She smiled. “It takes hours of anxious work to make others think that you instantly have everything easily under control.” She gently sniffed at her flower arrangement.
Mark admitted, “I thought the cat was you, too. You bluffed like a queen.”
She grinned.
Ptolemy yelled, sounding childish, “You made me dream of the black cat and made me think this would be you! You made me think you would be a cat! You made me dream it first! You did it! You’re atrocious!”
Mark Antony said to Ptolemy, “Your time here is through. Time to fight for Rome at the Persian border.”
“No!” Ptolemy ran off into a dark windowless palace hall. Cleopatra’s men chased him but he disappeared.
Mark asked, “He had a magic trick to disappear?”
Cleopatra didn’t look concerned. “The halls have many escape passages. I hope you don’t need him at Persia anytime soon. You’ll be sure to catch him after he’s left the palace and he’s gone anywhere else in Egypt. He doesn’t even speak Egyptian. He’ll stick out. Cairo won’t be big enough to hide him.”
Mark nodded that he understood. “I just hope he doesn’t drown trying to cross the Nile.”
“The palace has a swimming pool—we learned to swim. But he doesn’t have to get wet—he has a big boat he finally gets to use. You’ll know what city he’s at by watching the harbor. It has a wooden statue of a hawk at the front of it.”
~
Alone in her long narrow apartment hidden within inner walls of the palace, Sorceress Thrace said to the heat rising from her magical fire, “Mirage, mirage in my hand, who’s the fairest in the land?” The flames flashed with green. In the smoke, she saw Phaedra with a silk purse full of pebbles.
The flickering image of Phaedra said to her pebbles, “I didn’t see that coming at all when I cast my magic stones… and I paid so much for them. By the gods, I’m a dabbler.”
Sorceress Thrace furiously screamed at the smoke, “That idiot!” Sorceress Thrace mixed oils and added them to her fire. “Phoenix from the fire! Phoenix from the smoke! Phoenix from the heat! Phoenix from the ash! Sweet bird of youth, be reborn!” After her temper calmed, she had an idea. She laughed. She added bitter herbs to her fire. “Mirage, mirage be my guide. Make her commit suicide. Not with sight, not with sound, but let her lose her sense of ground.”
Sleeping in her own palace apartment, Phaedra had a dream that Iset was whispering into her ear, “I have the wind. Cleopatra has the water. Sorcerous Thrace has the fire. You have the earth.”
Phaedra questioned, “I have the earth?”
Iset clarified, “The stones.”
Phaedra felt sad. “That doesn’t sound valuable.”
“Where do you think we get our gold?”
“Wind. Water. Fire. Earth. What element is better?”
“All are necessary.”
Phaedra asked, “What is the strongest?”
Iset said, “It depends on the hour.”
Phaedra woke up, forgetting the dream, and began to think about how she was so far from home and she might never have the means to get back again. She felt abandoned. She began to cry that she’d never had a child to adore her. She sobbed at her own horrible childhood memories and how she’d felt abandoned. She knew she couldn’t bear to live one more hour in such a horrible world. “It’s all too much!” She stood on a chair, tied one end of a long scarf over a pole across the top of a doorframe and tied the other end around her neck. “Circe, I will miss you most of all. You were the only nice thing around. I still feel so much love for you…”
Circe’s voice said, “Oh dum ditty.”
Phaedra looked around but didn’t see anyone. “Circe?”
She heard Circe’s voice again, “You must think you’re mad as a Persian.”
“Yes I am!”
The voice said, “You’re not. Truth be told, it’s just a ghost. The ghost of me, your poor dead maidservant. I was killed by a witch’s plague, isn’t that an irony?”
Phaedra was confused. “A ghost only speaks in love.”
“Yes! I do! And all those horrible suicidal thoughts in your head were put there just now by an evil spell.”
Phaedra sniffled. “You lie! You lie to trick me! By the gods I really did have those horrible things happen to me as a child and nobody can take the horror away from me!”
