Song of the Nile

by Stephanie Dray

  Even Virgil didn’t know me. He knew only the masks that I wore. “Is the poem finished?”

  “No, which vexes the emperor. He’s given me a deadline and I fear that meeting it may kill me.” Now he leaned forward to whisper. “But you needn’t worry. I’ve instructed my slaves to burn the rotted thing when I perish.”

  “Burn the Aeneid?” I sputtered.

  “It isn’t very good,” Virgil said, though I thought he was wrong. “And I don’t expect to live long.”

  I frowned, examining his pallor, looking for telltale signs of fever. “Are you unwell?”

  His smile was tight. “Not with anything but a longing to be with a young man who is lost to me.”

  I should have chided him for this morbidity, but it resonated too closely with my own.

  CIRCE licked her lower lip as she gazed through the gauzy curtains of our enormous litter. “Gods be good, Hercules has returned to walk amongst the mortals. That man must be a rower to have arms like that.”

  She always noticed handsome men so I paid no attention until Lady Lasthenia also leaned out to look. “With those scars? I think he must be a gladiator! A most dangerous man.”

  Hybrida sighed. “I’d happily risk that danger to press up against him.”

  Now I too lifted myself off the cushions, straining to see. In truth, I never knew if the man my eyes fastened upon was the same one my ladies had singled out for admiration. The man that captured my attention hefted a wooden chest onto his shoulders, the glistening muscles of his back rippling with the effort. He was broad as a bull, and as he turned, I glimpsed a flash of golden hair. Our eyes met and the whole world went still.

  Helios. I wanted to call out his name, but the breath went out of me. If I hadn’t known him soul to soul, I might never have recognized him, for there were no traces left of the fair-skinned prince with whom I’d shared a childhood. Beneath that tawny mane of hair, the boyish softness in his face had burned away. He was all man now, sweating in the sun like a dock laborer and not a prince of Egypt.

  “Stop the litter!” My shout caught the bearers midstride so there was a great deal of confusion as they attempted to bring the massive carrier to a halt. I didn’t wait, but leapt out. The moment my sandals struck the ground Memnon announced, “All hail, Queen Cleopatra Selene of Mauretania!” Beggars surged forth with outstretched hands and merchants crowded round with baskets of trinkets, amphorae of wine, and carts filled with fleece; I couldn’t get past. Had there ever been a moment I wished more to be unimportant and obscure?

  My eyes searched the crowd, desperate for another glimpse of my twin, but he’d disappeared, as if he’d never been there at all. I trembled all over and my entourage stared at me as if I’d gone mad. Perhaps I had. Lady Lasthenia tried to draw me back inside the litter. “Majesty, the heat—”

  “That man. I must find that man,” I sputtered. Only after Memnon promised to make inquiries did I curse myself for a reckless fool. If Helios was here on the Isle of Samos—and how could he be?—calling attention to him put him in jeopardy. And yet, and yet . . . the need to find him was sharp and urgent. Unrelenting.

  We returned to the emperor’s villa and I paced my rooms, waiting . It can’t have been more than a few hours before Memnon returned, but it seemed as if I aged years in that time. “Majesty, there is no man on the island that meets the description you gave,” he said, concern etched onto his scarred face. “Your ladies say he had dark hair, but you say he was golden. The only fair-haired man the merchants can think of is a mercenary man, a ship’s captain.”

  “What ship?” I whispered, knowing that I sounded half deranged. “Where is the ship? Where is it now?”

  “Anchored offshore . . . Is this man some kind of danger to you?”

  “No,” I said, my throat closing, and because I was too shaken to concoct a better lie, I said, “I thought he may have been from Mauretania, come with news.”

  Memnon didn’t question me further; he had a tendency to accept everything I said without reservation, a quality in a guard both valuable and alarming. I dismissed him and the rest of my servants too. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

  Helios. The presence of him like a whisper, luring me to stumble across him, as if I might open the patio doors to the terrace and find him sitting there. On my secluded beach, I held my hand over my brow, squinting against the sun as I considered each of the boats at anchor, wondering which one might be his and whether or not he was staring back. Caught in some kind of madness now, walking back and forth in the surf, letting it wet the hem of my gown, my mind raced through possibilities. Had he come to find me? Ought I be seen in public where he might approach me? I’d decided upon that course, climbed the stairs up from the beach, when I heard a song, a prayer.

