Cleopatra Confesses (22 page)

Now I know what my next move will be.

I set to work immediately. I have learned that I can be remarkably persuasive when I must.

I arrange a banquet, to which I invite the high officials of Ashkelon and neighboring Philistine towns and villages. My cooks begin preparing a feast. Charmion finds talented young girls in the city and teaches them some simple dances; the musicians who travel with my small court are capable of producing fine music with few instruments. On the night of the banquet the guests gather in a large tent I have had set up and well furnished. When everything is ready, the musicians signal my entrance. I appear among my guests dressed simply but elegantly, wearing little jewelry but the gold crown with the cobra symbol. Still, I sense that my guests are suspicious of me and wonder what I want of them.

After the officials have enjoyed plenty of food and drink and an evening of entertainment and appear content and at their ease, I rise and address them in their language. This makes an excellent impression. They listen intently.

“I have been driven out of my country by usurpers who have chosen to ignore the provisions of the will of my father, King Ptolemy XII,” I tell them. I continue speaking in this manner, as I see they are being swayed in my favor. Even before I have finished, my guests have pledged hundreds of soldiers—mercenaries who, for payment, will fight in my name.

In the following days, while my newly recruited troops are being provisioned, runners bring frequent reports from Pelusium. Achillas, one of my brother’s regents, is waiting there at the head of Ptolemy’s army. The other two regents, Pothinus and Theodotus, are also with him. They expect my army to march westward, toward Pelusium, and they are preparing for the battle.

Then, one morning, several members of my advance guard arrive, dragging with them one of Ptolemy’s soldiers. He is in terrible condition, begging for food and water. They bring him to me, asking what should be done with him.

“Give him what he wants,” I order. “But only after he tells me what my brother and the regents plan to do now.”

The guards fling the miserable soldier at my feet. Finding himself in the presence of his queen, he struggles to give me the information I want: After being defeated by Julius Caesar, General Pompey arrived in Pelusium, asking to see the son of his old friend.

“And did my brother agree to see him?”

The poor fellow shakes his head. “Pothinus would not allow it. He feared that Pompey was more likely to support
you
, my queen.” He halts, gasping, and I motion the guards to give him a sip of water. “And so an evil thing was done.” The informant stops again and bows his head. He appears to be near collapse.

“Do go on!” I cry. “Tell me what happened!”

“Pothinus invited Pompey to come ashore. When he did, Pothinus ordered his men to run the Roman general through with a sword, cut off his head, and throw his body into the sea.”

“They murdered Pompey in this manner?” The horrible story makes me ill.

The soldier nods. “They did, my queen.”

“And King Ptolemy? What did my brother do?”

“Nothing, my queen.”

“Nothing?” My voice rises, trembling with anger. I take a deep breath and struggle for control, knowing that I must be strong. Weakness is a luxury I cannot allow myself. “Where is Pothinus now?”

“Pothinus and Theodotus are on their way to Alexandria with the preserved head of Pompey. Pothinus wants to present it to Caesar as a trophy. They hope to win his favor.”

These men have preserved Pompey’s head for Caesar?
To win his favor? Do these terrible men have no sense of honor or righteousness? Have they gone mad?
I glare at the miserable informant and order him taken away.

“One day, Pothinus and Theodotus will have to deal with me,” I say. My voice is hard and cold, despite my fury. So, too, will King Ptolemy, I think. And Caesar, as well.

But first I must return to Alexandria. As Charmion promised, I know the time is right. The question is how to get there safely.

Chapter 45

C
AESAR’S
O
RDERS

Six Roman soldiers, stumbling with fatigue, present themselves at the entrance to my tent. Their captain, explaining that they have been sent by Julius Caesar, delivers a letter. Warily, I break the seal. Caesar writes in Latin, summoning me to Alexandria in language that makes clear my refusal is not a choice.

I sit down and write a brief reply, also in Latin, “I do as Caesar commands,” sign it Queen Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator, and hand it to the officer. “And my brother, King Ptolemy XIII?” I ask. “Has Caesar summoned him as well?”

“My orders are only to deliver the letter,” the captain answers stiffly. “I have no knowledge of the contents, and I have no other information.”

When the Roman soldiers leave, I send Monifa with instructions to have them fed well before they begin their journey back to Caesar, wherever he is. I ask Charmion to organize a little
musical entertainment for them and to let me know when sleep begins to overtake them.

Late in the evening, she comes to tell me the soldiers are yawning, one or two already snoring. Dressed in a simple gown, I find my way alone to their captain’s quarters. He leaps to his feet, startled to see me.

“I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Captain,” I say. “I have come to wish you a good night’s rest and a safe journey back to Alexandria. I, too, will be making that journey quite soon, on the orders of Julius Caesar.” I smile winningly. “May I sit down?”

He gapes at me in my revealing gown and swallows hard. “You are most welcome here, Queen Cleopatra,” he manages to say.

I settle comfortably in the officer’s chair and take time to gaze around the small field tent. “I wonder if you might have a little wine left from the evening meal. If not, I shall send for more.” In fact, before visiting the captain’s tent, I had sent him another jar of wine, the last from the supply I brought with me from Egypt. The captain eagerly fills two goblets on his table, and I raise mine in a toast. “To noble Caesar.”

“To noble Caesar!” echoes the captain.

I take a tiny sip of wine. “It will be a great privilege to meet him at last. My father, King Ptolemy XII, always told me that Julius Caesar is the greatest general since my own ancestor, Alexander.”

