Oh, how it stung.
“That’s not fair,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I called for Helios, not Juba. I called for him.”
“He said that he couldn’t become Marcus Julius Alexander.”
“Don’t you know how dangerous this is? If he’s gone much longer, it’s a king’s rebellion and he’ll end up drowned in the Nile in his golden armor, like my mother’s brother! You tell me where he is, or so help me—”
“I only know that he went to find Euphronius,” Chryssa insisted.
“It’s been three years since the Ptolemies ruled in Egypt. Do they even remember us anymore? What does Euphronius want with my twin?”
“What all the Isiacs want of him. We want him to return the throne to Isis, to safeguard a kingdom where people may worship her freely and her mysteries can be preserved. Since your mother’s death, Isis has been without a home. You and your brother must give one back to her again. Then, perhaps, there’ll be a Golden Age.”
I spoke through clenched teeth. “Everyone babbles about a Golden Age but not once has Isis mentioned it, even when she carved messages into my flesh!”
“The rumors are already spreading of Helios’s divine strength, my lady, and that he’ll free Egypt of Roman tyranny. Soon the uprisings may begin in Rome itself.”
My mouth went dry. “If that happens, the emperor will be forced to kill him. Don’t you see that?”
“Or maybe Helios will be forced to kill the emperor.”
My anger was volcanic. It was as if without my twin, my own rage was unleashed and I could barely restrain it. I didn’t feel like serene, loving Isis now. I felt the destructive wrath of my mother inside me. “You tell me where Helios is and you tell me now!”
Chryssa shrank back in fear. “I’ve told you all I know.”
“Chryssa, if you’re lying to me, so help me, I’ll pour salt and vinegar in your wounds. I’ll make you suffer. I’ll make you more miserable than the emperor could ever think to.”
“I swear by Isis, I don’t know where Helios is.”
“Do you know anything, you lying, worthless slave? Get out!”
Chryssa rose quickly. I took a nearby oil lamp and launched it after her as she fled. It crashed against the door frame as she escaped; clay shards and oil spattered everywhere.
I couldn’t sleep.
A damp chill had settled in my woolen blankets while a rainstorm howled outside. Inside, the anger that Chryssa had unleashed in me still screamed through my veins. Now that I knew she’d lied to me about Helios, I was sure she’d lied about everything else—especially her ridiculous story about the emperor taking her virginity.
But alone with myself, tossing and turning in my bed, I had to admit that it wasn’t the slave who upset me. It was Helios. I was tortured by the knowledge that he hadn’t trusted me. And why should he have? I’d been lying to him practically since the day we’d come to Rome. Lies of omission, to be sure, but lies still. Helios thought I’d betray him to the emperor and maybe I would have. Maybe I still would if it kept him safe.
When Euphronius had asked me to escape with him, there was at least some reason to think that with Octavian dead we might prevail. But now? Helios had to know how a confrontation with the emperor would end, but perhaps, like my mother, my brother saw virtue in fighting even when he couldn’t possibly win. And like my mother, he’d left me.
Meanwhile, I was to marry a man I now loathed. Treacherous Juba. Once, I’d sought out Juba’s attention because of my childhood infatuation, but now I knew I was just his laurel leaf crown. From now on, whenever I remembered those shadowy nights when my father brooded in the cabin by the shore, contemplating his suicide, I’d blame Juba.
How would I bear being married to him? Traitor.
Did Helios think the same of me?
Between the splashes of rainwater outside, two frogs croaked at one another in Octavia’s atrium and one of them sounded as if it were laughing at me.
WHEN I heard the brick in the wall being moved, I threw the blankets off and bolted out of bed. “Helios?”
“No, it’s just me,” Philadelphus said, looking through the hole in the wall with one wild eye.
I tried not to show how much my heart sank to see him. I loved Philadelphus. I needed him now more than ever, but he wasn’t my twin. “What’s wrong?”
Philadelphus said, “I think it’s my fault Helios is gone.”
I couldn’t help but sigh with him, sharing that ache, and wondering if I hadn’t failed both of my brothers. “Your fault? No. It was mine.”
