Cleopatra's Secret: Keepers of the LIght

by LYDIA STORM

  She had not moved. “I will never marry again.”

  “Octavia, you’re distressed––”

  She turned around, and to his surprise, her face glowed with happiness, her eyes blazing with rebellious joy. “Germanicus, don’t you understand? At last, I am free!”

  ***

  The magnetism of the full moon cast its silvery spell over the desert of Giza as Caesarion followed Apollodorus into the depths of the Great Pyramid. They came to a stop before the shimmering silver star, which marked the doorway of the innermost sanctum.

  The High Priest looked gravely into Caesarion’s eyes. “Are you prepared, Lord Horus, to meet Osiris in the Land of the Reeds?”

  Caesarion swallowed. Though he had been trained from birth for this moment, it all seemed futile now. Why go through this ordeal when their world would crumble into ashes anyway?

  Apollodorus, clearly reading Caesarion's thoughts, took on a stern tone. “Do you suppose you know the will of the Gods and the fate of the world because you have been given a small gift? A gift which you have turned your back on?”

  Caesarion looked down. He would not outright defy the High Priest, but he knew more, perhaps, than the old man believed.

  “Caesarion,” Apollodorus spoke more kindly and his eyes filled with something close to pity. “We must all die one day. Better to experience it now, when Isis decrees, than to linger on waiting.”

  Caesarion looked up sharply. “Isis decrees it, or my mother?”

  “You know they are one, Lord Horus,” said the priest with a bow of obeisance in honor of Caesarion's role as the Falcon God, son of Isis and Osiris.

  Caesarion stood for a moment trying to marshal himself. He did not want to die. Not yet.

  Apollodorus rose from his kneeling position. “Lord Horus, we will proceed now?”

  Caesarion blocked out the fearful thoughts. There was no avoiding this. Not without shaming his mother and all of Egypt before the Romans. The Romans whom he despised!

  He nodded to the priest. “Proceed.”

  Apollodorus lit the bitter-sweet incense which filled the small chamber with its narcotic tendrils of smoke and laid the heavy pectoral of turquoise and silver upon the offering plate as he performed the ritual to call up Anubis, Guide of the Dead.

  Caesarion stood rooted to the floor, sweat dripping down his back in the stuffy shrine as the High Priest finished and a dreadful silence took hold. He waited with his heart pounding in his chest, staring at the statue of Anubis, who stood shrouded by shadows in the back of the chamber, the stillness deepening into something primeval as an unseen force brewed in the darkness.

  The torches danced in the rush of a supernatural wind and the Guide’s black marble form filled with the breath of life. His eyes locked with Caesarion’s, taking in the weight of his soul.

  This was not the first time Caesarion had faced the Jackal but the Dark God still had the power to send a shudder of pure terror through him.

  His training in the temple served Caesarion well as he forced himself to give the order in a strong, clear voice. “Lord Anubis, I Horus, son of Isis and Osiris, require you to open the pathway of death.”

  The Jackal God held Caesarion’s eyes a moment longer, the midnight darkness of his gaze drawing Caesarion in deeper and deeper, before the Guide turned away, entering the tunnel which now stood open where only the stone wall had been a moment before.

  Caesarion glanced at Apollodorus, then gathering his courage, proceeded into the tunnel. As the light from the entrance chamber behind him suddenly blinked out, he knew that his chance for escape had vanished too.

  When they reached the great chamber it was as he had been told. The bare torch lit walls only accentuated the vastness of the hall. The line of his ancestors in their sarcophagi filled one side of the room. Caesarion did not look at them as he walked past each ancient pharaoh. He was trying to forget what lay at the end of the line.

  When they reached the empty sarcophagus, he put out his hands to touch the smooth granite. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and his breath caught in his chest.

  “What if I refuse?”

  The High Priest stepped forward with an emerald goblet held ceremoniously in his hands. “The fate of Egypt rests with you, Lord Horus.”

  Caesarion began to shake. He could not stop the primal dread of death from taking hold of him. He looked up terrified at his beloved mentor. “I’m going to die. I’ll never be Pharaoh of Egypt. Why should I do this?”

