Pharaoh (7 page)

Aulus Hirtius interrupted their silence. A slender man with a soft voice and a love of literature and fine foods, Hirtius
was one of Caesar’s men whose company Kleopatra enjoyed. She had apologized many times to him for her inability to provide
those things he loved in any abundance while the war was in progress, and had promised him that as soon as victory was achieved,
they would celebrate with fine feasts and a long tour of the Great Library. She had had the cooks prepare meals as best they
could while the siege was on, and the Romans seemed suitably impressed, but the banquets were inferior to the delicacies they
might experience when supplies were once again flowing abundantly into the palace.

Hirtius bowed formally to the royals, handing Caesar a letter. “A dispatch from our man behind enemy lines, sir. Sealed for
safety and authenticity.”

Caesar held out his hand for the knife Hirtius knew to give him, and cut the seal. He unrolled the letter, read it quickly,
and then scanned it again. The expression on his face did not change. When finally he looked at Kleopatra, she detected only
one eyebrow raised slightly above the other, the singular way she knew that Caesar registered surprise.

“Do prepare yourself for a shock,” he said to the boy king, who immediately clenched even harder the wad of fabric he’d been
wringing, as if he were a washerwoman doing laundry.

Kleopatra waited, and Caesar did, too, apparently giving the boy a moment to collect himself.

“It appears that last evening Princess Arsinoe escaped the palace barricade dressed as a Roman page. She went straight to
Achillas.”

The boy king jumped to his feet, his robe a net of wrinkles where he had been clutching it. It looked for an instant to Kleopatra
as if the spider’s web on his chair had leapt upon his stomach, and despite the news they had just received, she almost grinned
at his childish, slovenly appearance. Caesar merely looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I had no idea,” Ptolemy protested. “I swear. I
swear!
She told me nothing.”

“This is a serious blow to the peace between us,” Caesar said calmly. “I trusted you to keep your family members under control.”

“But I didn’t know,” he said. “She tricked me, too.” He looked very hurt, his mouth turned down into a deep frown, his plump
cheeks quavering just as his father’s used to do when he got upset.

“Surely you must know that this does not reflect well upon the trust I’ve so carefully built between us.” If Kleopatra had
to judge, she would have said that Caesar was seriously grieved by the news. His demeanor was convincing; nonetheless, she
did not believe that he was either surprised or upset. “There is more.”

“What more could she do to me?” asked the wretched boy.

“Oh, so much more. I’m afraid your lack of control in the situation has led to an entire chain of unfortunate events.”

“It’s Pothinus, cursing us from his tomb,” Ptolemy cried. “You should have left him be.”

“What is the rest of the news, General?” Kleopatra asked, cutting short her brother’s histrionics.

“She’s had General Achillas murdered. She’s made some eunuch named Ganymedes commander of the Egyptian armed forces.”

“She has no right to do that!” the king exclaimed. “She is not king!”

Kleopatra stifled her own response. Caesar answered quickly, “No, she is not. But she’s managed to get a substantial number
of the tribes of the city to declare her queen.”

Kleopatra sat still. She had always known this day would arrive, though she had never suspected it would come so quickly.
The Alexandrian populace regarded her brother as an ineffectual child, the puppet of whatever courtier had his ear, and herself
as a Roman collaborator. They had despised her father for his propitiating policies with Rome, never understanding that the
days of the illustrious Ptolemaic empire were over and that Rome was the immutable beast that would either trample over them
or allow them to remain unscathed-the latter only if they made themselves of good use. Kleopatra and her father were resigned
to this reality, whereas her brothers, her sister, and the Alexandrian mob preferred to live inside the fantasy that if they
defied Rome, if they gathered their forces and put up some resistance, the Romans would just leave them in peace. That had
not been the case with the rest of the world, of course, and Kleopatra always knew that Rome
would
never,
under any circumstances, withdraw its interest in this nation that was not only the world’s largest producer of grain, but
was also the singular gateway from the west to the coveted lands of the east. She did not intend to play the suppliant to
Rome either, but she had a more ingenious plan than engaging in some inglorious war she would inevitably lose. Her battle
would be fought on higher ground.

But now Arsinoe had joined the ranks of deluded Ptolemies determined to restore the great glory of the past. Good, Kleopatra
wanted to say. When the Roman reinforcements arrived, they would just kill her.

Ptolemy looked beseechingly at Caesar. “What am I going to do?”

“My good young man, you must take control of the situation. The queen has no sway with her sister.” Caesar looked apologetically
at Kleopatra. “So you must go to her and this Ganymedes and negotiate.”

“But what if she has turned against me?”

“Do you think she’s capable of that?”

The king exhaled, shaking his head. “No. She’s deceived me, but I do not believe she’s turned against me. Ganymedes has influenced
her, that is all. Or perhaps she means to gather her forces and break me out of here.”

Caesar gave him a grave look. “Is that what you and she have been planning?”

“No, no, I have already told you. I had no idea what she was up to.”

“But did you ever say to her that you
wished
someone would rise up against Caesar and break you out of your besieged palace? Did you incite her unwittingly? Did you imply
to the poor girl that it was her responsibility to free you from me? I heard you say she was your ’most cherished chancellor.’
I will be very displeased if all the while you and I have been discussing peace, you have secretly plotted with your sister
against me.”

The boy turned to Kleopatra. “It’s her, isn’t it? You and I were in perfect agreement until she sneaked back into the palace.
She’s the one who turned you against
me.
She’s probably the one who made Arsinoe do this, too.”

“I have no truck with my sister.” Kleopatra’s voice was ice cold. Why couldn’t the idiot see that he had been betrayed?

“You’d better watch your back,” Ptolemy said to Caesar. “She’s going to murder you in your sleep!”

