He asserted, “You don’t have the manner of a merchant’s daughter. You’re like a princess.”
“I was born in Rome. My father is a great olive trader.”
He dipped his finger into the olive oil and licked it again. “You’re even better than that.”
Phaedra added, “I was raised in a special school. A temple school for the magic of Persephone. A high priestess put me under her wing… so I suppose I have airs.” She laughed at herself.
The Roman man made a disapproving face.
She stopped smiling. “What.”
He said, “An image came to me just now of little girls in a temple school. Did you wear black and carry funeral flowers and sing from graves?”
Phaedra insisted, “Nothing like that. Religion is really all about the harvest. Death was only thought of as winter.”
“No it’s really all about death… little girls singing and going to Hades—how urbane.” He smirked mockingly.
Phaedra frowned as if he wasn’t being fair.
He jolted with an idea. “Perfect!”
“What is?”
He loudly clasped his hands together. “I knew that making love with you would make my day.”
She glared. “I didn’t realize it had come to all that. You must be having a rather boring day to think so much has already happened between us, since...”
He interrupted, “You’re a merchant’s daughter so you can help us circumvent the claudia lex laws.”
Phaedra was puzzled at the change of topic. “I don’t understand those laws since they don’t apply to me and my class.”
He explained, “The law prevents senatorial families from participating in trade. The lower classes are to be the merchants. The upper classes are to make money on their own land, government positions and profits from war.”
Phaedra said it made no difference to her.
“We have to know how to wiggle around them.” He winked at her.
She asked, “Why does Rome pass so many laws? We can’t really keep track of half of them.”
“You get a new law every time the senate finds out there’s been abuse somewhere.” He chuckled as if he was the one doing all the abusing.
Phaedra asked, “But what does that have to do with you and me? How could somebody like me help you?”
“I’m on my way to Senator Octavian’s villa in Tarquinii. He’s my best friend. No… better yet, he’s like a brother to me. One can hate their brother.”
“You’re off to see someone you hate?”
“We also make money together. He’s always plotting ways to outfox Quintus Claudius and his damn claudia lex laws. Octavian’s noble family is of the equestrian order and so the senator’s chances of getting away with commerce is limited by that law… if he wants to appear lawful to everyone.”
Phaedra shook her head to show she didn’t quite understand.
“He and I like to ship things around the empire. We like the challenge while we have the chore of travel. People like to buy other people’s stuff. Everybody is happy. Travel with me to the great villa of Senator Octavian.”
She became enthralled. “Are you talking about Octavian the senator… the one that Caesar likes so much—that one? Him? That one?”
The man became jealous. “He doesn’t look like much up close. Yes, I always have to be nice to him. I’m married to his sister. And Caesar likes me best. So… I guess he’s like a brother to me, a brother-in-law. I do get to hate him, then, don’t I? I’ve known him since we were kids. He was the kid who threw rocks at people and I was the kid who was with the people he threw rocks at. You wouldn’t think that by looking at us now.”
Phaedra gushed at how impressed she was. “Are you a senator too?”
Circe chimed in, “Yeah, who are you?”
He said to Phaedra, “I am Mark Antony, politician and general.”
She gasped and slapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh my Pegasus! Oh by the gods… oh, all the gods! Are you all the rascal that they say you are?”
Mark winked. “I swear by my sword I am because I wish I was kissing your hand?” He looked at her bosom.
Though her dress fully covered her, she felt exposed. “Yes, that. All that. And that you’ve played a role in the transformation of the republic. You made it more autocratic.”
Mark’s expression hardened. “You say that like it’s a bad thing?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean…”
He huffed out his chest. “Shouldn’t one person have all the power? It helps keep all the chaos away.”
She nodded. “What I meant is it all sounds so modern.”
Mark laughed at the misunderstanding. “At your service.”
Phaedra blushed. “Are the stories about you all true?”
