Egypt's Sister: A Novel of Cleopatra

by Angela Hunt

  And as we hurried down the torch-lit streets of the Jewish Quarter, my heart warmed to know I had finally been able to do something—perhaps something no one else could have done—for my most beloved friend.

  Chapter Ten

  Father lifted a brow when I refused the bowl of fruit Nuru had set out to break our fasts.

  “You were out late last night,” Father said, folding his hands over the soft rise of his belly. “You should not be in the streets after dark. They are not safe, particularly with so many soldiers in the city.”

  “Nuru was with me,” I said, flushing. “And I couldn’t help the time. I was on an important errand.”

  “What errand could be so important that you would risk your safety?”

  “I was doing something for Urbi.” I lowered my voice, as if it might drift onto the street and be overheard. “She came to the harbor late yesterday, and I helped Apollodorus smuggle her into the palace. We left her in Caesar’s villa.”

  A dark look of foreboding settled over my father’s face. He wiped his fingers on a napkin, then slowly stroked his beard. “The king will not be happy to hear that Cleopatra has returned.”

  “She has as much right to rule as he does.”

  “But he holds the reins of power, and he wants Cleopatra dead. If he finds her . . .” He shook his head, and his grim outlook sent a momentary shock through my system. Had I delivered Urbi into the hands of an enemy?

  But I had to believe I’d done the right thing. “Cleopatra is clever. She will know how to win Caesar to her side.”

  Father sighed and reached for the bread. “I do not know Caesar, but I have heard he is a pragmatist, and a pragmatic man would not want to make trouble where none exists. At this moment the Alexandrian people support the boy king. The Egyptian army supports the king. So if Caesar is wise, he will support the king and keep the peace.”

  “Caesar may be wise, but Cleopatra is clever. She may find a way to convince him that she is best for Egypt.”

  Father’s brows rose. “You give her too much credit.”

  “I give her what she deserves. Shall I fetch the coins from Ashkelon to remind you how charming she can be?”

  “Caesar needs to side with the boy. This will keep Pothinus happy even though he hates the Romans. He is constantly telling the king that Romans are arrogant barbarians.”

  “Cleopatra may be wary of the Romans, but she does not hate them. Her father worked with them, and Urbi adored her father. What he did, she will do.”

  My father looked at me, an uncertain expression on his face. “She adored Auletes?”

  “As I adore you, Abba.”

  “Then why won’t you heed my wishes? You have supported your queen for years; you have kept your promises to her. It is time for you to move on—you are nearly past the age of marriage, and it is time to establish a family of your own. It would be good for you to have a husband and children, and Yosef is eager to marry you. HaShem has blessed you with beauty, health, and knowledge—why should you spend your life in the shadow of a childhood friend who has little time for you?”

  I stared at him, bemused. As much as I wanted to obey and revere my father, I wanted even more to honor the promise HaShem had given me. Any girl could get married and have babies. Few girls could serve Cleopatra, and no free woman in Alexandria was as close to her as I.

  “Father—” I stepped closer to him, as though being closer would bridge the rupture between us—“you taught me to love HaShem. You taught me to listen for His voice. So why won’t you allow me to heed the prophecy HaShem spoke to me?”

  He sighed. “You were such an impressionable child.”

  “You think I imagined it? If you can believe that Moshe obeyed HaShem and brought water from a rock, why cannot you believe that Adonai spoke to your daughter?”

  He stared at me, and in those doubt-filled eyes I saw his unvoiced answer: Because He has never spoken to me.

  A heavy feeling settled in my stomach as Father pushed away from the table. “I must see to your brother and the new Hebrew school. Asher is meeting me at the synagogue.”

  My heart contracted in anguish as I watched him go.

  I had barely stepped through the palace gates before I heard the news. Acis left his post and pulled me aside, whispering that the king had been summoned to meet with Caesar that morning.

  “The king strolled into Caesar’s chamber and found his sister already present,” Acis said, his eyes widening. “And from the queen’s demeanor and attitude it was clear she had been with Caesar for some time—possibly even overnight.”

