Memoirs of Cleopatra (1997)

by Margaret George

  I stood up. "What is it?" I asked, searching his face. It gave me no answers.

  "I see I have waited too late to return," he said. "I will see you another time." He moved, took a step backward, and now I could see that he was-- not drunk, but changed by the wine.

  I went over to him. "No, do not go." I was not undressed, merely devoid of my ornaments. "Stay and tell me why you are here." I motioned him into the room. He hung back for a moment, then followed. I shut the door behind him.

  I could see, now, that he was clutching papers of some sort. "I thought we should talk in private," he said. "And we are less likely to be overheard here than in my headquarters."

  "Very well." I waited to hear what he had to say. Why could it not have kept until morning? Why had he rushed back to his rooms to get the papers and return? Why did he seem so strained? Casually--for I did not want to give the impression that I was ill at ease, although I found this visit very odd--I reached down and picked up a shawl to drape over myself, almost to shield myself.

  "Caesar s papers--the ones in his house--do you remember?" He waved the sheaf of papers in his hand, as if they could talk.

  "What of them?" All that had been so long ago, and so confusing. And what matter about them, anyway? The only one that truly counted, the will, had hurt me dreadfully by ignoring Caesarion and adopting Octavian.

  "I altered them," he admitted. "I wanted to tell you, explain . . ." He looked sheepish. "I want you to see the originals."

  This seemed very tiresome. I did not want to open myself up to the pain of seeing Caesars handwriting, not now, not late at night like this, when I was tired, my defenses down. "But the light is so poor," I objected. The truth was, I did not want to look at them now, I did not want to entertain Antony now, I did not want to be disturbed now, or to undo my diplomatic triumph by anything I might say or do in an unguarded moment now.

  "Oh, it will serve," he said airily, and without my permission he seated himself at my desk and spread out the first of the papers. He bent his head over them and started pointing at something there. "Yes, you see, here, where he appointed this magistrate to oversee the games--"

  Wearily I went over and stood behind him, looking over his shoulder to see what he was so adamant about. In the dim light I could barely make out the words; Antony's head was so close to them I saw that he was having trouble, too.

  "Why should we care, now, who presided over the games?" I asked. I had to bend way over in order to speak to him, and there was no other way but to lean right into him, pressing against his shoulders and back.

  "I changed so many things," he confessed. "This is just one of them. See. The handwriting--can you see how it is slightly different.7"

  I had to lean still farther over; now I was pressed up against him in earnest. Suddenly I was acutely aware of nothing else.

  "Yes," I allowed.

  "I have always felt guilty about doing that to him, and using his seal afterward, to secure positions that would benefit me, strengthen my hand--"

  I am Caesars right hand, he had once said. "At least you used that hand in his defense!" I said. "It was not a misuse of your position, but a good use of it." I paused. "And why are you telling me?"

  He sighed, and his shoulders moved; I moved with them. "I suppose because you are the only one who has the power--at least in my own mind--to absolve me of the liberties I took in his name. You can say, 'I forgive you in the name of Caesar.' You understand what the conditions were, and why some falsehoods were imperative at the time."

  "Yes. I do. I told you I can never repay you for what you have done to avenge him. If rules had to be bent, and documents altered on the way, then--" I started to move back. There was really nothing else to see on this paper, and my eyes were tired of straining.

  But as I moved to straighten up, so did he; and it made my cheek brush against his, lightly. I froze--there is no other word for it--as that forbidden touch seemed at once to demolish the barricade between us, so properly guarded and hedged with manners.

  He moved again, and once again we touched, and in what felt like a long, slow, dreamlike motion--but what surely was not, what surely happened almost instantly--he turned his head and kissed me full on the lips. Without a censoring thought I returned the kiss, opening my mouth to his, and felt him turn halfway and rise from the chair, pulling me up with him. And now we were standing, face to face, kissing, and unbidden, unable to do anything else, I put my arms around him and held him against me.

  His kisses were deep and passionate; there was no intermediate kiss between that first hesitant one and the hungry ones that followed. And I was hungry for them--for him, too--that was the shock and surprise of it. Touching him opened that secret door within me that had remained resolutely shut for so long. Its sudden, opening onrush made me weak.

  There had to be some way to halt this; I could not just act in madness. I tried to break out of his arms. But he did not let me go easily; it was as if he was afraid to.

  "I've always wanted you," he said quietly, his mouth by my ear, his left hand clutching my head, holding me tightly against him. Was he apologizing? Offering an excuse? As if that made it all right to barge into my quarters at midnight on a flimsy errand?

  "I suppose you will tell me it started when you first came to Egypt, and I was still a girl," I said, wanting to sound light and bantering, and all the while trying to calm myself, stop my banging heart. It sounded so loud I could almost believe he would hear it, where it pounded through my temples and his head was pressed against mine.

  "I don't know--but I never forgot you. And when I saw you again in Rome, always holding court in some fashion, an ornament of Caesar's . . . oh yes, I longed for you then, like a boy seeing fine candies in a store, but having no money. You were Caesar's, and it was disloyal even to imagine--anything." He paused. "At least when I was awake." I could feel his embarrassed smile, although I could not see it. It made me smile, too.

