Cleopatra's Secret: Keepers of the LIght

by LYDIA STORM

  Antony tightened his lips, squeezing his hands into fists to control his temper. They intentionally blocked him from her. Did the priest disapprove of him so much? “I will see her, Apollodorus,” Antony’s raised voice echoed off the walls of the great hall.

  “I’m sorry, but you will not,” replied Apollodorus, his tone calm but firm.

  Infuriated, Antony turned his back on the old man and marched out of the hall as the courtiers scattered to get out of his way.

  These polite Egyptians would have much to deal with if they thought they could so easily keep him out. He pushed past the crowd that had gathered in the gardens outside the hall of Ma'at and burst through the palace gates in a blind fury. He would see her. He would see her if he had to tear down the temple of Isis stone by stone.

  ***

  Inside the temple walls Cleopatra felt safe. The soft chanting of the priests, and narcotic odor of frankincense and myrrh circulating through the dim chambers, soothed her nerves as she sat on her knees washing the Goddess’s shapely silver feet with rosewater. She ran her cloth lovingly up the rounded calf and womanly thighs of the statue, washing away any impurities and then polishing the silver with ashes until it gleamed brightly in the torchlight.

  She sat back on her heels looking up at the Great Mother. Today Cleopatra was dressed as a simple priestess in a robe of clean white linen, her dark hair pulled neatly away from her face. The only ornaments to betray her rank were the flawless jade bracelets and matching necklace that brought out the color of her eyes against her dusky skin. She felt at peace at the foot of the Goddess, employed in the humble work she had performed daily as a young initiate in the temple. With Isis so close, she had the faith to trust all things would be as they should. Antony's nearness, which had sent her into such a panic the night before, no longer filled her with wild emotions.

  She sighed wistfully, looking forward to the day when she could turn the Pharaoh’s crown over to Caesarion and spend her old age here in the temple doing the simple work of a priestess, as her mother had before her. For a moment she allowed herself to sit in quiet contemplation before the Goddess in the peace of the hushed temple, watching the incense rise like ghostly cobras. The smoke drifted off to the right, as if a draft wafted it, but there were no holes in the temple's perfectly constructed walls. She followed the trail of smoke with her eyes and froze.

  He stood in the doorway. Iris, who had guided him past the guards and disapproving priests, slipped quietly away, leaving Antony and Cleopatra alone together for the first time in many long years.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cleopatra sat paralyzed, kneeling at the foot of Isis, as Antony came towards her, his eyes blazing, the force of his presence overwhelming in its powerful effect on her. He knelt at her side and grasped her trembling hands in his. Warmth spread through her fingers at his touch, circulating through her blood, through her body in waves of electricity––the warmth and masculine strength of Antony which she had never forgotten.

  He pressed a fervent kiss to her fingertips. She could feel the passion in the way his lips trembled against her skin. The walls she had built up over years crumbled away and she was in his arms, enwrapped in the love that emanated from him, holding him as tight as she could, her hungry heart opening up as she had known it would.

  She met his eyes and everything else slipped away. He was here. A thrill of joy rushed through her. Antony was here at last, gazing with passionate longing into her face. The torchlight flickered across his broad features, his familiar square jawline and sensual lips. His deep blue eyes arresting her, drawing her in.

  Their lips met in a holy kiss that stretched on for a timeless moment. His tongue brushed against hers, his tender lips communicating everything. The longing, the despair, the caged desire that had only been locked away, but never died, now unfurling, unleashing, building to a blinding crescendo in their locked embrace.

  “I never thought I would touch you again…” Antony voice was thick with emotion as his kisses trailed down her neck, sending shivers of delight tingling along her back. He ran a handful of her thick dark hair through his fingers, pulling it away from her face. “You’re beauty,” he whispered, “I tried not to remember, but it haunted me. You haunted me every night, Cleopatra.”

