Cleopatra's Moon

by Vicky Alvear Shecter

  “I will go slowly, I promise,” he murmured. When I still did not respond, he whispered, “Imagine, Selene, if we had a child. A son of my blood mixed with the blood of a descendant of Alexander the Great!”

  He wanted a son from me. And I wanted Egypt in return. A business relationship. I wondered what alliance Juba would be making in his homeland. What beautiful Numidian woman would he marry now to secure his throne and establish an heir? I sighed. Now was not the time to be thinking of Juba.

  Marcellus misunderstood my sigh. He kissed me with more urgency, reaching under my tunic and running his hands up my body and down my hips. Despite my distraction, his warm hands felt good, and I moved like Tanafriti did when I petted her and she purred.

  Marcellus sat up and shrugged his tunic over his head, then lay back down with me. I ran my hands over his warm skin. With the heavy drape drawn, it was impossible to see him well, but I could feel the contours of the muscles in his arms and chest as he pulled me to him.

  Sebi hopped off in a huff. Marcellus froze. “What was that?”

  “One of the cats,” I said.

  “One? How many are there in here?”

  “Well, Tanafr —”

  But in that moment, Marcellus jumped and nearly roared out a curse as he grabbed his shoulder. He scrambled off the sleeping couch in a fury. “Your cat … your vae cat just attacked me!”

  “Marcellus, please! You’ll wake the whole wing!”

  “Look at this!” he cried. “There’s blood on my shoulder! Where is that cat? I will kill it!”

  “Marcellus, you cannot threaten the goddess Bastet’s sacred animal!”

  “Well, it attacked me!”

  That stopped me. What did it mean? Why had she done so?

  Someone whipped open my drapes, carrying a small lamp. “What in Hades is going on in … Oh, gods be merciful!” It was Zosima, her face like a theater mask of horror.

  “Bring the lamp here!” Marcellus ordered, wanting to inspect the bloody bite. But my nurse could only stare at him, as naked and beautiful as a young god in the flickering light.

  “Bring it here now!” he ordered again in a hoarse whisper. Zosima walked toward him while looking at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. I pulled my tunic down over my hips and looked at Tanafriti in the corner, her chin high, her tail twitching as it usually did after a successful hunt.

  Marcellus picked up his discarded tunic and blotted the bite. “Does a cat’s bite have venom?” he asked. “Like a snake’s?”

  “No,” I assured him, getting up. “She must have thought you were hurting me, for I’ve never seen her attack anybody before.”

  Zosima’s mouth dropped open even farther. In Egyptian, she muttered, “Are … are you mad? With him? You will get us all killed!”

  “What’s all the commotion?” a new voice asked outside my cubiculum.

  And I groaned, realizing that yes, there was yet one more way to make the evening worse. The voice belonged to Julia.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Julia poked her head inside the drape to my cubiculum. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of Marcellus. She looked at me and put her hand to her grinning mouth. “Gods! I cannot believe it!”

  “Shut the drape,” Marcellus ordered. “We do not need the entire household overhearing us.”

  “What’s all the commotion?” she asked again, stepping in as he ordered.

  “Her cat attacked me!” He turned to me. “Are you sure I don’t need to see a medicus about this?”

  “I’m sure,” I answered, wondering if he fussed like this on the battlefield. I took the tunic out of his hands. “Can you please put this on?”

  He realized my nurse and Julia were staring at him, and he flushed, smiling. He threw the tunic over his head.

  The four of us looked at one another awkwardly.

  “Everything is fine,” I said to Zosima. “Return to your room.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, and I knew I was in for a long lecture later.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  She put the little terra-cotta oil lamp down on the chest near my bed with an exaggerated bow. Then she left. I could hear her muttering angrily down the hall.

  Julia stood with her weight on one hip and her arms crossed, a smirk on her face.

  “I guess we all have our secrets now, don’t we?” I said to her.

  “What’s your secret?” Marcellus asked Julia.

  She gave me a warning look.

  “I can keep yours if you keep mine,” I said to her.