  I call you to me.

  I call you by the breath of your body.

  I call you by the truth of your soul.

  I call you by the spark of your mind.

  I call you by the light of your spirit.

  There. One ship anchored not far offshore, ghostly on the horizon, bobbing in the sea as if it was waiting for me . . . as if he waited for me. I needed to go to that ship, but how? I could call the winds to my hands, but I couldn’t fly across the water. I could ask my own ship’s captain to take me out to sea, but this would be noticed and remarked upon—witnessed by a crew loyal to me, but insensible to the danger of this thing I would ask them to do.

  I stared until the sun set and the moon was full and low in the sky, its silver light illuminating the mast of that ship. My hands clenched and unclenched as I felt the pull of heka drawing me to the ocean. As the waves lapped at my feet, I was at last seized with an inspiration that overcame all reason. I’d swim to the ship. Yes, why not? It was the only way I might go anywhere without an armed and gossiping retinue of attendants. Casting my shoes aside and hoisting my gown up, I walked into the water. The sea foam hissed around my waist before I plunged all the way in. I worked my arms, my legs, going with the current. It seemed easy, effortless. Euphoric, even.

  I kept swimming until the first telltale signs of fatigue made themselves known in my arms. What if I tired? No, there was no room for exhaustion now. Not after all these years of separation. I don’t know how long I swam. My arms and legs churned in the water until I felt myself being tugged by some treacherous current. Salt water flooded my mouth and I spit it out again, realizing that my arms and legs burned. This had been an impetuous thing I’d done. A desperate thing. A thing lacking in all sanity. But then, how many times since coming to the Isle of Samos had I been tempted to throw myself beneath the waves? Speckles danced before my eyes and, exhausted, I let myself drift in the bright moonlight, rising upon each wave, sinking back down again. Had it been this way for Philadelphus, I wondered? What if I were caught in a current and dragged out to sea? Would I even care?

  Her mother chose an asp, they would say. But Selene chose the sea.

  I slipped beneath the surface of the black water once, twice, three times, closing my eyes. Then I thought of my daughter. I’ll never leave you, I’d promised her. But hadn’t Helios and I made promises to one another too? I broke the surface for a gasp of air, unsure if I drew breath in this life or the next.

  What would happen to Isidora if I died? The emperor would take her, I thought, and I gulped down another mouthful of precious air. It was the thought of her in his clutches that made me fill my lungs. I cried out for help, though I doubted anyone could hear me over the sounds of the ocean, and the ship still seemed very far away. I’d have to turn back and swim to shore. It was my only choice. Drawing upon my heka for a surge of strength, I fought the current. I’d drifted too far away to even make out the contours of my beach. The taste of salt water flooded my senses as I swam, buffeted by the waves. I heard men shout—sailors perhaps—and again cried out for help but dared not hope. My legs cramped painfully, toes curling in protest, and again, I sank beneath the water, squeezing my eyes shut tight. It was as if
I swam through honey; my limbs were dead weight.

  As I sank, something struck the side of my head, hard. The shooting pain warred for my attention with the ringing in my ears. It hit me again, and this time I clung to it. A stick? A tree branch? Something wooden. An oar. Moments later, I came up choking, gasping, spitting out seawater. A hand reached for mine, an iron grip on my forearm that battled the pull of the ocean itself.

  I knew this hand at once and I had no fear, for the hand that held me now was the same one that had steadied me as a chained prisoner. The same hand that had reached through a small hole in the wall when I was a lonely child in Rome. He hoisted me onto the edge of the rowboat, where stunned sailors cried out as if they’d captured a mermaid. With my hair in wet tendrils, seaweed wrapped round one ankle, and my sodden white gown clinging to me, I may have looked like an exotic creature from the deep, but it was all I could do to keep from retching into the bottom of the boat like a pitiful mortal.

