“She killed them all, all of them in two families?”
“No. Decimated. It comes from the word decimal. It’s a Roman military practice of randomly killing one in every ten of a group as a punishment for the whole group. It works, of course. Rome is always right. But I would have burned the whole city to the ground. I won’t tolerate nonsense.”
“I bet they didn’t see that coming.”
Octavian continued, “The Egyptians were also so delighted that she spoke Egyptian. Nobody else in her family had bothered to learn anything other than Greek and Latin, before. For the first time Cleopatra had an Egyptian court. She wore the feline black eye makeup to conjure the eye of Horus the god of the sky and sun. She wore Egyptian cuts of clothes. She put statues of Egyptian gods in the palace. She called herself Isis. The Egyptian people loved that. That love continued the prosperity. Respected farmers help ensure grain for Rome.”
Phaedra asked, “But how did she get the throne in the first place?”
Octavian answered, “It was a family tradition that siblings would share the throne together and the man would be the senior ruler. But her kid brother was only a small child when Egypt needed a new ruler. While the palace court wrung their hands, Cleopatra boldly ascended the throne and took the active role in government. Since she was a Ptolemy, nobody dared deny her.”
Phaedra pointed out a dolphin that jumped high out of the water. “She must have a fierce face to scare everybody back like that.”
Octavian shrugged. “That, perhaps, and a fancy throne. The Ptolemy family tree had many years to grow and blossom in Egypt. There have been nineteen Ptolemy rulers. So with that birthright she ran Egypt. That reign of peace was ruined when her brother grew old enough to decide he would rule, and rule it all by himself, resentful of his sister’s great success. As long as the grain still came in, Rome didn’t really care if they quarreled. Alexandria can all burn down as far as I’m concerned.”
“But it’s a great city, they say. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Only the Nile is important to Rome. It’s food that insures Rome’s future, not some bygone notions of Greece’s garbage pile.”
“Garbage?”
Octavian maintained, “It’s all too old to matter anymore. Rome is the modern culture for the world.”
“Oh, sure.” Phaedra chuckled. “Oh my Pegasus, thanks for telling all this to me about Cleopatra.”
“You’ve already heard plenty about her, I’m sure.”
Phaedra redid a few hairpins. “Oh sure, but the stories in the forum end up being so different, involving crocodile monsters, witches that set themselves on fire and Athena is cursing everybody.”
Octavian laughed mockingly. “Athena has become desperate as Athens becomes rundown and irrelevant. Alexandria is her last glory and that’s dimming fast. Soon, all anybody will know about is the Roman gods. The gods only exist by our knowing about them. Minerva is the Roman goddess replacement for Athena. Being Roman, Minerva is far more disciplined.”
Phaedra put her hand on her heart. “Oh, don’t mock the gods while we’re still on the high seas, not any of them!”
He defiantly yelled at the waves, “The gods of Rome will save me!”
~
In the laboratory in the Palace of Alexandria, at a long marble work table, Ptolemy mixed a liquid gold potion.
Sorceress Thrace looked about at the science equipment in disdain. “Your sister built this mad disarray.” The bald witch pushed at a wheel on gears that held eight glass jars. It spun into a blur. “You should have discarded it all with the rest of her ridiculous things.”
“My sister tried to find the secret to life. She was atrocious and failed. I’m better than her so I won’t fail.”
Sorceress Thrace scowled. “Leave it to magic. Science is nonsense—an insult to the gods.”
“How so?”
“Prayers ask. Magic takes. Science rapes.”
Ptolemy shook his head. “The great men of Athens conquered the world by leaving superstition behind and using science.”
“Where does this science come from? Magic comes from the mountains and rivers—the energy of the wild! This comes from tiny jars and bowls.”
“The library is filled with the names of men who’ve discovered new things. They did it through observation and labor in workshops like this. My name will be added to those great names. Who cares if my sister first built this place. I’ll be the name that’s remembered. Nobody will care about a laboratory but will only care about my discoveries.”
“Is it still liquid?”
Ptolemy jiggled his glass jar until the contents swirled. “Yes. Liquid gold!”