  “Cleopatra Selene, soon we won’t have to sneak around. You’ll see,” Marcellus said.

  Julia’s mouth dropped open. “Marcellus, did you get hit in the head in Spain? Your mother will never accept this!”

  “Mother has no say in this.”

  “But Tata does, and he hates her even more than Octavia does!” She turned to me. “Sorry.”

  Octavia hated me? Yes, she had always been warmer to my brothers, but hate took it too far.

  Marcellus turned his head to look at his shoulder again, frowning as he inspected the bite mark under his tunic. “I think I will have the medicus look at it anyway,” he mumbled. He kissed me distractedly on the mouth, moved the drape out of his way, and left.

  I felt such a sense of unreality, I almost laughed. Had all this really happened? Did I really have a naked Marcellus in here, interrupted from making love by my cat? I shook my head. And then to end up in the dead of night with Julia, of all people, in my cubiculum!

  “Does your brother know about you two?” Julia asked.

  I shrugged, remembering his disapproval of my attempts to ally with Marcellus.

  “You know, as I think about it, this could be a very good thing for us,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s very tidy and neat, don’t you think? Perhaps they’ll see this was the work of the gods, that we were meant to pair off this way.”

  It was my turn to stare. “Julia, your father will never …”

  “Stop! Don’t say that!” she said, stamping her foot. “Over time, he will come to accept it. He will let us be happy. He has never denied me anything. When he sees how much I love Alexandros, he will relent. I am sure of it!”

  Livia’s lady came for me soon after sunrise, just as Zosima had begun admonishing me. “Domina wants to see you in her tablinum now,” she said.

  “I’ll come as soon as we are finished —”

  “Now!” She cut me off.

  I met up with Alexandros on the way to Livia’s house. “She called you too?”

  He nodded. “I hear you had an interesting night last night.”

  “Gods, so much for Julia showing any kind of restraint!” He smirked. “She thinks it is wonderful — she thinks it will bolster our chances for being together.”

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I do not care. The gods will do with us what they will anyway. Nothing matters anymore.”

  “Brother, I hate it when you talk that way! Besides, I think she really loves you,” I added, lowering my voice. “That could be useful. Do you love her?”

  He looked at me dubiously. “Love? I already told you. I’ll never love anyone but Iotape.”

  “But you were just children when you were betrothed!” I blurted out. Had he gone mad? For how could he seriously think he would ever have seen her again?

  And then it occurred to me that perhaps the fantasy had kept him from going mad.

  Alexandros turned to me, his brows furrowed, his eyes furious. “I would have given up Egypt — I would have given up everything for her. But the gods took her and Egypt from me. I made countless sacrifices to them, begging them to return her to me, begging them …” He stopped, his voice thick. “But the gods have forsaken me,” he said in a low voice.

  There was nothing I could say.

  When we entered Livia’s tablinum, I was surprised to see Marcellus and Julia already there. Julia had her chin set in the
air as if she and Livia had already exchanged words. Livia had an inscrutable expression on her face. I looked at Marcellus, but he would not look at me. A silent tension hung in the room, which immediately set me on my guard. I breathed out, however, when I saw Octavia in the corner. She was our last remaining buffer between Alexandros and me and her brother and his wife.

  “Ah, good,” Livia said. “We have been waiting. You may know that Caesar has been quite ill in Spain….”

  Alexandros and I smirked at each other. I hadn’t known, but I found it funny that Octavianus always managed to fall ill when battle loomed, leaving his men to do the fighting but taking credit for their victories. My tata always fought alongside his men like a true hero.

  “My husband’s latest sickness has convinced him to tie up loose ends,” Livia continued. “He has sent Agrippa with special instructions. In order to secure the line of succession, my husband has decreed that a wedding be held today.”

  Marcellus’s head shot up in surprise, then he looked at me, hopeful. Had Octavianus understood what Marcellus was trying to tell him? Could all my dreams and plans for Egypt finally be coming true?

  “Marcellus, before the end of this day, you will marry Julia.”

  Julia?