  “What happened next?” I asked.

  Acis looked around to make sure we weren’t being overheard, then lowered his voice. “The king burst into tears and ran out of the villa, through the gates, and onto the city streets. In front of all the shopkeepers, he ripped the royal ribbon from his head and threw it on the ground, all the while screaming that Cleopatra had betrayed him.”

  The guard’s wide mouth spread in a grin. “I could not believe what I was seeing. But the crowd supported the king and began to shout that Caesar had come to destroy the peace and put a puppet on the throne.” Acis rested his hands on the heavy belt at his waist. “Over by the theaters, they’re still shouting and throwing things.”

  I glanced at Nuru. “We missed all the excitement. If we’d only walked another block to the west—”

  “I do not think you want to get in the middle of that rabble,” Acis said. “Caesar’s men went out and seized the king, then brought him back to his apartment. So now he sits in his chamber, waiting for Caesar to deal with him.”

  I bit my lip. “Is Caesar holding the king hostage?”

  Acis grinned. “Depends on what you mean by hostage. But clearly, the boy’s not going anywhere for a while.”

  I turned in a slow arc, surveying the many buildings of the sprawling palace complex. I did not know what to do. I could take my usual seat in the throne room, but it would probably remain empty since the king was confined to his quarters. I could slip into Cleopatra’s old apartment and wait for her to arrive, if she ever did.

  I could not imagine her staying with Caesar more than a few hours. He would have official work to do, and Cleopatra had spent months on the run. She would want to bathe, rest, and revel in her homecoming.

  This time, I was certain, she would not run, but would remain in Alexandria. In Caesar she had found an ally, if even a temporary one, and I did not believe she would let him return to Rome until he had found a way to guarantee her safety.

  My indecision vanished when I saw people rushing toward a spot near the southern boundary of the Royal Quarter. I followed them, and when I stopped to ask a woman what had happened, she said Caesar was about to give a public address.

  Nuru and I joined a dense crowd and waited until the Roman consul appeared on a second-story balcony overlooking the long avenue that divided the Jewish area from the Royal Quarter. In a strong, slightly nasal voice, Caesar called for quiet, then held up a scroll and read what proved to be the late king’s will. When he had finished, he lowered the scroll, handed it to an aide, and addressed the crowd with expressive gestures and thoughtful pauses.

  My father would have approved of his oration.

  “King Auletes clearly wished that his children Cleopatra VII and Ptolemy XIII live and rule together,” Caesar said, his hands sweeping the air in grand gestures that would be visible from quite a distance. “Due to their youth and inexperience, they are to rule under Roman guardianship. This was the late king’s wish, and it shall be honored.”

  Murmurs rippled over the gathering, but Caesar had not finished.

  “Furthermore,” he said, holding his right hand high, “I hereby bestow the island of Cyprus on Arsinoe, the youngest royal daughter, and Auletes’s youngest son, hereafter known as Ptolemy XIV. They shall rule jointly according to the late king’s wish.”

  A current of approval swept through the crowd. Auletes might have been disliked by
the people of Alexandria, but he had assigned each of his children a role in the succeeding government.

  “The people of Alexandria,” Caesar continued, “have nothing to fear from Cleopatra, your queen, or Ptolemy XIII, your king. You have nothing to fear from Julius Caesar. I am here only to make certain that the terms of Auletes’s will are fulfilled. To celebrate the reconciliation between these children of the late king, on the morrow we will hold a public banquet so that every citizen of Alexandria will know all is well in the house of Ptolemy.”

  With this, Caesar withdrew and disappeared inside the palace.

  When it became clear that neither Cleopatra nor her brother would address the crowd, people began to wander away, most of them whispering about who would be invited to the banquet. I left, too, taking Nuru with me. Because Jews could not be citizens, I did not expect an invitation.