She shrugged. “So what? And then what?”
“Alchemy wastes its time trying to create gold.”
“That’s what’s desired above all things.”
Ptolemy said, “As long as Nubia is under Egypt’s thumb we will have gold aplenty. The real trick is turning gold into medicine.”
The witch reminded him, “I have medicine.”
“There were Greeks who insisted that our life came from our blood. And so, our death is a matter of our blood, too. They insisted but did they put it to the test? That’s what makes Alexandria better than Athens. Here, philosophy isn’t enough. Here, for the first time we put it to the test. If I can really change men’s blood then I can make an army that can’t be conquered. And, also, I can live forever too!”
“Where did you get a puerile notion like that?”
He held up a different glass jar of gold flakes mixed with salts. “My sister was on to something. But now she doesn’t have a chance to try it. I do. Now it’s all mine!” He smirked.
“Leave necromancy to magic.” She looked into a caged pool that contained large deformed frogs and a developmentally disabled armless mermaid. “This is utter nonsense.”
He corrected her, “This isn’t necromancy. I’m not talking to the dead. I’m preventing death. Can you imagine what that’ll get me on the battlefield? I’d beat the entire Roman world in a year. Alexandria will be taxing Rome.”
She backed away from the caged pool. “Leave all matters of life and death to magic. This is sacrilege. The gods have punished for less.”
He made angry fists. “I don’t want to depend on witches! I’m tired of women with secrets controlling me! I’ll do it all for myself with my own science!”
“You will always need witches like me around to protect you.”
“My sister is dead. I don’t need nasty women around to protect me from other nasty women anymore! Science is dependable. I can measure up the medicines and metals myself. Only I’ll know the measurements. Only I’ll have the power! And the gods can stay on their mountain.”
His witch warned, “Mock the gods and you fail.”
“I don’t mock the gods. I’m just noticing how much they don’t care if we live or die. Those matters we take into our own hands.” Ptolemy called for two guards to bring in a prisoner for testing. He said to the thief, “Drink this liquid gold and you might just live forever, from it.”
The thief asked, “I’m not to be killed?”
Ptolemy told him, “If the liquid gold in your veins is what gives you eternal life then I can’t kill you even if I tried. You’ll have the honor of being the first of my new army… an army improved by science.”
Sorceress Thrace entreated, “Let me have my own army of thieves and cutthroats that I control with my magic!”
“What?”
She repeated it.
He glared at her. “Then they’d all be under your control, only. This is to be an army for me that I create myself. Rome can’t stop me now. This trick will outdo all theirs. And I won’t need you around anymore, for anything, ever again.”
Sorceress Thrace pleaded, “If I have an army I won’t take any men away from you. I can make the thieves and cutthroats into my army. I can control them like I would my own dogs.”
Ptolemy ignored her and told the thief to
drink the liquid gold potion. He did. Ptolemy placed a weight on a tray to set a clock and after fifteen minutes passed, a chime rang. A silver figure of the Greek god of time, Chronos, a serpent with three heads, arose from the clock. Ptolemy pulled out a sword and stabbed the thief in the belly. The thief quickly bled out and dropped limp to the floor.
Sorceress Thrace kicked at the thief’s leg. “He could not fight a flea.”
Ptolemy had a temper tantrum, putting bloody footprints all over the tile floor.
She gestured to the pharaoh and guards. “You all go now and let me clean up the mess.” She scowled at Ptolemy. “That is what slaves are for, I am sure you contend. I am your good slave and that is all. You can come back tomorrow and try anew with another ingredient.”
Ptolemy screamed and yelled at her angrily through tears.
His witch made a sad face, pretending to care. “That is science. Like magic it takes many tries.”
He made a fist. “Beer! I’m going to go get drunk!” He stomped out of the room.
Alone in the laboratory, the witch warily watched the lifeless stabbed thief. She took his bloody clothes off and licked his body. After twenty minutes passed, the thief opened his eyes. He looked baffled.
She touched her own bald head. “What do you last remember?”
