Or both. I should have thought of that, but the emperor’s mind always worked faster when it came to treachery. A marriage to Julia would advance Agrippa politically, but it would also tie his hands. The admiral couldn’t divorce or offend Julia without giving the emperor an excuse to destroy him.
Having secured the emperor’s permission, Agrippa wasted no time. Before winter we learned of two weddings in Rome. In a hastily arranged ceremony, Agrippa married Julia and in the most perverse twist I could imagine, the discarded wife, Marcella, was married off to Julia’s secret lover.
WAITING for the delegation from Meroë, months passed. At the back of the emperor’s magnificent villa on the Isle of Samos, I’d been apportioned my own private beach, accessible only from the terrace outside of my rooms, closed off from outsiders by tall green hedges and a rock wall. It was the perfect place to avoid Livia.
While I stretched out beneath a palm tree, Isidora splashed in the ocean with Tala’s boy. The winter sun on my arms and legs was warm, not hot, and my ladies and I could be at our ease, but I was restless. In Mauretania, there’d be a hundred petitions to read, a thousand decisions to make. It wasn’t in my nature to be at leisure and I worried that precious few messages came to me from Mauretania. As I brooded upon this regrettable fact, Isidora squatted in the surf, using her hair ornament to dig into the wet sand, the Isle of Samos itself a canvas for her imagination. “She’s going to lose that expensive silver circlet,” Chryssa warned. “Surely your mother didn’t allow you to run loose like a wildling child!”
I don’t think my mother ever allowed me to be a child at all. Playful by nature, my father had indulged us, but all my mother’s amusements had some political purpose. Everything in her life was calculated to Egypt’s advantage—every burst of laughter and perhaps even every sigh of pleasure. I was becoming just like her, but I didn’t want Isidora to become just like me. “Let her play.”
That evening the delegation from Meroë finally arrived. Wild with anticipation, every sense heightened with hope that Helios might be with the delegation, I berated servants who weren’t swift enough to make ready. On the emperor’s behalf, I went to greet the Meroites, my litter accompanied by torchbearers and a small cavalcade of mounted guards, commanded by Tiberius. So anxious was I to see this Kandake of Meroë that my first steps upon the creaking wooden dock were unsteady, and not even a deep breath of night air could calm me. Pearls and jewels and purple cloak all weighed me down, but the dazzle of my finery was swallowed in the dim light. I’d come all this way for a chance to reunite with my twin and wondered if he’d know me in the dark.
As they disembarked from the ship, I saw that Meroë’s emissaries were few in number. All men with long limbs displaying every manner of decoration in the old Egyptian style. Thick gold bracelets at their wrists. Jeweled trinkets on their strong ankles. Carnelian amulets about their necks. Lines of kohl and blue azurite around their eyes. They looked as if they’d stepped off the wall of an Egyptian tomb, but they weren’t a honey brown like native Egyptians. Their skin was dark. Luxurious. Black as night. No pale Macedonian Greek could have hidden himself amongst them and I didn’t sense Helios near.
Though I should have felt nothing but relief that my twin hadn’t been foolish enough to come to this island with his warrior queen, I despaired. That gaping maw of misery gnashed in the pit of my stomach. I was so stricken that it took me a moment to realize Tiberius had introduced me in surprisingly majestic terms, using the full panoply of my titles. I’d have thought he ridiculed me, but Livia’s eldest son didn’t have any sense of humor, not even a cruel one.
The Kandake’s ambassador said, “Greetings, Queen Cleopatra Selene. We come on behalf of Queen Amanirenas, the Kandake of Meroë, Priestess of Isis and Pharaoh of the Kushites.” He’d been chosen as a diplomat, I thought, because he spoke passable Greek.
That wasn’t the language I wanted to use. I addressed him in Egyptian. “And we,” I began, using the royal we, “were sent by Augustus to encourage you to make a peace treaty. We can tell you from personal experience that it’s the more customary practice of the Romans to invade places, steal everything, enslave the populace, and expand the boundaries of the empire so that a general can be granted a giant victory parade. Take advantage of this rare opportunity to negotiate, since Romans don’t normally offer terms.”
