The Memoirs of Cleopatra

by Margaret George

  He was now three years and six months old, a serious child who seemed to keep his own counsel, as if he had already seen too much, and it weighed on him. He was going to be tall, and as his face grew less rounded and babyish, his resemblance to Caesar became more pronounced. He spoke like an older child.

  “Come and sit by me,” I said, patting a cushioned hassock. Outside, the sky was a tender gray of twilight—a good time of day, when it slid into night. Obediently he came and settled himself, nestling against me. “Our good friend Epaphroditus has sent me a story about a Pharaoh of long ago, and a clever minister. I thought you would like it.”

  “Let me hear it,” he said solemnly.

  “It tells how the Jews first came to Egypt,” I said. “There was a slave who knew how to read dreams, and it seems that the Pharaoh had a terrible nightmare. He dreamed that seven heads of good sweet grain bloomed, but they were eaten up by seven ugly, withered heads. Then he dreamed that seven fat cows came to drink at the Nile, but seven starved cows emerged from the river and devoured them.”

  Caesarion shivered. “But how can a cow eat a cow?” he asked, seriously.

  “It was just a dream,” I said. “Things happen in dreams that cannot happen in real life. Anyway, that is what puzzled the Pharaoh. When he awoke, he could not forget the dreams. He asked all his wise men what they meant, and nobody knew.”

  “No wonder. It didn’t make any sense.” He nodded wisely.

  “Let me read you what happened,” I said. “One of Pharaoh’s servants remembered a Hebrew prisoner, named Joseph, who had the gift of interpreting dreams. ‘Then Pharaoh sent and called Joseph, and they brought him hastily out of the dungeon: and he shaved himself and changed his raiment, and came in unto Pharaoh. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, I have dreamed a dream, and there is none that can interpret it: and I have heard say of thee, that thou canst understand a dream to interpret it.’

  “ ‘And Joseph answered Pharaoh, saying, “It is not in me: God shall give Pharaoh an answer of peace.”

  “ ‘And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, “In my dream, behold, I stood upon the bank of the river. And, behold, there came up out of the river seven kine, fat-fleshed and well favored; and they fed in a meadow. And behold, seven other kine came up after them, poor and very ill favored and lean-fleshed, such as I never saw in all the land of Egypt for badness.” ’ ”

  Caesarion giggled.

  “ ‘ “And the lean and the ill-favored kine did eat up the seven fat kine. And when they had eaten them up, it could not be known that they had eaten them; but they were still ill-favored, as at the beginning. So I awoke.

  “ ‘ “And I saw in my dream, and behold, seven ears came up in one stalk, full and good. And behold, seven ears, withered, thin, and blasted with the east wind, sprung up after them. And the thin ears devoured the seven good ears. And I told this to the magicians, but there was none that could declare it to me.” ’ ”

  Caesarion knitted his brow. “It must have to do with food, and eating. Grain and cows.”

  “Wise boy,” I said. “Now listen. ‘And Joseph said unto Pharaoh, “The dream of Pharaoh is one. God hath showed Pharaoh what he is about to do. The seven good kine are seven years; and the seven good ears are seven years: the dream is one. And the seven thin and ill-favored kine that came up after them are seven years; and the seven empty ears blasted with the east wind shall be seven years of famine. This is the thing which I have spoken unto Pharaoh: What God is about to do he showeth unto Pharaoh. Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout the land of Egypt; and there shall arise after them seven years of famine. And all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt, and the famine shall consume the land. And the dream was doubled unto Pharaoh twice, because the thing is established by God, and God will shortly bring it to pass.

  “ ‘ “Now therefore let Pharaoh look out a man discreet and wise, and set him over the land of Egypt. Let him appoint officers over the land, and take up the fifth part of the land of Egypt in the seven plenteous years. And let them lay up corn under the hand of Pharaoh, and let them keep food in the cities. And that food shall be for store to the land against the seven years of famine, which shall be in the land of Egypt, that the land not perish through the famine.”