  He tugged at the knot which held her sheath together until it came loose. She sucked in her breath as Antony slowly unfurled the linen, revealing her inch by inch, until the sheath lay in a snowy pool on the dark temple floor and she sat on her heels, her heart racing, fully exposed to the ravishment of his eyes.

  Antony sat back a moment and she could feel him drinking in the sight of her full breasts and rounded thighs, the glow of the temple’s lamp shining gently against her golden skin. The appreciation in his eyes sent of wave of desire through her, and she arched back slightly, inviting his grasp as he greedily took her ripe honeyed breasts in his hands, his tongue teasing up a fire which shot through her with the blinding potency of serpent’s venom.

  She gasped, and her eyes fluttered shut, as his fingers slid along her belly and then down deeper to set off a flurry of fireworks in her quivering womb. She clung to his broad shoulders as the world spun around her with each stroke of his finger on her damp sex. Burying her face in his neck, she inhaled the familiar scent of leather and cloved wine mixed with his own sweat, and she cried out for release, until he laid her back on the cold marble.

  She heard the clang of his bronze breastplate as it clattered to the floor and watched him unveil himself as he pulled his tunic over his head, revealing the wonderfully familiar body of a Roman God.

  Then he was on her again and she felt the sweet pleasure of him at last pushing against her body, after so many long empty nights, joining with her. The rush of him entering her wiped out everything but a mind-numbing overriding ecstasy.

  She opened her eyes to see him, to know that he was really there with her, his shoulders hovering above her, his beautiful face aflame. She pulled him deeper, his strong legionnaire’s body against her softness, churning and enjoying one another as they had not enjoyed anyone in years. Filling the deep ache his loss had left in her.

  The incense swirled around their naked bodies; the chants of the priests outside the room called forth the power of the Goddess, whose statue towered over the lovers, blessing their reunion. The sound of the priests' song echoing in the temple halls beyond the door took on a haunting beauty as it transformed into the Great Song, which rang in Cleopatra’s ears like a thousand bells.

  Out of the humming of the All, Cleopatra felt the Goddess's melody rush through her spirit like clear sparkling water which poured bountifully into her lover. The gentle vibration of Her notes sent waves of peace through her, through him, the boundaries lost now in the joy. For one magical moment, as she grasped Antony’s solid body against hers, the Song sang through them and the waves of an exquisite climax surged through her body from head to tingling toes and fingers, before gently fading into silence…

  When she opened her eyes, she saw the peace and joy of the divine shining in Antony’s eyes and a smile of pure bliss lit her face as she snuggled into the crook of his arm, and he folded her against the strum of his heart, trying to hold the magic for just a moment longer.

  They basked in the soft afterglow, languidly gazing into each other's eyes, only closing them when their lips met in a sweet kiss, their breath held as time stopped for one perfect luxurious moment. Then they opened their eyes once more to feel the joy of gazing upon the flushed and loving face of the beloved.

  Cleopatra ran her fingers along a red scar which stretched the length of Antony’s back. A fresh wound, still barely healed, and this was just the one she could see with her eyes. She took in the crinkle of new lines around the corners of his eyes and the shadows beneath them. It had been so easy to blame Antony, to hate him even at moments, while he was in Rome. But here, with his haunted face looking so searchingly into her own and the steady beat of his heart against her cheek, she understoo
d how he had suffered too.

  Antony traced the outline of her face with his thumb. “I will never leave you again,” he vowed in a hushed tone. “I swear it here in this temple before your Goddess and mine.”

  He gently brushed back a strand of henna-streaked hair from her glowing face. She dropped her eyes as a radiant smile spread across her lips and tears rolled down her flushed checks. Laughing through her tears she met his gaze again.

  “I remember a time before when you looked at me in just that way,” his voice was husky with emotion. “It was after that night in the Great Pyramid. You looked at me nakedly, your eyes filled with such love, and fear too, because you held nothing back from me.” He bowed his head and looked away. “The memory shames me––I betrayed that trust.”