“He knew that I could see things, Selene, and he wanted me to try, but I was too frightened. Lady Octavia warned me not to.”
“Perhaps you were right to listen to her,” I said.
“I can’t see things just because I want to anyway,” Philadelphus said. “But I think it might be different for you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
“I saw something in the Rivers of Time. I think I know how Isis comes through you. She’s the goddess who sewed together the severed limbs of Osiris. She’s moved by the suffering of those she loves. She’s called by our blood.”
“Blood?” I held my hands up and stared. The first time the hieroglyphics appeared was the day after I was spattered with the blood of the Prince of Emesa on the steps of the Temple of Jupiter. The second and third messages had followed my touching or tending to Helios’s wounds. Yet I’d tended my own cuts and scrapes, and touched my own menstrual blood, and nothing had ever happened. “Are you sure?”
Philadelphus nodded. “And I’ve seen other things too. Now that the Isiacs in Egypt know that Helios is free, they plan to rise up and riot.”
“Sweet Isis!” I pressed my hands flat to my face. It was madness. “Is Helios declaring himself King of Egypt?”
“Shhh!” Philadelphus spoke in a voice that wasn’t entirely his own. “Helios is trying to save Isis, for if there’s no throne for Isis, everything will change. There’ll be no more goddesses in the world, only gods. Ages and ages pass and all the goddesses are washed away.”
My eyes widened. “That’s what you see?”
Philadelphus blinked rapidly. “Without Isis, people forget female divinity. Isis must be saved.”
I’d heard this before, but still my question remained. “How does one save a goddess?”
Philadelphus had the same kind of bewilderment upon his face that I always felt when I received messages upon my hands. I’d been a messenger for Isis, but I hadn’t always understood the messages. So too it seemed with Philadelphus and I wished I could comfort him.
So many nights I’d reached through this small hole under my desk for my twin’s comforting grasp. In fact, Philadelphus and I had both always reached for Helios. Now all we had was each other. But in each other, we also had Isis. Perhaps our goddess couldn’t protect us from all harm, and perhaps faith alone couldn’t solve all that vexed us, but Isis bound us together as surely as she bound the pieces of Osiris.
I remembered the way the doomed gladiator called her name as he lay splayed in the sand of the arena, his throat exposed to the sword. He’d called for help, and through me, Isis had answered him. I couldn’t bear a world in which such simple magic wasn’t possible. Whatever else happened, whatever wrongs I’d done, Isis must still live on in me.
I reached beneath my mattress and drew out the frog amulet on its golden chain. The carved jade glowed green in the lamp-light, so delicate, so beautiful, so precious. I fastened the chain around my neck and kissed the inscription, the stone cool and soothing to my lips. I am the Resurrection, it read, and I whispered the words to myself.
The night I chose not to run with Euphronius, I made the right choice. Perhaps a lucky choice. But I’d been wrong—so wrong—to turn away from Isis. I didn’t believe my twin’s defiance nor Juba’s capitulation was the way to save my faith, but with the love of Isis, I’d find my own way.
Twenty-six
AS the imperial family settled into their usual seats, the emperor’s temper was anything but usual. His tooth had been bothering him and he puffed his outrage through a swollen cheek. “Three riots outside of Rome in two days!”
I didn’t see why this was particularly worrisome. The Romans rioted about everything when the weather got warmer, but the emperor dug his stylus into the wax tablet and said, “Word has spread that Helios has disappeared. Some are even saying that I killed him. This is what mercy gets you.”
As my stomach clenched, Juba said, “There’s no sense hiding anymore that he’s run off. Caesar, the truth might serve us very well in this case.”
I dared not look at Juba. His voice had once sounded sweet to my ears, but now everything he did made me angry.
Agrippa broke in. “If they think we’ve killed the boy, they’re not going to believe that he ran off. Maybe it’s time the people took less interest in Antony’s children. Antony was a traitor to Rome. We’ve ruled his birthday an evil day and prohibited his name. They can’t seriously be rioting over one of his brats!”
