Now I was more than astonished. “You’d acknowledge Isis?”
“That depends upon you,” he said and motioned with his fingers for me to come closer. “I’ve taught you patience as a virtue, have I not?”
Patience. Caution. Incrementalism. How many times Augustus had been at the brink of failure, clawing his way out of one perilous situation after another, always stronger, his eyes implacably upon his prize. He plotted, he planned, but he never wavered. I was becoming very much like him. “Yes, Caesar. I’ve learned from you.”
“Then you’ll understand when I say that I cannot yet make you the Queen of Egypt.”
Oh, bitter words! “Why not? How many petty princes have you restored to their little kingdoms? Archelaus, Iamblichus . . .” I went on to list them all. “Why can’t you do the same for me?”
“Because Egypt isn’t a little kingdom and you aren’t a petty prince. Egypt is still the wealthiest, most productive nation in the world. I cannot even allow senators to visit without my permission. It’s that vital. Until Mauretania and Africa Nova produce enough grain, he who controls Egypt can starve the world.”
“But she who controls Egypt can feed the world. I’ve already shown you that Mauretania can produce grain. Combined with the wheat from Africa Nova, you’ll have enough. What you pretend to wait for has already come to pass. When you were ill, you said that you couldn’t support my claim to Egypt in death. Now you’re very much alive and I’m offering you the son and heir that you need. I’m offering—”
“For your sake, I’m faced with the rebellion of Agrippa!” he shouted. “I cannot now offer him another weapon to wield against me. If I make you Queen of Egypt, he’ll break with me. As it stands, he has my daughter hostage against your interests.” I bit my lower lip. Julia. I loved her as much as I resented that she too was now in my way. “Selene, everyone thinks my military victories are not mine. They give all the credit to Agrippa. It makes me look like a man of straw. It invites him to defy me.”
“So what are you saying? That Agrippa must be destroyed before I can have Egypt?”
“I’m saying that I must win my own war. I must return victorious from Parthia, and when I do I’ll then be in a position to give you what you want.” This was why he’d waited to take me to his bed. Also, why he’d dealt so fairly with the delegation from Meroë. He merely wanted to be rid of distractions so that he could effectively pursue his war. “Selene, if I’m successful against the Parths, I’ll have the power to give you Egypt. I’ll have the power to do anything.”
How many times had my mother heard these words and hung her hopes on them? Caesar had said this to her. My father had said it too. But Caesar had been assassinated for his ambition, and my father had gone down in defeat. As far as I was concerned, Parthia was the battlefield upon which all hopes and dreams were slain. “Must there be war? Romans want a Golden Age too. Maybe you can give it to them.” How bitter it was to stoke a desire in him to accomplish what Helios and I had been prophesied to bring about. “After your Triumph, you closed the doors of the Temple of Janus, a sign that Rome was no longer at war. What a legacy you could leave if you became the man who keeps those doors closed!”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Ever since the Battle of Carrhae when Marcus Crassus lost Roman battle standards to the Parthians, we’ve tried to avenge the loss. Your father tried too, and he failed, losing his own eagles. I need to win those standards back. Are you so naive as to believe the Parths will allow me to wipe this stain from Roman honor without a fight?”
“Why not? Surely there’s something the Parths want that you can offer in exchange for Roman eagles.”
Like me, Augustus was a born schemer, and the machinations of some plot turned behind his eyes. Whatever it was, he didn’t share it with me. In the end, he only said, “I must lay the groundwork for war. I’m leaving the island for a time. When I return, I expect you to be here. No sailing off into the night as you did before.”
So this was to be another test. “Where are you going?”
“I have matters to settle in Bithynia, Syria, Commagene, and so on.”
He had people to punish, cities to tax, and territorial boundaries to redraw. That was why we’d all been summoned here, wasn’t it? “And you want me to wait for you?”
“I will want a good deal more from you than that.”
Thirty-two
ISLE OF SAMOS, GREECE
SPRING 2 0 B. C .
