Pharaoh (13 page)

As they sailed south from Edfu, the green on the eastern bank of the Nile gave way to desert. The heat thickened and mountains
dug into the desert floor like an animal’s claws. Kleopatra wanted to come this far into southern Egypt to show Caesar the
outer reaches of her country. She herself had never ventured so far into her kingdom, close to the Nubian lands of dark-skinned
people who played soft-sounding musical instruments that used to so please her father. She wanted to show Caesar the double
temple at Kom Ombo built by her ancestors for Horus the Elder and Sobek, the crocodile-god. Her father had been in awe of
the temple, and had further decorated it, building a great gate opening into the courtyard.

The temple’s columns shot from the courtyard like ancient stone trees, as tall and solemn as any in Egypt, but capped with
fluted Corinthian elegance. Kleopatra asked to see the tributes to her father inside, the ones of which he was most proud.
They entered the great hall with dual passageways into the temples. Mighty vultures painted in bright colors took flight across
the ceiling. On one wall, King Ptolemy Auletes was seen bringing offerings to Sobek, who had the body of a tall man and the
head of a crocodile; on the other wall,
Horus performed purification rites over the king. Most magnificent was the wall painting of the king with a host of Egyptian
deities: Sobek; Sekhmet, the lioness-goddess; Horus; Isis; and Thoth, the ibis-headed god of wisdom and writing.

“A good likeness of your father?” Caesar asked.

“Perhaps when he was a young man, and slightly less heavy than in his old age,” she said wryly. “I do not believe he could
have been more than forty years older and one hundred pounds heavier than this when the painting was made.”

“And what is the difference between the elder Horus and the younger?” Caesar asked.

“The elder is the falcon, the healer god. Worshippers suffering from disease and ailments make the pilgrimage to this temple.
The younger Horus is the son of Isis and Osiris. They are the same god. Perhaps one needs a Greek or Egyptian mind to understand
the complexity.” These days, the two of them laughed together at her slights on the Roman mind.

“I shall let that pass,” he said, “in honor of your father and the beauty that he created here. One feels haunted by the spirits
of two great civilizations.”

“This is what my father did to rebuild the support of his people,” she said. “My father always said that the gods are good
to those who honor them, and that the people honor those who honor their gods. He was right. And this is what I shall do in
Alexandria as soon as I return. When you come back to me, you shall marvel at the things I’ve built in your honor.”

“How clever you are for just a slip of a young girl,” he said.

“I allow your patronization only because you are the greatest man on earth,” she whispered to him, standing on her tiptoes
and brushing his cheek with her lips. Then she blushed, wondering if she should have shown such affection to a foreign man
in the chilly and solemn atmosphere of the temple.

“If Your Majesty bathes in donkey’s milk, she will never age or lose her beauty.” The wife of the priest at the precinct of
Aswan looked grave and sincere.

“Is that your own secret for
eternal
beauty?” the queen asked, looking for wrinkles in the grandmother’s skin and finding none. The dark eyebrows were stern crescents
over eyes like midnight sky, and the woman’s lips were still crimson and plump like those of someone half her age.

“Oh yes, Mother Egypt. I shall procure you a large vessel of it to take back to your palace in the north, for I am sure the
donkeys there are not fed on as rich a grain as we give them here.”

Mother Egypt. She had never been called such a thing, and yet she liked the sound of it. A title that indelibly linked her
with the country and its land and people. She would like to be mother to Egypt, to feed and nurture and care for it along
with its truest benefactor, the Nile.

“I would be most grateful to you,” Kleopatra said, and then dismissed her company. She invited the important ladies of every
community they visited to spend one hour with her in the afternoons, taking light refreshments in the shaded garden atop the
boat away from the sun. But she was weary of small talk now and returned to her cabin where Caesar was alone, stalking the
room like a trapped cat with no sense of mission or destination.

Caesar was pressing to return to Alexandria; in fact, he just that morning insisted upon sailing back swiftly. He had received
disturbing dispatches about the state of things in Rome. Harsh weather on the seas had cut off all correspondence for several
months, but now a pile of old letters filled with disastrous news had been heaped into his lap, rushed from Alexandria by
a swift vessel that had easily caught up with their leisurely cruise. Last night he had paced their chamber instead of engaging
in his usual long conversation with Sosigenes under the stars. Today he was in considerably foul humor. A cloud of cynicism
had descended upon him once more, and he no longer took pleasure in either Kleopatra or any of the delights she provided for
him on their tour. His food went untouched except for a little wine that he drank to settle his nerves. The lines on his face
had reappeared and he looked thin and tense.

“I dare not hope it is leaving me that is causing this sudden consternation.” She could take the awful transformation no longer.
He kept his dispatches close to the breast and did not share the contents with her. She wondered if they contained messages
from or about his wife, Calpurnia, the daughter of his friend Piso. Perhaps Piso himself had
heard of the affair between Caesar and the queen and had written to chastise him.