  “ ‘And the thing was good in the eyes of Pharaoh, and in the eyes of his servants. And Pharaoh said unto his servants, “Can we find such a one as this is, a man in whom the Spirit of God is?” And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, “Forasmuch as God hath showed thee all this, there is none so discreet and wise as thou art. Thou shalt be over my house, and according unto thy word shall all my people be ruled: only in the throne will I be greater than thou.” And Pharaoh said to Joseph, “See, I have set thee over all the land of Egypt.” ’ ”

  Caesarion wiggled. “What trust the Pharaoh had in him! What if Joseph had read the dreams wrong?”

  I hugged him. “The greatest gift a ruler can have is to read those who come to him to serve him,” I said. “Now listen: ‘And Joseph was thirty years old when he stood before Pharaoh, king of Egypt. And Joseph went out from the presence of Pharaoh, and went throughout all the land of Egypt. And in the seven plenteous years the earth brought forth by handfuls. And he gathered up all the good of the seven years, which were in the land of Egypt, and laid up the food in the cities. The food of the fields, which was round about every city, laid he up in the same. And Joseph gathered corn as the sand of the sea, very much, until he left numbering, for it was without number.’ ”

  “Oh!” said Caesarion. “I should like to see that grain, all heaped up!”

  “ ‘And the seven years of dearth began to come, according as Joseph had said: and the dearth was in all the lands, but in all the land of Egypt there was bread. And Joseph opened all the storehouses, and sold unto the Egyptians. And all countries came to Egypt to buy corn, because the famine was so sore in all lands.’ ”

  I closed the scroll. “And so you see, Egypt saved all the world from starvation.”

  “Do you think that’s a true story? Did it really happen?”

  “Do you mean was there a real Joseph? I don’t know. But I know that we do have granaries now where we store up our crops to protect us from famine. And we know how to predict a famine—by how high the Nile rises. But we can only do it for one year at a time. We already know there is not going to be enough food this year. And so, just like Joseph, when the time comes we will open our storehouses and distribute food.”

  “To the whole world?”

  “Egypt already feeds the whole world,” I said. “We export grain to Rome, to Greece, to Asia—we are a very rich country.” I ruffled his hair, which was turning darker now. “When we open the storehouses, do you want to see?”

  “Oh yes!” he said. “I want to see those heaps and heaps of grain! Are they like mountains?”

  “Yes,” I said, “golden mountains.”

  “Do you trust Epaphroditus and Mardian as the Pharaoh trusted Joseph?” he asked suddenly.

  I did not have to hesitate. “Indeed I do. I am blessed to have such trustworthy ministers.”

  “How can you tell whether to trust someone or not?” he asked.

  “As I said, it is a gift. And, of course, you should always watch what they do.” But as I spoke, I knew that it was not a foolproof gift. Intelligent and discerning rulers had been betrayed. Perhaps the most successful betrayer is one who is loyal until the last minute. No one can detect him; he himself does not realize he is about to swerve.

  Caesarion put his arms around my neck. “Good night, Mother. Please don’t dream of cows!” And then he padded happily back to his own chamber, hand-in-hand with his nurse.

  No, I would not dream of cows. But I did dream of my fleet, my wonderful fleet that I would build with stout timbers from Syria, and I dreamed of a sea battle, a great battle in which I hoisted my sails and shot through a barricade onto the high seas…. I awoke hearing the pounding of the sea outside, one of the first storms of autumn.<
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  The fleet began to take shape, and dockyards throughout the Delta, as well as in Alexandria, worked overtime. Through daring seamanship (for which the Syrians were well paid, and for which they were willing to risk much), enough long timbers were brought across the sea that the skeletons of the largest warships could be laid, and allowed to season. The fittings of the ships—oars, sails, steering, lines, and rams—were assembled separately and proceeded apace. I had decided to divide the fleet in two, and station half with my governor at Cyprus, for more flexible deployment. While I was studying all the particulars of the designs for the ships, I made sure that a shipwright here in Alexandria was busy making the miniature trireme that I had promised to Caesarion. He was delighted with it, and we made many trips down the palace steps to the royal harbor for him to see it. It was to be about twenty feet long, small enough for two adult rowers to power it; the other oars were for show only, and were bolted down.