THE delegation from Meroë sailed away without giving me an opportunity to say farewell, as if they knew the terms they’d reached with the Romans were altogether too favorable. There was no reason to risk Augustus changing his mind. Or perhaps the emperor had told them to go. He didn’t like to leave things to chance.
Overlooking the courtyard where Augustus readied for his expedition, there was a balcony. It wasn’t nearly as pleasant a perch as the terrace at the back of my rooms overlooking my private beach, but from this vantage point my ladies and I watched the Romans rush back and forth readying for Augustus’s journey. We sat there painfully idle, a lute player making music for us.
“You won’t travel with Augustus?” Circe asked, a well-plucked eyebrow raised.
“I’ve no desire to be in the company of Livia.”
“I think you’re relieved to see him go,” Circe said quietly. I turned my head to the side, as if I hadn’t heard her, but she only drew closer. “Majesty, you think that he’ll never notice your contempt, that you can lie to him, and you can. But you’ll never reconcile yourself to this if it is only a lie.”
“What do you know of it?” I whispered.
“I know it’s a mistake to feign desire. You must feel it. If it is a fat man, you must glory in the size of him. If it is a cold man, you must admire the way his ruthlessness has made him rich. If it is a man you hate,” she said, meeting my eyes, “you must find something in him to love.”
“I am no hetaera. Remember that I’m the queen and you are my daughter’s grammarian.”
How unworthy of me to reprimand her for advising me when it was precisely the reason I kept her near, but the ease with which she’d deduced my true feelings for the emperor left me unsteady. Unnerved. What expression had betrayed me? What words had slipped? Were she an intimate like Chryssa or Tala or even Crinagoras, I might have expected her to read my heart, but if I couldn’t fool Circe, how was I to deceive Augustus?
On the day of the emperor’s own departure, Isidora and I went to the docks to see him off and before he climbed the gangplank to join Livia and his courtiers aboard the ship, he asked for a private moment. He smiled down at Isidora and murmured, “Queen Selene, I bid you and your daughter a fond farewell.”
My voice was soft, a bare whisper. “I beg you to reconsider, Caesar. It will cause gossip if I’m penned up here like a harem girl.”
Crinagoras and Lady Lasthenia were already prone to exchanging knowing looks with my Alexandrian courtiers. They remembered my mother, and no matter how properly I might behave before the royalty of the world, those closest to me had noticed the emperor’s fascination. But Augustus was unconcerned. “You aren’t penned up. The entire island is at your command and I leave you the highest-ranking official here.”
“What am I to do here but wait for you?”
“Do as you wish, Selene! It’s springtime and you’re in the heart of the Hellenistic world. Visit Ephesus if it amuses you.”
Ephesus was one of the largest cities in the world and I should have liked to see it, except that it was also where my mother’s sister, Princess Arsinoe, had conspired against the throne of Egypt and been killed at my father’s command. Given that history, I wasn’t sure of my reception. Still, it would be something new to see. Some distraction to keep me from missing Mauretania . . . No, I told myself. I could not go to Ephesus, Athens, or anywhere else. Wherever Augustus went, the business of governance followed, but I didn’t have a squadron of ships to carry my messages. Few enough missives arrived fr
om my kingdom as it was and it pained me to think I might miss one. Moreover, it vexed me that I should be marooned here as an object lesson. He wanted to prove to me that I was just like that damnable chair, a piece of property he could leave where it was and return to find it in the same spot. And I had no choice but to let him believe he was right.
WITH Augustus gone, the client kings slowly began to abandon the island. Some of them had been restored to their thrones or seen their territories expanded. Others left empty-handed. Only my status remained in question, so I was grateful for those who supported my claims to Egypt and was obliged to see them off. I’d grown especially fond of Iamblichus, the King of Emesa, and the Cappadocians, King Archelaus and his daughter, Princess Glaphyra. My other friends included the Bosporans, King Asander and his queen, Dynamis, who, with a sly grin, kissed me on both cheeks before setting sail.