  Now an awkwardness descended. We were caught between two kinds of behaviors; were we to go forward into the unknown or retreat into the safe and the practiced? I attempted the latter.

  "My soldier," I said, trying to joke. "My general." Again I tried to extricate myself, to step back. But somehow it did not happen.

  "Not your general, just a general," he said. "Unless you would like to employ me." He started kissing the side of my neck, near my ear.

  "I thought that was what this meeting was all about," I said. "Future alliances--political ones."

  "No," he said, "this is what this meeting is all about." He was still kissing me, and fooling with my gown, loosening the straps of it, letting it fall off my shoulders. Why did I not stop him? But my skin was tingling, charged with excitement. It craved his touch, as if it had a mind and needs of its own.

  There were guards on deck, guards who would come running and spear him, if necessary. And the soldier just outside the door. I could call them, and end this. They would evict him and save me from my own runaway body with its unexpected desires. Call them! I ordered myself. But my insurrection against myself continued. I stood there mute, and let him keep kissing me, caressing my shoulders and touching my hair.

  "I wanted to see you, I must have been half mad to want to see you so much, but I did," he was explaining, in a mumbled rush. I could barely make out the words. "It had been so long--and I had no reasonable excuse ever to see you. Ever. Do you realize that? I could only legally go as far as, Syria. I waited for you to invite me to Egypt, but you didn't. Month after month went by, and you didn't. So I had to think of a reason to summon you. I'm afraid ... it wasn't a very good reason. It angered you." He bent his head and started to kiss the top of my breasts.

  Ripples of excitement were washing over me, making it hard for me to reply. "If I had known the real reason, I would not have been angry."

  "You should have known. You should have guessed." He paused, and then continued kissing me, moving farther down.

  Again I was ashamed of myself
, ashamed of the desire he was evoking in me. What was he? Another married Roman! I would have to be mad to travel that road again! I pushed him away.

  Leave! I tried to say. You have dishonored yourself, coming here like this! The wine may make you forget, but I can never forget! But the words did not come, because I knew he would, shamefacedly, obey, and leave. And I did not want him to leave.

  He was looking at me in the dim light, desire all over his face. He was trembling with it. And I found that I, too, was shaking. I reached up to his shoulders and pulled him down, falling with him on the bed just behind us. We rolled over in each other's arms, tumbling like children. I ran my hands through his thick hair, loving the feel of it. He lowered his face and kissed me, this time gently, as a man who had all the time in the world. It stoked my excitement as even the first heated kisses had not.

  "I am not a wild beast, nor will I do anything you do not desire as much as I." He released me and watched me solemnly, waiting for an indication, a signal.

  I tried to think, to collect myself, but all I could think was, Tonight is mine, the first night to be mine in years, a night I own myself. Tonight I am no one's widow, bound to no one, only a woman, a free woman.

  I ran my hands over his shoulders. They were broad and strong--and young. He was just at the prime of life. "My soldier," I repeated, but this time I said it differently, possessively. "My general."

  He twined his hand in my hair and brought my face back to his, where he kissed me so deeply that I forgot everything that was not in this room. My body ached to join itself to his, banishing all other considerations.

  Dionysus was the dark god of ecstatic release, and he was Antony that night. I need have no fears that any memories would come flooding back, displacing the here and now, for he was completely different from anything I had known. He took me with no ado or talk, making me forget all else but him.

  Ah! my secret self cried, surrendering as I had the first time I closed my eyes and plunged into the water in the harbor, the water that was deep and warm and full of unknown currents. And dangerous.

  There were many hours left until dawn, and over and over again in the darkness he roused himself and made love to me, until I thought I would die of it.

  Later, as we gradually awakened and felt the approach of the new day, there were drowsy, murmured exchanges. His head was resting on my neck, and he reached out and took the Caesar pendant in his fingers. "You will have to stop wearing this now," he said. "He's a god now, he shouldn't want mortals. He should leave mortals to other mortals."

  "Like you?" I asked. "But aren't you a god, too? At least in Ephesus?"

  "Umm," he said, sighing. "But I haven't got used to it yet." He turned to look at me, barely visible in what little light there was in the cabin. "And I will never get used to you--like this."

  "Then you can never take it for granted." And more of such silly, lovely talk, the words all lovers use afterward, at least in the beginning.

  When the sky began to show a hint of light, he said, "I must leave, before it is broad daylight."

  "But people know you are here," I said. "They saw you come aboard. You had to pass the guards. Doubtless you gave them some high-sounding excuse."

  He shook his head. "I'm afraid it was rather transparent. Most state business does not need to be transacted at midnight."

  "Everyone will know," I said. "You need not sneak away like a guilty schoolboy. I think we should be quite unapologetic about it." I felt reborn, bold, and would not disown the night. "I think you should issue forth like the sun rising."

  He laughed. "You are very poetic. But that is one of the things I have loved about you--for a very long time."

