by Talbot Mundy
Apollodorus began to row, because the wind failed, holding the boat’s bow straight into the waves at the harbor entrance, keeping as close as he could to mid-channel, in the hope that at that distance watchmen on the Pharos might mistake him for a fisherman.
Cleopatra, enveloped in a blanket in the stern, kept turning her head for a glance at purple sails, behind her on the sky’s rim.
“If Olympus has seen Tros’ ship,” she said at last, “we shall soon see Olympus. He is a doer, once he has done meditating.”
Being out of range now of the archers on the Pharos, Apollodorus rested, letting the boat turn how it would, until it brought him facing the marble steps of the royal harbor.
“Zeus and Leda — look at Caesar’s ships! Mice crowding a hole in a corn-bin! I like this Caesar! Look — can you imagine a man daring to invade our Alexandria with that fleet? What a confession of faith in himself! And what a comment on our lack of faith in anything!”
He waved his arm toward a great Egyptian fleet, that lay in the Harbor of Happy Return, beyond the Heptastadium, outnumbering Caesar’s ten to one.
“If I were you,” he went on, “I believe I would visit that fleet that calls itself your brother’s — use your seductive voice on captains who have not been paid since Ptolemy the Piper died — promise them their back pay — sail with them into this harbor, and then deal with Caesar as an alien committing trespass! Tros could come in and support you. If that is the whole of Caesar’s fleet, he can’t by any calculation have with him more than four thousand men. I should say Tros could come in single-handed and destroy those Romans at long range with his catapults.”
“No,” she answered. “Potheinos and Achillas have had time to make terms with Caesar. For all we can tell my brother’s fleet has yielded to him. Their captains might drag me before Caesar as a sacrifice. It does not suit my piety to be a sacrifice of that sort.”
“But a certain sort of sacrifice you will be?” he suggested.
She noticed the vaguely sub-acid hint of jealousy and shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I never for instance saw a sacrificial goat look dignified,” Apollodorus argued. “Sacrifices bleat self-pity — or else self-praise, as when old Diomedes used to rant about having given up all he had to follow you. The most dignified sacrificed animal I ever saw was a white bull that gored a high-priest in the belly. And to what will you be a sacrifice? To Caesar’s vanity? He and Rome might gain but who else? To Egypt? Can you imagine Egypt grateful or rewarding you with anything but slander and a little ground glass in your bread at dinner? To the gods? Well, if there are gods who demand a sacrifice, men call them by a wrong name; they are devils.”
“I am not afraid,” she answered.
“No,” he said. “You are excited by the thought of seducing Caesar, who will do far worse than seduce you; he will break your spirit.”
She gazed in silence at the Lochias, with that look in her violet eyes that Tros, Olympus and the priests of Philae trusted — but that caused many people to detest her and to call her by abominable names.
“Olympus is coming,” she said after a while. “I see his boat.”
“Probable, because incredible! If anything rational were to happen I might be surprised.”
A boat was coming toward them. Two men toiled at the oars and splashed a great deal too much to be fishermen; the man in the stern sat upright with the steering oar in constant use, instead of sprawling and merely dipping the oar at intervals.
“There! I recognize him!”
“In the stern? O earth, sky, sea and air, bear record that for once, at any rate, I prove our Cleopatra wrong! Olympus is tall and lean; that fellow is fat, with a grin on his face. Olympus never grins; he smiles as if it cost him money!”
“Olympus is rowing,” she answered. “Would he sit in the stern, where anyone on watch would look for him? That man at the oar in a dirty red turban — with a torn sleeve — that is Olympus!”
“Well, his oarsmanship is hardly worthy of his errand,” said Apollodorus, rather ruefully confessing himself wrong. “However, he appears still faithful to you — which may or may not lead him to the galleys, where they would teach him to row! Be careful though — Caesar is rich and may have bought him to betray you!”
“Olympus is the only man in Egypt who cannot be bought,” said Cleopatra.
“You include me?”
“Lollianè bought you!”
For a while Apollodorus turned that over in his mind. “But by Apollo,” he said at last, “I made her pay a high price! And you, Egypt? Will you never sell yourself?”