  “What? No!” Julia cried. “I do not want to marry Marcellus! Is this some sort of joke?”

  “No, it is not a joke, Julia,” Livia said calmly. “Agrippa will preside at the ceremony in your father’s absence.”

  Marcellus blanched. My stomach twisted. Octavia seemed pleased. Julia burst into sobs. “But I love Alexandros! Why can’t I marry Alexandros?” she wailed.

  My twin looked at the floor. Did he not realize how much she loved him?

  Livia smiled sadly. “I am sorry, stepdaughter. Love has little to do with it. You will do as instructed; the ceremony will be concluded before sundown.”

  Marcellus gaped at Livia. “But … but surely Caesar will give us time to adjust to the idea….”

  “No. This ceremony must happen right away for the safety of Rome. The line of succession must be clear.”

  “I won’t do it!” Julia shouted. “We are first cousins! Roman piety forbids it, doesn’t it? And I am not even fifteen! I thought that wasn’t allowed — that Tata changed the laws! So how could he command this?”

  “I am afraid you have no say in the matter,” Livia continued. “Or Caesar will disinherit you.” She looked at Marcellus. “Disinherit both of you. We must act on this immediately, for if my husband found out about your attachment to Antonius’s son, Julia … Well, there is no telling what he would do.”

  Livia turned to look at me, her face as impassive as a queen’s. I held her gaze. She shifted to Marcellus, and he looked away. I felt a flash of anger at him. Do not let her intimidate you. Fight!

  “Caesar had a suspicion, based on conversations with his ‘chosen heir,’ that there might be something between you two as well,” Livia added. I heard Octavia draw in her breath with a hiss. “He is pretending, though, that this serious lack of judgment on your part, Marcellus, was just an anomaly. In his weakened state, he must have faith that he has made the right choice.”

  Marcellus nodded. He had yet to meet my eyes.

  “What will happen to us?” Alexandros asked.

  “You leave for Africa right away.” Livia paused. “Selene, you are to marry the king of Mauretania.”

  “What?” I squeaked. I knew little about Mauretania — only that it was west of Numidia and run by nomadic chieftains. “You must be mistaken. Mauretania isn’t even a Roman province! Numidia … Numidia is Roman. I am to marry the king of Numidia, yes?” Gods, surely he meant to unite me with Juba!

  Livia shook her head. “No, I am sorry. Agrippa came back with specific instructions. You are to sail for the Mauretanian coast tomorrow.”

  I looked at Octavia for help. She could put a stop to this! But she was whispering to Marcellus, who had joined her in the corner. Her son hung his head as she spoke quickly. When she caught my eye, she scowled and turned back to Marcellus, continuing to whisper at him in hissing undertones. She either could not or would not help me.

  “Slaves are already packing your things,” Livia continued. “You and Alexandros will head for Ostia this afternoon.”

  My throat squeezed so tight, air barely made it to my lungs. Once, when I was very young, I played in the sand near the Great Pyramid of Khufu. I grabbed whole fistfuls of the sparkling sand, but it kept slipping through my fingers. I had wept with rage: I wanted to hold Egypt in my pudgy toddler hands. But I could not then. And now I never would.

  “You can’t send Alexandros away!” Julia cried. “You can’t!”

  “Julia,” Livia said. “You will see over time how impossible this situation is. It really is the best for everyone….”

  “No!” she sobbed, and ran out of the study. “I hate you! I hate you all!” Her sobs echoed down the columned portico.

  “You may leave, Selene and Alexandros,” Livia finally said with a sigh. “Marcellus, you stay here.”

  But I could not move. I felt someone tug my arm. “Come on, sister,” Alexandros murmured. “We are done here.”

  We found Zosima, agitated and confused, standing in the courtyard between our wings. “Strange servants are packing all of our things. What is happening?” she cried.

  “We are being sent away,” Alexandros said.

  Zosima grabbed me by the upper arm and shook me. “I told you it would end badly! What a foolish girl …”

  “Zosima!” Alexandros called sharply. “There is nothing any of us can do. But at least we leave Rome alive. At least we leave Rome.” She released me. “I must talk to Julia,” Alexandros said. He looked at our nurse. “Go and supervise the packing of our things.”

