“And what of Archimedes,” she said now, plunging ahead with her question before she could weigh the emotional cost of hearing news of him. She was prepared to hear Hammonius deliver an account from her former lover’s point of view on how she hurt him-a man who would have easily given up his life for her and nearly did. “I am sure you know the circumstances under which he left my service.”
Hammonius took her slender hands in his. “Kleopatra, what could you have done? You chose for your kingdom, and that is why you are a great queen. Again, I say that your father is now with the gods chanting your name, and celebrating the fact that he chose it for you so wisely. Glory to her father. Which Kleopatra in the family has ever lived up to her name so loyally and so brilliantly?”
“I am aware of the reasons for my actions, and I have no regrets. But I am asking you of my cousin. Is he well?”
“Well?” Hammonius dropped her hands and threw his beefy arms up to the gods in exasperation. “No, he is a whimpering, lovesick puppy. In his thirty years, no woman has ever turned him down, much less released him from her heart. He is wounded, of course, but he will recover. I got sick of his skulking around and sent him to Greece to lick his wounds. I told him to come back a man!”
“I hurt him very badly and without explanation. Please don’t be hard on him.”
“He believes that he is the true father of the prince.”
Kleopatra’s tender feelings hardened into fear. “He must be stopped from saying that.”
“He only says it for my own ears. He knows better. And now that I have seen the long face and Roman nose of Caesar on the boy, I will tell him that his fantasy is just that.”
“I love my cousin, but if I hear that he has publicly disputed Caesar’s paternity, I shall take action against him. Tell him that.”
“Kleopatra, you are a queen and are above all men. But don’t forget that it is natural for a man to want progeny. Archimedes will never do anything that will cause you harm.”
“Anything that jeopardizes the future of my son with his father causes me harm.” Did he not realize how alternately delicate and complex were the ties with Caesar-the political alliance held together by her treasury, the geographical location of her country, and one tiny little boy, who could not yet even say his name? Her ambitions hung by the thread of feeling that Caesar was developing for the small facsimile of himself to whom she had given birth.
“Is there a chance that Caesar will claim the boy as his own?”
“He has already done so privately and to his immediate social connections. A public announcement will follow the enactment of pending legislation. Until then, it would be awkward. You understand, don’t you?”
Hammonius pulled the chain to signal the driver to stop. “An old man’s bladder is as demanding as a young man’s prick!” he said by way of apology, and excused himself from the carriage to relieve his misery. They were still on the west bank of the river, south of Rome and her giant arched walls, but in sight of Tiber Island, whose triangular stone embankment wall pointed toward them like a river barge on a cruise. Hammonius finished his business in the outdoors and then invited the queen to stretch her legs before they continued into the city.
He pointed to the island. “The home of Aesclepius the healer,” he said. The temple to the god of medicine had been built more than two hundred years earlier after a terrible plague swept through the city.
” ’Tis both lovely and unseemly to have a sacred spot in the midst of this pestilent river,” Kleopatra said. The river and the heavens had taken on the same preternatural pearlescent green. No sunshine came to bring normalcy back to the color of earth, water, and sky. Kleopatra felt as if she had sipped the mushroom broth at a Dionysian ritual, the strange brew that always turned natural things unnatural shades. The two sections of bridge that connected the island to both sides of the river spanned its waters like the graceful outstretched arms of a dancer.
“Do you know how the Romans say the island came into being?” he asked. “When the people expelled the last of the Tarquin kings, they threw his wheat crop into the river and it formed the island’s mass.”
“A pretty story of pride and independence, but undoubtedly apocryphal,” she replied.
“The Romans have never taken kindly to men who wished for singular rule. It is not in their nature.”
“What are you saying to me?”
Hammonius smiled at her. “I am telling you a story like I used to do when you were a little girl and were rapt to my silly tales.”
