Cleopatra Occult

Cleopatra Occult

Peter Joseph Swanson

Copyright 2016

“Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.”

~ Marcus Aurelius

Chapter one

Cleopatra regained consciousness and couldn’t remember how she’d gotten tied to the wheel of her upturned chariot. She saw six jackals. They made tracks in the sand that spiraled closer as they grew bolder. They reminded her of the god that protected the dead. She yelled at them, “I’m not dead!”

Flickering through a mirage of reflected heat, she saw chariots approachin
g
over distant dunes. She knew it wasn’t her imagination because the jackals fled. Ten men from her own army shouted victory when they spotted their queen.

Cleopatra squirmed and pushed against her ropes to show them that her bones hadn’t been broken and there was no need to be gentle. “Get me off this!”

As a soldier untied her, he apologized, “We had the entire Sinai. It’s a miracle we found you at all.”

Cleopatra took several long gulps of water from a jug.

The soldier vowed, “We’ll get your brother for this.”

She regurgitated the water. The men averted their eyes. When she calmed, she looked hard into his face and asked, “How did I get here?”      

He didn’t know either.

“How did you find me?”

Another soldier answered her, “Stars showed us! Stars in the middle of the day!
You
did that, surely. Mighty Mother Isis!”  

Cleopatra scanned the horizon looking for stars.

~

Under the desert was a secret temple to the snake god Apophis. The halls were stone cold, dimly lit by glowing jewels. Cleopatra walked alone through the round tunnels that were like giant meandering snake holes until she came to a side room. On a balcony was a high priestess named Iset. She wore a thick jar-shaped wig made from plaited horsehair. The old woman was sitting at a table, coiling up a cord of clay to build a bowl.

Cleopatra climbed wide stone stairs, bowed to the high priestess and thanked her.

Iset hushed her and asked, “Did you bring me the golden cat? The cat from the golden tomb. I don’t see it with you at all.”

“What golden cat?”

Iset seemed baffled that Cleopatra had empty hands. “A cat statue made of gold. I had a vision and it told me a witch would bring it to me.”

Cleopatra became flustered. “My palace is full of golden cats but I have none of them with me now.”

Iset looked off in thought. “You may ask why a golden cat is of any interest to me in a temple for snakes. I don’t know but it was in my vision. I have to wonder what the gods are up to now. I’d call Athena a capricious lunatic but she might curse me again.”

Cleopatra didn’t know what to say. 

Iset continued, “And my vision said to me that I’d help teach this witch how to become powerful. Maybe the golden cat is nothing other than a sign for me to know she’s
the one
.”

Cleopatra insisted, “I know you had a hand in my rescue, one way or another.”

Iset returned her eyes to her bowl. She pinched the top coil layer of soft clay into the one beneath. “Did I now?” Iset glanced up. “Here you are so it must be so.”

“I don’t even know how to talk about it! What happened?”

Iset stood and wiped her hands on the sides of her robe. “Did your brother finally get you?”

“I assume.”

Iset made a sad face. “His witch is very strong.”

Cleopatra’s eyes widened. “You know about Sorceress Thrace?”

Iset scowled. “I know about her. They say she’s most beautiful, burns with fire, but is dry as dust. Everybody in Alexandria knows about her by now—she’s made such a fool of herself always trying to seduce your brother. But his heart is stone so he can’t be moved by her fire.”

Cleopatra was puzzled. “I wonder what she did to me. Why was I in the desert just now? How did I survive? My rescue was improbable. Was it me… or did your magic save me? How was I captured? How was I saved?”

Iset smiled. “The rescue was mostly
your
doing—your new powers called out to your men so they could find you.
You
have transformed. And then your new magic led you to me.”

Cleopatra tried to remember it all and asked again what happened.

Iset shrugged.

Cleopatra wrung her hands. “How can you help me?”

Iset gave a teasing smile. “Your brother has a witch helping him so I’ve made sure that a witch is coming to help you.”

Cleopatra finally smiled.

The old woman continued, “I have little influence over the soldiers, gladiators or fishermen. Many mortals seem out of my small circles of magic power—I didn’t ever try to figure them out. But I have learned how to nudge witches when they aren’t looking.”

“Nudge?”

Iset gave a nod. “The wind can move the largest sand dune.”

Cleopatra asked, “Where’s my witch now? Is she coming for me today or has she been found out, too? Is she safe from my brother?”

“Your brother knows nothing about her.”

Cleopatra looked about. “Where is my witch now?”

Iset put her hands up to try and calm Cleopatra.

“I need help now!”

“Your witch is still in Rome.”

Cleopatra slumped. “Why would anyone in Rome want to cross the sea? What makes your magic spells strong enough to do that?”

Iset picked up a thin red snake from her table and blew in its face. The snake wagged its tail. “My spells are only a wind I can blow to push things in the general direction.”

“Will it be enough to get my throne back?”

“Maybe. And I can appear like a ghost once or twice in far-off lands when the wind is just right.” Iset put the snake to her lips. “I could tell you more but that would damage the spell as it plays out in Rome.”

Cleopatra insisted, “I need to know!”

“It’s a spell.”

“Tell me what it will all do, every hour of it!”

Iset shook her head. “A spell is a furtive poem.”

Cleopatra raised her voice. “Tell me what it spells out! I have to know now!”

“No more can be said now.”

Cleopatra asked why.

