Kleopatra (48 page)

Kleopatra had not left the palace in two months. She had neither privacy nor freedom, leaving her room only to walk in the
courtyard daily with Hephaestion or Charmion, followed by two vigilant guards.

She was prevented from participating in government, but Hephaestion reported to her the local horrors. The previous summer,
the true Mother of Egypt, the life-giving Nile, had risen to only half its normal height. Now there was a food shortage throughout
the land. Without her permission, the Regency Council issued a decree in the names of both her and her brother that grain
should not be distributed in the provinces, but instead sent directly to Alexandria to prevent a famine in the city. The punishment
to grain merchants caught distributing corn to the provinces was death. The people were deserting the provincial
nomes
and flooding the capital. Those who stayed behind were either starving, raising armies to revolt against the government,
or both. What choice did the Regency Council give them? It protected the interests of itself and of the Greeks in Alexandria
while pronouncing a death sentence of starvation on the native people. Kleopatra thought of her loyal supporters in Thebes,
who surely believed she had deserted them. There was little she could do.

Charmion would not leave her side, watching with great suspicion as a slave tasted every morsel of her food, and inspecting
her linens and garments that came back from the laundry for stealthily placed poisons or potions. Charmion even brought an
old Nubian conjurer woman into the palace to tell the queen’s fortune daily and to inspect all her belongings for curses placed
upon them that might have gone undetected to the untrained eye.

She had not received so much as a letter. She demanded to know what messages had arrived for her from within and without the
kingdom, but was told repeatedly that she had received nothing. For the first time in her memory, she was without access to
the carefully constructed network of information that her father had established. No letters from Archimedes or Hammonius.
Not a word from her contacts in the east. She was certain that the Regents intercepted her correspondence.

After months of cloister and bad news, Kleopatra was brought the message that Pompey’s oldest son, Cnaeus, had arrived in
Alexandria.

“So I am to be trotted out as if nothing were wrong?” she said to Hephaestion.

“I believe that is correct, Your Majesty,” he said. “Perhaps we can use the unexpected visit to our advantage.”

Kleopatra winced when she entered the Royal Reception Room where she and her father had passed so many hours. Her squatty
little brother was flanked by his Regents. Pothinus wore his usual costume. Achillas had donned formal military attire, and
Theodotus, with his wrinkled, disapproving mouth, wore the scholars robes. What must the Roman think of this cast of characters
running the kingdom?

Cnaeus had inherited his father’s height, Roman good looks, and imposing air. Kleopatra was grateful that she had taken time
with her toilette. With nothing else to do, she and Charmion had perfected the use of cosmetics that enhanced her looks. She
still kohled her eyes and applied cinnamon to her lips and palms. But her body slave suggested that they wash the queens hair
with a rinse of henna to enhance its highlights, and cut short ringlets to frame her face, while the rest of her mane was
swept into a graceful knot. With these improvements, her good features—the almost green eyes, the thick dark hair with hues
of red, the lush full lips, the regal cheekbones—were brought forth, while her mannish strong nose seemed to recede. She wore
simple, elegant gowns that highlighted the pleasing curves of her figure—now that she had finally acquired them. Unable to
ride her horse every day, she had put on a few pounds, and they had landed in just the right places. She took pride in her
new figure. She liked to set off a dress of exquisite fabric with long strands of pearls or chokers of dazzling emeralds.
She had mixed for herself a special perfumed oil, making the chemist swear to keep the ingredients a secret. Whereas she had
previously used artifice to hide her youth, now she used it to enhance her natural glamour. Though she was not beautiful,
she knew that she was more than just a little bit appealing. She noticed now that eyes dared to linger longer on the person
of the queen, and that the slightly uplifted noses of those she passed followed her as she walked by, as if doubly entranced
by not only the loveliness, but also the unexpected fragrance of a beautiful flower.

She saw an appreciation of her appearance in the eyes of the Roman. She looked at her brother, who appeared shocked at her
sudden sensuality. She saw that she had taken them all by surprise.

How you resemble your father,” said the queen, allowing the Roman to take her hand, looking charmingly into his eyes, and
speaking to him in Latin, which she knew annoyed both her brother and the regents. “He is well, I hope?”

“He is as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” answered the Roman.

What do you mean? He is not ill?” asked Kleopatra.

Cnaeus waved away a tray of food and drink that was proffered. Kleopatra remembered that Romans sometimes did this to illuminate
their stoical constitution, particularly in times of gravity. Cnaeus’s bright face turned solemn. He stiffened and addressed
the small assembly. “As allies of my father, and to repay him for his gracious hospitality of your father, the late king,
in Rome, and for his tireless efforts to restore this monarchy to your family, my father asks that you furnish me immediately
with a fleet of ships and ground forces to aid Rome’s war against the renegade Julius Caesar.”

“Rome is at war with Caesar?” Kleopatra asked. “We have not heard this news. Or have we? How is it that we have not heard
of this?” She looked to the others in the room. They reacted with a polite veneer of interest, as if Pompey’s son were updating
them on the health of distant acquaintances.

“Your Majesty, as all the world knows, Caesar’s goal is complete tyranny. The man is crazy. He has turned his back on the
Republic and the Constitution and has become his own man,” he said, indignant. “The senate came almost in its entirety to
my father and begged him to defend the State against Caesar’s menace. My father is the only power to stand toe-to-toe with
Caesar, the only commander with an army that can defeat Caesar’s legions. They are mad with their years of victories, you
see, and in Caesar’s thrall.”