“You are out of control, King Ptolemy,” Caesar said evenly. “You have been deceived by one sister and now you suspect the
other. Is Kleopatra outside the barricade heading up an army? No, she is sitting right here, working with us toward our common
goal. You are negating all my hard work at peace between yourself and the queen. Really, you must calm yourself.”

Kleopatra almost opened her mouth to ask her brother to realize that Arsinoe had private ambitions. But she felt that anything
she said would interfere with
Caesar’s
private ambitions. She was not privy to them- or rather she no longer believed he had shared with her all of his thoughts-so
she decided to sit quietly and allow Caesar to orchestrate his plan, whatever it might be. Hirtius stood immobile next to
his commander, his countenance entirely calm. She would imitate his implacability, letting Caesar conduct the scenario. It
was difficult for her to remain passive, but she intuitively felt it was the wisest course of action. She did not want to
disturb Caesar’s plans. She had no choice but to trust him.

“Your Majesty,” Caesar began, for the first time using the formal salutation to address the boy. “You must go to your army
and to your sister. You must gain control of this unfortunate turn of events. I have no wish to harm the young princess. She’s
a formidable girl, I know, and headstrong. If she calls off her madness, she won’t be hurt. She will be free to go to Cyprus
with her younger brother and there reign in peace. You must tell her that. Caesar’s mercy is known far and wide. She may rely
upon my word.”

“But what if she refuses to listen to me?” Now the boy was very nervous. The color had drained from his face and he stood
frozen in front of the Roman dictator. His belly moved in jerky little spasms as he breathed. Kleopatra thought he might vomit
at Caesar’s feet.

Caesar stood, putting a long arm around the boy king’s shoulder. “You must pull yourself together,” he said. “I-that is to
say, Rome- and your country and Queen Kleopatra are depending upon your strength and your diplomacy.”

“You mean, I am to leave the palace and go to her.”

“Yes, of course. I cannot do it myself. I’d be assassinated. Kleopatra cannot go. Who else but you, sire? It is certainly
a job for the king.”

The combination of flattery and onus was not lost on Kleopatra, but
she saw that her brother remained ignorant of Caesar’s ploys. If he intends to play these kinds of games with me, Kleopatra
thought, he will have to be less transparent. Perhaps Caesar stepped up the level of his manipulative techniques as his opponents
grew in formidability She certainly hoped so. At any rate, he needn’t have expended any more of his shrewdness on Ptolemy,
who was now softly crying as Caesar gave Hirtius orders to prepare for the king’s release to the Alexandrian army.

“Think of me as a father,” Caesar said. “I know your dear King Ptolemy Auletes died when you were still very young. You were
not able to benefit from his counsel, but remember always that you shall have mine.”

With those words and an extra admonition not to disappoint, Caesar bid the young king good-bye. Ptolemy looked at Kleopatra,
waiting for her farewell. “May the gods be with you,” she said, thinking that he would surely need their help when he finally
realized the true nature of his beloved Arsinoe.

“That’s right,” said Caesar, giving the boy one final pat on the back. “See how easily peace might reign between you?”

When Ptolemy was gone, Caesar sat back in his chair. Kleopatra waited for him to explain his true mind to her, but he said
nothing, looking at her as if she were a new acquaintance to whom he had decided to be polite but distant.

Kleopatra finally spoke, taking a risk. “That was quite a performance, General.”

“Can you not delineate theater from diplomacy, my dear?” Caesar asked. “I suppose you are correct; it is so like a play. No
matter the quality of the performance, the ending is always the same.”

“You have no experience with the women of my family if you think Arsinoe is going to negotiate with our brother.”

“I have ample experience with women of all nationalities, my dear. You must trust me to know their minds.”

“I don’t mean to scoff, General, but my sister will never surrender her power or her new title or her will to my brother.”

Caesar sighed. “Don’t be tedious, Kleopatra. When I wish you to know my mind, I shall enlighten you. Until then, please be
a darling and come sit on my lap.”

“I am not your pet,” she said. It would not do to be just another per
son who did Caesar’s bidding. She had learned from Hammonius, her informant in Rome, that the dictator had seduced the wives
of many of his fellow senators-Gabinius, Crassus, Sulpicius, Brutus, Pompey- and also that she was not the first queen to
lay down sexual favors for him. He had bedded the queen of Mauretania, not to mention the king of Bithynia-everyone, reported
Hammonius, but his sour-faced, barren Roman wife.

“What is troubling you?” Caesar posed this question as if he was inquiring about the weather in Spain at this time of year.
Kleopatra felt her fury rise. Privately, he had acted as if they were partners, equals, queen and dictator acting in concert
toward a common goal. She had grown so confident of her power over him, yet now she wondered if he would even take into consideration
the fact that she carried their child. Perhaps he would laugh the conception off as another folly of war and return to Rome
without giving their son a thought. Her father had had dozens and dozens of unacknowledged bastard brats roaming the palace
halls. But he also had five legitimate heirs. She must think carefully before she revealed her news. She must wait until she
was certain that Caesar shared the vision. Until then, she would let him make love to her, but she would hold her heart outside
the arrangement. For that was a woman’s downfall.

“I am worried over my brother’s safety.” Two could play his game.

Caesar allowed himself the smallest grin. “Then let my old and war-weary arms smother your youthful anxieties.”

She went to him. He took her into his lap as he might have once done his daughter. She laid her head against his chest and
listened very carefully for a heartbeat. Relieved when she found it, she let herself rest in its cadence.

Caesar stood on the muddy banks of the Nile in wet soil the color of eggplant. He had forbidden Kleopatra to be with him at
this horrible ordeal-not because he thought she would not be able to bear it, but because he did not want her to be linked
with the death of the boy king in the minds of the people. After all, she was the one who had to stay and govern them.