“I think there is covert meaning, my friend. Do you think you cannot speak directly to me anymore because I am sleeping in the bed of Caesar? Come, Hammonius, you are my oldest friend and my most astute spy and adviser. You do not need to speak of myths and legends to make your point.”
His face took on a look of gravity; his worried brow knitted his eyes into two giant teardrops. “Kleopatra, Your Majesty Oh, sometimes I do not even know what to call you. One moment you are the little girl who used to sit on my lap, and the next, the most formidable woman in the world. The partner of Rome’s dictator-may the gods themselves stand in your honor, Kleopatra.”
“But there is more you wish to say. Come, come Hammonius. I know you as well as I knew my father. Neither of you has ever been difficult to read.”
“When I came of age, I took the vow of the First Brotherhood of Kinsmen to protect you with my life. At nineteen, Archimedes took the same vow. Do you believe that either of us would happily thrust a sword into our bellies rather than break that vow?”
“I do believe it. Even Archimedes, whose pride and heart I have so wounded.”
“It is our duty to protect and advise you, not merely to go along with your plans, or to comfort you.”
Kleopatra did not think she could ever raise anger against this man, but why was he treating her as if she were a child, unaware of her position or of his? “Why would I wish for anything else? Do you think me not woman enough to know the truth of things? Do you think I need to be coddled like a painted princess?”
He looked at her very sternly, like her father used to do when he was about to forbid her to do something she wanted to do very badly. Her heart melted once more, because, like her father, Hammonius was of a jovial and harmonious nature, a man who had to force himself to be strict and stern.
“Archimedes has written from Greece. He visited Apollonia, where the commander who trained him in Athens now resides, teaching young Roman cadets military strategies. He had cause to meet Caesar’s nephew, Gaius Octavian, the boy who rode in Caesar’s triumphal parade.”
Kleopatra’s heart quickened. She had wanted to ask Caesar about this mysterious boy, but she did not wish to appear nosy. It disturbed him enough that she paid Hammonius big sacks of gold for information about his countrymen and their private doings that even he, Caesar, did not know. She sensed that her network of spies threatened the accord between them. But the boy Octavian had raised concerns in her mind. When she learned of the unearned honors Caesar had heaped upon him, she worried that he was Caesar’s new beloved, though she had heard he was frail and wan and hardly out of childhood. But there would be no dictating to the dictator whom he might bring into his bed, and so she let go her curiosity about him.
She stood straight, moving away from the tree against which she leaned and grabbing Hammonius’s sleeve. “Go on.”
“Caesar sent the boy to Apollonia to study.”
“Why would Caesar not participate in the schooling of his nephew? Is that not a worldwide custom, to educate our loved ones?”
“Apparently he has paid the families of two splendid Roman boys to attach their sons body and soul to Octavian’s service. The boys are of great intelligence and skill, but not of patrician birth. Caesar gave their families great sacks of treasure from Gaul, which he said were the families’ to keep as long as the two boys-one, an intellectual who shows great political promise, and the other, a military prodigy-are loyal to his nephew.”
> “Does that not demonstrate Caesar’s mercy and goodness?” she asked. “Why should this generosity to a frail nephew rouse our suspicions?”
The moment she asked the question she had her answer. Why was Caesar heaping favor upon a distant relative that he should be reserving for his own son?
“Do you not think there is malice in Archimedes’ wishing me to know this? He has ample reason to wish me to suffer.”
“His vow supersedes even his heart, Kleopatra. He is angry with you, but still he works for your welfare. I believe this with all my might. But just in case an old man’s judgment has become soft and sentimental, I had the information confirmed. Caesar’s own family has reason to believe that he is preparing to adopt this boy, to groom him for power, and to make him his legal heir.”
Kleopatra and Hammonius entered the Forum of Caesar through a small arch whose low height only emphasized the vastness of the square the dictator had leveled many city blocks to construct. Caesar had bought up dozens and dozens of homes and apartment buildings with the plunder from Gaul and demolished them, moving great mountains of dirt to fill the void and make the ground even. He had torn down the Curia, where the senate usually met, and rebuilt it elsewhere, a move his detractors had interpreted as a portent of things to come.