Iullus tensed in his seat. Octavia held Philadelphus closer and the admiral had the grace to look away. I knew it was just his frustration talking, but his words hurt. My father had been vanquished, but Rome still loved and remembered him. Someday, though, the Romans might not remember Antony and when that happened, our fates might change too.
“Well,” Juba said softly. “Perhaps we should trot Virgil out to tell the people how Helios tried to burn down his house.”
“Who will believe that lunacy even if it’s true?” the emperor asked. “Besides, they’re not rioting over Helios so much as they’re using this as an excuse to protest my policies.”
The children of the household were mostly quiet during this exchange and I noticed Chryssa hovering in the doorway with some of the other slaves. Iullus glanced at her and from my vantage point, I could see that his expression was unmistakably lurid.
Suddenly, the emperor slammed his tablet down. “I’m going to close every Isiac temple within the walls of Rome. They’re behind this unrest and I won’t have it!”
Did he plan to break his bargain with me? I tried to hide the creep of anger that reddened my cheeks—especially since I knew he was right. This time, it probably was the Isiacs who were to blame for the riots.
As I tried to disguise these thoughts, I realized the emperor was looking at me, his eyes sharp as flint and heavy with expectation. He wanted something from me. When the emperor played this game with Agrippa he always led the admiral down an obvious path. It had started that way with me too, but the better I became at anticipating what he wanted, the less obvious he made it. I’d have to become better still at this game. Better still at riding this serpent that might turn and strike at any moment if I wasn’t careful.
Now that I no longer bound my breasts, the clasps holding my tunica seemed to cut into my skin. I fidgeted until it draped properly. The chair I sat on felt too stiff. I didn’t know what the emperor was fishing for, but I knew what I must do. “Emperor, if the Isiacs are behind this rioting, let me tell them that Helios ran away and has been seen alive. I’m his sister. They’ll believe me. I’ll tell them he left because of a scuffle with Iullus. I’ll tell them it’s boyhood rebellion. I’ll say whatever you want me to.”
Whether he was pleased or displeased, he didn’t show. “I’ll think on it. There are certain additional conditions that would have to be met, Selene.”
“I’ll meet them,” I promised.
That I was willing to renegotiate wasn’t lost on the emperor. His cool gray eyes met mine in understanding before turning in wrath on Agrippa. “How does this boy evade capture? Are your men incompetents?”
Agrippa squared his shoulders defensively. “The Isiacs are like vermin. They can infest even the best of households. There are more of them in the city now than there were last year, and more last year than the year before. Some of them claim that Helios is—”
“I know who they think he is,” the emperor said bitterly. “Some might rally to him because of their Isiac fantasies, others might rally to him because he’s Antony’s son. Well, all Rome knows Helios is missing now, so you might as well alert the urban cohort.”
Livia stirred a tonic for the emperor’s tooth and set it beside him. “With the city rioting, perhaps we can distract people with a wedding. Julia expressed an interest in marrying Tiberius …”
The emperor didn’t look at his wife. He didn’t look at Julia. He only looked at his sister when he said, “Julia is going to marry Marcellus.”
The room went completely and utterly silent. It was as if the torches were afraid to sputter and no one dared to breathe. Although the tension in the room was palpable, Lady Octavia clasped her hands to her heart and smiled, but she was the only one who did. Marcellus froze in his seat as everyone stared at him. Livia glared like some gorgon, ready to turn everyone to stone. Especially her son Tiberius, who had apparently fallen short of expectations.
For her part, Julia was stricken. She fought back her tears and it must have killed her not to look at Iullus, so I looked at him for her. My half brother had spent the better part of his life learning to school his features to please the emperor, but now even his expression faltered. I had to admit that he actually looked crestfallen when he reached for his goblet and drained it of watered wine.
“But—but what if I don’t want to marry Marcellus?” Julia asked.
Sensing her chance, Livia jumped in to say, “The poor girl is in love with Tiberius, can’t you see that?”
For just a moment, it seemed as if Julia might be foolish enough to speak the truth about her feelings for Iullus, but I watched her swallow down all her anguish and mask herself, just as I had always done. “It’s not true.”
