Page 95 of Cleopatra

I gave him a bemused glance before answering in his stead. “Marcus was just informing me of how great an honour it is to be in my presence.”

“An honour for all,” Caesar said, kissing my hand, appeased. “Now come back to the festivities so I may drink to your health.”

“Allow me to retrieve my crown, Julius, and I will join you shortly.”

Sated by drink himself, Caesar nodded and returned to the hall.

“Pharaoh, I apologise for my crudeness, I did not know to whom I spoke,” Antonius said.

I waved away his concern. “It was a rare pleasure to be perceived for who I am, not what I am. To be soldier and priestess in a quiet temple.”

“Or a meeting of two gods, Venus and Dionysus.” His eyes were full of mirth.

I met his stare levelly. “Know me by my true name, then: Isis.”

His smile dropped as I swept out of the temple and back to my crown.

Skip Notes

* I met Titus Livius once, who attributed these words to me. A repugnant man whose historical accounts are more embellished than my formal garments. Of course, it was his words that survived the ages and not mine.

Chapter Eighteen

44 BCE

did not see Antonius again until I returned to Rome two years later. He had been named consul and so he was never far from my husband’s side.

It was during the spring’s gladiator games that we came face to face once more.

I reclined on a wooden bench beside Caesar as the combat began. Ptolemy and the rest of my retinue sat in rows behind us and Caesarion was cross-legged by my feet. I had protested against such violent entertainment for my son, but Caesar had insisted our presence was required.

“You have not been seen in some time; if Caesarion is to be my heir, then he must be known as Roman,” Caesar had said.

“He is Roman and he is Egyptian. You cannot take one and not the other,” I argued.

“If he is to be both, then let him see the heart of my land. The gladiators will strengthen his pride in our nation.”

And so Caesarion sat with his hands covering his eyes as blood sprayed across the sand.

“Put your hands on your lap,” Caesar snapped.

Caesarion leaned backwards against my shins and whimpered at his father’s ire.

Caesar softened immediately and went to pick him up. “You will find joy in this one day.”

I prayed silently to Isis that he would not.

Caesarion had grown up in my likeness. He was reserved and thoughtful, preferring the company of beasts. “Why wasn’t I born a lion, Mama?” he had asked one day. Bastet and Maahes had grown up by his side and he clutched Maahes’ mane as he spoke. They were tamed as well as any wild things could be. That is to say, they never turned their claws on me or my family, but the servants’ blood was occasionally shed.

“You were born a lion, my son,” I had replied. “You are a Ptolemy, and we are all the beasts of Egypt.”

“Even the rats?” he asked.

I laughed. “Even the rats.”

He didn’t smile. “I just want to be a lion.”

I held him to me and kissed his hair, inhaling the sweet scent of him. “I’m sorry, but you cannot part with the blood in your veins.” I had wished it too at his age, and seeing this early conflict cross his mind made me ache for the troubles that I knew would be to come.