“Your queen has chosen an innocent to toss to the wolves,” Marcellus stated with anger.
“Egypt’s affairs are not dictated by you, Roman.”
Marcellus watched Apollodorus lead Adhaniá across the garden toward a side door. He was angry, and he would tell Antony just what he thought of the plan he’d hatched with the Egyptian queen.
“Wait,” Adhaniá said, pulling away from Apollodorus and hurrying back to Marcellus. “Senator Quadatus whispered something in my ear that might be of interest to you.” She shuddered. “He said he would soon come into wealth and power, and that I might want to share it with him.”
Marcellus frowned. “Then he discovered you speak our language.”
“Nay. He said he knew I could not understand his words.”
Marcellus watched her walk away beside the tall Sicilian. He’d had no faith in the plan, but it seemed it was beginning to work.
He felt sick inside—Adhaniá had already proved useful.
They would use her again.
For reasons Quadatus did not understand, he was being solicited by two different factions of powerful men. Marc Antony was the more powerful of the two, but Cassius had his own merits. Quadatus smiled to himself, deciding to play the game from both ends—his loyalty would go with whichever side offered him the most. For the moment the dancing girl in his arms was smiling at him, her skin smelled of some exotic spice and his head was reeling.
Marcellus had returned, and he clapped his hands. “The entertainment is at an end. Leave us, ladies.”
There were moans of disappointment, and some of the men begged Marcellus to let the women stay. But he refused to relent.
“Did you invite me here only to have my greatest wish snatched away?” Antony asked, still playing his part.
“Maybe I just wanted to whet your appetite,” Marcellus replied with bared teeth.
“Do not let the fun end now,” his stepfather said, slurring his words. “It is yet hours before the sun rises.”
Marcellus felt revolted by his mother’s husband, but his voice was smooth when he said, “Queen Cleopatra herself told me I could have use of her dancers any time I wanted. If you would like, I will ask the queen if you can invite the Egyptian dancers to one of your gatherings.” Marcellus watched Quadatus carefully, noting the eagerness on the man’s face. “Would that please you, Stepfather?”
“I may be drunk, but the one thing I am not is a fool. Why would the queen of Egypt do such a favor for me?”
“She wouldn’t. She would do it for me.”
“And the reason …”
“Rome has not taken the queen to its heart. The truth of the matter is that she is trying to woo our senators. Her reasoning is if more people see and understand Egyptian customs, they might be more willing to accept her.”
Antony smiled at Marcellus, sending him a silent message of approval. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Quadatus nodded. “I find that sound reasoning. If I were to have a banquet, say a week from now, would it be possible to have the dancers perform for me? I have been thinking of the little dancer in white—she is hard to forget. I would like to have her perform for my guests.”
“What do you think, Antony—could you ask the queen for a favor?” Marcellus queried, his anger smoldering just below the surface.
Antony smothered a laugh, thinking Marcellus was a quick thinker. “I shall speak to her myself on your stepfather’s behalf. I believe she may well agree.”
Quadatus’s eyes gleamed with expectation as he took another drink of wine, sloshing more on his already stained toga. “This is excellent wine.”
“It’s from my own vineyards,” Marcellus said, staring at Antony over the drunkard’s head. “I’ll send you a case.”
Quadatus’s eyes gleamed even more. His stepson had entertained him gloriously tonight, and one of the most influential men in Rome had befriended him. He glanced around the room at other important senators, men in Caesar’s camp. He had no notion what Marcellus and Antony wanted of him, but he would enjoy their favor until he found out.
“Hail, Marcellus,” he said, slurring his words.
General Rufio cried, “Hail Marcellus’s wine!”
Chapter Twenty
For two days a heavy mist hung low over the land, shrouding the countryside in its grip, testing Marcellus’s patience. He’d had no word from Antony, and he waited for some word from his stepfather. He found the whispering innuendos and plots against Caesar troubling.
