Pharaoh (21 page)

“Do you not think there is malice in Archimedes’ wishing me to know this? He has ample reason to wish me to suffer.”

“His vow supersedes even his heart, Kleopatra. He is angry with you, but still he works for your welfare. I believe this with
all my might. But just in case an old man’s judgment has become soft and sentimental, I had the information confirmed. Caesar’s
own family has reason to believe that he is preparing to adopt this boy, to groom him for power, and to make him his legal
heir.”

Kleopatra and Hammonius entered the Forum of Caesar through a small arch whose low height only emphasized the vastness of
the square the dictator had leveled many city blocks to construct. Caesar had bought up dozens and dozens of homes and apartment
buildings with the plunder from Gaul and demolished them, moving great mountains of dirt to fill the void and make the ground
even. He had torn down the Curia, where the senate usually met, and rebuilt it elsewhere, a move his detractors had interpreted
as a portent of things to come.

Kleopatra leaned on Hammonius’s arm, still shaken by the news he had broken to her on the gloomy banks of the Tiber, indifferent
to the grand temple to Mother Venus; to the basilica dedicated to Caesar’s daughter, where court cases were heard; to the
tall statues of the gods that formed a colonnade; to the luxurious gardens in the middle of the square. She was almost hostile
to these things, as if it were arrogant or insolent of Caesar to try to impress the queen of Egypt-a nation of glorious monuments
unfathomable to these Roman rustics-by building something of this scope. She was furious that her entire life was now hanging
by a spider’s thread that Caesar could clip at any time, sending her crashing down against the hard, unyielding dirt. Her
least favorite emotion-humiliation-hung over her like a pall. She wondered if Hammonius was thinking that she was just a naive
girl, the plaything of the aging dictator, and not his true partner at all. Was she in fact deluded to imagine that the vision
of the world that she and Caesar constructed in conversations late into the night was real? Was he just engaging in fantasies
with her so as not to spoil the sweet romance of their hours together? Was he playing her for a fool? And would she continue
to play this game along with him when the future of Egypt and of her son were at stake?

If Caesar thought as much, he would be surprised to find out the truth. She had warned him: A woman chooses her son over her
lover.
She did not know how she would master this Master of the World, but she would find a way. The gods were masters over all,
and she had no qualms about appealing to them on her behalf. They had never disappointed her before, though she had sometimes
been obliged to suffer difficult times before the deities revealed their true and higher purpose.

The temple of Mother Venus had eight exquisite Corinthian-style columns supporting its pediment, and striking statues of the
goddess in her various incarnations on its roof-the enchanting Venus the Lover, the strident Venus the Victorious, the nurturing
Venus the Mother. The building was small and delicate compared to Egypt’s grand shrines to the deities, but Kleopatra sensed
that with Caesar’s visit to her country, mighty Egyptian proportions had crept into the Roman sense of architectural scale.
Kleopatra remembered how small and cramped she had thought the Roman Forum when she saw it as a child. For those Romans who
had not yet gotten the message, Caesar’s Forum signaled that a new era of eastern extravagance would lace itself through the
rigid harness of stringent Roman values, bringing a sense of affluence to all.

Kleopatra left Hammonius outside and entered the temple through its tall, narrow door, which allowed the building’s only natural
light. The stone walls were lined with torches illuminating vast collections of mounted jewelry and gems. Rays of emerald
green, garnet and ruby red, and the ice white of diamonds and crystals danced through the temple’s empty space like glittering
spirits. Paintings from all over the world hung between the jewels, including one that Kleopatra recognized as a rendering
of the pale moon-goddess Hekate soothing the troubled people of Byzantium during a siege, lighting the sky with her crescent
and star. In the center of the room, a gold breastplate rimmed with silver trim and shot full of ivory inlays stood like mighty
host. Undoubtedly, Caesar had taken it from some conquered king.

Caesar stood alone in the temple. “Is it to your liking?” he asked, looking as nervous as a drummer boy his first day at service.

“It’s lovely,” she said. She had expected every element of his plan to deceive her to appear on his face and in his demeanor.
Instead, she looked into his eyes and for the first time saw expectancy, almost a hope. “But with this display of your war
plunder, it seems more a temple to warlike Venus the Victorious than the Mother Goddess.”

“How astute you are, my dear,” he said. “When I rode into the camp of my enemies after the battle at Pharsalos and saw nothing
but their cowardly retreating behinds, I promised the goddess that I would erect a temple to Venus the Victorious. I began
to go through the collection of treasure from Gaul and Britannia, and I appropriated the best of it, as you can see. Our citizens
so enjoy these displays of wealth confiscated from the conquered. But then something unexpected happened.”

“And what is that?” she asked. She realized that she feared him, that she was protecting herself from falling into the net
of his sway. He reached for her hand, which she reluctantly gave to him.

“May I show you something?”

He led her through this museum of his victories to the rear of the temple and into the sanctuary of the goddess. Sheltered
under the vaulted ceiling was a gleaming gold statue of Mother Venus; her child, the baby Cupid, sat on her shoulder whispering
into her ear, his round cheeks puffed, his lips pursed with secrets. She held another Roman child by the hand, who looked
up at her for protection and guidance. The goddess had lively sapphire eyes, which looked forward into the future. Her body
was draped in folds of gold that flowed behind her as if she were walking into a gentle breeze. To the right of the goddess
was a statue of Caesar himself, tall and proud, wearing the laurel wreath of victory in honor of his many triumphs.