  “And am I to be the captain?” he asked, parading around the half-finished vessel, peering up over the railings and onto its deck.

  “Yes, but until you are seven you must always have an adult under-captain with you,” I said. And this adult would be an expert. There must be no more accidents at sea for my family.

  “What shall I name the boat?” he wondered.

  “Something wonderful,” I said. “But it is for you to decide.”

  He got that perplexed look again, which made him seem so old. “Oh, that is so difficult!” he moaned.

  With the coming of the Roman New Year, the first of the conspirators met his doom. Trebonius—who, although he had not actually stabbed Caesar, had played a key part by detaining Antony to prevent him from interfering on the Ides—had calmly gone to the province of Asia to assume his governorship. Evidently his conscience was not troubled by proceeding to the province Caesar had so kindly allotted to him. But Dolabella, one of the Caesarian party, pursued him to Asia, fought with him there, and wrenched the province away from him. He killed Trebonius and hacked off his head, first flinging it before a statue of Caesar, then tossing it into the streets of Smyrna, where boys kicked it about like a ball.

  So it began: the retribution. I rejoiced when I heard it. I only wished I could have stood over the bloody head and kicked it myself, kicked it and ground its eyes into the cinders and smashed the skull in.

  In Rome, Octavian and Antony were becoming open enemies, mainly as a result of Cicero’s whipping up the Senate against Antony. The orator thought to run Rome himself, to be wise mentor and guide to the young, impressionable, obedient lad. At last he, Cicero, would come into his own, statesman and savior of his country. How little he knew Octavian! It was Cicero who was the fool and the dupe.

  But the vain old man wrote and delivered a series of speeches against Antony, and this ended with the Senate declaring war against him. They were filled with the most vicious lies and distortions, but, like most calumny, they were entertaining. There was no one alive who could smear a character better, with clever words and innuendo, than Cicero. He paid for it with his life, but not before he almost cost Antony his.

  My prediction came true: After spending some time in Athens, Brutus made his way over to Macedonia, and Cassius came to Asia. They would unite and make their stand in the east. There would be a war.

  Cassius set about unseating Dolabella from his governorship, and Dolabella appealed for help to me, asking for the Roman legions. Again, it was as I had foreseen. I had no choice but to yield them, because if they were not sent to Dolabella, Cassius would demand them. But before they could reach Dolabella, they were captured by Cassius.

  My legions were in the hands of the enemy—Caesar’s assassin! And then he pursued Dolabella over Syria, surrounding him at last in the city of Laodicea. Knowing he was beaten, Dolabella committed suicide. Cassius was victor, and now commanded all of Asia Minor, as well as Syria, and had fourteen legions, eight of which were contributed by the governors of Syria and Bithynia, Allienus’s four captured en route from Egypt, and the two from the defeated Dolabella. Fourteen legions! And then the hardest blow of all—he persuaded Serapion, my governor in Cyprus, to surrender all the ships of my new fleet stationed there to him. They sailed off to Asia, joining Cassius.

  The perfidy of it! The assassins were not only making their stand, but they were appropriating my forces!

  Cassius next turned his eyes toward Egypt, and announced that he planned to invade and capture us, since we had sent the legions to aid Dolabella. It was time, he said, for us to be punished, and to yield our resources to them—the Liberators, as they called themselves.

  Plague was raging; it had followed hard on the heels of the famine. The heavens seemed to be hurling thunderbolts at my kingdom, as if determined to topple it. I fought back, to the utmost of my strength.

  More meetings with my ministers—Mardian, Epaphroditus, and Olympos got very little rest during those weeks. Every morning there were mounds of people who had died during the night. They couldn’t be embalmed, for no one wanted to touch them; instead they were burned like trash.

  One morning after a particularly bad night, Olympos brought me a manuscript and said I should read it; the author had written a brilliant description of the disease.

