Pharaoh (38 page)

Perhaps people talked behind Octavian’s back. But the only gaffe made at the wedding was by a ten-year-old serving boy, dressed
in white, cheeks rouged to recall Cupid, who informed Livia that she was sitting with the wrong husband. That provoked a snicker
or two, but it did not matter to Octavian. He was very proud of his manipulation of the circumstances. His uncle would have
felt the same, for was it not Caesar himself who had gleefully reported the secret schemes he concocted with his comrade Clodius,
defying law, constitution, and even nature?

Octavian breathed a deep sigh of pleasure and satisfaction. He had the woman of his choosing at his side, and she would learn
to love him. He had Caesar’s army. General Fulvia was gone to Greece, thanks to the military genius of Marcus Agrippa, one
of the two young men whom Caesar had handpicked to serve as Octavian’s advisers. His enemies were dead by his own hand. The
only outstanding problem was Antony. Was Octavian up to a confrontation with Antony? What would Antony do when he found out
that Fulvia had started a war in his name and had broken his alliance with Octavian without Antony’s blessing? Or so everyone
said. Was Antony really ignorant of his wife’s actions, or did he sanction them from Kleopatra’s bed? Was Fulvia so ambitious
that
she would wage war on Antony’s behalf while he was entwining himself with another woman? A woman who would stop at nothing
until she was Antony’s partner-his empress-in Rome’s eastern empire? Perhaps that was their secret arrangement-Fulvia would
defeat Octavian so that Antony would have no obstacles to total authority in Rome, while Kleopatra would furnish him with
the resources to command all the countries of the east. Was Antony’s enchantment over women so great that he could manipulate
both Fulvia and the queen into doing his bidding? Octavian pushed that thought aside. He did not want to think his rival so
formidable. At any rate, did Antony really think he could make an alliance all at once with Caesar’s chosen heir, and also
with the woman who claimed to be the mother of Caesar’s only true son? Antony’s next step would answer that question. Octavian
did not believe that Caesar’s army would take up arms against Antony, the man who had led them into battle time and again.
No, he would have to think of some other way to manage Antony. He did not yet have the plan in mind, but he was sure it would
soon occur to him.

Then he remembered that he was not alone. He remembered the calm with which Livia Drusilla, ignoring her husband’s protests,
had agreed to their marriage-her subtle but emphatic closing of all questions on the issue, as if she had worked it all out
in her mind. Someday he would make her tell him the thought process that had led up to her decision. Someday, but not this
evening. This evening, after he consummated the marriage, he would take up the matter of Antony with his new bride and find
out what thoughts were swimming about behind that beautiful, impeccably smooth brow.

T
he light is harsher this morning, cutting a hot white slab across her desk. Kleopatra holds a vase in her hands. It is a cheap
one, hastily spun on a pottery wheel and crudely painted, manufactured in quantity by order of Octavian and offered for a
few pennies so that anyone at all might afford to have something that mocks her. But it is a poor likeness. The figure is
huge and shrewlike, and she is taunting the god Herakles with her size and power. She has confiscated his stick and club and
holds it in her greedy, grasping hand. In the harridan’s other hand is a bowl of wine, held out to the humiliated god, demanding
that he pour her another serving. Herakles, with Antony’s face, is small and sullen, cowering before his female master. The
message is clear: Kleopatra has emasculated Antony and has assumed his power.

Is there a truth she might construct to palliate the lies now circulating all over the known world? In her kingdom, she is
called Kleopatra VII Theas Philopater, Neos Isis, Father-Loving Queen of Kings, living incarnation of our divine Lady, and
Pharaoh of the Two Lands of Egypt. To her children, she is known by a single word-Mother. In her time, she has been called
by her regal name, the Queen of her Sons who are Kings, and, for her deeds to the people over whom she rules, the Savior,
just as her forebears were honored with that title. But now, new monikers have been invented by the evil one in Rome-monster,
prostitute, seductress, mortal enemy of Rome.

She wonders which image will survive. The succubus on the vase? The destroy-
er of the living Herakles? The monster Octavian created and fed to the people? When she dies, her first mission in the underworld
of the shades will be to confront Caesar for his choice of heir. She will make him answer to her, or her soul will never rest.

