‘And, Wen...?’
‘Yes, my Queen?’ said Wen, the powerful tartness still exploding on her tongue.
‘Oh, Wen, there is so much to be done! I can hardly think.’
‘Shall I advise the temples about the beer and bread distributions?’ Wen asked, remembering how much she had appreciated such distributions herself.
‘Ah, yes! Go to the Isis Temple and tell the head priestess. She will send word to the other temples. Tell them the rations will arrive this afternoon.’
‘Yes, my Queen.’
‘And would you find Apollodorus? I need a bodyguard. Pothinus was so enraged after Caesar’s speech that I fear he might try to kill me himself.’
‘Pothinus, my Queen?’
‘My brother’s advisor. The brains behind his unfortunate reign.’ Cleopatra sighed. ‘I cannot beat Pothinus without Caesar, but I fear that Caesar has outmanoeuvred me.’
‘I do not think so,’ Wen said.
‘I want to believe you.’
‘He may appear as Alexandria’s saviour today, but Alexandrians are cynical. They know better than to trust him.’
‘I fear they are enamoured of him.’
‘Hunger motivates love of a passing nature only. After the belly is filled, it disappears.’
‘If he leaves Alexandria now I am as good as dead.’
Wen dared not look at the Queen directly. ‘You still hold fast to what is most precious?’ She had spoken without being questioned, though in truth she did not care. The Queen’s only hope against Ptolemy and his wicked advisors was to win Caesar to her side. Indeed, she needed to make him her champion.
‘I do,’ said the Queen. ‘Though I cannot say if he is even interested in me.’
‘He is interested.’
‘How do you know?’
‘How could he not be? You are utterly magnificent,’ Wen pronounced grandly, as Charmion might have done. The Queen laughed. ‘Also, the two of you are much alike.’
‘Yes, we both wish to rule Egypt.’ Cleopatra laughed bitterly.
‘Apologies, my Queen. I did not mean—’
‘There is no need to apologise for speaking the truth, Wen.’
Cleopatra poured herself another goblet of wine. ‘Caesar could call his legions to Egypt at any moment. He could make us a province at his whim. That is what Ptolemy—and the Alexandrians themselves—do not understand. The Romans are as inevitable as the tears of Isis.’
‘It is true,’ Wen said, speaking freely now.
‘Though I understand that hunger better now,’ the Queen added. ‘It is a hunger born of poverty. Titus explained it well.’
‘That he did,’ said Wen, remembering the taste of his lips. She had stopped their kiss after only a few moments, fearful of being seen. Now she wished she had let it go on.
‘It makes me wonder what Egyptian soldiers would do if they had to fight for their bread.’
‘Conquer the world,’ Wen offered cheerfully, ‘in the name of their Queen.’
Cleopatra smiled sadly. ‘All I want is the kingdom my father left me. I know I can serve its people well—and not just these wretched Alexandrians, but all Egyptians. There is a glory and a grace in our way of life that a Roman governor could never understand.’
‘Yet some kind of relationship with a Roman is inevitable,’ Wen said. ‘You are fortunate, for you stand in a position to dictate the terms.’
The Queen flashed a beguiling grin. ‘You fortify me, Wen.’
‘You must call upon every persuasive tactic you know, Goddess. Though you remain firmly rooted, you must bend like a reed. For every effort of resistance your brother presents to Caesar, you must present an effort of alliance. Or there will be a Roman fort in every town from Thebes to Alexandria.’
‘A covenant with Seth Incarnate.’
‘To save your Egypt’s life as well as your own.’
‘Would you do such a thing, Wen? Attempt to seduce a stranger? A Roman? Speak truthfully.’
A vision invaded her memory: a man with a pitted nose and hair that smelled of rancid oil. He was saying something in Latin—something ugly and perverse—and pulling Wen by the wrists up a flight of stairs.
‘My Queen,’ Wen said, blinking the vision away, ‘I do not know if I could seduce a Roman.’
‘But you already have.’ she said. ‘Do you not see it?’
‘Goddess?’
