Mark stiffened. “Why would you say that?”
She shrugged. “Isn’t that what you all do to each other all the time?”
He laughed as if it was a joke.
Chapter six
In the bathroom of the underground temple, Cleopatra soaked in a tub of snake’s blood. She complained to the high priestess, Iset, “Why am I in blood, and the blood of your magic snakes, at that? It’s too ghoulish!”
“Hold still, you’ll splash it on me.” Iset glanced down at her own robe. “Lay still and let it soak in, for the magic to set.”
Cleopatra stirred at it with her fingertips. “I know I’m not supposed to question you, but still.”
Iset held her finger up. “This is war with your brother. This is all a part of a spell for your anima.”
“My soul?”
Iset nodded. “Yes, anima, soul, your very breath.”
Cleopatra frowned. “Alas, I do need a restorative. I was feeling so very weak. That’s not like me. I’m not young anymore. My bones hurt.”
“Let your soul drink the blood.”
Cleopatra asked, “But… isn’t the blood of these snakes used for a magic reflecting pool? That’s what I’d learned once from a scroll. What magic are we reflecting? Why am I here in the middle of it all? What’s going on?”
“Calm down. The blood of my snakes has more than one magic. Only the surface gloss reflects. This magic spell is a deep river.” Iset frowned. “And of course it makes a bloody mess along the way.”
Cleopatra coughed. “I need abundant magic about now. I was knocked out and I woke up worse than ever—I can’t even dream anymore. Will this help me dream again?”
“You’ve been subjected to great evil from your brother. And the desert almost mummified you. But your magic is still strong where it matters, don’t worry. I’ll make sure it stays that way for as long as magically possible.”
Cleopatra watched blood drip from between her own fingers. “No wonder I have no appetite. This is all so awful.”
Iset swirled her hand in the air. “You will do what it takes.”
“Why do you care who’s the puppet ruler of Egypt? Rome rules it now, anyway. That’s all that it must seem to you.”
Iset answered, “It makes a great deal of difference to those in the streets of Cairo, Memphis and Thebes. When Alexander the Great kicked out the Persian occupiers, the Egyptian people saw him has a liberator. But that was then and now your brother has allowed the Egyptians to become a subjected people again. He doesn’t negotiate. Our army, merchants and nobleman, alike, are all slaves to Rome. But being so far from Rome it will soon tear Egypt apart.”
“Why won’t he negotiate anything?”
“He has nothing to seduce the Romans with.”
“They can be seduced?”
Iset nodded. “Oh, indeed. Don’t ever be fooled by how busy they appear. They are so bored with themselves.”
~
In the countryside of Tarquinii, north of Rome, the ancient cemeteries began to give way to vineyards. In his villa amongst manicured fields of red grapes, Octavian greeted Mark Antony, “Oh look who got here early… the dumb dick of Rome.”
Mark explained why he was early.
Octavian laughed as he announced to his three dozen guests, “Mark here has claimed that a plague is devouring Rome. Maybe we all won’t be so blasé after all.”
People chuckled. Mark grumbled.
Octavian continued, “So we will wear masks so the plague can’t find us. I’m sure the plague has nothing better to do but look for just us, and us alone, out here with the grapes.”
A guest asked, “Or tombstones?” The other guests laughed.
Octavian took offense at that, so snapped, “I can’t very well burn them down!”
People laughed again.
Octavian continued, “I have these Greek masks from when we did the plays of Euripides.”
A guest called out, “You said you hated the Greeks.”
Octavian nodded sadly. “I suppose they were once something to talk about but what are they good for anymore? Rome has taken over all and improved everything greatly. Everything of Greece could now burn down and we wouldn’t ever miss it again. We have Rome.”
People applauded.
Octavian had the white masks distributed, all of the same screaming face since they’d been for the chorus who all represented one horrified character. The masks were fragile, made of stiffened linen. Octavian insisted servants wear them too—they got the ones that had become squashed. He handed Mark a squashed one, also, as he told the guests, “Look how they have transformed us!”