She takes the vase to the fallen Titan sitting alone, staring over the sea, the Great Green as he called it in happier days,
following the habit of the native people. She shows him the thing, carefully watching his face as he takes it in his big hands
and stares at it, holding it a little farther from his eyes so that he might see it more clearly. She is hoping it will spark
a dialogue between them, hoping this measure of Octavian’s cunning, this assault on his masculinity, will rouse his ire. Instead,
he laughs. A good likeness of us both, he says, and turns away.

She is stunned quiet. Not because of his reaction, but because she remembers that this is not the first time he has turned
his back on her.

She feels the memory of it all creep up on her like an intruder in the dark, and she is helpless to stop its invasion. For
years, she has put aside that dark period of her life, the only time in a lifetime filled with conflict, challenges, and adversity,
when she had lost hope. For so long, she has forbidden herself to recall those times, those years when she had to go on without
Antony. For so long, she has told herself that those were the years in which his loyalty to Rome shone most brightly; that
he had only sacrificed their love and ambitions for circumstances that he believed would bring world peace. She has reminded
herself that she, too, has more than once chosen country over love. She has always concentrated on how horribly Antony was
deceived by Octavian, not how horribly she was deceived by Antony.

But now, in the wake of Antony’s dismissal, the memory of it all sneaks back in. She feels the glorious rush of love in which
she had lived that entire first winter with Antony fill her body. She remembers how Antony had received no word from Rome
because the Artesian winds prevented the delivery of mail, and how their love thrived in isolation from Rome and its problems.
She remembers her disappointment when the weather cleared and they learned that the Parthians were attacking Roman provinces
and had murdered a Roman governor. And she remembers the sorrow and hope she felt as Antony set off with his army, whispering
in his ear the joyous news: She was once again pregnant. She remembers him taking her into his great arms and whispering in
return that now the son of Caesar would have a son of Antony with whom to play.

She remembers his broad back-the same one she is staring at now-as he walked away, departing with a considerable amount of
her money, her army’s horses, and Egyptian grain, leaving her to build ships to strengthen his naval forces

and recruit mercenaries from nearby territories for the final encounter with Parthia. But then it all changed. With one letter,
and in one instant, once again, everything Kleopatra had worked for and believed in was gone. Somewhere around Tyre, Antony
received the devastating news about Fulvia’s uprising: Fearful of Octavian’s growing influence in Rome, and seeing firsthand
his betrayal of the treaty he made with both Antony and Lepidus, Fulvia and Antony’s brother Lucius had waged a bloody war
against Octavian’s forces.

Fulvia. What courage it must have taken for her to act. Was she so in love with Antony that she was willing to lay down her
own life? Or did she have such confidence in Antony’s popularity and in the men left to her command, and in her own ability
to command them? But the hundreds of senators and statesmen who fled Rome to join Fulvia’s cause were slaughtered on a sacrificial
altar used for offering animals to the gods. This Octavian had done in Caesar’s name. Caesar, who was renowned for his extraordinary
mercy. If there is judgment and vengeance in Hades’ dark land, perhaps Caesar would avenge his name against the deeds of his
heir.

As Perugia fell, poor starving Fulvia had fled to Greece. Antony, upon hearing the news, made for Athens to meet her. There
he found a broken woman. Starvation, defeat, and the demise of her friends and supporters at Octavian’s demonic hands had
ruined her health. Antony chastised her greatly for her efforts, and she-perhaps because she was too weak-did not adequately
defend her actions.

Since then, how many times has Kleopatra reprimanded Antony for his treatment of Fulvia? How many times has she said to him
that Fulvia was prescient? That she knew Octavian would never honor the terms of peace with Antony, and had attempted to put
him down before his influence spread?

Suddenly, Kleopatra feels herself getting dizzy. She has never let herself believe she is reliving Fulvia’s experience, but
the comparison has now made itself manifest and sits like an unwanted guest in her mind. She does not let herself dwell on
the possibility that history is repeating itself, as it so often does. No, that will not do. She has no time for such meditations.
She closes her eyes, cracking the whip on her mind, forcing it to move on.