He cleared his throat and asked, “Who are you? Where am I?”
She repeated her question.
“I can’t remember anything.”
“What was the last thing you recall, tell me!”
He finally said, “It was a dream… a wolf was chasing a desert hare. The hare must stay ahead...”
“I am one step ahead of you.” The witch blasted him with fire until he was cooked. She ate his left shoulder. Then she blasted him until he was a pile of bones and ashes. As she swept it up, she murmured, “That silly king is going to do it my way… then he will always need me…”
~
Mark Antony went to the Egyptian palace and first had himself shaved, bathed, and perfumed with frankincense and myrrh to replace his smell of lavender. Lavender was for soldiers in the field, considered the antiseptic smell of medicine for preventing ringworm and other skin infections.
Surrounded by his men, he entered the Greek court of the Egyptian king. Ptolemy’s welcoming words were interrupted, as Mark yelled, “What is this deception against Caesar? Cleopatra is alive, well, and hunting you down like a furious barker!”
Barker was what the Romans called Egypt’s wolf god Anubis, to be very rude.
Ptolemy insisted he’d killed her.
“With your own hands? Did you put your own hands around her lovely long neck? You didn’t keep them there long enough!”
Ptolemy paused to think. “No! She was poisoned! They assured me she was dead... dead and then left so the jackals would tear her to bits!”
Mark rolled his eyes. “She took an antidote then in preparation and deceived you.”
“That’s not possible! It was somebody else you saw! My terrible sister is dead! She has to be! I want her dead!”
Mark slapped the crown of gold leaves off the young king. “I know a Cleopatra when I see one and this is certainly your sister.”
“It wasn’t her!”
Mark answered, “Cleopatra is unforgettable.”
“She’s a monster!”
“She’s lovely. And alive.”
Ptolemy cried, “No! Then you’ve been speaking to a ghost!”
Mark paused to wonder how much a ghost could hoodwink by the light of day.
A servant rushed in holding a box. Ptolemy yelled at the servant, “Open it! Open it now for all Rome to see!”
The servant tripped on his own sandals and the box fell to the marble floor and broke open. A man’s head rolled out.
Mark yelled when he saw the face. “Pompey!”
Ptolemy explained, “Pompey had said there would be a great surprise to whomever opened his pewter puzzle box. He said it contained a surprise for the Romans who would be so bold to open it. I don’t know about such a box so I used this one. Surprise!”
Mark gasped. “It was a curse! It was a curse!”
Ptolemy was confused by Mark’s reaction. “I couldn’t even find a puzzle box to fit his head. This is just a box. I wanted Rome to have a nice boxed surprise anyway…”
“Pompey the Great!”
Ptolemy pointed at it. “He’s not great. He’s your sworn enemy!”
Mark fell to his knees before the head of Pompey. “No! This is a great insult against the gods! All the gods of Rome will cry out in horror!”
Ptolemy yelled, “He was Caesar’s enemy!”
“Oooh what an insult. Pompey the Great came to Egypt seeking protection. You only pretended to provide sanctuary but then did this in hopes of winning favor with Caesar. Your hospitality is terrible! Oh what a great sin. His vengeance will sink many ships! His vengeance will be as powerful as a volcano! So great is this sin!”
“Caesar will be pleased. Admit it.”
Mark let out a moan. “Where is the rest of his body?”
The young pharaoh stammered incoherently.
Mark said, “Find it! I’m disgusted. He was a great man. He was a great foe. He was a foe whose death shall be shouted from the rooftops. Pompey the Great is dead, the greatest warrior for the Republic of Rome for as long as it stood! He was a noble Roman citizen and he will not be treated this way by the savage pagans of this backward land. This land is not Rome’s court of law. Only Rome could judge him.” Mark grabbed Ptolemy by his purple robe, pulled him off the throne, pulled him out of his robe and threw him to the floor. “I order that Pompey’s body be found and given a proper Roman funeral! And may everyone in Alexandria cry in mourning! Let them all give public sacrifices to the gods to pray forgiveness for this bad treatment of a Roman citizen! Hospitality has been insulted! Rome has been insulted! Let everyone cry that Caesar’s greatest enemy is dead!”