  “Antony––”

  He held up his hand to silence her. Cleopatra understood she must let him make his amends or carry the pain locked in his heart for the rest of his life.

  “My disloyalty has plagued me from the first time I wanted something that wasn’t mine––that was Caesar’s alone.”

  His haunted eyes bored into hers and she knew he spoke of his passion for her.

  Cleopatra shook her head. “You never once looked at me improperly when Caesar was alive. In truth, I thought you despised me, as most Romans do.” She smiled, gently pressing her palm against his. “Was it disloyalty that made you behave that way?”

  Antony shrugged. “My hostility was the only way to keep myself away from you.”

  “Only men’s actions can be judged, Antony, and your behavior on that count should cause you no shame.”

  He scowled and gripped her fingers until they hurt. “But what of coming to you after Caesar’s death?”

  “Do you truly believe Caesar would want me to have a life with no love in it once he was gone?” She shook her head. “He was not such a petty man. We both know his great wish would be to see me cherished and protected. And if his trusted friend, his general who avenged him to the last man after his death, should be the lover of my choosing, I don’t think he would be sorry.”

  Antony shrugged off her explanations. “Perhaps, but what I’ve done to you…there’s no honor to be found in that.”

  Cleopatra braced herself and willed her face to remain impassive. “There’s more to that story than you know.”

  “How could there be?” He shook his head and she saw the guilt flooding through him again as he dropped her hand and turned away.

  She paused. Then glancing to the statue of Isis for strength, quietly recounted the story of Iris’s deception.

  When Cleopatra finished, Antony’s face was thunderous and he reached for his dagger, but having surrendered it outside the temple walls he clutched vainly at nothing. “This nightmare was caused by the spell of a lovesick girl?”

  “A spell which meshed perfectly with Octavian’s plotting.” Cleopatra rose and placed a calming hand on his chest. “When the webs of human affairs are spun so neatly together, know that we are all the instruments of the Gods and judge not too harshly, my love.”

  Antony glared at her and she could feel his powerful heart pounding beneath her fingertips. He turned his eyes on the silver Goddess who stood above them. “All except Isis, isn’t that right. She alone is above fate?”

  Cleopatra tried to make her face smooth, but she could see he detected a flicker behind her sea green eyes. “When she wills it.”

  He stood a little taller and squared his shoulders as he took her hands in his. She read the steely determination in his eyes. “No matter what the Gods may will, I vow this to you. I will never again betray your trust, Cleopatra. Never.”

  He tightened his arms around her, pressing her body close against him as he buried his face in her neck, murmuring, “I’ll die by my own hand before I ever leave you.”

  She clung to him. Isis let his words be truth, she silently prayed, because she knew she too could never live without Antony again.

  ***

  The only joy which could surpass Cleopatra’s reunion with Antony was introducing him to their children. As they entered the nursery, the little prince and princess looked up curiously from the floor where they played and stared at the tall Roman with his arm casually wrapped around their mother’s waist.

  Their deep blue eyes widened with surprise as Cleopatra beamed at her little ones. “Do you remember I told you your father was a great general?”

  “It is him!” little Selene whispered to her nurse excitedly. “I told you he was coming, Weni, didn't I?”

  “Indeed you did, Princess,” replied the amazed nurse.

  Antony knelt down close to his children. “It would appear you have the gift of sight like your mother,” he said, grinning at his charming little daughter.

  Then he turned to Alexander, who hung back, timidly clutching at his nurse’s skirts. But he was smiling and looked up in awe at the powerfully built man in his shining breastplate. “And you, Alexander. Did you expect to see your father today?”

  Dimpling up, Alexander shook his head and giggled, then turning to Cleopatra, asked, “Mother, is he a God?”

  Cleopatra sat on the floor and gathered her shy little boy into her lap, gently smoothing his silky black hair from his face. “At times he is, just as you will be, Alexander, when you’re as big and tall as your father.”

  Awe dawned on Alexander’s face as he peeked up at Antony.