What happened next? Antony left his grieving wife behind and hurried to Italy to assess the situation. Arriving at Brundisium,
he found himself persona non grata-the effects of Octavian’s influence. The local officials did not give him leave to dock.
He disembarked nearby with his men and waited. Soon enough, Octavian arrived, encamping directly opposite him.

Antony was ready to strike. Oh, why did he not? But the soldiers who had served both commanders were reluctant to choose,
and so they forced their generals to renew their alliance. Octavian pledged Antony twenty thousand soldiers for the Parthian
campaign, and also a pardon for Fulvia. But before Octavian had agreed, word came that Fulvia had died in Greece.

It was then-before Fulvia’s body was cold, much less cremated-that Octavian made the proposition that struck through Kleopatra’s
heart like one of the daggers that killed Caesar: To demonstrate conviction for their alliance, Antony must wed Octavian’s
sister, Octavia. Anxious for peace, Antony readily accepted, giving Octavian leave to install a most loyal spy and operative
in Antony’s very bed.

And what of Kleopatra, who had subsidized Antony’s military efforts, and with whom he had made far-reaching plans that he
had sworn were paramount to his ambitions and desires? What of Kleopatra, who had just given birth to his twins? What of Kleopatra,
who loved him fiercely? He ceased to answer her letters.

Kleopatra now wallows in the very misery she spent years forgetting. She remembers how she watched from afar as Octavia usurped
her position in Antony’s life. How she prayed to the goddess that Octavia would be a wife like Caesar’s Calpurnia, taken for
political alliance only, a silent mouse of a spinning Roman housewife who stayed home and worshipped Hesta while her husband
ran about the world dancing on the heads of his enemies. But it was not to be. Antony-though he denied it, still denies it-fell
in love with Octavia. He brought her to Athens with him and honored her as Athena herself, the goddess who presides over the
city.

Kleopatra is desolate remembering this, as desolate as she was when she realized that Antony had brought his Roman wife to
Greece to show the people of east and west alike that he had rejected the alliance with Aphrodite, the Mother goddess, the
goddess of love, in favor of the chaste Athena. And how the Romans approved of that notion. Though they are most barbarously
crude in their sexual proclivities, they still like to appear as chaste and restrained as Athena herself. Goddess of War,
Abstinence, Childbirth. What better model for a Roman matron? How many times did Antony later swear that he was just putting
on a show? And how much of her intuition did Kleopatra have to deny to believe him? The evidence was to the contrary: coins
issued with Octavia’s image, coins with them costumed as Athena and Dionysus, making a mockery of his love with Kleopatra.
Fabulous games hosted by him and Octavia in Greece, for which they received much praise.
The worst evidence of all: Quickly, very quickly, she became pregnant with his child, and the world rejoiced. The poet Vergil
even wrote a verse about it that was circulated around the world. It proclaimed that either the child of Antony and Octavia
or the child of Octavian and Scribonia would be the New Messiah, the Bringer of a Golden Era of Peace and Joy. Of course,
by the time the poem was in print, Octavian had already put Scribonia away and was conspiring to take Livia away from her
husband. But the Romans were anxious to produce a New Messiah of their own, because the Golden Child who most fitted the descriptions
in the prophecies was the son of Kleopatra and Caesar, Caesarion.

Grief buried long ago descends upon her like a shroud. The astrologer she had attached to Antony’s circle tried to console
her with the notion that the baby was the work not of Antony’s semen but Octavia’s magic. She remembers smiling at him, though
she saw the lie. She had known Antony’s passion; she did not believe that Octavia, even if she was just her brother’s spy,
could or would resist him.

They were husband and wife in the eyes of the world, and Kleopatra was alone with her heartache, praying that the people of
Egypt would accept any of her bastard Roman children as heirs to the throne.

Still, Antony continued to amass forces to march on Parthia. As he moved east with his wife, Kleopatra did not know if the
two of them would come to Egypt together, and if she would have to receive them. Or if he would come by himself and demand
more of her grain, her money, and her troops. Or if he would merely march into her country with his men and declare the land
of her ancestors a client kingdom that he would rule himself, with Octavia his eastern queen.

It was not impossible.