I was glad that at least Lady Hybrida and my niece Pythodorida remained on Samos with us because I’d come to enjoy my older half sister’s garishness and boisterous good humor. On our way back from the docks, we joined her in an oversized covered palanquin, framed in gilded wood and encrusted with jewels. “You’ve started a disastrously expensive trend with your purple sails, little sister. Your freedwoman must have taken a hundred orders for Gaetulian purple.”
Chryssa shrugged at Hybrida’s words. “For all the good it will do us without the Berber chieftain to oversee the dye works.”
She didn’t have to say Maysar’s name for me to know that her mind was on the love she’d left behind. As our litter was swarmed with merchants hawking their wares, my guards keeping them at bay with their ceremonial shields, I wondered what I was doing here on this island, filling my days with useless entertainments. Don’t go, Juba had said, but I couldn’t have stayed for his sake alone. For my crown, for Mauretania, for the people, for my retainers, perhaps I could have made a different choice. Perhaps if I had been heavy with Juba’s child, Augustus may have broken free of his obsession . . . and perhaps I could have broken free of my own. For all that I loved my mother’s kingdom, I hadn’t set foot on Egyptian soil since her death. If my life was my own, perhaps I could have forgotten Egypt and let it pass through my fingers like the silken sands of the desert. But my life was not my own. My family had died for Egypt; I must live for them.
Chryssa had no such obligation. She’d spent most of her life in bondage to others and now I’d see to it that she was truly free. I put my hand on hers. “You’ve done everything here you set out to do. Go back to him.”
Chryssa shook her head. “The emperor looked at me only once, during a meal, as if he couldn’t place me.”
“Be glad of it! Go back to Maysar and find happiness.”
If I’d ever thought that the beatings she’d suffered as a slave had broken her, now I realized that they’d only served to infuse Chryssa with a stubborn streak of iron. She shook her head so sharply that the garnet beads of her dangling earrings rattled. “No. Maysar could have accompanied us on this trip. He was too proud. Either I was to stay behind as his wife or he would resign from your council. Am I to reward him by running back to his arms?”
“Don’t go back for him, then. Go back for me. I need someone in Iol-Caesaria to write regular letters to me. Euphronius grows older, his handwriting ever more cramped. Be my eyes in Mauretania. I need you to go. As your queen, I command you to go.”
W E found passage for her on a merchant ship, and Chryssa came to the back of the house on the little beach to say farewell. We embraced as if we might never see one another again. When we drew apart, Isidora hugged her about the knees, and Chryssa told my daughter, “You be good for Tala, even if she is our dear uncivilized barbarian.”
The big Berber woman bit her lip, blinking rapidly.
“Tala, are you crying?” Chryssa asked.
“It is only the sun in my eyes, Cleopatra Antonianus,” Tala said, fanning away the evidence of her bald-faced lie with one hand. “If you lower that fine Greek nose of yours long enough to reunite with my brother, tell him I wish you both well.”
THE months passed slowly after the emperor’s departure. To pass the time, I visited the Temple of Hera. I also purchased expensive Samian wines and red Ionian pottery. To win friends, I funded theater performances of a number of beloved plays, most of which were spoiled for me by Lady Hybrida’s loud running commentary. Excepting her, the island seemed quiet—almost deserted—and it wasn’t until autumn that a small detachment of Romans made landfall.
As Augustus had said, the Isle of Samos was at my command, so I received the unexpected visitors in the courtyard. Decked out in parade uniform, complete with shiny helmet, my half brother Iullus stepped forward to greet me and we exchanged formal pleasantries. All the while, I kept hoping his wife would appear behind him. The companionship of my stepsister would have been a welcome change, so when we were finally alone in the courtyard, I asked, “Is Marcella with you?”
Iullus removed his helmet and shook his head. “Selene, you look very well.”
“You don’t,” I replied, noting the dark circles under his eyes. “Are you ill?”
“I’m sickened. When you write to Julia, tell her so. She refuses all missives from me.”
I winced at the stab of guilt his words dealt me. I hadn’t received a letter from Julia since she’d been wed to Agrippa and I hadn’t sent one for fear that her new husband might punish her for it. Now I wondered if it might have been better to risk Agrippa’s wrath. “How does she fare?”