“I don’t know. I am likelier to buy,” she answered, and began staring again at the Lochias.
Apollodorus sat still, wondering, it might be, whether she meant buying Egypt, and in what coin, until presently, there being no wind, and the rowers weary, the two boats drifted together. Then Olympus, sweating through his shirt, threw up a right hand in salute; but as if they had been warned, the two who were with him offered the Queen no salutation; so that if seen from the shore, they might, indeed, be fishing; there was a great net heaped up in Olympus’ boat.
His first words were a question: “Have you food?”
“If you have news for me, Olympus, I will live on that until to-night!”
“Clothing?” he asked her.
She nodded toward a roll of carpet in the boat. Olympus broke into the tale abruptly:
“Caesar came. He lay a day at anchor. He sent men ashore for information. Some say that Caesar himself was ashore with the spies, and I believe it was so. Then he sailed to the royal wharf; and he marched through a part of the city with the fasces before him, giving great offense. There began to be rioting, some even daring to ask him whether he believed himself to be in Rome! — So he returned to the Lochias and occupied your part of the palace, which they told him was deserted. Thence he sent a messenger to Pelusium inviting you and your brother to return to arbitrate before him the dispute concerning which you are at war. He spoke as one who disapproves of civil war, so that those who heard him laughed; but he began to show them that his presence is not comical.”
“No messenger from Caesar reached me,” she interrupted.
“Meanwhile Caesar set his troops to work to fortify the Lochias. Then he sent for the Princess Arsinoe, who came before him amid two score eunuchs, and he asked her why the populace of Alexandria should have attacked his men whom he had sent into the city. He already knew — for he had sent for me and I had told him — and he knew, indeed, before I told him — that the people resented his having marched like a conqueror through the streets. But the Princess Arsinoe said the crowd was angry because it supposed he had come to restore Cleopatra, whereas it desired herself, Arsinoe, for queen.”
“What did Caesar say?”
“Very little. Arsinoe returned to her wing of the palace, whence he has not sent for her again, although he keeps himself informed as to who visits her, and he has written down a list of all her friends’ names.
“Seeing him in your part of the palace, many people supposed he intended to dispossess you altogether. Those, to curry favor, came to him with accusations against you. They said Ptolemy is popular and you not, and that if he desires peace in Egypt all he needs to do is to support Ptolemy and prevent you from returning. He received great crowds of politicians in your throne-room. I was among them, listening.”
“Have they spoiled my apartment?” Cleopatra asked.
“No. Caesar commanded his secretary to put scribes to work at once making an inventory. There has been no looting — which, indeed, was forbidden to Caesar’s soldiers; and there could be no pilfering, with Caesar’s sentries on the watch.”
“He proposes to take your furniture to Rome with him!” Apollodorus commented. “He will probably take you also.”
Olympus went on:
“At an hour when the audience-room was thronged, there came your brother’s minister, Theodotus, in great baste, with a following of gua
rdsmen, and a basket borne by an Egyptian slave. Theodotus thought to impress Caesar by sparing no time to cleanse himself after his journey; he was dusty and he stank of camel-back. He made a long speech, using flowery rhetoric, to which Caesar listened seated, nodding now and then in recognition of the curious verbosity that many Romans love and in which Theodotus so excels when he is in the mood. Theodotus began to think himself exceedingly well received. He came to his peroration with an air of triumph. He took the basket from the slave, and suddenly he rolled out Pompey’s head upon the floor at Caesar’s feet, remarking:
“‘Lo, there, Caesar! Can a dead dog bite? And if that face is no longer recognizable, I doubt not you will know this signet ring.’
“A centurion took the ring and handed it to Caesar, who turned it over on the palm of his hand for a moment or two, averting his face from Pompey’s head. Some say he wept, but I, who was near him, did not see that. Presently he stood up. There was silence. All his calculating genius seemed concentrated on his pale face and in his eyes, that blazed such indignation and such horror as no ordinary mortals know. He shuddered. He shuddered, it seemed, with a loathing he felt for Theodotus.