Kleopatra leaned on Hammonius’s arm, still shaken by the news he had broken to her on the gloomy banks of the Tiber, indifferent to the grand temple to Mother Venus; to the basilica dedicated to Caesar’s daughter, where court cases were heard; to the tall statues of the gods that formed a colonnade; to the luxurious gardens in the middle of the square. She was almost hostile to these things, as if it were arrogant or insolent of Caesar to try to impress the queen of Egypt-a nation of glorious monuments unfathomable to these Roman rustics-by building something of this scope. She was furious that her entire life was now hanging by a spider’s thread that Caesar could clip at any time, sending her crashing down against the hard, unyielding dirt. Her least favorite emotion-humiliation-hung over her like a pall. She wondered if Hammonius was thinking that she was just a naive girl, the plaything of the aging dictator, and not his true partner at all. Was she in fact deluded to imagine that the vision of the world that she and Caesar constructed in conversations late into the night was real? Was he just engaging in fantasies with her so as not to spoil the sweet romance of their hours together? Was he playing her for a fool? And would she continue to play this game along with him when the future of Egypt and of her son were at stake?
If Caesar thought as much, he would be surprised to find out the truth. She had warned him: A woman chooses her son over her lover. She did not know how she would master this Master of the World, but she would find a way. The gods were masters over all, and she had no qualms about appealing to them on her behalf. They had never disappointed her before, though she had sometimes been obliged to suffer difficult times before the deities revealed their true and higher purpose.
The temple of Mother Venus had eight exquisite Corinthian-style columns supporting its pediment, and striking statues of the goddess in her various incarnations on its roof-the enchanting Venus the Lover, the strident Venus the Victorious, the nurturing Venus the Mother. The building was small and delicate compared to Egypt’s grand shrines to the deities, but Kleopatra sensed that with Caesar’s visit to her country, mighty Egyptian proportions had crept into the Roman sense of architectural scale. Kleopatra remembered how small and cramped she had thought the Roman Forum when she saw it as a child. For those Romans who had not yet gotten the message, Caesar’s Forum signaled that a new era of eastern extravagance would lace itself through the rigid harness of stringent Roman values, bringing a sense of affluence to all.
Kleopatra left Hammonius outside and entered the temple through its tall, narrow door, which allowed the building’s only natural light. The stone walls were lined with torches illuminating vast collections of mounted jewelry and gems. Rays of emerald green, garnet and ruby red, and the ice white of diamonds and crystals danced through the temple’s empty space like glittering spirits. Paintings from all over the world hung between the jewels, including one that Kleopatra recognized as a rendering of the pale moon-goddess Hekate soothing the troubled people of Byzantium during a siege, lighting the sky with her crescent and star. In the center of the room, a gold breastplate rimmed with silver trim and shot full of ivory inlays stood like mighty host. Undoubtedly, Caesar had taken it from some conquered king.
Caesar stood alone in the temple. “Is it to your liking?” he asked, looking as nervous as a drummer boy his first day at service.
“It’s lovely,” she said. She had expected every element of his plan to deceive her to appear on his face and in his demeanor. Instead, she looked into his eyes and for the first time saw expectancy, almost a hope. “But with this display of your war plunder, it seems more a temple to warlike Venus the Victorious than the Mother Goddess.”
“How astute you are, my dear,” he said. “When I rode into the camp of my enemies after the battle at Pharsalos and saw nothing but their cowardly retreating behinds, I promised the goddess that I would erect a temple to Venus the Victorious. I began to go through the collection of treasure from Gaul and Britannia, and I appropriated the best of it, as you can see. Our citizens so enjoy these displays of wealth confiscated from the conquered. But then something unexpected happened.”
“And what is that?” she asked. She realized that she feared him, that she was protecting herself from falling into the net of his sway. He reached for her hand, which she reluctantly gave to him.