The ambassador grinned, agile in switching to the Egyptian tongue. “The Romans don’t normally find themselves fought to a standstill either.”
So, they were proud, these Meroites. I had nothing else to say.
In my chambers that night, I let my fingers play over the oil lamp, flirting with the flame. Chryssa watched me. “That seemed a rather feeble effort at diplomacy, Majesty.”
“What do you expect from me? If I mean to help Helios, I doubt very much he wants me to negotiate on behalf of the Romans.”
She glanced at me sharply, alarmed. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “After all these years, you cannot still think he lives.”
I didn’t answer. I knew Helios was still alive, but perhaps it was a secret best kept by me alone.
IF the emperor required proof that I was capable of politicking on a world stage, I’d given him no evidence of it. That the delegation from Meroë included neither Helios nor his warrior queen had rocked me; I’d allowed my bitterness to show, and by the next morning I knew I must make up for a poor first impression.
I invited the ambassador to call upon me aboard my ship. Captain Kabyle was charming and gracious to the Meroites, and the Kandake’s ambassador lunched with me on the deck beneath my purple sails. The ship was the only place on the island that belonged to me, where I could be reasonably certain that no spies would report our conversation. “Ambassador, I’d like very much to know about your Kandake.”
The ambassador smiled, brilliant white teeth against his ebony lips. “Our pharaoh is the most beautiful woman yet born. Blessed of the gods. She doesn’t bow to the Romans or to any man. A fierce fighter, radiant of spirit and beloved of our people.”
I put down my spoon, suddenly quite without appetite. Would it have been better to hear that she was ugly and hated? “And the Kandake thinks she can beat the Romans? Drive them from Egypt?”
“I’ve heard tale of you, Queen Selene, so you’ll hear only the truth. The Kandake didn’t fight this war to conquer Egypt. Like you, the Kandake considers herself to be a daughter of Isis.”
Perhaps a truer daughter than I had been. “So, she wants the temples.”
“She makes war to protect the temples, but our mother Isis doesn’t like war. As Pharaoh of Meroë, she speaks to the gods. Horus told her to make peace. He also told her that you would be here and that you’d do everything in your power to see this war end to our advantage.”
I hoped the sound of waves below disguised the fluttering of my heart. “Horus told her?”
“He comes to the Kandake as a young man with golden hair and eyes as green as the Nile. A young warrior who wields a sword with ten times the strength of any other man. A desert soldier who shares the privations of men under his command. He fought beside us in battle and the men all love him. The women too.”
I closed my eyes as if the sun reflecting off the water were too bright, but it was only to hide the searing longing inside . . . “The Romans will want to know where to find him, this Horus the Avenger. Will you tell me where he is?”
“Where Horus is now, I cannot guess.”
“He’s left Meroë?” My voice rose in pitch. “He’s left the Kandake?”
“He’s with us always in spirit, Majesty, but gods go where they’re needed.”
I was crestfallen. For almost four years now, I’d yearned for Helios. Now he was gone again like a shadow. Still, he’d somehow guessed that I would be here. He’d promised the Kandake that I’d help her, and I would. I said, “When the negotiations begin, remember that Rome is poised to make war on Parthia. Augustus is capable of fighting more than one war at a time, but the
battles aren’t finished in Spain either. Roman generals celebrate as if they’ve returned victorious over the Cantabri tribes, but then have to fight again. The Cantabri don’t stay conquered.”
“None of us do,” the ambassador said softly. “Every great power eventually tumbles down.”
Once, I’d said something similar to Maysar. I had believed it then. Now, I was less certain. “I fear that Rome is like Augustus, always at the edge of death, coming back stronger. You have an ally in me, even if it may not seem that way. The mask I wear for the Romans isn’t a true reflection of my heart.”
I only hoped that I hadn’t worn the mask so long that I forgot my own face.