Circe’s voice said, “Oh now don’t have me crucified. Calm down.”
“It was horrible!”
“The spell just gave them an emotion that is too strong.”
Phaedra insisted, “I did fall down the stairs at the temple school and spilled my lamp of sacred oil, and it was awful! The oil stain stayed on those steps for years so everyone could talk about what I’d done. But Mother never knew. She could care less! I was abandoned at that school. While Father was always in Spain to get more olives to sell, Mother wanted me away so she could live like a mad whore. That was my childhood. Worthless. I was in the way. I wasn’t wanted! I am nothing! Most the girls at that school were orphans. Everybody thought I was one of the orphans!” She sobbed.
“That is terrible indeed but not enough so you should kill yourself now for it. When you go back to Rome go visit her and make up with her.”
“She was murdered. How do you think I got all my money and gold jewelry? Most of it came from her. And then I lost it all at sea. I have nothing.” Phaedra blinked tears. “Circe? Is that really you?”
“Yes. My ghost on the wind, anyway. You know I’m dead and that’s not ever going to change.”
Phaedra asked, “The dead can come back?”
Circe’s voice answered, “Somewhat. In several ways, yes the dead can. But not for long. As the sun is your clock, the moon is ours. At some hour we must go on to the underworld to meet Isis. It’s not your time to die. Get down from there.”
Phaedra moaned, “I have no home.”
Circe said, “That’s what makes you a real witch. Even in Rome, even in the temple, you felt like an outsider. You never felt like you had a place to sit that was all yours. You are the element of earth and yet you always feel ungrounded. You are weird.”
“Yes, I feel better now.”
“That’s because I’m hugging you now.”
“Is that what that is?”
“I came in love. Now get back down on the ground. You don’t belong up here.”
Phaedra tried to unknot the scarf but it was stuck. The chair shook beneath her feet all by itself until it flipped away. Phaedra hung by her neck.
Circe cried, “No!”
The scarf burst into flames and Phaedra fell to the floor.
A hidden door that was disguised in the square Greek designs on the wall opened by itself. Circe’s voice echoed softly, “Hurry! Get out of here!”
Phaedra stood, coughing and rubbing her sore neck.
Sorceress Thrace ran down a palace corridor with a glowing hot knife. Fire shot from its blade.
Circe warned Phaedra, “To escape Ptolemy and the burning eyes of his witch, get lost in the streets of the city.”
Phaedra argued, “All the doors to the palace are guarded.”
“This door will take you out a secret passage to the stables. You will come up out of one of the hay chutes.”
Sorceress Thrace ran into the room but it was empty and the secret door was closed. She furiously cursed. She glared at the secret passage door and walked to it. A jug of water knocked over and splashed across the floor putting a large puddle in the way. Sorceress Thrace slipped in it and after she got back to her feet she saw that her wet palms and knees had wrinkled. She cursed angrily again and ran back to her magic fire.
~
Sitting behind their plates of food on a dais at a loud festive palace banquet, Mark took a gulp of wine then turned to Cleopatra. He asked her, “Say something funny. You used to be so funny when you were with Caesar.”
“I’m not with Caesar… and I’m tired… so why bother.”
“You can only b
e funny for Caesar?”
Cleopatra gave a sad nod. “That was what he required.”
Mark thumped his chest. “And now that is what I require!”
She shook her head. “No, what you require is that everybody finds you desirable. So I remember to look at you now and again and linger my gaze long enough.”
Mark frowned. “Must you be cruel?”
“I apologize. I am so tired.”
He took another gulp of wine. “You need to enjoy your victory.”
Cleopatra asked, “Where’s Phaedra?”
Mark looked around. “If you don’t know where she is, why should I?”
Cleopatra assumed, “I thought you were friends.”
“I guess she ended up being Octavian’s friend. But I have a lot of friends, too.”
Cleopatra rubbed her forehead. “I’m feeling unwell and I want her. She might have some healing spells.”