  Antony smiled at the two children with the gleam of something almost mischievous in his expression. “I have gifts for you. Would you like to see them?”

  “Oh yes!” Selene bounced on her toes, excitement lighting up her face while Alexander looked at his father hopefully with his big serious eyes.

  “Very well,” Antony reached into his cloak and pulled out a cloth doll. There was nothing grand or fabulous in her, but she had a sweet face with violet embroidered eyes, rosy lips and a pretty pale blue linen dress.

  Antony placed the doll into Selene’s arms. “Never tell anyone,” he whispered conspiratorially into his daughter’s ear, “But I used to sleep with such a doll as a little boy. It was my sister’s but when anyone tried to take her away from me I bit them!”

  Selene giggled and pressed the soft doll to her cheek, snuggling it tight in her arms.

  Antony turned to his son, who was eyeing him suspiciously. “Did you get me a doll too?” his tone implying serious doubts about his father’s ability to select gifts.

  Antony laughed and shook his head. “No Alexander. I have your present right here.” Antony reached into his scarlet cloak and pulled out a sturdy little sword encased in a bronze Roman scabbard.

  “Like the pirates!” squealed Alexander with joy as he accepted the sword and raised it high in the air, all shyness forgotten.

  Antony, gently but firmly, grasped his son’s arm, forcing him to lower the blade. “Like a Roman general,” he said seriously. He studied the lines of Cleopatra’s proud face, “and an Egyptian pharaoh. It is a gift, Alexander, but not a toy. Raise your sword only to fight for the good of your people and use it honorably. I will teach you.”

  Alexander nodded gravely and sat on the floor studying his weapon with new respect.

  “You may thank Lord Antony, your father, for your gifts,” Cleopatra reminded her children.

  The princess inched closer to Antony, grinning up at him with those laughing eyes, so like his own. “Thank you, Father. May I give you a kiss?”

  “Of course you may!” Antony pulled her into his arms, her little hands clutching his breastplate and the back of his neck as she placed a sweet kiss on his cheek. In a moment, Alexander had lost his shyness long enough to jump into his father's embrace too. Antony cradled the precious children close and thought his heart would break with joy.

  Cleopatra looked on with tears in her eyes. This was the happiest moment she could remember in many long years.

  ***

  But not every member of the royal household was pleased with Antony’s return. Caesarion, n
ow almost a young man, sat hunched on a stool in his favorite corner of the great library. His brow furrowed as he labored over a translation of Socrates under the benevolent gaze of his tutor, Meryre.

  Caesarion looked up as one of his mother’s servants approached.

  “Forgive my intrusions, Lord Horus,” the servant’s head nearly scraped the ground as he bowed before Caesarion. “The Queen of Heaven requests your presence in her chambers.”

  Caesarion looked up to meet his tutor’s shrewd eyes. “It must be important for her to disturb your studies,” croaked the old man.

  Caesarion frowned. “Yes.” He had a bad feeling about this summons, but quickly made his face smooth before the servant. “Thank you. I’ll go to her directly.”

  Reluctantly, Caesarion excused himself from his tutor and walked back along the Canopic Way, trailed by his guards, trying to push away the feeling of foreboding as he passed the Alexandrian medical school and the amphitheater.

  When he reached the palace, Caesarion made straight for his mother's private reception room, where she entertained close friends and family members. Her guards opened the carved ebony doors to reveal the shocking sight of his mother sitting on a red silk couch with Antony reclining next to her. The Roman general held his mother’s hand in his and seemed to be absorbed in examining her bejeweled fingers with keen interest.

  Cleopatra and Antony looked up and smiled warmly as Caesarion stood in the doorway rooted to the floor, all the color drained out of his slender face.

  “Caesarion, I know you remember Lord Antony?” His mother gestured to the Roman by her side.

  “Indeed...” stammered Caesarion. “Indeed I do, Queen of Heaven.” He bowed his head politely. “How do you do, Lord Antony?”