When the message finally came from Quadatus, it was late in the afternoon. Marcellus immediately went to Antony, where a servant led him to a bath chamber. The room was huge, the walls exquisitely crafted with a mosaic of mounted Romans soldiers in full battle armor. Antony was stretched out on a table with a towel draped over his lower body while three scantily dressed females massaged him with fragrant oils.
“Quadatus is holding a banquet in three days’ time and begs to be allowed to show off Queen Cleopatra’s dancers.”
Antony grinned, wrapped the towel around him and sat on the edge of the table. “Then we have him! After what he confided to your little Egyptian, we know he is plotting with Cassius and the others.”
“That is not the way I see it. I’ve been thinking and have come to the conclusion that Quadatus is too unimportant for us to waste time with.”
Antony, with his usual astuteness, said, “Something is bothering you, and it’s not Quadatus. Care to tell me what it is?” he asked, knowing full well it was the Egyptian beauty.
“Many things.” He stood and began to pace. “For the most part, I don’t like the notion of sacrificing an innocent young woman in a plan that may or may not uncover plots and stratagems.”
Antony threw back his head and laughed. “I knew it would be difficult for you to accept Lady Adhaniá as our spy. Hence, I kept her identity a secret from you until the end.” He slid off the table and reached for a tunic. “You already know the seriousness of these plots. And if Lady Adhaniá can help in any way, Queen Cleopatra will use her.” His gaze hardened. “I can’t have you acting like a jealous lover when she’s performing her duty. Since Quadatus has already confided in her, she is the obvious one to pull secrets from him. However, I suspect your stepfather was too drunk to remember what he said to her the night of your banquet.”
“She can’t possibly know the danger to herself, should she be discovered as a spy. I have heard that Cassius openly opposes Queen Cleopatra, and he is gathering followers who are in opposition to anything Egyptian. I’d say that puts Adhaniá in danger.”
“Come with me,” Antony said, slipping his feet into a pair of sandals and strolling toward the door. “It’s time I explained to you what we know, and it’s time you met Queen Cleopatra.”
The villa where Cleopatra resided was surrounded by fountains, gardens and a huge artificial lake. The wide beaten-brass doors swung open, and a man wearing the slave bracelet of the queen bowed low as Antony and Marcellus entered.
“Inform Queen Cleopatra I request an audience with her as soon as possible,” Antony told the slave.
They were quickly ushered into a small informal chamber, and Antony began pacing the room.
“My hope,” Marcellus stated, standing as if at attention, “is that we are not chasing shadows. Can you tell me why we are doing this?”
“Because,” a woman said, coming through the high arched doorway in a swirl of green silk, “to do nothing is to admit defeat, and I refuse to hand over victory to those who would harm Caesar.”
Marcellus knew he was in the presence of the queen of Egypt. She swept across the room, her movements like poetry. She wore a Grecian gown, and a simple gold circle crowned her dark head. She was smaller in stature than Marcellus had expected, but she was majestic, and no one would mistake her for an ordinary woman.
Antony bowed low, and Marcellus followed his lead.
“Rise.” Her voice held the forcefulness of command. “Tell me a
ll that has transpired.”
The queen had a disarming manner that put one at ease, but Marcellus suspected such a persona was misleading—her unusual green eyes sparkled with life and intelligence. She had not outlived those who plotted against her without shrewdness and daring.
“Majesty,” Antony said, catching her eye, “may I present Tribune Marcellus Valerius?”
The queen nodded the merest bit, then turned her attention back to Antony. “I hope you have come to tell me we can proceed with my plan.”
“I believe so, majesty.” Antony nodded to Marcellus. “But our friend here has doubts about using Lady Adhaniá as our spy.”
Cleopatra swung around to Marcellus. “Why should that be?”
He met her gaze. “Quadatus is evil and debased, and she is innocent in the ways of the world.”