  Apollodorus’s eyes shone with tears. “The Gods ask terrible things of us, Caesarion. But we must have faith that the pattern of their plan is always, in the end, for the highest and best.” He placed the goblet in Caesarion's cold hands. “I will mourn for your loss.”

  Caesarion stared down at the emerald goblet.

  Poison. Enough to kill a man.

  “The Dream of the Dreamless,” he whispered.

  The High Priest bowed his head, waiting.

  Caesarion raised the cup to his lips and closed his eyes tight. “Osiris, do not desert me.”

  The potion tasted bitter on his lips and scorched his tongue as he drank it down. It took effect immediately. The emerald goblet slipped from his hands and clattered onto the polished limestone floor. He felt himself collapsing back into the strong arms of Apollodorus.

  Or was it Anubis?

  He was floating, being raised up, as easily as if he were a child, and laid in the Pharaoh's sarcophagus. Hands waved in shimmering trails of light over his body. His mother stood in the shadows over him, her bronze scarab locket dangling on a chain around her neck, but at the last moment, she turned away. She could not watch him die.

  “The Glitter of the Sleepers,” chanted a voice, as his senses shut down, his breath suspended and his heart ceased to beat.

  ***

  The Nile sparkled like molten gold as the sun rose over the bow of Cleopatra’s barge. She stood on deck, body still humming from her devotional chants as she watched the new morning pour forth its glory. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent of the dawn air and felt the gentle glow of heat on her skin; the promise of a perfect clear hot summer day. A flock of white herons rose into the air, sweeping gracefully across the light-stained sky. She savored the moment of excited happiness and drank in the lush beauty of the Nile, of this sun soaked day. Today, after all, was her wedding day––at last!

  Charmion’s appearance on deck reminded Cleopatra it was time to prepare. In a few short hours she would stand with Antony here on the vessel where love had first taken hold. She gave Charmion a dazzling smile and they headed to Cleopatra’s chambers below, where her attendants bathed her in rosewater and combed out her black hair until it gleamed like glass.

  Iris retrieved a vial of perfume and Cleopatra inhaled the delicate scent of jasmine, roses and gardenias, flowers all pleasing to the Goddess in her guise as Queen of Beauty and Love. A look of concentration came over the priestess’s face as she drew the magic into her hands and murmured a blessing over the vial. When she had finished, Iris handed the charged perfume to Charmion. The attendant priestess knelt before Cleopatra, who stood unclothed from her bath, a few drops of water still clinging to her bare skin.

  Cleopatra nodded for Charmion to proceed. The priestess rose and dipped her dark fingers into the perfumed oil. She circled Cleopatra’s head with the palm of her hand. “Queen of Heaven, may you stand pure in the light of Isis. Her light flows within you and through you.”

  Charmion touched Cleopatra's brow with the oil. “The light of Isis flows through your mind: let your thoughts be clear.”

  Charmion ran her fingertips between Cleopatra’s full breasts. Cleopatra felt her nipples stiffen as the perfume tingled at her heart center. “The light of Isis flows within your heart: let your soul be loving.”

  She felt the tickle of Charmion’s touch across her curved belly. “The light of Isis flows within your stomach: let your instincts be true.”

  She caught her breath as Char
mion’s oiled fingers ran lightly across her sex stirring up a warm glow of arousal. “The light of Isis flows within you loins: let your desires be holy.”

  Cleopatra closed her eyes allowing the warm embrace of the Goddess’s spell to hold her as Charmion completed the prayer. “Abide with your servant, Isis. May she live within the glory of Your light forever and ever into eternity.”

  The fullness of Her love filled the room for one perfect moment and slowly faded, leaving the warm scent of unfurling roses behind. Cleopatra opened her eyes and smiled.

  Charmion draped a whisper of amber silk around Cleopatra’s curves as Iris brought forth golden links for her wrists and ankles, and an elaborate necklace made up of a mass of emerald and turquoise beads. Carefully she adorned Cleopatra with the precious stones as Charmion dabbed red ochre onto Cleopatra’s cheeks and lined her jade eyes with malachite.