Ptolemy shook. “Forgive me, I thought it’d give Caesar pleasure. I only meant to please Rome. I only want to please Rome!”
“You’re too young to please anyone. In ten years I’ll see if you’re ready to please Rome. Until then you’ll go to the border of Persia, with Rome’s army, and fight the Persians. You’ll learn to live and fight as a Roman!”
Ptolemy got back up off the floor. “But… but… I’ll certainly be abused, disparaged and even put where the most harm may befall me if I’m in the midst of the soldiers of Rome.”
Mark threw the robe back into his face. “An occupational hazard when you are king.”
Ptolemy quickly put his robe back on. “I will be abused! I’ll be raped! I’ll be put on the front lines!”
Mark chuckled. “You have such an imagination. You’ll go and you’ll grow up—I swear by my sword. And don’t be afraid of the Romans. They’re very professional. The Persians on the other hand are a commendable foe. If they can’t be crushed by Rome then they deserve the highest respect.”
“Why respect your foe?”
Mark shouted angrily as if it was obvious, “So that we don’t insult the gods of war, so the gods won’t drive us mad from war! Have you learned nothing of the gods of war? Have you learned nothing from The Iliad?”
The young pharaoh slumped. “When do I leave?”
“Quietly. Orderly. When Cleopatra has had time to install her court again.” He looked around the throne room. “I’ve already sent word to her army in Syria.”
Ptolemy asked, “How could she raise her own army anywhere? They can’t possibly believe she’s really Isis over there.”
Mark stated, “The queen knows her Plato. He said that we are twice armed if we fight with faith. She has them believing in a lot.”
“But… that she’s really actually genuinely Isis?”
Mark chuckled. “I hear they believe that she’s not only Isis but also Baset.”
Ptolemy made a mocking face. “The stupid Egyptian cat goddess? They think she’s a cat?”
&nbs
p; Mark did a sexy little dance. “The mysterious black cat who is the great hunter by moonlight, and gives protection, joy, dance, music and love. Love! The men believe they will live with their beautiful queen in the afterlife for all eternity… in one great bed!”
“My sister is like a cat only in that she expects to be pampered. She thinks this is all here for her. She thinks she’s queen no matter where she is.”
“Like a cat, knowing her, when she returns to the palace it will be an entrance worthy of her even if she’s the only one about. She does know how to make entrances no matter what.” Mark smiled.
Ptolemy raised his voice. “She is not a cat! Enough of her. She walks like a crocodile. She has short fat legs and it makes her only able to stumble from this to that! She is atrocious!”
Mark Antony stormed out with all the bluster of storming in. After Mark was gone, Sorceress Thrace stepped up beside her king.
Ptolemy calmed. He said to her, “We’ll make sure my evil sister doesn’t have the ability to restore her court. No matter how she escaped death before, she mustn’t again! Do something now!”
Sorceress Thrace said, “I am one step ahead of Rome, but… you must not risk insulting Rome again. The head of Pompey the Great was blunder enough for one day.”
“He was a Roman. Rome only cares about Romans, especially the nobility. I should have thought.”
His witch asked, “Indeed, what made you blunder so. Who put the idea in your head to kill him and present a head, like that?”
Ptolemy looked at her. “You did.”
“I did not.”
“Oh that’s right. It came to me in a dream, so the idea was all mine.”
Sorceress Thrace frowned. “Not so fast. What dream? You cannot trust dreams in a world full of ghosts and witches.”
Ptolemy rubbed his nose. “Oh that’s right. It was just stupid fantasy. In a dream a woman with snakes for hair rose out of a clay pot and told me it’d make Caesar very happy. And it was one of those crappy pots made out of ropes of clay coiled up.” He put his nose in the air. “I should have known to ignore it all from that.”
Sorceress Thrace scoffed. “You had a dream of Medusa? You are lost in fantasy. You have to know the difference between reality and bedtime stories, if you are to be a wise pharaoh.”
Cleopatra Occult Page 8
