It was Agrippa who broke the tension. Shoving himself up from the couch, he plucked some purple grapes from a platter and popped them into his mouth. One always got the impression that Agrippa would rather eat standing anyway. “Maybe a little knockabout will get the blood flowing to his mind,” he said, not bothering to stop to chew. “Iullus, Marcellus, and Tiberius should make time to show the younger boys what they learned fighting in Spain. It’s time for practice, Helios. You want to be ready to ride in the Trojan Games.”
The emperor flicked his wrist with a sour expression of dismissal. He’d finally finished building the Temple of Apollo and it was nearly time for the dedication. In celebration, he planned to hold athletic contests that showcased the flower of Roman youth. The emperor wanted the boys of his house to set an example, so he let them go with Agrippa without further complaint.
Meanwhile, we girls fled to the sewing room to escape his foul temper. But as I made my way there, I noticed a certain lift in my step. As Juba had encouraged me to do, I’d inserted myself into the emperor’s plans for Africa, and it might even make a difference.
I had no sooner begun to weave at my loom when we heard shouting in the courtyard. Julia, curious as a monkey, was up in a flash for the doorway to see what was going on. She didn’t have to wait long before Chryssa came running in.
“Master Helios is fighting with Iullus,” the slave girl panted. “And there’s blood drawn!”
I dropped my sewing and raced toward the atrium. By Isis, what had Helios done now? We found Helios and Iullus grappling, dirt kicking up underneath them. Terra-cotta pots holding the blooms of spring overturned, petals crushed beneath trampling feet. Iullus was three years older than Helios—a hardened youth with the training of a soldier, but he was the one who was most bloody and battered. My twin’s face was red and furious, his hair wild as a lion’s mane and as Marcellus and Tiberius tried to pull Helios back, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up too; a part of me always responded to my twin’s strongest moods as if they were my own.
“Stop it!” I shouted, but my voice was drowned out by the shouts of the other boys as Helios broke free. He and Iullus again came to blows—both my father’s sons, trying to kill one another. “You never even knew our father!” Helios screamed at Iullus.
“Whose fault is that?” Iullus shouted in return. “Your Egyptian whore of a mother lured him away!”
Helios roared, his fists flying wildly. “I’ll kill you.”
Tiberius grabbed Iullus by the right arm, yanking him back, and my twin’s stray punch caught the wrong boy. Cursing, Tiberius stumbled to the ground with one hand out to the side to catch his fall. He landed on some shattered pieces of pottery, cutting his hand. Meanwhile, Iullus kept taunting Helios. “Shouldn’t I call your mother a whore? Isn’t it the family profession? Augustus already favors Selene. Next, she’ll wrap her legs around Juba!”
I gasped with indignation, but Helios seemed as though he might go mad. He tackled Iullus and this time I was glad. The two combatants only narrowly missed dashing their heads against the stonework of the pool as Helios pummeled Iullus into the ground. My twin’s lip was split, there was a cut under his eye, and his knee was skinned, but Iullus was getting the worst of it by far and I thought his nose might be broken.
At last, Lady Octavia caught up. “Boys! Stop this at once!”
They ignored her and little Minora began to cry, big round teardrops flowing down her cheeks. “Make them stop.”
At Minora’s plea, both Drusus and Philadelphus moved to enter the fray, but I held the younger boys back. “Enough!” someone bellowed. I looked behind me to see Agrippa barging into the courtyard.
Livia came running behind him holding her skirts up in each hand. Her eyes came to rest on Tiberius’s bleeding hand. “What’s happening? Who hurt my son?”
“It’s nothing,” Tiberius said, though blood dripped down his fingers onto the ground. “Helios struck me accidentally.”
The fires that raged in Livia’s eyes let me know that this wasn’t an offense she’d forgive. Having once tried to strike her, Helios had made an enemy. Now that he’d injured Tiberius, he’d sealed his fate in her eyes. Agrippa waded into the melee and neither of Antony’s warring sons was a match for the seasoned warrior. Agrippa swept one foot under Helios to knock him off balance with a lightning-quick maneuver that stunned us all. With his knee in my brother’s back, Agrippa held my twin’s face in the dirt, and Helios flailed. “You’re strong as an ox, son, but you lack discipline,” Agrippa said. “It’s no wonder your father wanted to make you King of the Parths. You’re as savage as they are.”
