Pharaoh (4 page)

“General, I am unclear over certain issues. Are you at war with my brother or not?”

“Why no, of course not. I’m a friend to the Crown, as is all of Rome. I’ve told you: I came to Alexandria merely to chase
down my former ally and old friend, Pompey, whom I had had the unfortunate task of defeating in Greece. I did not even wish
to be at war with Pompey, but it seemed that no one could agree on whose policies would predominate in Rome. I came here to
reconcile with Pompey, to bring him back to Rome and to his senses, and to make him see that the greedy senators who had incited
him to go to war with me were acting in self-interest, rather than in the interests of either Pompey
or
myself.

“But your brother’s eunuch, Pothinus, had already taken care of the issue for me. Upon my arrival, he presented me with Pompey’s
head.” Caesar turned away as if to hide his sadness from Kleopatra.

“I may be at war with Pothinus,” he said, as if working out the scenario for himself. “I may be at war with your brother’s
army but not your brother. We shall see what unfolds in the coming days.”

How could a man be so casual about war? she wondered. Perhaps it was from a lifetime of waging it. And yet he seemed equally
calm and dispassionate about everything, even those things that usually provoked the extreme emotions-debate, negotiation,
money, sex.

They were interrupted by a knock. One of Caesar’s men entered, not the least bit embarrassed to disturb the morning intimacy
between their commander and the queen of Egypt. How often did they come upon such a scene? she wondered.

“Sir, so sorry to disturb you, but the boy king is speaking to an assembly of malcontents at the palace gates. He’s torn off
his crown and thrown it into the crowd. He is shouting all sorts of insults about the queen. He’s getting them all whipped
up out there. Shall we remove him?”

“No, no,” Caesar said wearily. “Give us a moment. I’ll fetch him myself and bring him in.”

“We can handle it, sir,” said the soldier.

“Yes, but I’ve got a way with him,” said Caesar. “Besides, I shall make a little speech to the mob. I’ll tell them their queen
is back, and that Caesar shall ensure peace in their kingdom.”

“Have the wine sellers discount their wares to the crowd,” Kleopatra suggested, remembering her father’s old ploy for placating
his people.

“Excellent,” Caesar replied.

“As you wish,” the soldier said. Bowing courteously to Kleopatra but not meeting her eye, he left.

“My brother has always been a nuisance,” Kleopatra said, leaning on her elbow.

“I imagine he has,” Caesar replied. “Not to worry. He shall be made to understand.”

“General?”

“You may call me Caesar, my darling young queen, and I shall call you Kleopatra.”

“Caesar. Do be careful.”

“Never worry over me,” he said, waving his long fingers in the air, fanning away her concerns. “It isn’t necessary. No one
shall be hurt. At least not yet.”

How cunning and stupidity could so seamlessly coexist in the same body, Kleopatra did not know. For here was her old adversary,
the eunuch Pothinus, white lead rubbed into his wrinkled skin to make him appear both young and fair. His technique had failed
on both fronts, and now his small dark eyes peered out from the perimeter of the thick circle of kohl and at the young queen,
who did not shrink from his venomous gaze. Here was the man who had driven her from her own palace and into the treacherous
heat of Middle Egypt and the Sinai, the man who had her brothers and sister in his thrall. He had been clever enough to drive
Kleopatra away, but foolish, too. He did not understand that in cutting her off from the security she’d known all her life
he had enabled her to find the depth of her determination and her strength. She had departed from him an adventurous and clever
girl, and returned a woman of unstoppable resolve.

And now the fool thought that he might defy not only Egypt’s queen but Julius Caesar as well.

“The king does not wish to be a prisoner in his own kingdom,” Pothinus said to Caesar. “It is unnecessary and unseemly.”

The boy king sat sullen in his chair next to Arsinoe, letting his regent speak for him. Arsinoe, too, exercised tight control,
showing no emotion over the proceedings. Days earlier, Caesar and his men had gently
removed the boy from the crowd he’d gathered in front of the palace. Ptolemy had been midway through a temper tantrum, throwing
his crown to his subjects, denouncing Kleopatra as the traitor who would sell the nation out to the Romans and Caesar as the
dictator who would murder the king and make Kleopatra sole ruler of Egypt. Caesar had instructed his soldiers not to harm
the boy; he knew that Ptolemy had no mind of his own, that his emotions were easily whipped up by Pothinus.

“My dear fellow, who knows who is a prisoner of whom in these strange circumstances. To some minds, Caesar is prisoner of
the Alexandrians.”

Kleopatra had become accustomed to Caesar’s manner of referring to himself in the third person, but it never failed to startle
her ear.

“Because if Caesar steps into the streets, he is attacked by this mob that you cannot seem to control. And Caesar does not
wish to make war on your mob.”

“I am quite certain that if Great Caesar wished to leave Alexandria, the mob would cooperate,” the eunuch said. Kleopatra
wondered how long Caesar would tolerate this fool.

“Ah, but Caesar does not wish to leave Alexandria just yet,” the dictator replied in a most pleasant tone. “Not only is his
business here incomplete, but Caesar is prisoner of the northern winds which do not make sailing favorable. So you see, Caesar
is a prisoner here on your shores. But
you,
my friend, are also a prisoner, though you may not choose to acknowledge it. However, if you set foot outside the palace
gates, my soldiers will enlighten you. And the queen is also prisoner, is she not? We are all happy captives, and I suggest
we make the most of it.”

“By returning to Egypt, the queen defied a royal edict. She must suffer the consequences.”