  When they had finished, Cleopatra stepped back, regarding herself in the polished copper mirror. Her eyes sparkled brightly against the deep green liner and the amber silk set off her ample figure perfectly, the gold links glowing on her honeyed skin. She was ready.

  Cleopatra turned to Iris. “Has Apollodorus returned?”

  Iris gave her a reassuring smile. “Yes, Queen of Heaven.”

  “And is all well?” Cleopatra tried hard to keep the emotions at bay.

  “All is as it should be,” replied the priestess.

  Cleopatra nodded. “Then let us proceed.”

  Antony waited on deck with Apollodorus and a few of the highest ranking members of her court. They would greet the crowds and participate in royal spectacle later before the Great Pyramid, but this sacred moment she had purposefully kept intimate.

  Everyone but Antony bowed and fell back, murmuring, “Hail, Queen of Heaven”, as she came forward. All she could see was her lover. So handsome with his breastplate gleaming in the morning sun, his broad smile illuminating his face. Surely he truly was a God, though not of their bloodline––there were, after all, other ways to attain divinity.

  As she took the hand Antony held out to her, she gazed into his wide sensual face. His eyes swept over her appreciatively and his hand gripped hers with strength. The same chaplet of ivy crowned his head as he had worn on their first night together, when the Gods had taken hold of them and forged their souls into one.

  “You remember our first night here, the night that changed my life?” he asked in a low voice.

  “You are becoming Egyptian. You can read my thoughts,” she said with a slight arch of her brow.

  He caressed the curve of her cheek, gently tilting her head up towards him. “I think lovers know each other’s hearts, no matter what their origin.”

  She smiled. “I believe you’re right.”

  Apollodorus stepped forward. “The hour is here, Queen of Heaven.”

  Cleopatra nodded. “My astrologers have labored over their charts and stars to divine the perfect moment for our union,” she explained to Antony.

  “Well,” he grinned and kissed her fingers, “we must not keep the heavens waiting.”

  They took their place before Apollodorus, who stood solemnly with his back to the water, the heavy staff of Set grasped firmly in his hands, a tiger skin slung across his immaculate white robe. The assembled party grew silent as he began to recite his incantation in the ancient language of the pharaohs. As he spoke, a powerful stillness spread across the barge. Even the Nile’s gushing water grew as calm as green glass and the birds hushed their morning song as the priest’s words filled the quiet. Drawing a sphere of power around Cleopatra and Antony with his staff, Apollodorus encircled them in a place beyond mortal space and time.

  As he finished his incantation, Iris stepped forward with a golden cord fashioned into the shape of a snake held reverently in the palm of her hand.

  The High Priest firmly pressed Cleopatra’s wrist against Antony’s, and taking the cord from Iris, began to bind them together, fastening the cord one end to another. The clasp was fashioned into the shape of the golden jaws of a snake's head fastening to the end of its tale. The binding was tight and bit into Cleopatra’s flesh as the jaws closed firmly, locking the two lovers together.

  Apollodorus raised their joined hands into the dazzling sunlight. He spoke, first in Latin for Antony’s benefit, then repeated the words in the old Egyptian tongue.

  “The ouroboros, one without beginning, without end. The cobra of Egypt, sacred protector of Pharaohs. You are one blood. One soul. One heart beating in unison; into the beginning, and the end, and eternity.”

  The bright summer sun struck the golden snake and Cleopatra gasped as her arm suddenly burned until the sizzling pain made it impossible to distinguish her own flesh from Antony’s. The silence was so deep, and the pain blazed so hot, tears sprang to her eyes and she became lightheaded, her sight pinpricks of particles like a heat mirage. She looked to Antony for help. He too was gritting his teeth against the pain, but he took her other hand in his and held her up, the love in his eyes giving her courage.

  As Apollodorus unsnapped the snake’s jaw, and began slowly uncoiling the golden cord, he murmured, “The cobra’s bite is sharp but her magic is strong and can never be undone.”

  The priest raised his hands high, calling out to the assembly. “All hail Isis and Osiris, Lord and Lady of Egypt. May their union bless us into eternity.”