But this was not what Caesar had brought her into the temple to see. He said nothing, letting her attention fall upon his
surprise. On the right side of the statue of Venus, at a distance close enough to be talked about but far enough to be considered
respectful, was a full-length golden statue of Kleopatra, dressed as the goddess but wearing her own diadem, which was as
bejeweled as the one Caesar had seen her with in Egypt. He had had the sculptor copy gem for gem the rich stones that she
wore about her head. How had he remembered? Her face was as serene as that of Venus, and her body not so slim as it was but
fuller, more womanly, the way she had looked when she was just a few months with child. Her eyes were not sapphires but bright
polished emeralds, and her hair was swept back into a golden knot at her neck. In the ears, she noticed with a giggle, were
the earrings that matched Servilia’s enormous golden necklace. Snuggling her feet was an ever so delicate cobra, the symbol
of pharaonic power, with a sil
ver tail and opal eyes. Caesar pointed to it. “Lest they forget your true identity.”

He waited for her to speak. “Do you approve?” he asked.

“I am speechless, General.”

“There will be no question now of the position you hold. For these are the two women in my life: One gives me fearlessness
in the face of death, the other gives me reason to stay alive.”

She chastised herself for ever doubting him, for doubting her instincts about his commitment to her and to their future together.
She did not know why he patronized his nephew, but this was a grand gesture-and a public one-of his recognition of her place
in his heart and his life. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her arms were motionless at her sides, limp and heavy.

Caesar put his arm around her shoulder and with one hand turned her face toward his. “Have you nothing to say?”

“Its beauty is overwhelming, but it is even more beautiful to me because it came from you.”

“I am not a king, Kleopatra. I cannot build a grand monument in your name, at least not in Rome. But I have done what I can
to let this country know how I regard you.”

“It is more than I would have asked of you, darling.”

“And now when I tell you that I must leave Rome in a matter of days, you will think of this and you won’t be upset.” He had
dropped his hands from her face and grasped her shoulders, forcing her to look for further meaning in his downcast eyes.

“Leave Rome?”

“I had hoped that my general Vatinius had forever cleansed the earth of the Pompeian menace, but it appears that his sons
have gone back to Spain and joined forces with that scheming traitor Labienus.”

“Must you go yourself? How can you leave Rome at a time when you are just setting up your government? It’s dangerous, Caesar.
You are not surrounded by those you can trust. That is what I believe, and I must tell you so.”

“I trained Labienus myself, schooled him in every art of war so that now he is formidable enough to raise thirteen legions
against me. I’m afraid that I’m the only one who can answer the challenge. There is no other commander to send.”

“What of Antony?”

“I am not yet so convinced of either his redemption or his loyalty that I’m willing to put him at the head of my own army.”
He tightened his grip on her shoulders and spoke in a low voice, as if he thought the statue of Venus might be eavesdropping.
“The loyalty of the army is the single factor that keeps the senate under my power. That is the situation they created when
they sent me forth ten years ago to expand the empire. They got what they wanted from me, and they also got something they
did not want-legions and legions of men loyal to Caesar and not to a senate or a country or a system of government. If I do
not have the army, I do not have the dictatorship, and you and I, my dear, will certainly not have the unity of our nations
the way we plan. Without the solid loyalty of the army, I am just another Roman senator who once did his duty abroad.”

She let herself cry now, both in relief at the confirmation of his love for her and the misery that he was going back into
battle. She had adopted his attitude of invincibility toward his safety, but the reality of war erased that confidence, and
fear crept back into her heart. “Will you guarantee that you will be safe?” She sounded like a child asking the question.
She realized it was foolish, that only the gods might guarantee anything, and they rarely did.

“I do guarantee it, Kleopatra.”

“Oh, my darling, I want to believe you, but I would be foolish to do so.”

“I give you not my word but hers,” he said, casting a glance at the goddess’s face. “She has promised that I will return.”

“How so?” she asked skeptically.

“She is not ready for me yet, Kleopatra. She has told me so.”

“She speaks to you directly?” Why not? Kleopatra had received so many signals from the gods that she did not doubt his assertion.

“You must never say anything about this. There is enough suspicion about me as it is.” He slid his hands down her arms and
clutched her wrists so tightly that her bracelets pressed into her skin.

She wriggled one arm away. “You can tell me anything. I believe you know that. If not, ask the goddess and she will confirm
my loyalty.”

“She comes to me. That is all. Is it so extraordinary? She is the mother of Aeneas, who founded our city. Aeneas married Creusa,
and their
first son was Iulus, the first of the Julian clan. Why should she not come to me?”

“Does she visit you in dreams?” Kleopatra had never told Caesar about the dream in which Alexander and Ptolemy the Savior
appointed her the dynasty’s next successor, but that was the first thing she thought about.

“Not dreams exactly. She comes during my spells. As soon as my eyes go black, her face appears and she counsels me. I have
never told anyone this. But you, who understand so well the communion between gods and mortals, will understand.”

“I do, my darling. It is just one more proof that the gods wish you to take your place among them.”

He shrugged. “The people of Rome practically demand it. The Lupercalian priests are establishing a brotherhood in my honor.
There are those who approve, and those who say it smacks of kingship, since the last Roman to be honored with a cult was Romulus.”

“But it is natural for the people of Rome to want to honor the man who has brought them so much.” Kleopatra did not understand
why the Roman nobility so fiercely denied the ordinary citizens need to connect the rulers with the gods. She thought the
senators merely jealous that both the deities and the citizens of Rome had chosen Caesar and not one of themselves to rule
over the empire.

“Yes, but that makes small-minded senators sleep even less well at night. They want their power without having to do anything
to keep it. Whereas I have earned every honor and privilege.”