“What you say is true,” replies my guest. “It was my honor to serve under Caesar during his conquest of the Gallic tribes. There is no more brilliant general alive today. Certainly he has just proved that he is more skillful than Pompey, whose forces outnumbered Caesar’s two to one.”

“I do not wish to talk about the unfortunate Pompey,” I tell him. “Nor do I wish to discuss the despicable man responsible for his murder. I am hoping, my good captain, that you can advise me which way to proceed, since you have come most recently from Pelusium.”

The captain drinks deeply. “You are a wise queen,” he says, leaning toward me, “as well as a beautiful one.” I pretend to be flattered and let him continue. “King Ptolemy has already returned to Alexandria, traveling with the man you so much despise, Pothinus. Ptolemy’s army remains behind in Pelusium under the command of General Achillas. The general expects you to attack with the mercenaries you have recruited here.”

“And Caesar? Has he arrived in Alexandria?”

Soon I have extracted the whole story, or at least the parts of it known to my friend the captain. He tells me that Julius Caesar was welcomed to my city by that dog-eating Pothinus, who made a great show of offering him Pompey’s head. “Caesar turned his eyes away from the head and shed many tears over his fallen adversary,” the captain reveals. Then, he continues, “Caesar has taken over the royal palace. It is to the royal palace that he has summoned you and Ptolemy XIII to appear.”

“For what reason? Can you tell me that, Captain?”

The captain has had too much to drink and his tongue is loosened. He may not know the reason officially, but he certainly has some ideas on the subject.

“Caesar desires that you and Ptolemy XIII rule together as husband and wife.”

None of this is good news, but at least I now have some sense of where the players are in this complicated game. “What do you suggest I do, Captain, in order to reach mighty Caesar?”

The captain spreads a map on his knees. “Gather your army and proceed to the south of Pelusium,” he says, “thereby avoiding Achillas and his men.” I nod encouragingly, and the officer sketches a route for me.

I thank him warmly and promise to follow his advice. Then, pleading weariness, I leave the captain with wishes for a refreshing night’s sleep.

Charmion is waiting for me in my tent. I repeat my conversation with the Roman officer. “Will you follow the captain’s advice, my queen?” she asks.

“Of course not.”

“You don’t trust the captain?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust him . . . It’s true, I don’t! I simply have a better plan. We will travel back to Alexandria by sea, but not in our galley. We will go in a fishing boat, disguised as fishermen.”

P
ART
IX

T
HE
Q
UEEN’S
R
ETURN

Alexandria, at the end of my twenty-first year

Chapter 46

D
ISGUISES

Nearly eleven months after fleeing from Alexandria, I prepare to return to Egypt, ready to take up any challenge that Julius Caesar or my brother may hand me.

Sepa and Hasani go down to the beach to hire a fishing vessel barely large enough to carry me and a small group of servants back to Alexandria. Monifa and Irisi visit the market and bargain for fishermen’s clothing. They pack up the little we are able to carry with us and arrange to have the rest put aboard the galley in which we arrived in Ashkelon. Young Mshai, along with my hairdresser, musicians, and others, are to wait fifteen days before leaving Ashkelon for Alexandria.

I confer with the most experienced Philistine officer and instruct him to march with the hired soldiers to Pelusium and engage Ptolemy’s army. “Keep Achillas occupied,” I tell him. “Defeat him if you can, or distract him if you cannot.”

The fishing boat is crowded, dirty, and smelly in spite of Monifa’s earnest efforts to make it comfortable. The journey is wet and miserable. For days I am too seasick to care. Slowly, we make our way westward along the coast, stopping at night in small coves and tiny villages. The cook prepares fresh-caught fish and whatever else can be found. Any Roman or Egyptian vessels that might be looking for me pay no attention to this crude boat; they would have learned that I sailed eastward in a galley and would no doubt be watching for it.

I worry about what lies ahead for me. Irisi chatters incessantly, but Charmion is very quiet. I believe they, too, are afraid, though we do not speak of our fears, lest they master us.

After many wretched days at the mercy of wind and waves, we see the first faraway beams of light from the Pharos lighthouse piercing the black night. My impatience almost overcomes me, but I force myself to be calm. After two more stormy days, the beacon guides us to the entrance to the Great Harbor of Alexandria. Sepa and Hasani try to persuade me to wait in the fishing boat outside the mouth of the harbor while they row to shore and report back on what they find.

“I will go with you,” I inform them.

My bodyguards are determined that I must stay where I am. “Look, my queen—do you see those boats patrolling the shore? It is much too dangerous.”

But I need to see for myself what sort of situation is waiting for me. Eventually I will have to go ashore, and I am convinced that I must do it now rather than later. “No one is expecting me to appear like this.”

“I’ll come as well,” Charmion says firmly. “You should not go about as a lone woman.”

I do not argue but move aside to make room for her in the tiny boat.

The sky glitters with stars, but only a thin sliver of moon hangs over us. We battle our way past the rough waves at the entrance to the Great Harbor and glide quietly through the black water, passing near a fleet of warships that I do not recognize. Wet and shivering, we clamber ashore over the rocks. For the rest of the night we try to stay hidden, waiting until the sky bleaches to pale silver and the first rays of the sun appear above the horizon. As the city awakens and people begin to move about, Charmion and I change into Irisi’s rough linen clothes, and with my bodyguards still dressed as fishermen—and smelling like them too—we walk into the marketplace. It has been a long time since I have done this, but I find it easy to move about unrecognized. I am in my city again, and that calms me and gives me courage.