  "You couldn't have known that about me."

  "I know a great many things about you," he said. "I was hungry to learn them."

  "I can see you know me better than I know you," I said, "for I wouldn't have guessed that about you."

  "I told you, I have wanted you for a great long time."

  For the first time, I believed him. He was not just mouthing conventions.

  "Now you have had me."

  "It is not that simple," he said. "One night does not deliver you into my hands. It is just a beginning."

  I shivered. I wanted it to be that simple. An overwhelming longing, a desire, a desire satisfied. The end. Where could it go? Another married Roman. That, at least, was simple.

  I shook my head. Why had I done this? But the memory of the past few hours answered that, and quickly.

  "Don't steal away," I said. "We have nothing to be ashamed of."

  "You mean because we answer to no earthly superiors?"

  "No, I mean exactly what I said--that we have nothing to be ashamed of. Do not act as if we do."

  Chapter 43.

  Antony made his way across the deck as the sun was rising, striking his dark hair, making it shine. I walked with him, and saw the startled stares of the sailors. On the gangplank he turned and saluted me.

  "Tonight we will repeat. . . the dinner," he said, laughing. "I will try to match last night--with all my resources."

  "Until then," I said. I watched him descend and walk away across the quay. He had a rolling sort of gait.

  I spun around and shut my eyes, leaning against the railing. My body was exhausted, but my thoughts were racing and jumbled, running with excitement. I almost did not want to rein them in, and so I breathed slowly to try to come back to the everyday world of wooden decks and coiled ropes and mist rising off the lake. The sun seemed to be probing my eyes, forcing them open.

  Across the water I saw the slopes of Mount Taurus, wooded and green. Tarsus was beautifully situated. It was a superlative setting in which to have-- to have--

  I shook my head, hurrying back to my cabin. I rushed in and closed the door, then sat immobile for a long time in the chair I had been in when the knock on the door had come. I was back exactly where I had started, many hours ago.

  The room looked the same. Nothing had been moved. Only myself--I was changed.

  Years ago I had sailed west, disguised in a rug, and rolled out and into Caesar's bed--as Olympos had scoldingly put it. Now I had sailed east, disguised as Venus, and Antony had jumped into my bed. Two sea voyages, one result. Doubtless Olympos would have equally disapproving words about this.

  I realized now I had always noticed Antony, had been unusually aware of him in a way I was not of others. The attraction had lurked beneath the surface, a shadow that swam here and there, darting swiftly, too swiftly to be caught. . . here, there, gone.

  What was I to do next? One time can be a surprise, a mistake, a venture. But after that... it becomes a deliberate decision. I could never pretend to myself to be taken unawares again by Antony.

  What was the point in continuing? He was married to the fearsome Fulvia, and had two sons by her. He was passing through the eastern provinces--he would not stay. And I would never go to Rome again as anyone's mistress. We would have this meeting for the next few days, and then part. Well, what of it? Perhaps it was better that way. It could serve no purpose but a brief flare of passion. I meant to enjoy that, however; I felt I deserved it as some sort of a reward ... for what, I was not sure.

  Antony . . . specific memories of the hours in the dark beset me, making me bite my lips, as if to tame the hot thoughts. I was doing this when Charmian appeared in the mirror behind me, embarrassing me.

  "Dear mistress--Your Majesty--I--" She looked flustered and shaken.

  "What is it?" I am afraid I was sharp with her.

  "Is it true what the men are saying? That the lord Antony has been here all night? In here?" She looked at the rumpled bed.

  "Yes, it's true," I said. "And I enjoyed it immensely!" I flung the words out defiantly, as if practicing them.

  "Madam," she said, a look of pain crossing her face.

  "Don't say it!" I said. "I will hear nothing against it! We answer to no one." I echoed Antony's sentence.

  "What about to you
r own heart? What about to the court of Egypt? And the public opinion in Rome?"

  "I am used to flouting public opinion in Rome. As for the court of Egypt, I have done nothing to harm it. But for my own heart... ah ... it is drawn to him."

  "Better it were not!" she said. "Better it were only your body that was drawn to him."

  I laughed. "It is primarily my body," I said. "In truth, I know little about him beyond that." Still. . . that was enough for now.

  She looked relieved.

  The day passed. I conferred with the cooks and the entire staff of the boat, praising them for the successful evening. They attempted to mask their smiles and giggles and rib-punching. I ordered them to procure several cartloads of rose petals for tomorrow evening. There. That should keep them busy.

  Now for Antony's dinner. This time I would go as Cleopatra, not as Venus. Once was a novelty, twice was predictable. As I watched myself being dressed, I could not help wondering if any of the incandescence I felt inside was translated on the outside, excitement made visible.

  I would be carried in a litter, accompanied by four torch-bearers in the falling dusk. From my height, I could see the pleasing buildings and clean streets of Tarsus. This city had been solidly Caesarian, and had been savagely treated by Cassius. Now, in recognition of their sufferings and loyalty, Antony had rewarded them by exempting them from taxes and gifting them with a magnificent new gymnasion.