“I have lingered too long in your company, madam, and my enemies have taken advantage of it.”

“It is merely ten days since the last battle was fought,” she protested.

How dare the world intrude upon their pleasures? And especially at this time, when Kleopatra had never felt so alive. She
did not understand why women sequestered themselves during pregnancy, acting as if they had been taken by a mysterious illness.
She felt as if the child inside her was giving her energy; as if she were now more than herself, the combined force of the
two beings in one body. She felt vigorous and strong and invincible. And if the women in her service cautioned her about overexertion,
she attributed it to a failing of theirs, not to the condition itself. Perhaps she was not a mere woman after all. She had
so longed for a female confidante during this time, one who faced pregnancy with the same fearlessness that she felt inside.
She missed Mohama. Surely the desert girl would have been just like her, if not more vigorous, had she lived to bear a child.
They would have been like two Amazons together, carrying warrior children into a world that awaited their majesty

But apparently pregnancy did not so affect the sire. Caesar looked glumly at her.

“I’ve spent the last twelve years expanding the borders of Rome beyond the wildest dreams of its most ambitious men, putting
money into their pockets, slaves into their households, beautiful foreign women into their beds, and yet it is never enough.”

“What is it, my darling? Won’t you confide in me? Just this once? I can’t stand to see you so upset. I’ve put my life and
my future and my heart into your hands, and it frightens me to see you this way. I worry that you are out of love with me,
that Egypt has finally bored you, that I am out of trickery to keep you here, and that is why you are going.”

She did not like to hear herself make these vulnerable declarations, but she had grown so close to him in the last weeks.
They had called a halt to their rivalry and had slid gracefully into the idylls of love. She would have to work hard to suppress
the tender feeling that she’d grown so accustomed to showing him to dissemble for him again.

“If you must know, King Pharnaces, the monstrous son of Mithridates of Pontus, has taken it upon himself to seize a good
amount of Anatolia. I am the commander of the legions in closest vicinity and so I must go.” Caesar added, muttering to himself,
“He shall never be sorrier than when he meets me.”

“It is merely duty that sours you so?”

“The sons of Pompey have regrouped in Africa and are planning a rebellion against me. From Anatolia, I must make haste to
Africa before they can sail to Italy. I did not count on them being such a menace. Why won’t they simply accept reality?”

“I see.”

“Perhaps I can send negotiators. But I doubt it.”

The boyish look of a few days past was long gone. His voice, even his eyes, were impatient. “In Rome, my supporters as well
as my enemies are so deeply in debt that they are murdering one another in the streets. No one can tell if Antony is trying
to put the rebellion down or encourage it. Apparently he has claimed Pompey’s estate with no intention of paying for it. Or
so Cicero says, the old troublemaker. Who knows who is telling the truth. I must soon return to Rome before there is no Rome
to return to. I am sorry. I do not wish to leave you. I have- enjoyed myself.”

It seemed so hard for him to say those few words. Not because the expression of emotion was difficult, but because he seemed
astonished that he had been swept into the joys of their passions. And yet she knew, not by his words, but by his attentions
over the past weeks, that he regretted taking leave of her, of her country.

“All the gods are with you, General, and now, even the old gods of Egypt, especially the crocodile whom you so lavishly fed.”

He gave her a faint smile and held out his arms.

She moved into his chest, turning her face to the side so that she might hear the slow steady drum of his heart. “We will
never lose one another. I am sure of that. The gods won’t allow it. Nor will I.”

He backed away from her, taking her chin into his hand. How did a military man keep his hands so soft? The hand that had brought
death to so many now firmly cradled her face. “The surety of youth is so different in tenor than the surety of age. I cannot
explain it, quite. One is based on calculation from experience, the other on will and hope.”

“And who is to say which is stronger and more accurate?”

“No, I believe you, Kleopatra. I believe we are inextricably bound.”

To: Kleopatra VII, Queen of Egypt
From: Gaius Julius Caesar, Dictator of Rome
(Dispatched from the city of Athens)
My dear Kleopatra,

How delightful to hear from you so soon after my departure. Your letter caught up with me in Antioch. Your messengers are
devoted and determined men. You have pleased Caesar greatly with the commencement of construction of the monument in my name
and my honor. I shall look forward to being greeted by its majesty when I next sail into the Great Harbor.

First, some business between us. I have rewarded Antipater for his support in the war against your brothers army by sanctioning
his government in Judaea and by exonerating that territory from its yearly taxes. I would like you to demonstrate some gratitude
as well by lessening the taxes on your own Jewish population for a period of one year. This was the suggestion of Antipater,
and I trust you shall see fit to implement it. You must follow the example of Caesar and reward those who demonstrate loyalty,
particularly at a cost to themselves.