A guest laughed. “We now look as if we are one!”
Another guest joked, “I’ve always wanted to go to a big party and just talk to myself.”
Octavian laughed with them. “Maybe life will imitate art. Maybe I’ll finally have a soirée where everyone agrees on the same politics… only questioning their own contradictions.”
A guest replied, “That would be some magic trick!”
Octavian nodded. “Then it’s possible now. Masks were the origins of all magic!”
A Nubian guest with a long white beard argued, “The first magic spells came from the Phoenicians who developed their first alphabet from Egyptian hieroglyphics. The Greeks then Romans later took it up from there. Spells first came from spelling. Magic came from spells!”
Circe quietly said to Phaedra, “Nonsense. Witches only need to know the language of nature and must read clouds, spider webs, flowers and tree leaves above all else.”
Phaedra elbowed her. “Men are the city’s scribes, let them boast. Their work is what makes the money.”
Through his mask, another male guest asked Mark, “How did you hear there was a plague? We haven’t heard any news of one.”
Mark looked down at his sandals.
Octavian pointed at Mark and laughed. “He said an old woman told him!”
People chuckled mockingly again.
Phaedra loudly spoke in Mark’s behalf, “My handmaiden, Circe, saw her too.” Phaedra put her hand on her heart.
Mark asked Phaedra, “Was she old and had a ridiculous fat wig like a gauche Persian battle helmet? Or maybe it was in the old Egyptian fashion where they look like they’re wearing a jar on their head? But she was too pale to be an Egyptian, herself.”
Phaedra looked to Circe, for her to say something.
Circe loudly spoke for all to hear, “Yes, yes indeed! Nothing gives me the frights like a plague! And an old woman told of it, on the roof. And, yes, she wore an old-style wig.”
A guest asked if she was so old she was bald.
Octavian clapped. “Oh the old gal gets around!” He added, “The Egyptians like to shave their heads and wear wigs to control lice. The lice gets around too. I could take anything as long as we don’t get a plague of lice this week!” He laughed.
Circe grabbed Phaedra’s arm and announced to the guests, “There’s more. More I haven’t said earlier. Oh now don’t have me crucified, I didn’t tell anyone for I was sure I’d be seen as mad as a Persian.”
Octavian encouraged the handmaiden to speak.
Circe continued, “The old woman warned me of plague. I turned away but then when I thought to thank her, she was gone. Truth be told… she was gone!”
Octavian laughed. “She runs fast, too!”
Circe clarified, “No, no, it was as if she vanished with the wind. A wind blew and she was gone! Gone so fast I even thought to look into the sky. But she was gone!”
Octavian doubted. “Then maybe it’s your imagination.”
Circe clutched the neck of her robe. “No. I felt myself shake with a force of magic. I knew it in my heart to be true.”
Mark Antony put his hand up to stop the laughter. “Yeah, I remember a wind too and then she was gone. I wanted to ask her questions but she wasn’t there anymore.”
Octavian loudly doubted that.
Mark insisted, “I swear by my
sword!”
Octavian mockingly marveled, “Now we have a ghost story! With magical wind! How wonderful! And here I thought we were all escaping such a boring ole plague.”
The guests laughed again.
Phaedra didn’t laugh. “A ghost that’s warning of plague is never funny. A ghost only speaks in love.”
Mark stood next to her and nodded ardently.
Octavian became serious. “Then it’s a good thing we’re all hiding behind masks.”
Circe fainted.
Mark chastised Octavian, “Look, you’re scaring the servants again, even with your ugly face covered.”
Circe was helped back up to her feet.
Phaedra worried, “She’s burning up with a fever!”
Circe was carried away.
With Phaedra gone, Mark Antony said to Octavian, “I have a woman on my arm who’s of the merchant class. That’ll help you too, to raise some mad money.”
Octavian took his mask off and put his nose in the air. “I’m not so destitute.”