  Caesar seemed a fair and honest man and he had not exhibited favoritism toward Urbi or Omari. Rome had sent us an equitable arbitrator, and I had a promise from HaShem.

  Surely the time of trouble had ended.

  My breath caught in my lungs when a messenger delivered an invitation to our home. After reading it, I realized we had been invited to the reconciliation banquet only because Cleopatra wanted us to attend. She needed the support of every ally she could find.

  Caesar held the banquet in the palace’s great hall, and though the Roman was named as our host, I saw Cleopatra’s influence in every detail. Despite the famine that had choked the land in recent years, bread and baked goods spilled from large baskets, while roasted birds, fish, and eels filled gold dishes on the serving tables. Urbi had thrown out the cracked tableware and unearthed the silver trays and gold cups. Honeyed fruit compotes dripped on tall stands scattered around the room, and wine flowed freely from gold pitchers. As hundreds of guests nibbled at the displays, Caesar sat on an elevated dais with Cleopatra at his right and Ptolemy XIII at his left.

  I did not have an opportunity to speak to the queen, but neither did anyone else. From her couch Urbi leaned toward Caesar and spoke only with him, and his answering smiles appeared genuine—apparently the great leader enjoyed my friend’s company. The boy king, on the other hand, spoke to no one but sat glumly on his couch and stared at the guests as if he despised them all.

  Father, Asher, and I kept mostly to ourselves and were careful to avoid unclean foods. Father greeted several Greek merchants, and although Asher pretended to be bored, more than once I caught him smiling at the merchants’ fair daughters.

  When Father left to go relieve himself, I turned to Asher. “Why do you look at them when you know it is impossible?”

  Asher’s eyes widened in feigned confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “You cannot marry a Greek girl. You may as well keep your eyes to yourself.”

  He grinned. “You would have me be blind?”

  “I would have you be practical. The Jewish Quarter is filled with beautiful girls.”

  “But we’re not in the Jewish Quarter, and no Jewish girls are here. And there’s no harm in looking.”

  I would have made another retort, but the sight of Father’s distressed face distracted me. “What is it?” I asked, apprehension nipping the back of my neck as he rejoined us. “Is something wrong?”

  He gave me a warning look, then pulled Asher and I so close there was barely a sliver of light between the three of us. “I happened to meet Caesar’s barber,” Father whispered. “I stopped him to ask about the Jewish settlements in Rome, but the man was clearly upset. When I asked if I could help, he said he’d overheard Pothinus and Achillas arguing. They mean to poison Caesar and kill the queen.”

  I clutched at his robe as my knees wobbled. “Are you certain?”

  Father glanced around, a muscle quivering at his jaw. “I asked the same question of the barber, and he said he was not a man who would lie. He promised to speak to his master as soon as the banquet ends.”

  I turned toward the area where Caesar dined with Cleopatra and Ptolemy. “Is that enough time?”

  Father blew out a breath. “I pray it is. I hope we can leave the matter in his hands, because I do not want to get involved in royal politics. I will not make an orphan of my children.”

  Asher put out a hand to steady our trembling father. “Caesar will not be surprised by this,” Asher said. “I hear he sleeps at odd hours to thwart assassination attempts.”

  “Urbi does not always take such precautions,” I answered. “She should be warned.”

  “We must leave her in Caesar’s custody.” Father pinned me in a no-nonsense stare. “You are not to go to her, Chava. You have already restored her to the palace; I will not have you get involved in matters that do not concern you.”

  “But they do concern me! HaShem has made me responsible for her.”

  “Really?” Father’s exasperated question hung in the air for a moment, then he shook his head. “She belongs to Egypt now, and Egypt has been delivered into the care of Rome. You haven’t the strength to resist either one.”

  Father caught my trembling hand and squeezed my fingers. “What you do not know, daughter, is that even now Achillas’s army is marching to Alexandria. Caesar brought four thousand legionaries with him, but they are weary from their battles with Pompey. Achillas has five times as many men, and they will be fighting to defend their homeland. They are the stronger force, and they are likely to win.”