“He’s rabid!” Iullus cried, holding a dirty hand over his bleeding nose.
“Shut your mouth, Iullus!” Agrippa barked. “I doubt you’re innocent either. What did you do to antagonize the boy?”
My twin’s nostrils flared as his breath came out in desperate little puffs. “He called my sister a whore!”
Helios thrashed until Agrippa twisted an arm behind his back and I cringed to see my twin so helpless. “Iullus, is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true.” Iullus replied. His hair was matted with sweat, marring his patrician air. “Cleopatra was a whore; the emperor says so. And Selene would be one too, if allowed.”
I’d known from the first day I met Iullus that he was a covered cistern of hatred but I hadn’t realized that the hatred he harbored was for us. Iullus and the Antonias were my father’s Roman children, but they’d never been true siblings to me. I glowered at Iullus as the burly Admiral shook his head and stood up, bringing my brother to his feet.
“Helios hurt my son,” Livia hissed. “I want him tied down like a slave and beaten.”
“I’d imagine they’ve both been beaten enough,” Agrippa said. “They got each other pretty good. Besides, there’s enough to worry about with the dedication and the games tomorrow.”
Livia wasn’t so easily appeased and pointed at Helios. “That boy is an animal. I want you to beat him, Agrippa.”
Agrippa stood with his feet stubbornly apart. “I won’t beat him for defending his family. Not even that family.”
“I told you to beat him,” Livia insisted.
“Do you give me orders now?” Agrippa asked, letting go of my brother’s arm. “If you want him beaten, get one of your slaves to do it. That is, if you can find one strong enough to hold him.”
With that, the admiral stormed off.
“Livia,” Octavia scolded. “You ought to know better. Agrippa isn’t yours to command.”
“Nor is Agrippa yours, Octavia, however much you’d wish it so.”
With those words, a look passed between the emperor’s wife and his sister that resounded like an earthquake. A schism between the two women opened so wide that even we children could recognize it. I’d always considered the two women to be inseparable thirds of the emperor’s household. Now I knew that I’d missed something crucial. Livia and Octavia may have shared in common their love for the emperor, or perhaps their dependence upon him, but their unity only ran so deep. They were not friends or companions by choice, but bitter rivals.
BRUISED and bleeding, Helios sat on the edge of his bed, his fist closed around his sparkling vulture amulet. I found a washing basin, then knelt on the carpet, rinsing the cloth and moving it toward his face. He gently pushed my hands away. “Leave it be.”
“You’re hurt,” I said.
“Iullus is hurt worse,” Helios gloated. I could see another part of myself in his green eyes—the raging part that I buried every day. “Besides, you had to be a little bit pleased that I defended you. You can’t hate me for it, Selene.”
“I could never hate you,” I whispered, in a sudden rush of honesty. “You’re the dearest thing to me in this world. But you didn’t have to defend me.”
Helios made me look at him. “I’ll always defend you. You’re Egypt and I’m Egypt’s king. I will always, always, defend you.”
I was both m
oved and frightened by his conviction. It was as if by fighting Iullus, he’d been emboldened by the realization that he could still fight. “But Helios, if you always defend me, then Iullus knows how best to goad you.”
“He wasn’t goading. That’s what Romans think of us. They pretend to welcome us, but that’s what they really think.”
“It’s what Iullus thinks,” I said. “And even he doesn’t believe it. He’s just bitter that he doesn’t have a mother, or father either. He’s alone here. At least we have each other.”
Helios, whose heart was always more tender than mine, lowered his eyes, suddenly less proud. “You’re getting blood on your hands. Stop fussing, Selene; you’re not my slave.”
No, I wasn’t his slave, but I wouldn’t let him call for Chryssa. I dabbed at the blood with a wet cloth, then rinsed the blood into the washbasin. “If you can always defend me, then I can always fuss over you. Remember the little song our mother used to sing to us? ‘The sun lets the moon rest and the moon shines when the sun is tired.’”
