Queen of Kings

by Maria Dahvana Headley

  The historian Nicolaus of Damascus is a real character, with the outlines of his actual biography roughly as Zelig-ish as they are portrayed here: philosopher to King Herod’s court, tutor to Cleopatra’s children, and at some point biographer of Augustus. I’ve reorganized his chronology somewhat. The 144-volume History of the Universe, mostly lost, is an accurate description of Nicolaus’s work—though the secrets that might have been loosed in that 144-volume set are my invention. There are scraps of Nicolaus’s work on Augustus still extant, mainly dealing with the boyhood of Octavian, and I consulted those when researching this book.

  The outlines of the biography of Selene, Cleopatra and Antony’s daughter, are depicted with significant poetic license here—but she did travel to Rome along with her two brothers after her parents’ deaths. Alexander Helios and Ptolemy Philadelphus disappear without explanation from the historical record soon after, and most historians guess that they both died of childhood illness. I don’t think it’s a huge leap to imagine a sinister fate for the sons of Antony and Cleopatra in Augustus’s Rome. Cleopatra Selene, on the other hand, remained loyal to Rome, and was eventually married, with a large dowry provided by Augustus, to the young African King, Juba II. Interestingly, Juba had, as a three-year-old child, walked in Julius Caesar’s triumphal procession into Rome after Caesar’s own Alexandrian idyll—the one that put Cleopatra on the throne. Selene reigned as queen of Mauretania (today’s Algeria), loyal and subservient to Rome, and died in A.D. 6. The epitaph Augustus recites to Cleopatra in the epilogue is by Crinagoras of Mytilene, a famed Greek poet who lived in Rome as a court poet. So it’s quite possible that said epitaph was indeed commissioned by Augustus to memorialize his one loyal “daughter.”

  Speaking of: A sidenote on daughters, and a storyline I couldn’t manage to squeeze much of into this book, to my great sorrow. Julia, Augustus’s only child, eventually fell in love with Mark Antony and Fulvia’s orphaned eldest son, Iullus, sustaining a long affair with him (during her marriage to Marcus Agrippa, and later to Tiberius), which led to her banishment by her father, and to Iullus’s execution. As well, there were rumors of her other activities, some of them involving illicit dancing and ritual in temples, and perhaps a plot against Augustus’s life. Augustus died without blood inheritors, having banished not only Julia, but her daughter as well. One of his final acts was to order the execution of his last grandson, Julia’s son. Personally, I suspect this might’ve had something to do with Augustus’s suspicion that the bloodlines of his grandchildren had been tainted by his daughter’s infidelity with Mark Antony’s son. Regardless, Antony’s line would eventually inherit the empire. The emperors Claudius and Nero were both descendants of Mark Antony and Fulvia’s remaining Roman daughters.

  Usem, the Psylli, is drawn from classical history. He belongs to a tribe referenced both in Plutarch (brought to examine Cleopatra after her death) and in Herodotus, and his tribe is famous both for their relationship with serpents, and for going to war against the Western Wind. In classical sources, the tribe loses the war, and is buried beneath sand dunes. However, their reappearance later, in Cleopatra’s time, intrigued me, so . . .

  Chrysate, the witch of Thessaly, is a creature drawn from my nightmare imagination as well as from a variety of classical sources (including Medea, who by tradition is from Thessaly, and certainly did some famous child-sacrifice. The ingredients and procedure for Chrysate’s youth spell are taken from Ovid’s Medea), as are many of her spells, though there is no historic link to Augustus. The price for drawing down the moon really is a sacrificed child, or one of the witch’s own eyes.

  Auðr, the seiðkona, is based in Norse history and mythology (see stories of Freya and the Norns, as well as many tales more historically based, about the völva and seiðkona—two words for the same kind of sorceress and seer) as are her distaff, and her powers over fate and memory. I was also inspired by the Germanic tribe of the Cimbri and their female seers, gray-haired women dressed in white, who accompanied the men into battle. The Cimbri were known to the Romans as early as the second century B.C. as a “piratical and warlike folk,” and written about by Strabo. Though the lands north of England, in this book the birthplace of Auðr, were unknown to the Augustan-era Romans, and filed under “Oceanus,” I couldn’t resist bringing my seiðkona into the fray.

  In A.D. 365, there was an undersea earthquake and major tsunami that caused many of the buildings in Alexandria, including Cleopatra’s Palace, to slide deep beneath the harbor. By the eighth century, further earthquakes (though Alexandria is not on any known fault line) had destroyed much of the ancient city. At the time of this writing, the buildings of Cleopatra’s Palace have been discovered, but archeologists (and other interested parties) have long been searching for Antony and Cleopatra’s tomb, thus far without success.

  One of the few confirmed images of Cleopatra extant today is in Egypt at the Temple of Dendera, commissioned by Cleopatra, but completed by Octavian after her death. On its facade, a life-size image of the queen exists. In it, she travels with her son, Caesarion, to deliver an offering to Isis. Her son is accompanied by a small figure representing his ka.

  Cleopatra, on the other hand, travels alone, unaccompanied by her soul.

  Really.