“Adhaniá is a citizen of Egypt who speaks and writes four languages.” There was a sharp edge to Cleopatra’s voice. “She has been educated far beyond what most of your pale Roman women are taught. Adhaniá is brave and daring and has a striking beauty that has already tempted secrets out of this man.” She drew in her breath, looking weary. “It is my opinion that she is well suited to her task. Neither of you are my subjects and are free to withdraw from this plan. However, Adhaniá is my subject, and she will do as she is told.”
“I have sworn a vow to keep Caesar safe from harm,” Antony stated with feeling. “I concur with your plan.”
They both looked at Marcellus.
“I would gladly place myself between Caesar and harm, but I don’t agree with using Lady Adhaniá as a common dancer,” Marcellus stated, unwilling to place her in peril, even for Caesar’s sake.
“I am left with little choice.” Cleopatra seemed to crumple right before their eyes. “My priestesses have warned me of Caesar’s impending death, and I, myself, have seen his demise in a vision. We must not delay, for only this morning my priest of Isis predicted the deed will occur on the Ides of Martius, by calculation of Caesar’s new Julian calendar.” She put a trembling hand to her forehead and brushed an ebony strand of hair from her face. “I am told Caesar will be drenched in blood on that day. Since we are approaching the month of Februarius, we have not much time to stop the men who plot his death.” She opened her hands in a helpless gesture. “But I am a guest in your country and limited in what I can do.”
The queen had the power to inspire, and Marcellus felt some of her passion for protecting Caesar. “You can depend on me to aid you, majesty,” he said earnestly. “But must we use this young woman?”
“Yes, I must.” She turned the full power of her green eyes on Marcellus. “I believe you when you say you would readily put your life at risk to save Caesar, so I will tell you my new plan.” She sat down on a stool, but the two men remained standing. “Tribune Valerius,” she said with a winsome smile, “since you are so worried about Lady Adhaniá, I have decided to place her under your protection. Would that ease your concerns?”
Marcellus was so stunned he could think of no reply, so he merely bowed.
“None would protect her with the same steadfastness as Tribune Valerius,” Antony answered for Marcellus.
Adhaniá was practicing her dance steps, and since the day was swelteringly hot, she was dressed only in a thin, pleated tunic that fell just above her knees, belted with a green linen belt. She wore her long ebony hair loose, and it fell down past her shoulders, almost to her waist.
“Pardon, mistress,” one of Cleopatra’s handmaidens said, bowing. “The queen has asked that I bring you to her at once.”
“Will I have time to dress?”
“She said at once.”
Adhaniá grabbed up her sari wrap and draped it about herself. Her bare feet were noiseless as she rushed across mosaic floors beside the servant.
On entering the chamber where the queen waited, she stopped short at the sight of Antony and Marcellus. Clutching her thin wrap about her, she went to her knees, her head bent. “Majesty.”
“Rise up, Lady Adhaniá. We have matters to discuss.”
Adhaniá was well aware that the two Romans were staring at her—if only she had been allowed time to change her robe, she would not feel at such a disadvantage.
“You know Marc Antony and Tribune Valerius. They are here because I have formed a new plan that will involve you.”
“What must I do, majesty?”
“I called you here to let it be known that I am honoring Tribune Valerius for his loyalty to Caesar by bestowing a gift on him.”
Adhaniá met Marcellus’s gaze but said nothing as she waited for the queen to name the honor.
“That gift is you, Adhaniá.”
The young woman’s hand went to her throat, and she shook her head. “Majesty, surely—”
“Do not interrupt.” The queen’s eyes were fathomless pools of green. “The gift is, of course, a deception.” Her voice softened. “Surely you must know I would never give you to another. But the Romans who hear of this will believe it is true—and I will make certain the word is spread.”
Adhaniá dropped her head, wondering once again what Ramtat would do if he knew what was happening to her here in Rome. She wanted so badly to implore the queen to send her back to Egypt. She overcame her fear enough to answer the queen. “I will do as you command, majesty.”
Marcellus had seen the horror revealed in Adhaniá’s eyes, and he had watched as she conquered her fear. “May I ask what your majesty means by this gesture?” he inquired.