  I looked at the Roman commander, calmly eating his dinner. “Does Caesar know this?”

  “I am sure he does.”

  I stared at the people casually grazing through the great hall, most of them completely unaware that disaster was on its way. Caesar had brokered only a temporary peace. If Father was right, Achillas would soon defeat Caesar, and Ptolemy would—

  “If they win”—I clutched at my father’s robe—“what will happen to Urbi?”

  Father shook his head. “If Caesar loses, or if he does not remain in Egypt, Omari’s advisors will find some way to be rid of her. Two heads cannot wear one crown.”

  “I must go to her.” I lifted my chin. “I am supposed to be with her on her last day.”

  “You will not go to her—because you cannot help, and I will not let you risk your life. Trust Adonai, Chava—”

  “I am trusting Him! I trust what He told me!”

  “Would Adonai tell you to disobey your father? He would not. Let HaShem prove His words, but you must obey me in this. Come along—we are going home.”

  For a moment I thought about wriggling free of his grasp and running, but I could never humiliate him in a public place. Such a display would embarrass Urbi, too, and I would never do anything to harm her cause.

  Accepting Father’s command was not easy, but as I looked over at the dais and saw the queen surrounded by powerful men, I realized Father was right. I could do nothing to save her now.

  And so began what would later be called the Alexandrine War. When Achillas and his army marched into Alexandria a few days later, Caesar, Cleopatra, and Ptolemy became even more firmly sequestered in the palace.

  Of particular concern to all three were the seventy-two royal Egyptian ships anchored in the harbor. Achillas wanted them, Caesar wanted to keep them from Achillas, and Cleopatra considered them rightfully hers.

  Caesar proved to be the better tactician. His men rowed out from the palace harbor and grappled with the Egyptian fleet, overcoming their resistance. But since Caesar could not hope to hold the ships with so small an army, he ordered his men to set fire to the captured vessels. The flames, tossed and driven by the coastal winds, jumped to the quays and buildings off the Great Harbor. In the course of the blaze, a large number of manuscripts at the Library of Alexandria were destroyed.

  Father tore his garments when he saw the library burning—so much history, so many hours of scholarship! So many original parchments, works from Aristotle and Euclid, crumbling into ashes!

  The Ptolemies had always been patrons of learning
and the arts. They encouraged scholarship in many areas, particularly science, mathematics, and astronomy. Men came from around the world to study the original works in the Library of Alexandria. For years, every ship that entered the harbor was searched for manuscripts, and if a manuscript was considered a valuable asset to the library, it was copied before being returned to its owner. One of the Ptolemy kings had borrowed the original works of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides from Athens, only to return copies and keep the originals in the library.

  From library manuscripts Urbi and I had learned about the equator and that the earth was a sphere revolving around the sun. We knew about the value of pi and the effect the moon had on our coastal tides. We had learned so many things—and so much was lost in that unfortunate fire.

  Father took to his bed with grief over the loss. “Such folly,” he moaned, beating his pillow. “How foolish to destroy priceless works for the sake of power and politics. What will you do with us, Adonai? We are not worthy of the blessings you have given us.”

  As ashes rained down on the city, Caesar’s legionaries enforced the walls around the palace and dug entrenchments, maintaining their defense without mounting an offense. The Roman, Father explained, would not provoke an attack for which he was not prepared.

  But Achillas was not willing to surrender the power he’d held as Ptolemy’s advisor. He recruited fighters from among the people, even enlisting slaves from wealthy residents of Alexandria. When Caesar sent two of his most experienced men to Achillas with a peace proposal, the ambitious advisor murdered the men without even bothering to read Caesar’s letter.

  Once Caesar learned of Pothinus’s plot to kill him and Cleopatra, he had the advisor arrested and executed. When my father heard that others had also threatened the Roman leader, he remarked that Caesar’s self-control was impressive. The Roman did not always retaliate against his enemies, but held a defensive position and tried to outmaneuver them.