‘Titus. He looks at you as if you were a sculptor and he a lump of clay. And do not tell me that he did not try to kiss you that night in the labyrinth.’ Wen tried to conceal her surprise. How had the Queen known about the kiss? ‘Queens are trained to observe,’ Cleopatra said. ‘If I did not know better, I would say that you had kissed him again quite recently.’
Was Wen so very transparent? Perhaps so, for even now, she could not stop her blush. ‘My Queen is wise,’ she said. She touched her fingers to her lips, remembering.
‘Let us hope not too wise. These Romans like their women vacuous and pliable, I fear.’
‘Caesar can have any woman he wishes. You must show him that you are different. You are a prize worth fighting for.’
The Queen sighed. ‘And what if I am successful? I fear I will not be able to sustain the ruse.’
‘If a ruse it is. Perhaps you will grow to like him.’
‘There is little to recommend him. They say he is fifty-two years old!’
‘Well, he is almost bald,’ Wen offered.
‘How is that a recommendation?’
‘Does it not make him almost Egyptian?’
The Queen gave a mighty laugh, then buried her head in her hands.
‘Do not despair,’ Wen said, ‘but fortify yourself. And no matter what you do, do not give him your heart.’
There was a sudden pounding on the entrance doors. Startled, Wen hastened across the long chamber and heaved back a thick, ebony door. There, standing before her, was Caesar himself, accompanied by Titus.
* * *
He had not expected to see her face again so soon. She inhaled when she saw him and her cheeks turned a lovely shade of crimson.
‘Greetings, General Caesar,’ she told Caesar. She gave a deep bow, then quieted her voice. ‘Greetings, Legate Titus.’
‘Greetings, Wen.’
She did not look at him and her shyness sent a pang of lust through his limbs.
‘Since it appears you have struck my advisor dumb,’ said Caesar, ‘I will say that I have come for an audience with the Queen.’
‘As you wish, General,’ replied Wen. ‘Please follow me.’
As Wen led them down the long, empty chamber towards the elegant green throne stationed at its end, Caesar slowed his stride.
‘Is this the one you were telling me about?’ he whispered in Latin.
Titus felt his skin prickle. Earlier, he had explained to Caesar that one of the Queen’s women had discovered his identity.
He had not mentioned that Wen was a slave, or that she could speak their Latin tongue. Still, there was no way to correct the General now. ‘Well, is this the woman?’ he prodded in Latin and Titus managed a small nod.
‘She is nice,’ Caesar said, taking her measure from behind.
Titus tried to remain calm. He was not supposed to interfere with Caesar’s activities, whatever their nature. ‘Observe and report, Titus!’ Those were Cicero’s orders. ‘Do not disrupt the course of events until absolutely necessary. Remember that you are just a spy.’ He had even made Titus swear an oath.
But now, as Titus watched Caesar’s eyes range across Wen’s lovely backside, he knew that he would break that oath a hundred times if it meant keeping her away from him. The Roman Republic be damned—he would not hesitate to stick a knife in the old lecher if he ever set a finger on Wen.
Fortunately, as they neared Cleopatra’s throne, Caesa
r’s gaze was quickly diverted from the lovely servile backside moving before them to the royal one stepping up the dais to the throne.
‘Greetings, Caesar,’ said the Queen in her light, musical tone. She glanced over her shoulder in an offhanded way, then completed her ascent with an exaggerated sway of her hips. ‘I am honoured that you have come to visit me in my humble Reception Hall.’
Titus glanced around the towering space and wondered just what was humble about it. Behind the massive stone throne stretched a wall-sized mosaic of the Egyptian goddess Isis, her breasts bared above her tree-sized red sheath, her headdress itself a throne.
On either side of the mosaic stood two massive columns that supported the richly painted ceiling. Careful not to stare, Titus stole a glance at the painting overhead and beheld a river scene populated by innumerable deadly animals and as many naked children playing together in impossible harmony.
But that was only a passing wonder in comparison to the massive marble statues that had been erected on either side of the Queen’s high throne.
They were giant sphinxes.