“Speaking of some things dispels their energy. This spell needs to stay as strong as we can keep it.” Iset swirled her hand in the air. “Just know that half of what I’ve cast is already past.”

Chapter two

Circe, a maidservant, rushed through the door of a small third floor apartment in Rome. “Oh dum ditty!”

Phaedra startled. “By the gods
now
what.”

Circe blurted, “Don’t have me crucified but the plague is back!”

Phaedra scooped up some beads she’d dropped on the table. “Are you sure? I just felt the wind pick up and I thought you were going to warn of a storm.”

Circe pointed out the door. “Six people are sick across the way.”

Phaedra looked out the window beside her table. She could see into the windows of the next building since it was only separated by the shared stairs. “Over there?”

Circe explained, “An old woman with a weird old wig, like a pot over her head, said so. She was on the roof where they’re cooking bread, and yes a strange wind blew. The fire blew out. That’s an omen! It seemed so weird. She was weird all over!”

“What were you coming in that way for? Was the street blocked again?”

“Yes, but the usual crowds. It’s always quicker to just go up over everything like a bird.”  

Phaedra pushed her tabletop bead loom away and stood. She accidentally knocked her chair over. “Well then… we get out of the city. We were going to move on in a week or two anyway.”

Circe nodded. “You always have us on the move, you’re so ungrounded. But this time has a good reason to leave Rome early, for sure.”

Phaedra glanced at her silk purse full of pebbles. “I didn’t see plague coming at all when I cast my magic stones this morning and I paid so much for them.”

“I told you not to waste your money on that nonsense.”

“The stones make me feel grounded.”

Circe said, “Yes, you always seem like you need grounded but I can find you a pile of rocks for free.”

“Wait a minute.” Phaedra rubbed her own face. “I do remember now. Last night as I slept… I
did
dream that plague was coming. Oh my Pegasus! Dead bodies everywhere. Black mud running out of their eyes. And then I dreamt that I ran to an Egyptian ship… a ship with a large wooden statue of a hawk at the front of it. Then six men grabbed me… and another man forced himself on me. They were all so strong. I was pinned down and I couldn’t move. I felt like a stone. There was blood in the water. The blood was so shocking to see!”

“We all dream about blood sometimes.”

Phaedra agreed. “I think I’ve had that one a couple of times.”

Circe clarified, “I don’t think it was said that anyone has died yet from this plague. Some people are in bed with only a fever.”

“I dreamt black mud pouring from their eyes.” 

“You have such dreams.” Circe made a sour face. “A witchy dream? One with a black cat?”

Phaedra picked up her silk purse and squeezed the divination stones within. “I don’t think I’m a witch enough for a dream
that
witchy. But I did dream that six strong men took me aboard their ship where I was raped by a young man who was such an arrogant brat about it.” She laughed at herself. “I sound like all the idle chatterers in the forum, don’t I, crying about the omens, for attention
.
But it’ll come to pass. It leaves me feeling dread and worry. I’ll always feel ungrounded and jittery until it comes to pass. Then I’ll be able to finally see all that it really was. Why do I dream this so often? Why do I see the future?”

Circe reminded her of her witchcraft hobby.

Phaedra nodded. “Oh yeah that. I went to a special temple school, as a girl, so I’m interested in magic a little more than most.” She squeezed her rocks again. “But by the gods that’s all—I’m not that much of a witch.”

Her maidservant had started packing and wanted to discuss the task at hand. “Where are we going next?”

Phaedra pushed up at her rolled hair. “Oh my Pegasus… what I sense is an adventure with new lovers.”

Circe shook her head. “Nonsense. You haven’t even recovered from the last one.”

“That wasn’t a lover. That was a husband.”

“From your face I see you still have feelings for him.”

Phaedra blushed. “He was a mad poet. He was as handsome and lewd as Pan, and I was a fool not to be all the more wary for it. I did not have sober eyes. My lust made him cleverer than he really was. I still have feelings for him and those feelings are now only fear. It’s a shame I wasted my youth on him.” She was now twenty-one years old.

Circe questioned, “Are you sure of your heart?”

“He was demented and horrible. He must never find me or I’m butchered.”

“What did he do that was so terrible?”

“Oh it was terrible!”

“What.”

Phaedra redid a few hairpins. “I might tell you someday, maybe. It’s too wicked to talk about.”

Circe scowled. “Not that it’s any of my business to say… but
you
sound like the wicked one… wanting lovers. Didn’t your mother ever warn you about that sort of thing?”

“My mother was a whore. The important women of Rome have always been whores. Always.” Phaedra put on her sandals. “It advances positions in society.”

Circe shook her head. “No, no indeed.”

Phaedra raised her voice. “What do you mean by that?”

Circe answered, “Knock it off. You left your husband and that is that.”

Phaedra looked away, looking pained. “Yes, and I must admit, my mother wasn’t important and did nothing to advance her position. She was merely a whore. And I grew up to be a lost fool.”

Together they packed to go to the country to escape the plague.

~

Hours later in the underground temple, Cleopatra and the high priestess Iset kneeled abreast before a large red statue of a seven headed snake. After many loud prayers echoed off the cave tunnel walls, Iset turned to Cleopatra and quietly said, “You were not able to rest.”

“You could tell? Did I pace that loud?”

Iset pointed to Cleopatra’s head.

Cleopatra asked, “You heard my thoughts? Please tell me what I thought since I couldn’t figure anything out for myself.”