“And it wouldn’t matter anyway,” the emperor said. “Tiberius isn’t my son.”
“Neither is Marcellus,” Livia replied.
“Marcellus has the blood of the Julii in him,” the emperor replied. “My nephew descends from Venus just as I do. And when Virgil finishes writing the Aeneid, it will help shape the mythos around our dynasty. Marcellus will get me a grandson upon Julia. One with my bloodline. That’s the end of it.”
“But Julia’s still so young,” Livia dared to say. “Can’t it wait a little longer?”
“She can breed, so she’s old enough. When she gives me a grandson, she’ll have finally done something to make herself useful to me.”
At that, Julia started to cry and Lady Octavia started toward her. “Oh, Julia, my dear. Marcellus will be a kind husband to you. I swear it.” But Julia pulled away. Big teardrops flowed down her cheeks, and her slender frame was wracked with sudden sobs.
“Selene,” the emperor said. “Talk some sense into my daughter.”
And now I understood that this was his new condition. I was to make Julia behave. I was to persuade his daughter to be as biddable to his plans as I was.
LATER, I found Julia and Iullus on the marble bench by the hedges, exactly where they had been before. This time, Julia was sitting on Iullus’s lap, and he was rubbing her knee with his hand, fingers inching the fabric up, mouth on her neck like a lover. There were still tears on her cheeks but something more too. A breathless desperation as she kissed him. A needy sound in her throat as she let Iullus touch her anywhere he wanted to. I was both fascinated and upset by the sight, my heart thumping in my chest. Was this what love looked like? Might it have been this way between Juba and me if only I’d never asked him about his part in the war?
I stared for a few more moments than I ought to have before making my presence known. It was Iullus who saw me first. “Selene, you’re the nosiest person I know. Have you come to make matters worse?”
I blushed. I blushed for what I’d seen, I blushed for blushing, and I blushed with fear for them. “You’re going to get caught, don’t you realize that? And now that Julia is betrothed to Marcellus, the emperor will think you’ve betrayed
him. How much provocation does the emperor need to eliminate another troublesome son of Antony?”
Iullus bristled. “The emperor doesn’t see me as a troublesome son of Antony. He doesn’t think of me like that. I’m not like Helios. I’ve been a member of this family since I was a little child. He thinks of me as one of his own. I’m not a foreigner like you or your brothers.”
I could see that Agrippa’s earlier remarks were still ringing in his mind, though, and so I pressed on. “Neither was Antyllus.”
Our dead brother’s name must not have twisted with grief in Iullus’s heart as it still did in mine, for his face remained stony. He looked me in the eye and said, “Antyllus was an enemy of Rome.”
A traitor for loving our father, he meant. A traitor for having come to Egypt, he meant. Antyllus was a traitor for having been my brother in truth, though he was Iullus’s brother by blood. “Is it now treason to show filial piety?”
“It is when your father is a traitor,” Iullus said, staring off toward the Roman hills, lit purple by the setting sun. “I reject Antony and embrace Caesar. I don’t try to have it both ways, like you do. Someday the emperor will see through you.”
Suddenly, I understood Iullus—the little boy lost, trying to find a new father. He thought I was trying to do the same, and that fueled his hatred for me. He thought I’d stolen one father from him and was now trying to steal the other. I felt for him a mixture of compassion and contempt and used my words like the surgeon uses a scalpel to cut out disease. “Iullus, the emperor has just shown you what he thinks of you. They say that no one served him more faithfully in Spain than you did. But who did he choose just now, to wed his daughter? He chose Marcellus. At least the Antonias are related to him by blood and my mother was a queen. You’re just the son of an uppity Roman woman who dared to make war on him. You’re of no value to the emperor and it’s time you realized it.”
This time, Iullus offered no snide quip. His fists balled and he rose to face me, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I stood my ground. Then he turned and stormed off toward Octavia’s home, his sandals crunching over bushes and flowers as he went. Julia called after him, but he waved her away. We both watched him go. “You were cruel to him,” Julia said, drying her teary eyes with the back of her hands. “Cruel.”
Lily of the Nile Page 26