Mark ordered, “Eat something. Just relax and eat something. You won. Now you get to feast and enjoy being the queen again. When was the last time you heard such music and saw such dancing? That’s how it should be.”
“I’m too unwell this hour. I’ll just sit until I can slip away and find my witch.”
“Alexandria has doctors.”
Cleopatra gently poked at her eyes, trying not to disturb her dramatic black makeup. “I’ve never felt this way before. My bones hurt. I’m so tired.” She thought about how she was dressed up like a peacock—they were to symbolize flesh that never decays. She thought that through all her perfume she could smell decay.
“You’re just nervous and upset.”
“That’s not it. I’m the queen of Egypt. It’s my job to be nervous and upset, regardless, anyway, all the time.”
Mark ate an oyster. “I’ll send doctors to you nevertheless.”
Cleopatra asked, “I want a healing witch. When was Phaedra last seen?”
Mark scanned the crowd again. “I wouldn’t know that.”
Cleopatra became panicky. “It’s been awhile?”
He shrugged.
“It’s been since my brother snuck away. Why did she go away when he did?”
Mark said, “They have nothing to do with each other.”
“I suddenly had a feeling that they did.”
“Women’s intuition?”
Cleopatra couldn’t decide if she should agree or not.
Mark gestured toward the side door. “Maybe she didn’t go away but we just haven’t been talking to her so we lost track of her. She could be out in the garden right now. The party has spilled out into the garden, too. They say Octavian is drinking out there—he doesn’t want to drink with me. Whoever once said he and I were like brothers must have been drunk.”
“Caesar.”
“Oh, yes. Caesar said that. Well, yes then, we are like brothers. And you can hate your brother.”
Cleopatra shook with emotion.
“Don’t worry.” He pulled off her hat, breaking a few of the dozens of peacock feathers. “Relax.”
“Phaedra has vanished! I now realize it. I didn’t realize it all along because I wasn’t paying attention. I haven’t been paying attention. When people disappear we’re all expected to notice right away so we can do something about it. I lost my throne because I didn’t pay attention to my brother… that he grew up and would want what men want.”
Mark said, “Well, you got it back from him again. You won, in the end. Now it’s his turn to be on the run and let’s see how long that lasts. Then he can learn how to be a man as a soldier.”
Cleopatra insisted, “I lost my witch because I, likewise, wasn’t paying proper attention to others.”
“She’s not lost. She’s just not here.”
Cleopatra brooded.
He finally said, “Queens are selfish. So am I.” He winked.
“Being a queen doesn’t mean I have to also be a fool.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “We’ll find her. She didn’t grow wings and fly away. I swear by my sword she’s around somewhere. Let’s only think about ourselves tonight.”
“I only feel death.”
“You think she’s dead?”
Cleopatra rubbed her hands together. “I feel ill and I feel like I could die of it. And I feel she went away with my brother for some reason…”
Mark Antony drank the wine from her cup. “Well, I didn’t poison you just now. I’m your champion.”
“It’s a horrible feeling that’s been growing for some time…”
Mark fidgeted. “Then it’s just emotion. I hope the feeling passes. I was hoping we’d have fun tonight.”
“I couldn’t stand being touched right now.”
He looked out at voluptuous dancing women wearing nothing but holly wreaths on their heads. “Another hour and I’ll want the touch of anything and everything. Don’t tease me.”
She looked at him like he was appalling.
He ordered a servant to get a doctor.
~
Phaedra wandered the streets of Alexandria until she came to the largest of the several synagogues in the city, a massive double colonnade temple. Since the Jewish neighborhoods had their own opulent synagogues, this largest one became mostly a secular meeting place for artisans. That made the carnival environment easy for Phaedra to melt into. On outdoor steps, a group of actors in Greek masks were putting on a play. She listened.
“At the harbor is the royal ship,” said one.
“Run to the ship and escape before the witch attacks,” said the other.
“We know because we are Jews and we feel the witch in our temple,” said the first.
