.”

The banquet that concluded the parade was not half as lavish as the festivities my father used to throw, but there was food and wine in abundance.

“She looked thinner, don’t you think?” I said over the rim of my cup.

“Arsinoe?” Charmion replied.

“Yes.” I hadn’t been able to shake her from my mind.

“She did. I imagine prisoner fare is not what she is used to.”

I shook my head ruefully. “No, I imagine not.”

Charmion’s hand snaked under the table and squeezed my thigh. I felt wretched. Though I’m not sure what I was more distressed by: my sister’s state, or the fact that I still cared for her.

The callouses hadn’t yet eclipsed my heart. There was some feeling there, beneath the thickened skin of war and strife.

“She will hate Ephesus,” Charmion said.