by Jo Graham
“You’re not a Jew,” Dion said. “We all know that story. It’s the story of the Exodus.” He put his head back, as though thinking. “I only know it in Hebrew, of course. So it’s not exact. But I can tell you the story.”
“Please,” I said.
“Once, we were slaves in Egypt, and God raised a man called Moses, and told him to go to Pharaoh and tell him that the Lord required that we should go free. Pharaoh refused, and God visited ten plagues on the Egyptians before Pharaoh agreed that we could leave.” His voice changed to the slow cadence of translating in his head. “But the Lord hardened the heart of Pharaoh King of Egypt, and he chased after the Hebrews, who were going away defiantly. The Egyptians chased after them, and all of the horses and chariots of Pharaoh overtook them camping beside the sea, beside the place where the reeds grow. When Pharaoh got closer, the Hebrews looked up, and saw the Egyptians chasing after them and were terrified. They cried out to the Lord, and they said to Moses, ‘Are there no graves in Egypt that you have taken us out to die in the desert?’ And Moses said, ‘Fear not! Stand firm, for the Egyptians you see today you will never see again!’ The Lord said to Moses, ‘Tell the people to move on. As for you, lift up your staff and extend your hand toward the sea and divide it, so that the Hebrews may go through the middle of the sea on dry ground.’ The angel of God who was going with the people moved and went behind them, and a pillar of cloud stood behind them. Moses stretched out his hand toward the sea, and the Lord drove the sea apart, and made it dry land, the water forming a wall on their right and on their left. The Egyptians chased after them and followed them into the middle of the sea, their horses and their chariots. The Lord looked down from a pillar of smoke and said to Moses, ‘Extend your hand that the waters may flow back together.’ So Moses stretched forth his hand, and the sea returned to its normal state. The water returned and covered the chariots and the horsemen. Not one who had driven on the bottom of the sea survived. And they journeyed up by Sukkoth and camped in Ethan, and the Lord went before them, a pillar of smoke by day and a pillar of fire by night, to give them light.”
“It’s the same story,” I said, “only with the part that’s embarrassing to Pharaoh taken out of the Egyptian version.”
“All of those people,” Dion said wonderingly. “An entire island full of people, with cities and houses and ships. And to us, it’s all about the Hebrews.”
“I don’t believe that any god would destroy an entire island to provide a pillar of smoke,” I said. I put my hands on the scroll. “No god is so cruel.”
“We can understand it all,” Dion said. “Given time. Give us world enough, and time. We will understand it all.”
“Except for one thing,” I said. “How did Moses know?”
THREE NIGHTS LATER Caesar made his move.
I awoke when the doors to Cleopatra’s outer chambers opened with a crash. Still half asleep, I ran out into the sitting room in nothing but a tunic. It was full of armed men, in steel and full harness, methodically forcing all of the doors. One whirled about, his sword flashing up toward my belly.
“I’ve got her,” a voice behind me said in Latin, its owner sweeping me back against his chest. “She’s one of the handmaidens.” It was Aurelianus, his usual leathers augmented by a helmet.
I twisted in his arms, kicking. I would not go down without a fight. I clawed at his face, hitting the chin guard of his helmet hard enough that it must have hurt.
“Charmian!” he shouted, trying to pin my arms.
I heard screams, but could not tell whose they were. I kicked, but connected with nothing but unyielding leather.
“Charmian!” He had my wrist now, my other arm pinned painfully against his side. “Stop! I’m not trying to kill you.”
“Need some help?” another voice asked him, a legionary in full breastplate and greaves.
“I’ve got her, thanks,” Aurelianus panted. It was good that I was at least winding him.
“What is the meaning of this?” Cleopatra’s voice rang out across the hall.
One of the legionaries, a man ten years my senior, replied. “Lady, you are all under arrest by order of Caesar. You and your servants are to come with us.”
“Very well.” Her chin was high. “If you will be so kind as to unhand my handmaiden, we will accompany you. We have nothing to fear from Caesar.”
Aurelianus let go of me with an apologetic shrug and I shook off his hand. My wrist was numb where he had held it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It is my duty to die for her,” I hissed.