The crowd howled with laughter. Phaedra didn’t know what was funny about that so she turned to the man next to her and asked, “Can the Jews really feel a witch in their temple? Is that funny?”
He looked annoyed. “Why would you ask something like that?”
She felt cold. “Oh my Pegasus. Isn’t that what the actors just said?” She shivered. “Is the witch here now?”
He shook his head. “They’re telling the story of a farmer praying so he can cross the Nile without getting eaten by a crocodile. Why? Did you hear otherwise?”
She nodded, terrified.
He looked behind her. “Are you in distress? Who is after you?”
“Evil! Evil itself!”
He instructed, “Paint the blood of sacrifice on your door and wait for the Angel of Death to pass you by.”
She looked around. “I have no door! I have no home! I have nowhere to put the blood!”
The man responded, “When fleeing evil, don’t ever look back. Sympathy for the undeserving will turn you into a pillar of salt.”
Phaedra called out, “Circe? Is that you trying to warn me?” She said to the man, “My maidservant isn’t here, is she. You must think I’m as mad as a Persian.” Phaedra looked around, trying to ignore the false words still coming from the masks.
It seemed as if an actor was saying, “The witch is in the temple! Go to the harbor and sail back to Rome!” Phaedra knew it was deceitful. She ran from the synagogue.
In the streets of the adjacent neighborhoods, she lost her sense of direction, not able to decide where the palace was. She decided, “To the harbor! I’ll see the palace from the market!” In a street filled with merchants from India, she asked what direction the sea was at, and walked in that direction.
She heard the ghostly echo of Circe’s voice again. “No, no, oh no. Oh dum ditty! I feel we should go the other way.”
“What did you say?” She heard drums and saw a large idol of a god with an elephant head.
Some of the Indians were singing, “Ganesha, the patron of arts and sciences and intellect and wisdom.”
She heard a farther echo of Circe’s voice, “The other way!”
Phaedra yelled at the air, “What other way, what other way from where? I don’t know where I am!”
“Turn around!”
“Circe? I can’t hear you.” In an alley, P
haedra pushed through large hanging cloths. Cast upon a saffron yellow sheet she saw the shadow of Circe. When she pulled the sheet aside, no one was behind it. “I can’t hear you anymore. By the gods make yourself into a ghost that I can see with my eyes! Point the way!” Beyond the layers of hanging fabric, she left the other end of an alley and ran down a side street. She asked again where the harbor was and then ran to it, running towards the sound of terrible reverberations.
People around her also started running. She heard shouting, “Ships are on fire!” “Rome’s ships!” “Roman ships are burning!”
She followed. At the harbor, she saw six Roman war ships, side by side, ablaze fore to aft. The ships were heavily armed with artillery ballista to provide lethal salvoes. The many stored pots of burning pitch were now creating internal fireballs. The entire harbor roared with its thunder.
The crowd of gawkers grew so thick that Phaedra ran farther down the harbor.
Circe’s voice called out, “No! The other way!”
Phaedra said to the wind, “I’m going this way! Where am I going? Am I going back to Rome?”
Circe cried, “No, you’re being tricked. I’m being tricked!”
“How can you be tricked? You’re a ghost!”
“Tricked by a powerful witch!”
At the far side of the huge breakwater, bridging a small island near the coast, Phaedra saw a ship with a large wooden statue of a hawk at the front of it. She turned and ran the other way. Six strong palace guards grabbed her and took her aboard.
Chapter twelve
In her apartment hidden within inner walls of the palace, Sorceress Thrace watched visions in the smoke of her magic fire. She saw Phaedra being taken aboard the ship. She turned to Ptolemy. “She is on your ship now and Rome will not bother with it today. They wasted time looking within the royal harbor.”
“Burn all the Roman ships!”
“No. Rome now thinks they have an accident.”
“An accident with four ships?”
“Six. Their burning masts were too tall and fell over into other ships that were too close. They are lucky it stopped at that. Let them think that they are lucky, in the end.”
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