“The stories good and bad are all true. Come travel with me.” He leaned forward. “You must!”
“Because… because we met on the road at an inn?”
“The plague or the Persians could strike us all down tomorrow. Live safe with me. Safe within villa walls as the terrible plague rages all about the land. And I’m not paying, anyway—Octavian is our host.”
She glanced at her maidservant. She could see in Circe’s earnest eyes that she should go with the rich and famous man.
Phaedra turned back to Mark, as she decided, “Alright then. If being with you will allow me the hospitality of Senator Octavian, then I’ll be honored.”
Mark reached across the table and took her wrist. “Forget him. The fates have brought us together. The fates and the stars. You’re a witch, aren’t you?”
Phaedra smirked. “By the gods… not really. I know I’d said I was but I’m not a witch enough to say I’m better than all the other dabblers. I’m really a city daughter through and through.”
Mark took a deep breath. “No, you pulled me. I could smell you from the road. The wind shook the trees and I woke up. I could smell you.”
“I smell?”
“Like magic! Like roses and honey and fish sauce!”
She glared at the bowl of fish sauce on the table.
He continued, “There’s wild magic in the air. It’s destiny. Your witchcraft led me to you, and all its wild smells of the rich black soil of the darkest forest, admit it!”
She shook her head and put her hand on her heart.
“Senator Octavian lives up the north road. Now I have someone to protect, as we both go—who knows what kind of revolting drunks hang out in those old cemeteries. The honor is all mine. I do hope you were headed north.”
“Oh my Pegasus, yes we were!” She kicked her maidservant under the table as she said to Mark, “You would do all that just for me?”
Mark answered, “I’m very busy. I’ve many chores and duties. But I must always have beautiful women in my life too. I have to make Octavian jealous.”
Phaedra lowered her eyebrows. “Your manners are outstanding to want to protect me so much. But I won’t show up on your arm like your whore. I’m not some senator’s wife.”
He laughed. “Yes, they do have a reputation. All the noble women of Rome, do.”
“And men.”
“For now, just help me make Octavian jealous. That’s an easy game to play. Ride with me in my carriage—that will give us some time to get acquainted. I’ll send a driver to yours so your maidservant arrives safely. The road will be more fun if you’re with me, just you and me.”
Phaedra laughed nervously. “I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” She frowned. “I won’t appease your boredom in any lewd fashions. I won’t be made fun of. Your naughty tricks will all be on Octavian, if you play games, but not on me!”
Mark gave a crooked smile. “You must think that’s all I do to everybody.”
She readily nodded.
Chapter five
On the coast of Egypt, the Palace of Alexandria was built in the Greek style with fluted Corinthian columns. It looked down on a vast market plaza, harbor complex and monumental lighthouse.
In
a long narrow apartment hidden within the palace’s inner walls stood Ptolemy’s witch, Sorceress Thrace. To the blue smoke billowing from her magical fire, she intoned, “Mirage, mirage in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?” The flames flashed green. She saw her aged face reflect back to her. She asked, “What do I need to regain my youth so the young pharaoh will want me? What do I need for my skin to smooth?” She smelled mint. “Mint again?” She leaned over the fire and let the smoke dry her. “Phoenix from the fire! Phoenix from the smoke! Phoenix from the heat! Phoenix from the ash! Sweet bird of youth be reborn in your mountain nest!”
She fainted and fell to the floor. In her sleep, magic spoke to her, “A new witch this way comes. She travels with far-off war drums. She will die or you will, instead. You cannot both keep your head.”
“Speak in spells! Speak in spells! What is my spell to destroy her?” She woke up.
Ptolemy was shaking her. “You okay?”
Sorceress Thrace grumbled. “You just interrupted my sleep, my dear pharaoh.”
“On the floor like where servants sleep?”
She rubbed the back of her bald head. “We sleep where we fall.”
Ptolemy scolded, “You say nothing.”