“I respect that,” he said.
WE LEFT THE PALACE through the main doors, crossing the street and the park toward the guest villa where Caesar had been staying. Arsinoe and Theo were already there, and it seemed as though there was a substantial crowd, what with the Romans and their servants.
Arsinoe rounded on Cleopatra the minute she entered. “You! This is all your fault!” Arsinoe was sixteen, and her long dark hair fell on her shoulders in pleasing disarray. “You with your bedding Romans! You’re as bad as Father!”
“I’m not aware that anyone is bedding Romans here,” Caesar said mildly. Of course he understood Koine perfectly.
“What do you want with us?” Theo asked. He stood straight and pale, his lips set in a thin line. I thought that he had never looked more like a Pharaoh.
“I believe the issue is General Achillas’ army,” Caesar said. “The Royal Army.” He replied to Theo, which followed, as we had never had control of the Royal Army at all. Achillas was Theo’s man. “The Royal Army has marched from Pelousion with twenty thousand infantry and two thousand cavalry, I understand. It has marched on Alexandria. I should like to know by whose orders, and to what purpose.”
None of the royal children replied, Arsinoe because she had more sense, and Cleopatra because she didn’t know. Theo said nothing.
Caesar nodded shortly. “You will send envoys to Achillas telling him to disarm and return with the Royal Army to Pelousion. If Achillas disobeys, he is in rebellion against Pharaoh.”
“And if I do not?” Theo asked.
“Then you will no longer be Pharaoh.” Caesar crossed behind his writing table. “I expect you to choose sensibly.”
“And what shall I do, Caesar?” Cleopatra asked evenly. “What shall I do while you and Ptolemy Theodorus tear up my country between you?”
“Nothing,” Caesar said. “You and the Princess Arsinoe will remain my guests.” She might have said more, but he forestalled her. “Agrippa, you will give the Queen your room.”
The young man from the banquet, wearing a scarlet tunic and leggings beneath a leather breastplate chased with gold, stood up. “It will be my pleasure, Gracious Queen,” he said in accented Koine. “I will escort you.”
He fell in beside us as we were escorted out. Various other officers were to give up their rooms for Theo and Arsinoe. I followed Cleopatra, her head held high.
Agrippa’s room was small, with a third-story window and balcony that looked out on the park. Over the tops of acacia trees we could see a sliver of the Royal Harbor, and beyond it Pharos gleaming on its island.
“I’m sorry it’s a mess. I didn’t expect to have a queen in it,” Agrippa said, hurriedly throwing what appeared to be his laundry into a trunk before he departed.
Cleopatra looked at me over his bent back. “Where is Dion?” she mouthed.
I shook my head. Dion hadn’t been at the palace, which meant he was somewhere in the city. Dion was more than capable of looking after himself. Cleopatra and I might be prisoners, but Dion and Iras were both free. We knew they would not desert us.
Cleopatra sat down heavily on the couch, Agrippa’s blankets still thrown across it helter-skelter.
After a moment I sat beside her and put my arm around her. “I could seduce Agrippa,” I said.
She put her hands to her mouth and laughed, then hugged me tight. “Charmian, what should I do without you?”
“I don�
�t know,” I said. I put my forehead against her shoulder.
She turned my hand over, looking at the purpling bruises in the light. “Aurelianus?”
I nodded. “He does his duty and I do mine. I could go after Agrippa. He’s young, and I think he’s attracted to me. That might be worth something.”
“We need Caesar,” she said.
“I don’t think I can seduce Caesar,” I said.
She laughed again, her cheek against mine. “I think that will have to be me,” she said.
“He’s no Gnaeus Pompeius,” I said. “He won’t be easily diverted.”
“Diverted from what?” she mused. “That’s the real question. What is it that Caesar needs so badly that he’s still here?”
“The money,” I said.
She nodded. “It must be very bad. His legions must be on the verge of mutiny.”
“And the Senate has declared him a rebel,” I said. “Caesar stands or falls in Alexandria. If he loses control of his legions . . .”