Pothinus and Theodotus began to mutter sympathetic words to Cnaeus, condemning Caesar’s actions and offering their unqualified
support to Pompey. Pothinus spoke up. “The queen remembers so fondly your father’s generosity to the Royal Family in Rome.
Does she not? Your Majesty?”

“Oh yes,” she answered, realizing that Pothinus was avoiding a commitment of ships and men by making small talk. “I was just
a girl, and your father let me ride his horse, simply because I wanted to.”

“I am acquainted with the story, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing low to her, lifting his handsome face and giving her a lingering
smile. How did these Romans keep their large and dangerous-looking teeth so white? she wondered. Was it that the twins who
founded the city had been suckled by a she-wolf? She did not know if Cnaeus was trying to seduce her or win her support, or
both. She returned his smile, but asked herself: If Pompey is so mighty, then why has his son fled to Alexandria to ask for
Egyptian support? One would think multiple Roman legions enough to defend Italy against a renegade.

“And how goes this war?” she asked. “What is the progress?”

“My father has left Italy to regroup his armies in the Greek lands. He awaits reinforcements from the governor of Syria. Caesar
now invades Spain. He intends to take it away from the Roman people and have it for his own.”

So, in the span of a few months, Caesar had ejected the mighty Pompey from Italy and had already turned his attentions to
subduing the rest of Rome’s provinces—that is, those he did not already control. And this was but March. “And what of Rome?
Who controls the city?”

Cnaeus looked uncomfortable, as if he did not wish to be interrogated on these matters. “Caesar marched into Rome. On his
orders, his men broke open the temple of Saturn and took the treasury against the veto of the tribune Metellus, who attempted
to stop the crime with his own body. The renegade has confiscated the entire Roman treasury for his war against his own country.
He made a speech threatening the senators, saying that if they were too timid to govern with him, he would simply govern by
himself. Then he made off with the money, leaving his henchman, Antony, in charge of the city”

“Dreadful! Treasonous!” Pothinus interjected.

“So Caesar has taken the city?” Kleopatra asked.

Ignoring the question, Cnaeus said, “Caesar underestimates my father’s power. It was foolish of him to let my father escape
to Greece. Pompeius Magnus shall emerge victorious from the eastern lands just as he did thirteen years ago.” Cnaeus seemed
very protective of his father, a condition the queen could appreciate. “We shall surprise Caesar if he is foolish enough to
think he can win the war on Greek soil.”

Pothinus composed himself, putting on a pious air. “May Pallas Athena, whose shield is thunder, protect your father in this
war! Tonight at dinner we shall give count of the number of our ships and soldiers to be placed at your command.”

Expressing gratitude and relief, Cnaeus left them.

“A magnificent person!” Pothinus exclaimed. “I don’t see how we could turn him down.”

“Doing our own little part to help Rome destroy herself!” giggled Theodotus. Ptolemy joined his laughter. Achillas remained
aloof, eyeing Kleopatra all the while, waiting for her response. She could not imagine what, if anything, was their plan.
If the fools had not cut off her communications, she would have been prepared for this.

“Let us not hasten to the aid of Pompey,” Kleopatra said. She reminded them of Pompey’s propensity toward inaction, remembering
him fleeing to his garden as Cicero stood screaming outside his gates; remembering the two crucial times he refused Auletes
support.

“My dear girl, we have no reason to aid Pompey save that we were so politely asked. What care we if Pompey or Caesar prevail?
If we help Pompey vanquish Caesar, so be it. Had Caesar asked first, I suppose we should have given him what he wanted, too.
Though I dare say Caesar, at what—fifty years of age?—wouldn’t cut the figure this young Pompeius does.”

“It is insane to choose sides in this war,” she said, feeling the impatience creep into her voice. “Did you not hear what
he said? Do you not gather that Pompey is losing the war and that, in desperation, he sent his son to Egypt to secure reinforcements?
Do you not understand anything of Roman politics? We must not choose Pompey over Caesar. If Caesar wins, he shall punish us.
He shall bring us to our knees, no better than if we were barbaric Gauls.”

“What do you know about Julius Caesar? You don’t know anything. You just think you do,” shouted Ptolemy.

Kleopatra did not even look at her brother, but addressed his regents.

“It is said that Caesar is lucid beyond ordinary human capacity, yet at times he falls to the ground in brief fits of madness
during which he is touched by the gods. Then, minutes later, the gods miraculously release him and he is Caesar once more.
How can you dream of challenging a man like this? If we bet, we must bet on Caesar. Already he has run Pompey out of Italy.”

Ptolemy jumped from his chair and stood to face her, looking like a small version of Auletes, eyes bulging and fat face turning
red. “Just because you went to Rome with Father doesn’t mean you know everything,” he sputtered. “We ought to throw you to
the soldiers like they asked.”

“What would you have us do, my brother?”

“We ought to do what Pothinus says. We ought to give Pompey what he wants so that he and Caesar can annihilate each other.
If you weren’t so bewitched by Rome, you would see that that is best.” He sat down next to Pothinus, who smiled at his young
charge.

Kleopatra laughed to herself. Undoubtedly the eunuch envisioned himself under Cnaeus’s strong body that very evening, as if
a good fuck was reason enough to align the nation with the party who is losing the war. To Hades with the lot of them.

A moment of prescience descended upon the queen, gifting her with the singular, obvious solution to her problems.

“So be it,” she said and she left the room, leaving them with their mouths agape, stunned at her compliance.