Page 96 of Cleopatra

For Caesarion would be heir to two kingdoms, and the weight of two such mighty crowns could one day come to crush him.

Seeing him now, clutching his father’s neck as he turned away from the bloodshed of the arena, I wanted nothing more than to make him a lion.

During a break in the fighting, we were joined by a group of Romans. At first I did not recall Antonius: he now wore his beard longer, and his hair had also grown. The simple soldier’s tunic he had worn before had been discarded for more formal robes.

“Who is that?” I asked Charmion.

“Marcus Antonius,” she whispered back. “He was Caesar’s most decorated general before being made consul.”

I smiled as the memory of our meeting returned to me, but I was unsure if he would remember me. My worries were put to rest when he greeted me.

“It is a gift to be well met by the goddess Isis,” he murmured as he bowed.

“Only those chosen by Dionysus would claim it so,” I said.

He laughed. “It is a pleasure to see you once more, Pharaoh. I have thought of you often.”

“I have not thought of you at all,” I admitted. That only made him laugh harder.

There was a cheer from the crowd as the gladiator thrust his trident through the belly of his opponent, ending the fight. I looked away.

“You do not enjoy the games?” he asked.

“No, I do not take pleasure in blood and slaughter.”

The gladiator who had won the fight approached Caesar at the sidelines. He kneeled in the blood of his victim and said, “Rex, it is an honour.”

Rex—king. I saw some of the members of the senate bristle. Rome was a republic, after all.

“I find myself wondering,” Antonius said, drawing my attention back to him, “with your aversion to violence, how you ever won the war against your siblings?” His question was disarming, but would have been rude if it had not been asked with such curiosity. Charm was ever Antonius’s greatest weapon.

“A war is a war, and this is not that. This is mere sport,” I said stiffly.

“I have offended you.”

“You cannot offend me; you are no one to me.”

“For now,” he murmured.

So sure he was of our future, even back then.

“You are very certain,” I said.

He leaned towards me as though sharing a secret. “To be dubious is to be dull.”

His eyes flickered to someone behind me and his expression soured. “I speak of the dull, and here one comes. Have you ever met a Stoic?”

I had, but I would indulge him: I shook my head.

“They live the cardinal virtues: fortitude, temperance, prudence and justice.”

“Virtues you do not espouse?”

Antonius chuckled. “I am Dionysus, am I not? The very first hedonist. I must hush now, before I offend our new friend.”

I saw the man’s shadow before his face. Clouds were gathering in the sky, smoothing the edges of his silhouette.

“Well met, Brutus,” Antonius said.