Mark removed his mask, bristling. “You’re not better than anybody else so stop that. I was just mentioning a business deal.”
Octavian narrowed his eyes. “You always bring up business deals as if you’re doing me a favor when we all know that’s not the case. And it’s shocking to travel with women, anyway. It’s not right.”
“She’s lucky to sail with the likes of me.”
“Not in Caesar’s boats.”
Mark argued, “Why should women always get stuck on the leaky boats lost to pirates?”
Octavian shook his head. “Women shouldn’t be on boats at all. You are shameful. You’ve always been shameful!”
Mark huffed out his chest. “I’m Caesar’s right hand man so I have every right to be so proud.”
Octavian twitched. “But not with any right to act prouder than me!”
Mark grimaced. “Who are you? Really? You’re rich and all… but who are you to act so very lofty to even me?”
Octavian put his nose in the air again. “I’m special above all other men. Even you. Especially you. I’m the one named in Caesar’s will as his adopted son and heir.”
Mark Antony took a stunned step backwards. “No, I was named his adopted son and heir! He said he would.”
Octavian argued, “You were his boy whore and now you’re one of his old generals. Nothing more. Everybody knows that.”
Mark gasped. “How dare you say that! I’m not all that old! Caesar appointed me administrator of Egypt while he conquers opponents in Greece, Africa and Spain. I’m already his heir. I’m Caesar in Caesar’s absence.”
Octavian shrugged ambivalence. “You’re a decent general and an old faithful dog.”
Mark put a hand up. “Hey, wait a minute. Slow down, there. Not so fast. Are you sure you’re in his will like that? How could you even know? How could you have seen his will? That’s improper for you to have seen his will. Nobody can see that—that’s secret!”
Octavian smiled. “If it’s there and I can read it, I shall. I’m as curious as anybody else. You would have done the same. Don’t act so righteous around me.”
Mark maintained, “That’s illegal.”
Octavian shrugged. “Too late. I saw it and it can’t be unseen.”
“You have to be alive to inherit.”
Octavian sardonically raised his well plucked eyebrows. “Is that a threat?”
“Play your little games, the big game isn’t over. I have to go to Egypt to do the work of my Caesar. Later we’ll have to continue our little squabble.”
Octavian grimaced and stomped out.
~
Phaedra sat at her handmaiden’s sickbed, a few blankets on the floor of the back porch. It overlooked a walled courtyard and fountain filled with statues of Greek mythological characters in their modern Roman guises.
Phaedra wept, “Please, Circe, get well. Please get well. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You have to get well so we can leave. I can’t stay here.”
Circe whispered, “Your husband is here, I know.”
“Oh my Pegasus! How did you know that?”
Circe nodded. “I could just tell. Truth be told, you shook like you’d seen a gryphon.”
“Close. He has evil in him. He was cursed by the gods, surely. He came later with all those poets.”
Circe asked, “Has he seen you? Does he know you’re here?”
“I don’t think so. We were already wearing our masks. He only seems to enjoy his wine and the other men who are also mad drunk poets.”
“He’s a mad poet?”
Phaedra moaned. “That’s why I first fell madly in love with him. He swept me off my feet and I felt so dizzy. But then I finally came back down to the ground and I realized he was mad. Truly and terribly mad. The gods must have punished him. At the temple school I was warned that love was madness… any and all romantic love was insanity. Sometimes we pulled it off and sometimes it destroyed us. I wouldn’t listen to my teachers. I resented them too much, anyway, because they weren’t my mother. She made me live at school so that she could be a whore while Father was always away on business. So I was confused and foolish and needy. I didn’t listen to anybody and went head over heels for him, making my home there. I was obsessed with his every word… day and night wasn’t long enough to be with him. I thought he was so smart.”
Circe said, “That all sounds good and wise to me.”
Phaedra shook her head. “One day after we were married he took me to the barn to mate with me… making terrible animal sounds.”