“May I show you something?”
He led her through this museum of his victories to the rear of the temple and into the sanctuary of the goddess. Sheltered under the vaulted ceiling was a gleaming gold statue of Mother Venus; her child, the baby Cupid, sat on her shoulder whispering into her ear, his round cheeks puffed, his lips pursed with secrets. She held another Roman child by the hand, who looked up at her for protection and guidance. The goddess had lively sapphire eyes, which looked forward into the future. Her body was draped in folds of gold that flowed behind her as if she were walking into a gentle breeze. To the right of the goddess was a statue of Caesar himself, tall and proud, wearing the laurel wreath of victory in honor of his many triumphs.
But this was not what Caesar had brought her into the temple to see. He said nothing, letting her attention fall upon his surprise. On the right side of the statue of Venus, at a distance close enough to be talked about but far enough to be considered respectful, was a full-length golden statue of Kleopatra, dressed as the goddess but wearing her own diadem, which was as bejeweled as the one Caesar had seen her with in Egypt. He had had the sculptor copy gem for gem the rich stones that she wore about her head. How had he remembered? Her face was as serene as that of Venus, and her body not so slim as it was but fuller, more womanly, the way she had looked when she was just a few months with child. Her eyes were not sapphires but bright polished emeralds, and her hair was swept back into a golden knot at her neck. In the ears, she noticed with a giggle, were the earrings that matched Servilia’s enormous golden necklace. Snuggling her feet was an ever so delicate cobra, the symbol of pharaonic power, with a sil ver tail and opal eyes. Caesar pointed to it. “Lest they forget your true identity.”
He waited for her to speak. “Do you approve?” he asked.
“I am speechless, General.”
“There will be no question now of the position you hold. For these are the two women in my life: One gives me fearlessness in the face of death, the other gives me reason to stay alive.”
She chastised herself for ever doubting him, for doubting her instincts about his commitment to her and to their future together. She did not know why he patronized his nephew, but this was a grand gesture-and a public one-of his recognition of her place in his heart and his life. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her arms were motionless at her sides, limp and heavy.
Caesar put his arm around her shoulder and with one hand
turned her face toward his. “Have you nothing to say?”
“Its beauty is overwhelming, but it is even more beautiful to me because it came from you.”
“I am not a king, Kleopatra. I cannot build a grand monument in your name, at least not in Rome. But I have done what I can to let this country know how I regard you.”
“It is more than I would have asked of you, darling.”
“And now when I tell you that I must leave Rome in a matter of days, you will think of this and you won’t be upset.” He had dropped his hands from her face and grasped her shoulders, forcing her to look for further meaning in his downcast eyes.
“Leave Rome?”
“I had hoped that my general Vatinius had forever cleansed the earth of the Pompeian menace, but it appears that his sons have gone back to Spain and joined forces with that scheming traitor Labienus.”
“Must you go yourself? How can you leave Rome at a time when you are just setting up your government? It’s dangerous, Caesar. You are not surrounded by those you can trust. That is what I believe, and I must tell you so.”
“I trained Labienus myself, schooled him in every art of war so that now he is formidable enough to raise thirteen legions against me. I’m afraid that I’m the only one who can answer the challenge. There is no other commander to send.”
“What of Antony?”
“I am not yet so convinced of either his redemption or his loyalty that I’m willing to put him at the head of my own army.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders and spoke in a low voice, as if he thought the statue of Venus might be eavesdropping. “The loyalty of the army is the single factor that keeps the senate under my power. That is the situation they created when they sent me forth ten years ago to expand the empire. They got what they wanted from me, and they also got something they did not want-legions and legions of men loyal to Caesar and not to a senate or a country or a system of government. If I do not have the army, I do not have the dictatorship, and you and I, my dear, will certainly not have the unity of our nations the way we plan. Without the solid loyalty of the army, I am just another Roman senator who once did his duty abroad.”