They stood two heads taller than Titus and twice as wide. How old are you? he asked the feline noblemen. From what fantastic quarry were you hewn? The chimeras gave no answers, yet seemed to carry the wisdom of the ages in their emerald eyes.
‘Greetings, Titus,’ the Queen said, catching his attention. ‘I see you are fond of my little cats.’
He bowed low, trying to conceal the rush of blood in his cheeks. ‘Greetings, Queen Cleopatra.’
Titus noticed that Wen had taken her position at the foot of the dais. She appeared to be trying to suppress a rather sphinx-like grin.
‘You may touch them, if you wish,’ Cleopatra told Titus. ‘The sphinxes, I mean.’
‘Gratitude, Queen, but I find them too beautiful to sully with my brutish hands.’
At that, the Queen let out a laugh. ‘Well, they are the hands that brought me safely to this throne, and for that I shall always be grateful.’
He bowed again, at a loss for words.
‘Titus, you are not the only man here to whom I owe my gratitude,’ the Queen continued, shifting her gaze to Caesar. ‘Your performance today was magnificent, General. I have never seen the Alexandrian horde so moved. Under whom did you study the rhetorical arts?’
Caesar did not answer the Queen’s question. He only stared at her in wonder. ‘You look radiant, Queen,’ he said at last.
‘If I am radiant then it is you who has made me so. By reuniting me with my husband-brother you have restored me to my throne.’
‘I have merely followed your father’s wishes. In Egypt, a late pharaoh’s will is the law, is it not?’
‘It is.’
‘You are fortunate in that. In Rome the law is much more complicated.’
If Titus had been listening closely to Caesar’s words, he would have recognised the shadow of Caesar’s ambition and the threat to come. But he was thoroughly distracted by Wen. She remained standing at the base of the Queen’s throne only a few arms’ lengths away, her eyes fixed forward in a maddening show of duty.
‘Your father’s will is why I am here,’ said Caesar. ‘I will read it today before the Royal Council of Advisors. It is a formality, but as the executor I wish your restoration to be seen as legal.’
The Queen shifted in her throne, crossing one leg over another and exposing some of the skin of her thigh. ‘You are very thorough, General.’
From the corner of his eye, Titus noticed Caesar swallow hard. ‘I try to be.’
‘You also act with great haste. I was rather shocked when you announced the feasts.’
‘Can you blame me for wanting to experience the pleasures of the Ptolemaic court?’
‘No, I cannot,’ said the Queen. She lowered her voice. ‘And I promise you that they are not to be missed.’ Cleopatra raised her chin to a more regal angle. ‘But it will be no small feat to organise a citywide festival in a single day.’
‘The way in which one confronts the unexpected reveals one’s character,’ Caesar replied. ‘I am sure you will pass the test.’
‘The staging of feasts? As a test?’
‘Why not?’ replied Caesar. ‘It would amuse me to observe if you can organise them. It is not a person’s birth, but a person’s merit that impresses me most.’
‘Is that so? Then in that sense we are the same,’ said the Queen, sliding Wen a look. ‘I have heard that you find your greatest supporters among the common people.’
‘That is true,’ said Caesar.
‘I, too, am supported by commoners. What is it that they are called in Rome, Wen?’
‘The plebeians, my Queen,’ Wen said.
Titus wished she would look at him—just give him a small glance. He needed to know that she felt it, too—this strange force pulling them together, despite themselves. In the Library, she had pulled away from his kiss and stood before him, her cheeks flush, her eyes glowing. She had commanded him to return to his duty and said something about hers. Then she simply opened the door to the Library and slipped past the guards.
By the time he had got past the guards himself, she was already gone—disappeared into the common crowd. But she was not common, not at all. She was advisor to the world’s greatest Queen. Who are you, Wen of Alexandria? he wondered. Who?
‘Ah, yes, the Roman plebeians,’ said Cleopatra. ‘They are like our Egyptian fellahin, yes?’
‘Only in their poverty,’ said Caesar. ‘They are much closer to the Alexandrian mob in their humour.’
‘It is no wonder they favour you, then, for you are able to manipulate their passions.’