“But…”
“I know, I know, I know… as a husband that’s his right… but then he tried to make me mate with a horse. He said it was so I’d give birth to a centaur. He insisted we all had magic spells in us and it would work. He said the modern age needed centaurs back. Of course I’d have been killed trying such a horrible thing. I ran away. I’ve been running ever since. It’d be so horrible if he ever found me and took me back to be his wife. It’d kill me!”
“We mustn’t die!”
“I’ve been careful with men ever since. Never let crazy feelings get in the way. Never get crazy. Be careful with men. Be careful with your feelings. You only have one heart, don’t ever throw it away, foolishly.”
Circe wept. “Hold on to life!”
“Plato has even stated that love is a serious mental disease and Socrates agreed when he once said that love is a madness.”
Circe gasped for air.
“You’ll be okay. You have to be okay! I love you too much for you not to be okay. I love you! You’re my right hand. You’re in my thoughts all the time. That means I love you! I’m madly in love for you but that’s okay and safe because you’re not a scary man.” She kissed her forehead. “You just need a warm nap to burn off any fever and you’ll wake up feeling much better. You sleep until you’re all better!” She tucked the top of a wool blanket under Circe’s chin.
Tears rolled down Circe’s cheeks. “I’m sorry Cleopatra.”
“No, no. Of course I’m not Cleopatra! It’s Phaedra. I am Phaedra. Look at me. You poor dear. Can’t you see me?”
“I’m sorry Cleopatra. We failed. The plague got to us first.”
“It’s Phaedra! It’s Phaedra! You don’t serve Cleopatra.”
“I serve the queen. I serve the queen. I serve...” She died.
Phaedra painfully clutched at her own heart. “You can’t die! I love you too much and that has to do something about it!” She sobbed.
A thin red snake slithered out of Circe’s mouth.
Phaedra jumped back, horrified.
Chapter seven
Deep under the Sinai Desert, in the temple to the snake god Apophis, the glowing jewels dimmed. The meandering tunnels went dark.
Cleopatra cried, “Iset? Are you still there? I can’t see!”
Iset called out, “Yes, and until the moon is full again to recharge the lights we must see with different eyes.”
&n
bsp; “But I can’t! I’m afraid!”
Iset said, “It’s only the loss of eyes. All of eternity will be spent in Hades where there is no sun or moon. Learn to see with other eyes.”
Cleopatra reached out for the wall. “Can you see?”
“Yes I see with my snake eyes.”
“You have snake’s eyes?”
Iset said, “Yes, many of them.”
“What do they all see?”
Iset moaned. “Failure.”
Cleopatra gasped. “For everything?”
Iset answered, “I can’t see that far. But I see that the servant girl has died.”
Cleopatra asked, “My brother’s witch got to her?”
“She died of the plague.”
“But… but how can that be? You sent the plague in the first place, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I sent it to push them here.”
Cleopatra inarticulately complained.
Iset answered her, “For every action there is a reaction and we can’t control them all. We just have to think on our feet and change plans.”
Cleopatra asked, “How can your magic do that… how can you have lost control?”
Iset answered, “Magic is always a bit out of our control. There are always many unintended consequences to any action. The one who does magic best not only plans ahead, and tries to avoid doing more harm than good, but also must keep moving as the waters flow about you. The wind always blows in layers.” She loudly sang out into the dark, “Sky above and water below, you are a hundred things at once, with a hundred eyes.”
Cleopatra wrung her hands. “I can’t think! I can’t see! I can’t think this way!”
Iset reminded her, “You lie awake in the night and think all the time.”
“But… only if I’m in bed and it’s calm!”
“You must be calm now. You’re still just as safe as you were when the crystals were glowing and lighting up the path.”
“I need to see the path!”
“Let your feet feel the path.”
Cleopatra cried, “What’ll we do? You told me that the servant girl was from a long family of witches. She was our last hope!”
Cleopatra Occult Page 4