  Zosima stomped away, muttering, “The cats! We must gather the cats. Do we still have their wicker carriers … ?”

  I sat down heavily on a marble bench in the shade, staring at the rain pool of the peristylum. Despite the warmth, I shivered. I had grasped at the only tool I thought available to me to take us back to our homeland — and I had failed. I would carry the weight of all our deaths, for just as surely as I would die in the dusty Berber lands, so would my brother and our nurse. Despair weighed my stomach down like stone. Why was I being punished like this? Why had the Goddess misled me?

  “Sister,” Alexandros said, and I jumped. “You have been sitting here this whole time? Come, look on the bright side.”

  I grunted. “What bright side would that be? The one where we die at sea or the one where we die in the desert?”

  “The one that says we never have to see this accursed place again.”

  I sighed. “Did you talk to Julia?”

  “No, they wouldn’t let me. They have forbidden us from seeing Julia or Marcellus, even to say good-bye.”

  I closed my eyes. It really was over.

  “I am sorry, sister. Did you love Marcellus, then?”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t about Marcellus at all. “I do not understand,” I said. “If you cared at all about Julia, how you can be so pleased?”

  “Because we are leaving. We are finally getting out of Rome. And we still have each other. That has to count for something, no?”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but he spotted a servant carrying an empty platter of food. “We have not had our morning meal,” he called out. “Have someone bring something out for us.”

  The servant nodded and scurried away.

  “How can you think of eating at a time like this?” I asked.

  “Nothing ever dampens my appetite, you know that. Plus,” he said, smirking, “we should fill up on the extraordinary cuisine of the Romans while we can.”

  “Yes, garum cooked in garum,” I muttered of the foul-tasting fish sauce Romans used on everything.

  He chuckled. “I should have told the servant to hold the garum. Goddess knows what they will bring me.”

  “Cheese in garum. Fruit in sweetened garum. Olives in
garum …”

  “Stop!” he laughed. “Or I really will lose my appetite.”

  “Alexandros,” I asked. “Do you not feel any remorse about never seeing Julia again? She is heartbroken at losing you.”

  He sighed. “I do care for her. It is not that I don’t. But the prospect of leaving Rome once and for all … I feel like Persephone being led out of Hades for the first time.” Alexandros lifted his face to the sun.

  “I do not understand you,” I said, chuckling despite myself. But I had to admit, seeing my brother hopeful took the sting out of everything that was happening. And, as he said, we were not being separated. Maybe Alexandros — finally out from the shadow of Octavianus and Tiberius — could come into his own.

  A servant came, bearing a small table and a platter filled with nuts, olives, soft cheeses, pear slices, barley bread, and two clay cups of honeyed water.

  “No garum, I see,” I noted. “Perhaps Fortuna really has taken pity on us and is showering us with blessings.”

  Alexandros grinned, missing my sarcasm. He looked over the plate with such anticipation and relish I couldn’t help but think of Ptolly, and I felt my heart contract even as I smiled at my twin. Gods, what I would have given to have him here with us now — now that we were finally leaving! I reminded myself to have the Isis Temple near Capua send Ptolly’s body to us. I would not be separated from him again.

  Another servant approached with a goblet of wine. He brought it to me and bowed.

  “I did not call for this,” I said, my mouth full, pointing with a hunk of bread to my water cup.

  “Yes, but Domina sends this in celebration of your upcoming nuptials in Africa. Her best Falernian.”

  I scowled. Livia was gloating. That witch! I bet she thought this was all quite humorous. Grand entertainment she could rehash at her dinner parties for the amusement of all — how her husband sent the daughter of the queen of Egypt to live in a tent with a toothless nomadic chieftain. “I do not want it!” I said. “Take it back.”

  “But Domina insists —”

  “No!”

  Alexandros laughed. “Don’t be stupid. When do you think we will have such a fine wine again? I’ll take it,” he said to the servant, grabbing it out of his hand.