  “All hail!” shouted the assembly and laughter and applause rippled through the crowd, as Iris picked up her lyre, and elegantly clad servant girls circulated cooling wine and sugared rose petals throughout the party.

  Cleopatra gazed up at her handsome new husband. It was done. Neither the Gods, nor men, could separate them now.

  Antony, looking as boyishly joyful as he had seemed in those first days together, pulled her against him. She had to look up to stare into those beautiful laughing eyes. “You’re mine at last,” he said. “Truly, irrevocably mine forever.”

  He sounded so like little Alexander, she laughed. “Why do I love you so?”

  Antony ran his hand up her back to gently grasp a thick handful of dark hair, his voice now low and full of desire. “I don’t know or care. I only know I’ll never have enough of you.” His breath warmed her skin as he pressed closer to kiss the tender place below her ear, “never tire of you,” he whispered. “Never, never leave you.”

  And he kissed her so completely, so fully, that she could feel their hearts beating in unison as the Egyptian sun glowed around them.

  When he released her they stood breathless, their cheeks pressed together looking down at the water. The Nile spread out before them, a shimmering, glittering road of light.

  Surely, great things lay ahead.

  ***

  The first thing Caesarion became conscious of was the silver mist, shifting and billowing, ghostlike before his eyes. He blinked and now he could see the swaying of the cat-tailed reeds and make out the river’s bank. Slowly the feeling was coming back into his numbed limbs and he shivered in the dank air. A tiny moss green frog with glittering eyes hopped past his bare toes, taking a flying leap and splashing into the leaden river water.

  He knew this place, the Land of The Reeds. He knew it from bedtime stories his mother had told him in her beguiling musical voice, from the hieroglyphics on the temple walls where he studied and from the wisps of half-remembered dreams. This was the place the dead came to board the boat which carried them into eternity.

  As if Caesarion’s thoughts had called him up, the jackal-headed Guide of the Dead, Anubis, slowly came into view, rowing his boat along the misty river. The sound of his oars muffled by the fog created an uncanny silence in the soft swirling vapors.

  As the Jackal approached, Caesarion could see another figure in the boat, a tall man draped in gray, his head crowned with a laurel wreath, the crook and flail of Egypt grasped in his hands.

  Though he had never had the chance to know him in life, Caesarion's heart constricted as his soul recognized the soul of his fathe
r. Caesar was the other passenger in the small boat which softly slid against the bank of thick silt and waving reeds where Caesarion stood.

  The Guide held out his hand.

  Caesarion hesitated.

  He knew only too well where this boat would take him. Once aboard, there would be no turning back. But his father, shrouded in shadows behind the Dark God was on that boat.

  Caesarion took Anubis’s icy hand and boarded the vessel.

  Anubis pushed off, steering the boat back into the misty currents. Caesarion could hear his own heart pounding in the silence. Neither his father, nor the Jackal, said a word as they drifted down the river towards the soft white light growing on the horizon.

  Finally, Caesarion gathered the courage to speak.

  “Are you taking me with you to the Land of the Gods? Am I dead?”

  His father looked at him at last and smiled reassuringly, but neither the Guide nor Caesar answered his question.

  When they reached the horizon’s end, the fog lifted, as if they had passed through an invisible barrier, and a light so golden and pure it soaked through his skin to warm his heart poured over them. He turned to Caesar. His father’s face had taken on the rosiness of life, his bright eyes sparkling, his cheeks warm and full of color. As he took Caesarion's hand it held all the strength and vitality of a man in his prime.

  “My true son.” Caesar squeezed Caesarion’s hand and his eyes blazed with pride. “How I have wished to see you! To watch you grow in strength and power!”

  Caesarion's throat tightened as tears of pent up longing for the father he had never known clogged his chest. “I have wished for your presence many times, Father. I have tended to your mortuary faithfully with my mother and our priests.”

  Caesar nodded. “I know.”

  “Am I to be with you at last?” Somehow, now that he was here in this golden place, with the father he had wanted so much, he had no wish to return to the gray world of heartbreaking problems.