The nuisance King Pharnaces has been put down. In brief I came, I saw, I conquered. He contributed to the expediency of my
victory by directing his char-ioteers and foot soldiers to attack my legions uphill. Such arrogance. We demonstrated no mercy,
for he had slaughtered the Roman soldiers he had defeated, and some, he castrated to indicate his scorn. For those who merit
it, however, Caesar retains the quality of mercy. I have made visits to more than one of Pompeys
allies in Syria and neighboring territories and I have pardoned them for little more than modest sums of money pledged to
show their loyalty. By their own volition the people of these territories heaped upon me the wreaths of gold customarily offered
the victor. From Marcus Brutus, who is to me as a rebellious son who necessarily takes opposition against his father, I demanded
nothing, though he caused me grief by his allegiance to those who made themselves my enemies. He requested I give audience
to Gaius Cassius who gleefully had aligned with Pompey, and whom I neither like nor trust, but whom I pardoned at the urging
of Brutus.

And now I make haste for Rome via Athens to assess conditions in the capital. My detractors have accused me of staying too
long in your country. I reclaimed Anatolia in four hours, so it is inconceivable to them why it took eight months to make
peace in Egypt. After all that I have done for my country, I am begrudged one week of rest after eight months of siege and
battle.

I trust you are well and that you will keep me apprised of your condition.

Yours, C. Julius Caesar

To: Gaius Julius Caesar,
Dictator of RomeFrom: Kleopatra VII,
Queen of Egypt
My dear General,

Please be advised that I have implemented the favor you requested to the Jewish citizens of Alexandria, for which they have
expressed much gratitude, and for which the rest of the city remains resentful. I trust the bitterness will not endure. The
Alexandrian Jews are grateful at a distance that you have allowed the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem and have excluded
their temples from the ordinances against assembly, for they are a deeply religious people as you know and any intrusion upon
the ritualistic worship of their terrible and singular god causes them great consternation. They stand alone as the one culture
that has remained untouched by the customs of the native people and the Hellenes alike.

I am pleased to announce the birth of our son. He has his parents’ determination and aggression, for he came into the world
very quickly, so quickly that I have wondered if my womb was not a hospitable place. Perhaps he sensed the intensity with
which I have missed his father, and he could not wait to escape the dreadful feelings of my longing. I know that men are rarely
interested in the
details of labor, but you are the rare kind of man. I gave birth in the Egyptian way, sitting in a special chair that the
midwives say makes the baby come faster, under a great canopy decorated with lovely, fragrant garlands and holy amulets of
all kinds. To keep my good cheer, Charmion brought in a statue of the dwarf-god, Bes, and whenever I felt pain, I looked at
his big triangle ears and laughing eyes.

I have named your son Ptolemy XV Caesar so that he might carry the identity of both his parents, but the Greeks in Alexandria
have already dubbed him Caesarion, or Little Caesar, which I suppose is appropriate enough. They seem to say it with more
affection than disparagement, and I take this as a sign of growing acceptance for our union. He has his fathers height, for
the midwives said they have never seen a baby so long. His fingers and toes are thin and elegant. I believe he has inherited
the lengthy neck of Venus that runs through your family. His skin is ruddy like many of his Macedonian ancestors, his hair
is rather dark, and his eyes are the ubiquitous blue of infancy. I am told by his astrologer that they will change to the
gray tones of Alexanders. And why should our son not carry Alexanders eyes into the future? He will surely bring to fruition
the vision of his ancestor.

The astrologers foresee a pensive character, slightly withdrawn in nature, but an expansive thinker and an intellectual. His
constitution is strong, and he will contract none of the childhood diseases. They foresee tumult in his sixteenth year, but
peace thereafter in his life. I imagine him to grow up thoughtful, perhaps truly the first of Platos Philosopher Kings. He
will study with the scholars here at the Mouseion, as did his mother and all his ancestors before him. Then we shall send
him to Greece to study military strategy. Much of this he shall learn, however, from reading his fathers written accounts
of battle.

I am enclosing herewith a coin that I have issued commemorating his birth. I believe the image of the queen as Isis-an image
to which my subjects are accustomed-suckling the baby Horus, will hearten the people both Egyptian and Greek, and spread through
the Two Lands of Egypt the joy that comes with the birth of a future king. The Greeks associate Isis and Horus with Aphrodite
and Eros to the extent that there is no difference in their minds between the native deities and their own. But I hope the
coin reminds you of our time together at the temple of Horus in a land that I believe you found enchanting.

Will you see Little Caesar within the year? Shall I bring him to you once the quarantine is lifted? We do quarantine royal
children for a period of six
months. Though his astrological chart says he is not susceptible to illness, no chances may be taken.