“How do you think she fares? She’s hurt and humiliated and angry. Especially at me.” Sitting down, he leaned back and squeezed his eyes shut. “I couldn’t refuse to marry your stepsister. Marcella is the emperor’s niece. I could no more refuse than Julia could refuse.”
“I’m sure Julia knows that—”
“But you! ” His eyes opened again. “For all the influence you have over the emperor, you couldn’t dissuade him from marrying Julia to Agrippa? I’m sure you’ll tell me that you tried, but you didn’t try hard enough. Agrippa wasted no time in putting his filthy hands on Julia. She’s with child, you know.”
My blood went to water. I didn’t know what appalled me more—that Julia should be forced to carry Agrippa’s child or that my dearest friend might soon become my greatest rival. If she did manage to have a son, would the emperor still have a need for me? I’d been wary of Livia, but after all the lies I’d told and the predations I’d endured, would it be Julia who finally broke my spell over her father? Stunned, all I could manage to utter was, “Julia? Pregnant? By Agrippa?”
Iullus caught me with a sideways glance. “Congratulate me. I’m to be a father soon.”
Examining each word, I dared not ask the questions they raised. Was Julia pregnant with his child, or did he mean that Marcella was pregnant too? “You have my felicitations.”
He nodded, eyes still locked on mine. “Our sisters speak of you often, Selene. They’ve even expressed a desire to visit.”
“I hope they do visit!” I said, my spirits brightening. “Did you know that we have another sister? Antonia, the wife of the Greek magnate. She calls herself Hybrida, after her mother.”
He showed no sign of surprise. “I’m told she’s a vulgar woman. She shouldn’t be here. For that matter, neither should you be. Augustus left for Syria at the opening of the sea, but the sea is nearly closed now. It’s been months since he left. What are you still doing here?”
“Augustus asked me to wait for him.” I almost winced at the reminder. I’d left Mauretania knowing that I might never return, but now I felt something akin to homesickness. I missed the loamy scent of the fields and the songs the Berber women sang round the fires. I even missed the taste of the wind. The sirocco. I would much rather have waited for the emperor there than here. In Iol-Caesaria, it would be time to start planning the winter banquets and the palace would be a bustle of activity while servants scurried to adorn the doorways with candles and garlands. “Will you stay through wint
er? Until the Saturnalia?”
My Roman half brother’s lips tightened in grim military style. “No. I’m to join up with Tiberius outside Armenia. The Armenians no longer wish to be ruled by King Artaxias, so we’re going to replace him with Tigranes.”
“They no longer wish . . .” It was a strange idea that the people should choose their rulers but not entirely foreign. Riots in the streets of Alexandria had settled matters of succession in Egypt more than once. But that was Egyptians fighting Egyptians. This was Rome interfering. “I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that King Artaxias executed every single Roman citizen he could find within his borders.”
“That was a long time ago,” Iullus said.
“Not so long ago. It happened when our father was alive. Your father and mine. Artaxias executed the Romans to settle a score with Mark Antony. Rome doesn’t forget and neither do I. Neither should you.”
He rolled his shoulders, his eyes on the floor. Iullus never liked to be reminded of his patrimony and let out a mirthless chuckle. “If I do battle in Armenia it will be for Augustus and for Rome, not to avenge Antony. Your twin brother was his defender, not me . . . Why do you still concern yourself with politics? You’re a mother now.”
As far as the world knew, Iullus was my only living brother. How was it that he still knew me so little? “Yes, I am a mother and that is precisely why I am so concerned.”
IULLUS didn’t stay long. He and his cadre of young Roman officers shipped off to join Tiberius and the legions. As soon as they left I was again mistress of the dull island and its servile inhabitants. My Mauretanian subjects were respectful but seldom afraid to approach me. By contrast, Easterners were flatterers who abased themselves before the powerful with fluttering fingers and quaking knees. They embroidered their words with long, colorful phrases, not only for the sake of form. They were in terror of me, clearing wide swaths through the streets whenever I traveled. Some of them even bowed to my cat, knowing how highly we regarded creatures like Bast in Egypt.
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