She smiled seductively. “Oh… I was… I was actually one step ahead of you. I was just thinking how… how I need to massage herbs into your skin again.”
Ptolemy rubbed his nose. “Don’t be atrocious. The last time you did that you tried to mate with me.”
She pouted. “That was a mistake to do it that way, I admit.”
He put a blanket over her nude body. “We have too many wars, to get distracted.”
“Your sister is gone. The throne is all yours.”
Ptolemy frowned. “I don’t trust Rome. They’ll come to see me and who knows what they’ll say about what I’ve done. I must do more so they’ll be happy with me.”
“I will think on it too.” She gestured to the green smoke spewing from the small fire. “We must make them all bend to our will and it is done best when in such a way that they do not even know they are under our spell.”
Ptolemy turned away from her. “Do the magic spells with your huffs and puffs of smoke. Set yourself on fire now and again or whatever it is you do. I have my own idea for what’ll make Rome happy, and they’ll know it loud and clear when they see me do it. They’ll see I’m strong, decisive and fighting for the new modern Rome.”
“Magic is best.”
He looked annoyed. “This came to me in a dream—our dreams at night are magic enough.”
She nodded. “Yes, dreams are the start of all magic. What did you dream?”
Ptolemy smiled. “No magic required—I took my own sword and cut off the head of one of the most famous men of Rome. And Rome cheered.”
~
While riding in Mark Antony’s wagon through Tarquinii on the north road to Octavian’s villa, they traveled through ancient monumental cemeteries of the rich. When they passed a mausoleum that looked like an Egyptian style temple guarded by stone sphinxes, Mark explained to Phaedra, “I was going to leave from Rome but then decided the plague might be its strongest at Ostia.”
The walled city of Rome straddled the Tiber River and was removed from the Mediterranean Sea enough to have a separate town for its sea harbor. It was called Ostia, meaning mouth, since it was the mouth of the Tiber River. Ostia was considered one of Rome’s many suburbs.
Mark continued, “It always smells so foul there. The harbor down from Octavian’s land is the cleanest, I think. There’s a nice temple on the shore where I can sacrifice to the gods to make sure I have a safe passage. And Octavian’s villa is marvelous to visit. He’ll turn my ship into a merchant ship. I get half. Of course I’ll take more and he’ll be none the wiser.” Mark smirked. He offered her raisins from a leather pouch.
Phaedra asked about Egypt.
Mark ardently nodded and gave a crooked smile. “You come along with me to Egypt too. See it for yourself.”
“I can’t do that. Your ships are for men not women.”
“In a battle, sure. This isn’t for a battle. This is for civilization and women are always the best part of that.”
Phaedra twisted at one of her gold bracelets. “Me? At a palace? In such a faraway land?”
“If you’re with me, yes, they’ll bow to you, too.”
Phaedra’s eyes went wide with imagination. “What would we be doing in an Egyptian palace?”
“For me, chores. Tedious Roman chores. The errands of the gods. Caesar wants me to help him be everywhere at once. I’m not really there on a mission to find chairs to resell. I’m actually supposed to check and see that Ptolemy is really the last one standing.”
Phaedra said, “Oh yes, I’ve heard the ballads of Cleopatra and her brother. Poor Cleopatra… how could she hope to compete with her brother?”
“He’s a runt.” Mark looked off in thought. “Cleopatra gave Rome a grand parade the last time she was here. She hoped it would make the Romans love her so she might have some favor with Caesar. Sure Rome loved her but for only as long as she was parading.”
Phaedra gave a dreamy smile. “Rome still loves her. For one, they love that she bothered showing up to pay tribute. That means a lot. Putting so much effort into showing respect means a lot to people.”
Mark didn’t seem convinced.
Phaedra nodded. “They still talk about it in the forum. They said it was a wonderful parade. They said they’d never seen a parade flow by as if they were watching a sparkling river. They say she magically brought the Nile to the streets of Rome. They say she is a water witch. They say so much about her.”