“I’m not tired,” he said, but he let me clean the blood off his face. “I’m frustrated. Why do you listen to Juba? Has he such a hold on your affections? Why are you always trying to impress the Romans?”
“Why are you trying to make them hate us? What did our grandfather do when he was struggling for our kingdom? Did he make enemies with the Romans?”
“He went to the Romans for help, and look at the price. Once they got a foothold in our country, they never let go.”
“That’s not the point.”
Helios grasped my wrist gently. “That’s exactly the point, Selene.”
“You and what army will defeat the Roman Empire, Helios?” It was a cruel question but one that had to be asked. The night I let Euphronius wait for us in vain, I’d determined to use Rome even as Rome used me. It was time I convinced Helios to do the same.
“I don’t know,” Helios replied, tortured. “But maybe Euphronius does. Our first Saturnalia he sent word with Chryssa but we’ve heard nothing from him since. If he could have come to us, he would have. We have to find a way to go to him.”
Guilt burned a hole inside me, the horrible truth of what I’d done searing my tongue. “Helios—”
“Selene, we aren’t helpless. We have gifts, if only we learn to use them. I’m strong. Too strong, sometimes. I think … I think I could have killed Iullus today.”
“He’s our father’s son,” I said, because I couldn’t bring myself to call Iullus our brother. “How would killing him have helped us?”
“I’m not saying that I should have killed him; I’m saying that I could have. I have the strength of Isis. Philadelphus has her sight. You’ve carried her words! The Romans can’t hold us here forever if we master our powers and learn to work heka.”
“Isis doesn’t speak through me anymore.”
“Have you tried to call for her?” Helios asked.
I reached to touch my frog amulet, and—not finding it there—I remembered the night I’d taken it off and left Isis behind. I shook my head. “I don’t feel magic here in Rome. I don’t. We haven’t been to a Temple of Isis in so long I can barely remember what one looks like, and she sends me no more messages. She’s forgotten us.”
“She hasn’t forgotten us,” Helios said sternly, his faith so black and white in my world of gray. “But if we don’t try, people might forget her.”
Looking into my twin’s emerald eyes, I saw the green waters of the Nile and the beckoning light of the Pharos lighthouse. I remembered the camels and the merchants, the palm trees, the spices, and the pyramids—Wonders of the World built thousands of years before I was even born. I remembered the night calls of the frogs and the silky feel of the desert sand slipping through my fingers. But I was still in Rome and there was no getting around that fact. Flinging myself down onto the scarlet coverlet on Helios’s bed, I threw my hands over my face. “Euphronius is the wizard, not me. If he’s here in Rome, then Chryssa must find him. Not you.”
Helios lay beside me and I made room for him. “Selene, Chryssa’s already risked too much for us.”
The protective note in Helios’s voice made me angry. I’d heard the jokes the older boys made. I knew what Tiberius and Iullus did with the slave girls. I imagined that even though my brother was younger, he must have the same desires. I could barely ask him, but I forced the words out over a scalding tongue. “Do you … take Chryssa to bed?”
Helios didn’t blush. “No.”
I turned to look at him. “Why not? She’s pretty.”
“Because she’s devoted her virginity to Isis.”
He stared at his wall where an artist had painted faux garlands to brighten the room. I stared at it too, wondering if Helios’s chivalry toward Chryssa wasn’t actually worse than the alternative. It did nothing to alleviate the burning emotion inside me that I could only identify as jealousy. I couldn’t let this awkwardness go on between us forever, so I leaned on his arm like a pillow and let my fingers trace along the inside of his elbow, noticing that he too had a birthmark there, though in a different constellation than my own. His looked almost like the shape of a cobra, the uraeus, the spitter of fire.
He wrapped his arm around me as our breathing fell into the same pattern and I remembered that Helios was another part of myself. Euphronius had taught us that we each had nine bodies of the soul, but I thought our old wizard was wrong; surely, Helios and I shared at least one between us. We’d come into the world together, and in the afterworld, I felt certain we wouldn’t walk separately, but in one akh.