Cleopatra nodded. “If circumstances were not so dire, I would not implement such a reckless plan. But we have no time. We must strike quickly and with lethal force.”
The queen looked at each person in the room and motioned for Adhaniá, who was still kneeling, to come and sit beside her. “I would not use you so if it were not important. I will give you a choice: You can withdraw and no one will cast blame on you, or you can do all I ask of you. Tell me, Lady Adhaniá, which will it be?”
Adhaniá swallowed a lump. “Your majesty knows I will do what is expected of me.”
“Then you shall be taken to Tribune Valerius’s home, where you will remain until this matter is concluded.”
Feeling Marcellus’s gaze on her, Adhaniá lowered her head and could do no more than nod.
“You will take your handmaiden, Layla, with you, and your man, Heikki, will be your guard, so you will feel safe. I dare not send any of my own guards lest it look suspicious.” She turned her gaze to Marcellus. “I will expect you to see to her safety at all times. And beyond that, Caesar must not learn what we do to protect him. For if he knew, I fear he would object.”
Marcellus was still stunned. “Of course, Lady Adhaniá’s safety will be my foremost concern.”
“Go. Make preparations to receive my little dancer on the morrow,” Cleopatra told Marcellus. Then in a dismissive gesture, she waved her hand. “Leave me now. I have much to consider. Report to me anything that appears suspicious.”
Both men had been dismissed, and they backed toward the door. As they left, Marcellus could hardly contain his anger. “Lady Adhaniá was frightened. Could you not see that?”
Antony nodded. “Perhaps. But she will do what is expected of her all the same. And so must we.”
“It is easy for you and me to go along with this plan—we are sworn to protect Caesar—but she is an Egyptian who is being forced by her queen to participate in a dangerous venture to protect a Roman.”
“Queen Cleopatra will use you, me and anyone else to save Caesar. Did you not see how much she loves him?”
Marcellus shook his head. “If Lady Adhaniá’s brother were here, he would not allow this to happen to his sister.”
Antony stared into the distance. “Most probably not. And I have little doubt when Lord Ramtat hears what has happened, he will be angry. But he is not here. It rests in your hands to see that no harm comes to her. Can I depend on you to do that?”
Marcellus’s jaw tightened. “As I stated bef
ore, you can be sure Lady Adhaniá will be my first concern.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Once more Adhaniá was in Marcellus’s home. Only this time, she would be staying until her appointed task was completed. She had little faith in her ability to charm secrets out of Senator Quadatus, and she feared the queen would be disappointed in her.
As Layla began unpacking the trunks with a deftness the wretch Makana had lacked, Adhaniá paced restlessly about the room, unconsciously examining each item. The chamber was beautifully arranged—the bed was huge, and there were three couches, plush and inviting. There were tables crafted of cedar from Lebanon, and a mural of Greek women holding hands and dancing. Through a wide doorway she saw a garden she had yet to explore.
She wandered into the private water closet and was amazed at the grandeur: A fountain, carved with five sea nymphs, spilled water into the huge bath.
Returning to the bedchamber, Adhaniá spoke to Layla, “I believe I shall rest now. Should I fall asleep, wake me within an hour.”
Layla nodded, placing a bowl of fruit and cheese on one of the low tables. “Heikki is just outside your door, mistress, so you can rest in peace. No one will get past him. But should you need either of us, you have only to call, and we will hear.”
Adhaniá watched Layla withdraw into the connecting chamber before she eased her weary body onto the bed and lay back, burrowing deeply into the softness of the cushions. Unbidden, thoughts of Marcellus swamped her mind. He fascinated her, and he made her quake with longing.
She closed her eyes, thinking Marcellus personified many different men: first she had seen him in the robe of a Bedouin; then, on the boat to Alexandria, he’d worn a fine toga; now he would play her host. But the day she’d seen him in a Roman uniform was the day she realized the chasm that yawned between them, and that their worlds could never meet.
With that thought in mind, she rolled to her stomach and slowly drifted to sleep.
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