He didn’t look impressed. “She knows how to do show, sure.”
Phaedra asked, “Isn’t that a lot of what a ruler is? Show? I bet her show was marvelous. I wish I was there. Did you get to see her close up? How is she? Is she like a goddess? Is she resplendent?”
Mark nodded. “Sure I saw her close—on the same couch.”
“Oh my.”
“We just talked. We were talking about how Caesar was such a god and should rule all the Roman Empire as a dictator. We only talked about Caesar, as he would have it—he was there too. Of course everything goes better if just one person is in charge and he’s as smart as Caesar. We talked about Hegemony. That’s the political, economic and military control of one state over others. Greece once did it. Rome will do it bigger and better.”
“What was she wearing?”
“I don’t know... a lot of stuff you could see through but you couldn’t see anything but gold.”
“Oh my! What were her shoes like?”
“Just shoes. No, wait… she wore Egyptian style sandals. She wore Egyptian style things head to toe. She’s an odd duck, for being from Alexandria.”
“But wouldn’t they dress Egyptian in Egypt?”
Mark answered, “No, not there. That city acts like its own country. It’s mostly Greeks living there.”
“Is she like a goddess?”
Mark frowned. “Once, maybe. But the years are hard on a ruler like that.”
“She was feeble?”
“She’s twenty-eight years old and she made Caesar laugh all the time… but it seemed calculated and fawning.”
“I’m sure she was fantastic in every way.”
“She has a gift for trying very hard while looking like she’s not.”
Phaedra asked how that was done.
“To put it too simply, her mind races while she holds languid poses… and the casual bon mots have all been planned for well in advance, I had the sneaking suspicion. That’s my guess.”
“Did Caesar notice?”
“He notices everything. And he pointed it out to her, once. But she quickly responded, a queen always crashes into repose.”
Phaedra asked what that meant.
Mark shook his head. “I have no idea and I bet Caesar didn’t either. But he likes to laugh so he laughed.”
“And then
what did she do?”
Mark smirked. “Oh, by then she was on to the next witticism, I’m sure. She shoots them like arrows and only expects one out of ten to hit the mark, but she always has ten more. She can be confusing that way as she wears you down and your mind isn’t your own anymore… and you laugh until you just enjoy yourself.”
Phaedra looked down. “It must be so dull to ride with a woman like me on a road like this after having been with a woman like her.”
He shook his head. “No. You don’t worry about what you’re going to say. You don’t calculate everything. You’re just a very pretty woman.”
“She has flesh too, I’m sure, and is pretty enough.”
Mark shook his head again. “She was like a queen who knew she had to win a family quarrel or be killed. She seemed to have already turned into the marble statue for the ages, even by then.”
“She had her charms, I’m sure.”
“She insisted that she was Isis, in desperate propaganda. She worked very hard to make herself more than she was. She was able to raise her very own armies just by being Isis. Socrates said that the greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be. He must have told that to her personally.”
Phaedra looked into Mark’s eyes. “She haunts you.”
“Now, maybe… and merely as a ghost. It’s unnerving when a goddess dies. Cleopatra is certainly dead by now—she didn’t win her war after all that effort. She’s not only dead but we got word she was allowed to mummify in the desert. A bizarre sad end for her. We shall see.”
Phaedra frowned. “What a gruesome end.”
Mark said, “Since Rome made such a fuss over that foreign civil war, she’s to be taken and propped up in Rome… put on display. Now dead, she’ll tour Rome from forum to forum. People always want a show. In the end, she’ll be used for Rome’s propaganda. Even as a mummy.”
“By the gods so you’re really going to Egypt for a mummy?”
“A very entertaining one—a mummy for a political road show. And Ptolemy will need threatened again too. Rome must keep its foot against his head.”
Phaedra asked, “What if he chops your head off first?”
Cleopatra Occult Page 3