Still, my twin brother smelled like dust and sweat and crushed grass, but neither of us smelled like magic. I’d given up heka and broken from my faith. I wanted him to understand, so I repeated the arguments I’d made to myself the night I left Euphronius standing in the dark beneath that acacia tree. “Even if we escaped, Helios, we have no army, and we can’t use magic to fight another war. What would we do if we ran away?”
“I don’t know. But as long as the emperor holds us hostage, our people suffer.”
“If Egypt starves, so will Rome. The emperor knows this.”
“What he knows is the Egyptians will starve first,” Helios said. “Rome will steal Egyptian grain, then conquer someone else for more. Why do you think he wants another seaport in Africa?”
I hadn’t thought of that when I suggested another port in Mauretania. “But you see how the emperor longs to be loved. How he performs for everyone. He wants to be admired. We must convince him that partnership with Egypt makes the whole world prosper. Alexander, Julius Caesar, our father—they all changed once they truly saw Egypt. The emperor can change too.”
“Octavian is not our father,” Helios said. “He’s not Julius Caesar, and not Alexander. Octavian won’t change; he’ll change us. He’s already changing us.”
He was changing me. That’s what Helios meant. Helios had always been the beacon of our faith when I had wavered, but now I tried to beat down his spirit like I buried my own. “Warriors shape the world, not wizards, Helios. We don’t have soldiers. We don’t have generals. But we have the emperor’s ear. I want to protect Egypt and if I have to win the emperor’s trust to do it, I will.”
Nineteen
THE next morning, the imperial household lined up before the emperor, entirely chastened. As the gardeners worked on prettying up the courtyard, he evaluated us as if we were slaves on the block. Livia, Octavia, and Agrippa stood behind him, still as stone. Neither Helios nor Iullus said a thing. Drusus drew near to his older brother, Tiberius, who fidgeted with his bandage, while Marcellus stared at the ground.
“So,” the emperor finally said. The word hung in the air with dramatic effect until the tension nearly crackled. My parents had been fiery, temperamental people. My father had smashed things. My mother had shouted. Even Agrippa was prone to bellowing. But not Augustus. How I wished he’d shout, or strike, or throw something. Instead, we had to strain to hear him when he was angry. �
��You all know how important tomorrow’s games are to me and how much effort and expense went into them. It was to be our reintroduction to all of Rome as a family. Yet now we have Tiberius, Iullus, and Helios all bruised and battered, tangible proof for my enemies that there’s strife in my home.”
The older boys had tried to stop the fight, but the emperor’s anger leveled itself at all of us, as if there’d been some grand conspiracy to upset him. Julia’s shoulders rounded defensively. Her voice was a whisper. “But father—”
The emperor gave his daughter a withering look. “Julia, if you wanted the right to argue with me, then you should have been born the son and heir that I need. Now be silent.”
Just then, Philadelphus yanked on my sleeve, whispering to me, “Both you and Helios are going to save lives at the games tomorrow. I’ve seen it.”
“Shhh!” I hissed at my littlest brother.
The emperor’s eyes fell upon me. “Do you have something to say, Selene?”
I swallowed. A light breeze stirred the laurel trees and the fragrant bay scent wafted toward us. Falling white blossoms from the almond trees seemed to swirl with my upset. They smelled heady and sweet, calling the scent of light magic to my mind. “Just … are a few bruises and cuts really so bad? Would anyone notice? And if anyone did, wouldn’t it just make them seem more manly? More … Roman?”
“Don’t you understand that we’re being watched at all times?” the emperor snapped, and I realized that defeating my parents, celebrating his triumphs—none of it had yet made him secure. Even something so small as a scuffle between Antony’s sons could shake him.
It was Agrippa, again, who stepped into the breech. “Caesar, what Roman would think ill of boys roughhousing for sport?”
“True,” the emperor admitted. “But no more fighting. Iullus, Helios, you’ll get along. And when we mingle with the people, you’ll smile and show no traces of this feud between you. You will be a part of this family. You will wave to the crowd. You will be charming. And Helios, since you seem to like beatings so much, I won’t bother. Whatever displeasure you bring to me from now on, I’ll take out on your slave girl. You may consider your every frown to be a lashing on her pretty back. Do you understand?”
Lily of the Nile Page 20