“Then Caesar’s greatness — I do not say goodness — burst forth as a tempest. They who had been ready to applaud (and not a few of them were Romans of his staff) stood dumb, while as a slave — a dog — a leper he scalded Theodotus with proud ironic phrases that stripped him of respect — rank — dignity, and drove him, as it might be, naked from his presence to face bitter winds of scorn. He sent him slinking and then running, like a criminal in terror of the whip. There was no man there who did not feel the blast of horror that Caesar sent forth.
“Then he bade them cover Pompey’s head. He bade his Romans bury it with honor. He betrayed no satisfaction in the thought of Pompey’s death. But when he had seen that head most honorably wrapped in linen and enclosed in a box of gold and alabaster taken from your throne-room, he went forth all alone, commanding that not even his bodyguard should follow. And they say he went to the mausoleum of Alexander, himself robed in his purple imperator’s cloak, and that he stayed by the sarcophagus an hour in meditation.
“That same day Prince Ptolemy came from Pelusium, with Potheinos and only a small bodyguard. Achillas remains at Pelusium, it being said you went to Jericho with Herod to raise more troops for invading Egypt.
“Potheinos sent to inquire why Caesar occupies the palace. The Romans of Caesar’s staff insisted he should seize both prince and minister, but Caesar astonished everyone by sending a courteous invitation through Potheinos to Prince Ptolemy to resume the quarters in the Lochias that are his by right.
“Potheinos accepted, observant, sending a secret messenger to inform Achillas at Pelusium; meantime, also, secretly encouraging new riots in the city — spreading rumors that Caesar will levy enormous tribute. A number of Caesar’s followers were slain, including one centurion. He has withdrawn his men behind the walls, which they patrol now as if the Lochias were a Roman camp.
“Then yesterday in the presence of his freedman, the Tribune Calvinus, he interviewed your brother Ptolemy, along with Potheinos. I overheard by listening from behind the curtain in the gallery where Caesar had seen me frequently. I have spoken to him there as many as ten times. He studies my face with a kind of curious contempt, but I was able to relieve him when he suffered an attack of falling sickness on the day he landed. So he permits me to come and go unquestioned, although he appointed men to report to him my movements. However, those men happen to be members of the College of the Priest of Isis, whom I myself had introduced into the palace as attendants to watch Caesar. I am not sure that he does not know that. He has a sardonic sense of humor that makes him enjoy such situations.
“Furthermore, he is exhausted mentally and physically, and now that he feels the war is ended, and himself supreme, he is inclined to relax and to indulge himself amid the luxury of Alexandria — eating very little, drinking less, but reveling in the climate and in the palace furnishings, discussing with the prefect of the library what books are to be sent to him — and above all, I believe, searching with those cold, blue, calculating eyes for friendship. He appears to me to be a lonely man, who knows he has very few, if any, intellectual equals.”
Cleopatra interrupted:
“Ptolemy — Potheinos — what did they say to him? What did he answer?”
“They accused you. But he did not let Potheinos tell him very much. ‘I have no doubt,’ he said, ‘that you are competent and skilful, and I will look to you for various information, which I am confident you will provide with unbiased accuracy at the proper time. But I am used to intercourse with kings, whose ministers, I regret to say, too frequently instruct them to avoid such frankness as is, nevertheless, expedient when meeting me.
“So Ptolemy spoke up without restraint, and, peering through the curtains of the gallery, I saw Potheinos bite his lip. For the boy spoke as a boy of that age will, asserting immature opinion and boasting of his army at Pelusium. He called you Herod’s concubine, and he accused you of witchcraft, devil-worship, prostitution — of intrigue with Pompey — of intrigue with black kings from beyond the Cataract — of having refused to marry him in defiance of your father’s testament. He accused you, too, of leaguing with the intellectuals of Alexandria, and with the priests — or with some of the priests — to get rid of himself by poison or some other means. Then he boasted again of his army at Pelusium; he threatened Caesar with the instant use of it unless Caesar should give guarantees of friendship. On the other band, he undertook to hand over to Caesar for punishment all those supporters and agents of Pompey who have been imprisoned since Pompey’s death, It would not have been possible to make a more unwise speech, even if deliberate unwisdom were the aim.