  Strong hands clutched me and I found myself staring into that beloved face. So much the same, and yet so much changed. I flung my arms around his neck with a sob of gladness. “Helios!”

  “Is it you, Selene?” Helios shook me. Literally, shook me. “Are you mad? You must be mad!”

  “Yes,” I whispered, shivering with cold and horror at my nearsuicidal folly. “But you saved me.”

  No one else could have. Not with magic or moonlight. Only Helios could have found me in the water, sensing me as one senses a breath in the dark. I clutched at him while men rowed the little craft back to the ship, oars dipping into the water, flashes of pale wood in the moonlight. And a strange sensation rushed through me, something I could only think was exhilaration.

  The watchman on the ship cried out and there was some commotion on deck before a ladder was lowered down for us. Once aboard, Helios said, “Take her to my berth. Get her something dry, some blankets . . .”

  A salty-looking sailor snapped to attention. “Aye, Captain.”

  Captain. So he was the skipper of this vessel.

  “Go with him, Selene,” Helios said, in a coaxing tone, prying himself away. “I’ll join you shortly.”

  My gown felt as if it had been woven from snow, so I allowed myself to be led inside his berth. Once inside, I didn’t wait for the sailor to return with a blanket but snatched one off the bed. I wrapped it around myself, then groaned at the familiar scent. It struck me at my core, the overwhelming recognition driving me to my knees. This was his blanket. This was his bed. Cautiously, I opened a bronze-studded wooden chest. It was filled with mismatched armor. A desert cloak. And there, his vulture amulet, wrapped carefully and stashed beneath the rest of his things. All these years, I’d tried to picture where he might sleep, what things he might have kept near him, but I’d never imagined this. It was agony to see how simply he lived while I spent my days in lavish palaces and ostentatious villas.

  At last, Helios parted the curtains. Alone in the flickering lamplight, we stared. We’d been not quite fifteen years old the last time we were alone together. How must I look to him now at more than twenty? I noticed a scar on his chin that hadn’t been there before and another one on his forearm, the pale traces of what must have been a terrible gash. I wondered what flaws he saw in me that made him ask, “What happened to you?”

  How I wished to reach up and straighten my bedraggled hair, but my fingers were clamped too tightly around the blanket for warmth. “I thought I could swim to your ship—”

  “You’re mad!” he said again, drawing me to my feet. “To attempt such a thing . . .”

  “Well, if you hadn’t disappeared on the docks, I wouldn’t have had to attempt it.”

  He winced. “I thought perhaps you hadn’t recognized me—”

  “Then you’re the one who is mad, Helios. I’d know you anywhere. Anywhere!”

  His throat worked and his voice was hoarse. “Sweet Isis, Selene. Can you be real?”

  “I should ask the same of you,” I whispered, hugging myself. “I thought I’d never see you again in this life.”

  His head jerked up, wild grief in his eyes. “Philadelphus. Was it fever? They say it was fever, but I won’t believe it unless you say so.”

  “Malaria,” I said, though I’d never be certain. “I was with him.” Helios squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t open them again until I let out a sob. “How can you be here on the Isle of Samos, Helios? How can you risk it?”

  Removing his cloak, he wrapped it around me. “There’s no risk for me, Selene.” My knees threatened to buckle again at the sensation of his body’s warmth so close to mine. “Remember that I’ve been dead for five years now. No one knows me here.”

  “Augustus winters on this island! What if Maecenas had seen you?”

  “I’m much changed,” Helios said. “He wouldn’t know me.”

  “You cannot be sure of that. Virgil is here too. When the emperor returns from Parthia, he’ll have Iullus and Tiberius with him. They all know you. And I know you. I know you.”

  He hushed me, drawing me close. The heart in my chest leapt free of my iron control and my pulse thundered in my ears. He took my face in his hands and all my practiced defenses fell away, leaving me raw. I turned my head and he cupped my cheek in his large, warm palm. Oh, familiar ache. In the more than five years we’d been separated, it was like learning to know myself all over again. “Where are your guards, Selene? Who knows that you’re here?”

  “No one.”

  “What if someone looks for you and finds that you’re not in your rooms?”