  —MDH, November 2010

  Seattle, Washington

  Acknowledgments

  Every writer has a Greek chorus of advisors, drinking partners, brainstormers, barnraisers, and ghosts, and mine may well be even larger than most. After my last book, someone published a review of my acknowledgments, claiming (I kid you not) that I was “too thankful” to too many people. Bullshit. When it comes to making a living off imaginary worlds, there is no such thing as being too thankful. Libations and sacrifices to:

  THE FORUM

  Michael Rudell, a great reader/matchmaker, just as much as he is a great lawyer. I’m lucky enough to be represented by that rare thing, an agency full of people who would all be fantastic desert island companions: David Gernert, whose raucous laughter, endless appetite for pages, and raconteur-ing rock the publishing world. Stephanie Cabot, with her dry wit, warmth, and excellent classics geekiness. Rebecca Gardner, for bright ideas and Greek food, along with Will Roberts for foreign rights. My editor, Erika Imranyi, for buying and editing this great big, wild monster of a book, along with Brian Tart and everyone at Dutton for supporting its journey from scribbles into actuality. John Power and Steve Twersky, ongoing believers and accountants, which is saying something. Lisa Bankoff, who out of pure goodness said nice things about Queen of Kings all over town. Simon Taylor, who got spectacularly giddy over this book and then bought it for the UK marketplace. All the other foreign editors, who got this book and bought it.

  THE CHORUS

  Let it be said publicly: Without all the friends who contributed willing ears, belief, and alcohol, this novel would not have gotten written. I’d been working for several years on another book, which I backburnered when I got the first tiny, mad kernel of the idea for Queen of Kings. I owe thanks to all the people who not only listened to me shriek about the travails of that other project for years but who encouraged me to write this one, after all the hours they’d spent patiently comforting me through something else.

  Don’t think you’re done comforting me, friends, Romans, countrymen. This is a trilogy.

  I couldn’t be more fortunate if I had a magic lamp and a million wishes. Thanks to: Zay Amsbury, Mark Bemesderfer, Chris Bolin, Stesha Brandon, Ed Brubaker and Melanie Tomlin, Tom Bryant, Matt Cheney, Thea Cooper, Kate Czajkowski, Laura Dave, Caitlin DiMotta and Duffy Boudreau, Kelley Eskridge and Nicola Griffith, Lance Horne, Dayna S. Kalleres, Greg Kalleres, Hallie Deaktor Kapner, Doug Kearney, Jay Kirk, Park Krausen, Joe Knezevich, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, Thomas Kohnstamm and Tábata Silva, Erik Larson, Hana Lass, Ben McKenzie, Jenny Mercein, Michaela Murphy, Ruth McKee and Brian K. Vaughan, Samantha Temple Neukom, Leslie and Mark Olson, Rebecca Olson, Amanda Palmer, Matthew Power and Jessica Benko, Steven R
inella, Kim Scott, Sxip Shirey, Jennie Shortridge, Ed Skoog, Garth Stein, and Danielle Trussoni.

  THE MUSEION

  The extraordinary Martin Epstein (who should certainly also appear in the friend category), Deloss Brown, and Carol Rocamora at NYU all took my brain and filled it with classics, Shakespeare, and spectacular choruses, back when I was twenty years old. Things had to shake around for a while, but I’m quite sure this book is in part the result of their groundwork. As for my personal Library of Alexandria, many highlights are mentioned in the Historical Notes and Chorus sectors, but Jonathan Carroll, Angela Carter, Michael Chabon, Isak Dinesen, Rikki Ducornet, Neil Gaiman, Mark Helprin, Stephen King, Madeleine L’Engle, Ursula K. Le Guin, George R. R. Martin, China Miéville, and Peter Straub deserve special mention for writing books that continue to blow my mind and remake it. All their (diverse) writing informs mine. Go read their books. You will not regret it. And: I must thank one band most especially for this book. I’ve never been a metal fan. Ever. But as I wrote Queen of Kings, I discovered Iron Maiden. This book was written to a soundtrack of equal parts The Mountain Goats, The National, Iron Maiden, and Stevie Nicks’s “Gold Dust Woman.” There it is.

  TRIBE

  My family have all been victimized by crazed midnight phone calls in which I recite speeches by Cicero and restructure a book they haven’t yet read. Once again, I’m wildly lucky, both in the people I’m related to and in the people I married into. Huge love and gratitude to Adriane Headley, Mark Headley and Meghan Koch, Molly Headley and Idir Benkaci, the Lumpkin family, the Moulton family, and the Headley family, my son, Joshua Schenkkan, and my daughter, Sarah Schenkkan (Guys, you’re upgraded. You’re my stepkids, yeah, but you’re my family, and I claim you), the Schenkkan/Rothgeb family. And the chorus of shades: my grandparents R. Dwayne and Marguerite Moulton, and my dad, Mark Bryan Headley. I miss you. I wish you could each have a copy of this book.

  Gratitude as well to my two house-leopards. They don’t care if they are thanked, but I wrote this book with their particular cat assistance, and the lions and tigers are based on them.

  Finally, most important, gratitude and adoration to Robert Schenkkan, my favorite person in the universe, my beloved, my dearest one. You read this book at least seven times, lent me your bookshelves, picked me up when I was yowling, fed me dinner, poured me bourbon, kissed me, cheered me on, discussed and discussed, gave me your whole stunning heart, and every day made me so proud to be yours. People ask me all the time how I manage to be married to another writer, and the answer is that the other writer is you. You are so brilliant, so giving, and so the perfect man for me. This book, with all its magic, monsters, treasures, and eternal love affairs, is dedicated to you for a damn good reason, just as I am. Te teneo.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MARIA DAHVANA HEADLEY is a MacDowell Colony Fellow whose writing has appeared in The New York Times, Elle, The Washington Post, and other publications. She is the author of the memoir The Year of Yes (2007), which has been translated into nine languages. She lives in Seattle. Learn more at www.mariadahvanaheadley.com or www.cleopatraqueenofkings.com.