“The queen is the government itself, whereas you are an appointee. Do not forget that.” Caesar maintained his agreeable demeanor,
and Kleopatra noticed that the more sanguine he sounded, the more menacing he became. “Here is the will of Rome: Queen Kleopatra
and her brother King Ptolemy the Elder shall rule in concert. I am their protector and adviser. As a show of my good faith,
I hereby return the island of Cyprus to Egyptian rule. The princess Arsinoe and the prince
Ptolemy the Younger shall be its governors. As soon as the winds are favorable, they shall depart for those territories with
a Regency Council selected by me.”

Kleopatra and Caesar had plotted this the night before. She knew she would never be safe as long as Arsinoe was in Egypt.
Dynastic tradition forbade two women to be in power at the same time, and so the only way to deal with one’s sisters was murder
or exile. Kleopatra explained to Caesar that Arsinoe must go if ever there was to be peace. She told him how their sister,
Arsinoe’s mentor Berenike, had raised an army against her own father, for which she was eventually executed. Arsinoe had spent
her girlhood in Berenike’s shadow. Did they have to wait until the girl took the inevitable action? It was not in Arsinoe’s
character to sit placidly by while Kleopatra and Ptolemy the Elder ruled the kingdom.

“If I were dead, Arsinoe would marry our brother and be queen. She would be unsensible if she did not try to have me killed.
Besides,” Kleopatra told him, “Arsinoe and Ptolemy have been sleeping together since they were children.”

“Interesting,” he replied. “We cannot have you dead, now can we?” Then Caesar had said that just as he had once banished the
senator Cato to Cyprus to get rid of him, so he would now do the same with Arsinoe and the younger brother, who was presently
a child of eleven, but who would soon become the same kind of nuisance as the present king.

“And we shall do it under the guise of goodness,” Caesar had said. “A gesture of friendship and goodwill between Rome’s new
dictator and the Egyptian monarchy.”

“May it be the first of many,” Kleopatra had replied, and then she had walked straight across the room to Caesar, straddled
him in his chair, and had him make love to her in that position.

Pothinus must have imagined what had gone on between Caesar and Kleopatra behind closed doors, and yet he refused to accept
the verdict that their relationship cast upon his own Fate. Kleopatra’s father had taught her to recognize whom the gods favored
and align herself thus-ly-not out of self-interest, but in recognition of the supremacy of the Divine. The gods were with
Caesar. That much was clear. And Caesar was now with Kleopatra. The final step to this equation, to any thinking person, particularly
one who had studied logic and mathematics,
must be clear. But Pothinus and Kleopatra’s siblings chose to ignore this fact, for they made no move to cooperate.

“You mustn’t send Arsinoe away!” said Ptolemy. “She is my sister and cherished chancellor, though she holds no formal office.”

For the first time, Kleopatra realized that it was not necessarily the bonds of either family or sex that held Ptolemy to
Arsinoe. He was afraid, and rightfully so, that without her, he would be even less of an obstruction to Pothinus’s exercising
complete control over Egypt and her resources. Arsinoe, on the other hand, probably comprehended this completely and had been
using it to compensate for her unfortunate placement in the family’s hierarchy.

“Dearest Brother,” Arsinoe said, “if my duty to country lies at Cyprus, then go I must. We shall not let it separate us in
spirit.” Ptolemy moved to correct her, but she silenced him by taking his hand. “Now is not the time to discuss the issue.
It is a private matter between us, and we need not consume the general’s time with our familial arrangements.”

How shrewd was this girl, Kleopatra thought. Berenike would have challenged Caesar directly, no matter what price she had
to pay. Thank the gods that Caesar had agreed to remove Arsinoe from Kleopatra’s kingdom. And thank the gods that Berenike
and not Arsinoe had been the firstborn daughter. The eunuch Meleager who had attached himself to Berenike had been a genius
conniver. He was dead now, slain by his own hand when his machinations failed. But Kleopatra shuddered at the thought of Arsinoe
and Meleager combining their efforts to take over the throne. What a powerful team they would have made. As it was, Arsinoe’s
present regent was less adroit at disguising his intentions than was his charge.

“Great Caesar, I fear that your efforts to reconcile the family have had the opposite effect,” said Pothinus, his voice full
of false concern. “I fear you do not understand the intense blood bonds that flow through the veins of this family. See how
you threaten the welfare of the king? As his regent, I simply must protest.”

“Caesar has taken your protestations into consideration. But the fact remains. The princess and the younger prince set sail
as soon as the winds are favorable. Now to the matter of the army.”

“Which army is that?” the eunuch asked, and Kleopatra wondered if Caesar would simply take this idiot by the throat and rid
them of him
without further delay. But Caesar was patient, exercising, she supposed, the mercy upon which he so prided himself.

“The army that is encamped at Pelusium, commanded by General Achillas; the army that you were prepared to turn against the
queen. I sent a message to Achillas, a message composed with the cooperation of the king, demanding that the army be disbanded.
Achillas’s answer was to murder the messengers. You will now send to Achillas and tell him that if he does not disband his
troops outside the city walls, I shall summon every Roman legion from our eastern territories and turn them against him. Is
that clear?”

“Amply, Great Caesar.” Pothinus spoke with an expression of consternation on his face, as if he were suffering from acute
dysentery.

“And the king and the princess Arsinoe and yourself shall not leave the palace until it is confirmed that the army is no longer.”

“I see,” said the eunuch.

“We are outnumbered here, but that will not be true for long. And may I remind you that the forces of Pompey the Great had
us outnumbered five to one at Pharsalos. So do not become excessively confident in your greater numbers. I am not toying with
you. Rome will be obeyed at any cost to you.”

Pothinus nodded. Throughout the discourse, Arsinoe had kept her fingers tightly clenched around her brother’s wrist, squeezing,
Kleopatra suspected, whenever the boy moved to speak. What was she plotting? And how would she execute her plans? One thing
was certain: no Ptolemaic woman would sit idly and let her Fate be dictated by a man, foreign or familial.