Remember my confession to you that as a girl I escaped to the marketplace where I hoped to hear tidbits from gossiping merchants
about Mighty Julius Caesar and hi
s
Exploits in Rome? I did not dream at that time, or perhaps I did, that I would one day listen firsthand to the observations
of Caesar himself, whispered into my ear late into the evening for my amusement. Please do not spare me any details of your
travels or your travails. I do so long to have you here, letting your wisdom wash over whatever youthful inexperience remains
after my years of tumultuous rule, and listening to your insights into political schemes and human nature. I also miss vexing
you. Until I see you again, your words will be like the fingers that so affectionately brushed my face, so do not spare those
words, dear General. I cling to each one.

In the meanwhile, I shall devote my every thought to the health and safety and nurturing of your son.

Yours, Kleopatra

From: Gaius Julius Caesar in the city of Rome
To: Kleopatra VII, Queen of Egypt
(By private messenger)
My dear Kleopatra,

Caesar assures you that the news of the birth of his son is presently his singular source of gladness. Though he returned
to Rome in triumph, recent events cloud his many victories.

There is murder in the streets of Rome-not among the enemies of Caesar but among his friends. Caesar charged Antony with gaining
Ciceros favor, and he has done the opposite, forcing the old man to eleven months of exile in Brundisium. The two despise
one another, and I have not been able to repair it. Cicero executed Antonys stepfather in the mess of the Catiline conspiracies
of many years ago. I advised against it, but he did not heed my warnings, and Antony, an affectionate man of great familial
loyalty, will never forgive him. Besides, the two are temperamentally opposite, fire and ice. Cicero, whom I have taken pains
to cultivate despite his unfaithfulness to me and my causes, has never forgiven Antony a minor, manly indiscretion with a
certain Volumnia Cytheris, an actress whose company Antony keeps. Years ago, when poor
Pompey was still alive and Cicero was vacillating between the two of us, Antony passed his house in an open carriage with
Volumnia, and Cicero, who is rather prudish, treated the incident as if it were a crime against the Republic itself. Kindling
his outrage was the fact that Antonys mother, Julia, was also present. Only a moral bankrupt would subject a pious Roman matron
to such an indignity, Cicero declared, though I assured him that I share Antonys enjoyment of people of the theater, despite
their dramatic temperaments. Cicero himself has recently put away his wife, Terentia, and taken a teenage bride. It is also
rumored that he whispers words of love in secret to his secretary, a learned Greek slave, Tiro. And yet he does not forgive
the passions of others. Perhaps it is the urgency, ferocity, and youthful vigor of Antonys ardor that he resents.

That is the background of their feud. I was forced to stop in Brundisium and personally rub salve on Ciceros wounded vanity.
Meanwhile, in my absence, Antony conducted a personal war against young Dolabella for committing adultery with his wife, Antonia,
whom he is now divorcing. I do not doubt the charge, but the true reason for divorce is so that Antony might marry Fulvia,
the widow of our mutual late friend Clodius, with whom he has bedded for so many years. Fulvia is an absorbing woman, with
political ambitions more complicated than the many plaits and ribbons she weaves into her hair. The gods only know how many
husbands she’s buried and will bury before she is called to Hades. Her most recent husband, Curio, was killed in North Africa
by Pompeys son. But she will tame Antony for the better, and he demonstrates fine judgment in calling such a taskmaster to
the cause of his discipline. The first order of her reign: Give up Volumnia Cytheris. He has sheepishly agreed.

Dolabella and Antony both owe in personal debt more than the sum of the treasury of many a nation, due to their extravagant
living and poor management. While Caesar was away in the cause of his country, Dolabella proposed a new debt law favorable
to his situation and then barricaded the Forum to guarantee its passage. Antony charged the barricades and destroyed the placards
announcing the law. Hundreds died in the skirmish. I have chastened the both of them, though I have dealt with Antony more
severely. I have deposed him of his powers and named Marcus Lepidus co-consul for the year, and I have thrown his dissolute
friends out of the houses he stole for them and returned them to the state, where they might be auctioned off to assist in
paying Rome’s legions. I shall forgive Antony, for he is good-natured, the greatest warrior in Rome next to Caesar himself,
and highly influential, but only after dishonor has humbled him.

After settling these many problems, Caesar personally faced hostile Roman legions who had the audacity to march straight into
the city demanding their settlements from the war. I confronted them in the Field of Mar, and demonstrated my disdain for
their mutinous actions by addressing them as “citizens.” I acted delighted to grant their discharge, whereupon they protested
that they were not mere citizens but soldiers, Caesars soldiers! And then begged to be kept in my service.

At this moment my enemies are organizing against me in Africa. I had intended to meet and put an end to these insults to my
honor, and yet conditions in the capital make it impossible to leave. My personal attention seems to be the key ingredient
in the solution of all present problems.