  “What good is a description?” I asked. “Who cannot describe it? Fever, thirst, eruption of boils, black swellings that burst open, quick death. But how can it be stopped? That’s the question.”

  “Please, do read this. He has ideas about how it spreads.” Olympos thrust it into my hand.

  “Very well. I am ready to do anything to halt the disease.” I looked at Epaphroditus. “I suppose there is something about this in your scriptures!”

  He grinned. “How did you know?”

  “What isn’t in there? Well, what cured it?”

  “Nothing cured it,” he admitted. “There was a succession of plagues—of frogs, of gnats, of flies, of locusts, of boils—but they were sent to make a point. They weren’t natural.”

  “What point is this plague making? I cannot believe that the gods are aiding our enemies! Am I now to expect plagues of flies, frogs, and locusts as well?”

  We were almost bankrupted by the combination of the plague, the famine, and the loss of half the fleet. Work continued on the other half, based in Alexandria. Let Cassius come and get it, and die trying!

  A messenger rode all the way from Syria on the bidding of his master, Cassius, who was now attacking Rhodes to get money and ships. I received the man in my audience hall, seated on my elevated throne, in my most formal attire.

  He marched into the hall, his Roman soldier’s uniform bringing old memories sharply into focus. It was like seeing a shell of Caesar—the breastplate that I had loved, the leather lappets that made a slapping noise when he strode forward, the cloak slung over his shoulder. It seemed a travesty for this runty little man to be wearing the same clothes.

  He barely bowed. But he had to wait for me to acknowledge him before he could speak.

  “What do you wish?” I asked coldly.

  “I come in the name of Gaius Cassius Longinus,” he said. “My commander requests that you send the remainder of your navy to him in Syria. Immediately.”

  As much as I hated and despised the assassins, I knew that craft and dissemblance, delays and prevarication are weapons as powerful as outright defiance. The man who cannot control his face and words before an enemy is soon overthrown. So I put a false smile on my face and spread my hands helplessly.

  “I would comply willingly,” I said, the words sounding abominable in my own ears, “but my country is devastated by plague. The fleet is not finished yet, and I can get no workmen to continue, let alone sailors to man it. We are in dire straits. In fact, you are a very brave man to have come within our borders—risking your own life!”

  He shifted a little on his feet. I noticed that he was bandy-legged. “Indeed?” His voice was gruff.

  “Yes. The plague attacks where it will. And one of our physicia
ns has recently written a paper in which he puts forward a theory that it travels through the air.” I rolled my eyes about the room. “That would explain its mysterious ability to attack from nowhere. No one is safe. Especially not foreigners, who seem especially susceptible.”

  “I feel well enough,” he said truculently.

  “Mars be praised!” I said. “May it continue!”

  “We’ll send our own men to man the ships,” he said. “They must be yielded to us immediately.”

  “Of course,” I said. “But there is no need to send them while the plague rages and the fleet is yet unfinished. They cannot sail ships without keels or masts. We shall complete the fleet as soon as possible, and deliver them to you.”

  “We will brook no delays!” he said. “Do not toy with us!”

  I nodded to one of my attendants, who nodded to two men standing just outside the hall. They marched in, carrying a litter with a corpse on it, and laid it down at the man’s feet. He recoiled from the sight of the swollen, stench-ridden body, and leapt to one side.

  “Is this toying with you? Is this victim joking?”

  The man covered his nostrils and turned his head away. I indicated that the litter should be removed.

  “You seem to have a strong enough stomach,” the messenger finally said, breathing again. “Do not think to put us off with such dramatic, repulsive displays!”

  “Why, how could I? You see worse at the Roman games,” I said. “No real man would be bothered by the sight of a flyblown corpse. Yes, you shall have the fleet, as soon as you may.”

  “My commander will be seeing you soon enough in person, when he marches to Egypt. Do not flatter yourself that he can be put off with such tricks.” I hated the way he kept rolling his shoulders. I wanted to tell him it made him look like a juggler. Now he squared them. “You should know what has happened to Marc Antony, that Caesarian dog. He attempted to wrest the province of Near Gaul away from Decimus—”