“And Caesar smiled. Caesar even went so far as to congratulate him on his grasp of statesmanship. ‘However,’ he remarked, ‘I am an older statesman, and my greater experience indicates the wisdom of disbanding that army at Pelusium of which you speak.’ Your brother laughed at that and Potheinos forgot his manners, ceasing to be unctuous. Caesar had the excuse, that I think he sought, to speak abruptly.
“‘I am told,’ he said, ‘you sent a messenger to your General Achillas at Pelusium, instructing him to march on Alexandria. You will countermand that. You will do it now!’
“Dioscorides and Serapion were summoned to act as messengers, being acceptable to Caesar since reputed to be your supporters and therefore unlikely to be treacherous in Potheinos’ favor. Those messengers were sent forth, Caesar reading the dispatch that Potheinos wrote and Prince Ptolemy signed, commanding Achillas to remain with all his army at Pelusium, recruiting no more men but making all speed to disband such forces as he has. And then another order, whose effect was like a thunderclap, so unexpected was it and so contrary to custom. ‘As an act of clemency an my part, and of friendliness to Rome on yours,’ said Caesar, ‘I desire that you will issue a decree at once releasing all those friends and supporters of Pompey who have been imprisoned.’
“The decree was written. Caesar caused it to be put in force that day and, furthermore, he ordered all the confiscated property returned.
“He then asked Ptolemy, in a voice of kind politeness, to suggest more means of making peace in Alexandria. To which Ptolemy answered he should take steps to prevent your return to Egypt. Caesar smiled again. ‘But why?’ he answered. ‘If I am to arbitrate between you, as the representative of Rome and the executor of treaties, it is important to hear both sides.’
“Ptolemy shouted at him that you are a deserter, not entitled even to a show of justice. He threatened Caesar, and rushed from the room with tears in his eyes, shouting to his attendants that the Roman Imperator had been insolent. But Potheinos went to work at once to have Dioscorides and Serapion overtaken and either dissuaded from their errand or else slain. He also set at least a thousand spies to watch all wharves and landing-places, to report to him your coming, if you should come, so that
he might have you slain before you can reach Caesar — who well understands Potheinos’ treachery and evidently plans to give him rein, that he may entrap himself.
“And Caesar is far from idle, though he seems exhausted and appears to crave rest. He has sent to Asia for reenforcements, to march overland, by way of Syria. And he sent for all the high priests, and for Sosigenes the astronomer, and for most of those intellectuals who frequent the library, talking with them, discovering them unanimous in your praise but doubtful of your return alive to Alexandria because of Potheinos’ murderers who lie in wait for you. Potheinos is said to have promised your weight in gold to whoever shall bring your head to him.
“And Potheinos would murder Caesar if he could. But Caesar sleeps surrounded by a Gaulish guard. What little food he eats is tasted by a Roman. He is feeling his way, I believe, not certain yet that he can master Alexandria with so few men. I believe he is weary of slaughter and would like to impose himself on Egypt peacefully. And he is ready to retreat, as you can see by the way he has moored his ships. I think his plan is, if he must retreat, to do so without arousing too much enmity, so that he may come back later and resume his efforts. But I doubt he will retreat unless he must. His treasury is nearly empty and his men are unpaid. He is eager for gold, and corn, and onions, to be poured into Rome to make him popular.”
Cleopatra’s natural gaiety, that had been slumbering since her flight from Alexandria, awoke. No ordinary love of danger could have lit that smile; there was a mischief in it and a hint of drama, as she leaned out from the boat to lay her fingers on Olympus’ arm.
“How can I reach Caesar? Is Apollodorus’ name well known to him?”
“Possibly — perhaps — but Caesar is not so fond of games as many Romans are. Undoubtedly Apollodorus’ fame is known to the Roman sentries. They have talked little else than lions, horses, gladiators and the brothels, since they came here. They might expect credit from Caesar for admitting a famous charioteer into his presence.”
“At what hour does Caesar sleep?” she asked.