Caesar gave a vain toss of his head. He seemed unaware that his own passions were being manipulated quite handily.
‘General Caesar, what is your purpose here?’ she asked suddenly.
Caesar stiffened. ‘I wish to solidify Rome’s alliance with Egypt.’
The Queen smiled tightly. She studied her knees, as if trying to think. ‘You must forgive us,’ she said at last. ‘We have failed to offer you and Legate Titus any refreshment!’
She glanced at Wen, who retreated to a corner of the corridor and emerged bearing a silver tray laden with an amphora and four golden goblets. She placed the tray upon a high table at the base of the throne.
In a blur of nubile grace, the Queen stepped down the stairs of the dais and stood beside Wen.
For a moment the four of them stood looking at each other—like two pairs of opponents meeting before a contest.
The Queen lifted the wine vessel with two hands and began to pour, while Wen held a cloth beneath the lip to catch the drips. As the Queen filled each goblet, she spoke gently and intimately to Caesar, as if she were confessing to her closest maid. ‘You must think me terribly naive to ask you why you are here, General—especially since I already know. You are here to recover my father’s debt.’
Caesar watched Cleopatra carefully but said not a word. She handed him his goblet.
‘You may be sure that as long as I sit upon the throne I will labour to pay that debt in full, and with interest.’ She handed a goblet to Titus and one to Wen, then took the fourth into her own hands. ‘I will always remember that you restored me to my rightful throne. The problem is that the moment you leave Egypt, I am as good as dead.’
She raised her goblet and Caesar raised a brow. ‘Your insight surprises me, Queen.’
‘Please, call me Cleopatra.’
Caesar grinned. ‘Let us drink to you, then...Cleopatra.’ Caesar raised his goblet, then emptied its contents in a single gulp. Titus did the same, feeling more at ease as he watched Wen take a tentative sip.
‘I may be young and inexperienced,’ continued Cleopatra, ‘but I assure you that I understand the challenges and responsibilities of being Queen.’
‘Do you?’ said
Caesar, smirking. ‘It requires more than just pouring wine.’
The Queen’s eyes flickered with the delight of a challenge. ‘I know that my brother’s advisor Pothinus would much rather go to war with Rome than see your debt paid. And of course every leather-shod noble in Alexandria is behind him.’ The Queen refilled their goblets. ‘I also know that Rome cannot afford another long war.’
‘Nor does it wish for one.’ Caesar gave Titus a look, then drained his cup once again. ‘I am tired of battle.’
It was a lie, of course. Caesar was never tired of battle because he was never tired of glory. It was the difference between Caesar and Titus. Caesar fought for his own glory, while Titus fought to defend the Republic.
Titus shuddered, feeling the sudden burn of Wen’s gaze upon his skin. It was as if she had heard Titus speak his thoughts aloud.
Titus kept his face taut and expressionless, though he feared Wen could see his doubt of Caesar like a halo around his head.
‘And, of course, the city of Rome becomes a starving hamlet without reliable exports of Egyptian grain,’ continued the Queen. ‘With me dead, my brother will ban that trade, for his advisor Pothinus hates Romans even more than he loves beer. I fear it is in your interests to keep me alive, General.’
‘You speak like a politician,’ said Caesar. ‘How is it possible that one so young and lovely should have a mind so seasoned and sharp?’
The Queen only laughed. ‘And now we have delivered our best flattery to each other and are similar in that, as well,’ she said.
‘I am many things, but a flatterer I am not.’
‘Ha! Then I am bested, General, for I have just admitted that I am.’
They both drank at once, never taking their eyes off one another, while Titus stole another glance at Wen. The hint of a smile traversed her lips.
‘Pothinus and General Achillas hold the Egyptian army at Pelousion,’ the Queen said. ‘I fear they will begin their march to Alexandria any day.’
‘I see the net you are weaving,’ said Caesar carefully. ‘I wonder if the thread will hold.’
‘You have everything to gain from helping me defend my throne. Think of it as a test of merit.’
‘A test?’
In Thrall to the Enemy Commander Page 11