“They’ll loot the city,” Cleopatra said. “Five thousand soldiers out for plunder in a city of half a million innocent people. We must avoid that at all costs. So we must help Caesar keep his legions.”
“Pothinus thinks he’ll sail away. That’s got to be the game that Theo is playing,” I said.
“It won’t work,” she said. “Not if he’s that desperate.”
“I know,” I said. I looked down at my wrist. Aurelianus. Agrippa. Caesar. I put my head upon her shoulder and closed my eyes against her. “What is it you need me to do?”
“Bring me Caesar,” she said.
IT WAS NO EASY THING to talk to Caesar, as we had already discovered. Any visit to the Queen would be done with dozens of witnesses, and every word of their conversation would be repeated and parsed by the entire court. Also, he was constantly surrounded by people. While it was doubtful that the huge Germans who formed his personal bodyguard understood Koine, there were soldiers around him at all times, reporting and meeting and dining and conferring. I wondered how he, like any ruler, managed to tend to his bodily functions in private!
For three days I tried to find a way to see him, without success. Theo’s emissaries had left the city to see General Achillas, but as yet we had had no reply. We remained Caesar’s guests.
Blessed Isis, I prayed, if You have a plan, then help me speak with Caesar!
The third night I could not sleep. I lay tossing and turning on the mat on the floor beside Agrippa’s bed, trying not to wake the Queen. At last I got up quietly and went out into the hall. I needed fresh air, if only for a few minutes.
Agrippa was standing with the guard on the side door, but he came to me when I neared. “Is there something that the Queen needs, Charmian?”
I thanked him for his courtesy, and replied that no, there was nothing. “It’s only that I can’t sleep,” I said. “Do you think I could walk in the garden for a few minutes? Or on the balcony?”
He hesitated, no doubt wondering what scheme I was trying.
“It’s only the balcony,” I said. “Tribune, it’s a three-story drop to the ground! And then I should be in a garden with a wall four times my height, with gates guarded by legionaries! How should I escape?”
He hesitated again, and then smiled. “I suppose it would be all right,” he said. “Just the balcony.” He let me out.
This villa, like so many, was built to catch the sea breezes. In better times, doubtless it was a lovely place to set out couches and little tables, and dine in the sea air, with the soft scents of the garden below. There were no couches or tables now, only a sentry at each end of the building, the cressets unlit, as they would interfere with their night vision over the shaded garden. Still, the waning moon was bright enough that it hardly mattered.
I walked out to the rail and took a deep breath, clear and cool, like drinking moonlight.
I was not alone. His hair was a loose cap of silver, and he stood by the rail as well, some little way away, looking out over the garden. From the other side of the villa we should have been able to see Pharos and the sea, but this side looked the other way, toward the Mareotic Canal with its long lines of barges, bringing the grain of the Black Land endlessly to the sea. It was Caesar.
“Who’s there?” he said sharply, one hand dropping to his waist, to a dagger I did not see. Romans have assassins too.
I stepped out into the bright moonlight, my open hands held well away from my sides. “It is only I, Imperator.” My white himation shone in the darkness. No assassin would wear such.
His hand stilled. “You are one of her handmaidens,” he said. “I’ve seen you. Charmian, is it?”
“It is,” I said, inclining my head. I wished he did not know my name. It was better to be anonymous, a shadow behind Cleopatra. But then, Caesar noticed such things. “I did not mean to disturb you.” I looked away. “It’s only that it’s so close in the villa, and I felt if I did not get some air I should scream.”
“That would hardly do,” he said with a strange half smile, the left side of his mouth pulling more than the right. “I expect it would alarm people.”
“It would,” I said.
He lifted my chin with one hand. “You have the look of her.” His hand was warm, and he turned my face as though it were some work of art.
“Ptolemy Auletes was eclectic in his tastes,” I said. “We were born the same year.”
“Her sister as well as her servant? Interesting.” The Roman raised one eyebrow. “You are loyal to her, then?”