  “They’ll find my shoes in the sand and assume I’ve drowned.” And I would be free. It was a siren’s song, but I must resist. “We haven’t much time. It will be light soon. I have to get back. But tonight, I’ll build a fire on the beach outside the emperor’s villa when it’s safe. Come to me and I’ll explain everything.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” he said.

  That he should be the one to say such a thing to me! “You must come, Helios. If you disappear into the night again, I really will go mad. You must come. You must come.” Hysteria seized me. “Swear it. Swear that you’ll come to me tonight or else I’ll never be able to leave you again.”

  “I swear it by Isis,” he said, and I believed him.

  Thirty-five

  THE first rays of dawn broke over the sea just as the rowboat was within swimming distance to shore. I held tearfully to Helios’s neck, made him promise again that he would return that night, then lowered myself back into the water. If questioned upon my return, I’d say that I’d gone swimming, got caught in the current, and was unable to get back to shore until now. I concocted the harrowing tale, ready for a dramatic performance, but by the time my bare feet touched bottom in the shallows, I saw no one combing the beach for me. The light was faintly golden now, and my sandals were still in the sand where I’d left them. I gathered them up, then, dripping water on the stairs, made my way up to the terrace and slipped into my rooms.

  Tonight Helios will come to me.

  I laughed with the elation of it all. I’d done it, and none were the wiser! I should have been exhausted. Unable to keep my eyes open. Yet the certainty that Helios would come left me as alert as a sentinel. I was careful to observe my daily routine, dressing for the day, playing with Isidora, reading correspondence, receiving visitors, and taking my meals in the main dining room. I did nothing to call attention to myself. I’d always been of the opinion that Maecenas could smell secrets in the wind, which was one of the reasons Augustus kept him close. Fortunately, the emperor’s political adviser didn’t come calling. Moreover, Virgil and Crinagoras were too delighted to fall back into one another’s company to worry themselves over me.

  “I want a ship,” Isidora announced at dinner, giving me a look that stopped my heart.

  “You shall have one, Princess,” Lady Lasthenia announced, hastily creating one from folded papyrus, pressing angles into angles. Fortunately, this bit of mundane magic made Isidora drow
sy and good-humored by bedtime.

  Tonight Helios will come to me. With my hair oiled and gleaming and my skin freshly softened with aloe, I donned my best cloak, the one dyed in Gaetulian purple. Then I waited until dark, until the sounds of life within the villa quieted and most of the island was asleep. Taking a torch, I slipped from my bedroom down to the beach, a canopy of stars overhead. In my queen’s finery, I collected driftwood and pulled it into a pile, using my torch to set it alight. Then I waited.

  Straining to hear the sound of the oars over the crackling fire, I stood in a pool of moonlight. I wanted Helios to see me illuminated by silver light. I didn’t want to appear to him as a shaking, traumatized girl but the goddess he’d known. How long must I wait? Five years might as well have been a lifetime, but these few hours had been agony and a tiny thread of worry tugged inside me. What if he didn’t come? More time passed and the fire burned low. Worry became a deadening weight. How many other women had waited, abandoned at the edge of the sea? He’d promised. He’d promised me. He’d vowed it by Isis!

  Perhaps he couldn’t see the fire from his ship. I’d add more driftwood. Yes. And if I couldn’t find any, I’d throw my cloak into the fire, though it could buy a fleet of ships. Just as I reached for the clasp, I heard a faint splash. Maybe a fish jumping. Maybe a small boat. It was too dark to see. My breath caught, my muscles rigid as I leaned toward the water. The faint glow of a torch swayed. Then I saw a big man at the oars, alone, and it was everything I could do not to rush into the waves. I forced myself to stay by the dying embers of my fire, smoothing my gown while he pulled his small craft ashore and secreted it in the brush. At last, he emerged like a tall dark shadow, coming to a halt some feet away.

  I nearly sobbed. “I feared you wouldn’t come.”

  “Selene, I’m bound to you in life and death, for always. Don’t you know it?” He took a few steps closer and a look of awe passed over his features. “You’ve become a queen in truth.”