“Would I tell you, Imperator, if I were not?” I asked. “Surely you cannot expect naïveté from someone who serves Cleopatra Philopater? If we were any of us naïve we should be long since dead.” His face was very near mine, and the moonlight made each wrinkle a deep gravure, but his eyes were bright as stars, light reflecting. It seemed that I had dreamed this once, or perhaps that I dreamed still, sleeping beside Cleopatra and wondering how I should speak with Caesar. It was that sense of dream that made me bold. “She is the living Isis, Her Hands on earth. You must put her on the throne of Egypt. It is what she was born to do.”
“No doubt it’s what she wishes,” Caesar said dryly, releasing my chin with the same unminding caress one would use for a cat. “Your mistress has many estimable qualities.”
“Does she fascinate you, Imperator?” I asked.
“As she means to?” He turned, one eyebrow rising again. “You can tell her yes, of course she does.” He looked out over the garden. Somewhere out there in the night, the river was flowing beneath the stars, the Nile rolling ever seaward, as it always had and always would. I said nothing, just waited for him to drink his fill of the night. “The pyramids are two thousand years old,” he said. “So they tell me. How old are your gods?”
“Do you care for gods, Imperator? I didn’t think Romans put much stock in such.” Certainly Gnaeus had not, and I had not known so many others closely. They seemed a supremely practical people.
“I am a priest of Jupiter,” he said lightly. “Or had you forgotten?”
“I did not know,” I said. “Perhaps there is some small flaw in our intelligence.” I came and stood beside him at the rail, looked sideways at his face. “Do you believe in pothos, like Alexander? Fata, leading you by the hand?”
“It’s a foolish man who scorns Fata,” he said. “I don’t think even my enemies have called me foolish.”
“No,” I said. “That’s not the thing they’ve named you.” Rebel, traitor, tyrant, a man with no regard for law, a man who would be king—all those things had been said and more. But no man had called him foolish, at least not in a very long time. But what did he believe? If anyone knew that, they did not speak of it.
Caesar looked vaguely amused. “And does Cleopatra wish a second Alexander to swoop down upon her enemies like a plunging falcon? To raise new temples in her honor? A royal wedding and a Caesarid dynasty?”
“You have named it, not I,” I said, but a shiver ran down my ba
ck.
He laughed, a pleasant enough sound. “She wishes to know these things. Why does she send you to ask me?”
I must gamble. The stakes were too high not to. “Because you will tell me,” I said, certainty in my voice.
“And why will I do that?”
“Because you have known me for a thousand years. I have died in your service. I have saved your life when your enemies sought you, and I have killed a man across your funeral bier.” I held his eyes, and in his face I saw it again, the funeral cortege making its way down a mountain road. “We carried you to Memphis in a coffin of gold and laid you among the sacred kings, beside the bulls of Serapis until your city was ready. You may not remember, waking, this side of the River, but I think that you do know. I think you know much more than you pretend.”
Caesar tilted his head to the side, his face unreadable. “Strange,” he said quietly. “You look Greek, with your fair hair.”
“I am all Egypt,” I said. “Egypt as she is now, Black Land and Red Land and Alexandria together. You have come home to your place, Imperator, and she greets you as a lover long absent and much missed. Do not scorn Fata, or the words of the gods.”
“Now you are the voice of a goddess, not a slave?”
“We are all more than we seem, Divine Julius, the Son of Venus,” I said. “Are you not descended from Venus through that Trojan tossed over sea and land by the enmity of Juno, until at last he came to Italian shores and took up his long destiny?”
He threw his head back and laughed, long thin throat exposed. “I should take this then as a caution against sparring with Cleopatra. If the handmaiden is so practiced in arms, I should beware your mistress!”
I inclined my head. “Perhaps you should. But you have not answered my question.”
“Nor will I. Now,” he said, and smiling walked away.
I waited until he was gone. He had answered. I knew what I had come to find out.
Fire
Achillas killed one of the emissaries, and the other returned to Alexandria badly wounded, having been left for dead and saved by the intrepidness of his servants. Achillas, he said, was determined that Ptolemy was not in control in Alexandria, and he marched on the city to liberate Pharaoh and people both from the Romans. Unfortunately for Caesar, the city guards agreed. They let him into the city without a fight, and Caesar was besieged in the Palace Quarter.