Thirty-one
PINCHING my cheeks to make them appear pink with offense, I reported to the emperor. “The Meroites are insufferable. They call the Kandake a pharaoh, even in my presence!”
“That pricks at your Ptolemaic pride, does it?” the emperor asked, amused. “Does the ambassador know how resentful it makes you?”
“I’m not a fool, Caesar. You asked me to make them amenable to a peace treaty, so I did.”
He stroked at his chin and I could see that he was enjoying this immensely. “Tonight I’ll allow you to be present during the negotiations for peace in Egypt. You may have Livia’s place at the banquet.”
I bristled but not for his wife’s sake. “I don’t wish to give rise to gossip.”
“I assure you, Livia will endure it silently, as she must.”
This would only be to my detriment. Octavia had once played the silently suffering wife with my father. Caesar’s wife Calpurnia had endured with dignity his open association with my mother, engendering a hatred for Cleopatra in the hearts of sympathetic Romans. If I allowed Livia to cast herself in the role of the wronged wife, it would ruin me as it had ruined my mother. “I won’t be paraded about like Terentilla, just another mistress.”
He stared, much unspoken between us. “I assure you that you’ll be shown all due honor.”
“Not when your wife is here. I want her gone. Send Livia away.” The request had seemed natural, inevitable, but his eyes narrowed and my stomach fell away. I’d gone too far. My mother had been young, overawed by Caesar; she made requests of him, not demands. Augustus wanted that same humility from me. I had blundered.
“Go to your rooms, Selene,” he said, his voice icy. “You’re banished to your rooms like the child you still are. I’m no longer certain that you can conduct yourself properly at tonight’s negotiations.”
This condescension made me hot all over, but he was right. I’d pushed too hard for something I wanted at the expense of something I needed. To be present at these negotiations would signal my restoration. Other leaders would come to think of me as the Queen-in-Waiting of Egypt. I needed to be there. “I beg your forgiveness, Caesar. It’s only that so much time has passed since the night we were alone together. I worry—”
“That I’ve forgotten?” The icy tone gave way to something else. “No, Selene. I’ve accepted that to beget my son upon you, you must come to my bed willingly. But you must accept that you belong to me; you’re as much mine as the chair I sit upon, in all its silken cushions and gilded finery.”
Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. “I’m not a piece of furniture. I don’t sit silently in a room as adornment to be used by whomever I’m offered. I’m a woman and a queen.”
He leaned back, a finger caressing the curved edge of his chair as if it were my flesh. “And I have made you both. Only my hands have taken pleasure of you. Only my seed has taken root in your womb. I made you bear a child and your body is changed because of it.” His eyes swept over my high, rounded breasts, and the swell of my hips, as if he were an artist who’d carved me from stone. “You’re mine and you’ll be the Queen of Egypt only when you accept my mastery. Not before.”
I lowered my eyes in feigned submission. “If it pleases you to have me at the negotiations, I’ll be glad to attend.”
I hoped that having made his point, he wouldn’t deny me. But later that night, I wasn’t invited to the banquet at all, much less given Livia’s position.
In my apartments, Crinagoras babbled some verse to entertain me. I paid no attention until the poet asked, “Majesty, why do you refuse yourself the enlightenment of my breathtaking prose?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose did little to alleviate the newest ache behind my eyes. “Leave me.”
Crinagoras rose to obey, stopping at the door to ask, “Augustus is like Hades, isn’t he? He’s rolled out the pomegranate of Egypt to tempt you.”
My poet seldom spoke about anything without allusion, but we understood one another. “Right now, he’s punishing me. At this very moment, he could be negotiating with the Meroites for Egypt and I’ve been banished.”
Crinagoras nodded slowly. “I’m sure you’ll find a way back into his favor. As I recall, Hades had a singular obsession with Kore. He let her go, but always he’d send for her again . . . If you wish to be the Queen of Hades, you must partake of the fruit, no matter how bitter.”
LATER that evening, the emperor finally relented and I received a summons. Augustus sat at one end of the hall, flanked by Maecenas and Tiberius. And though Livia’s son had never been my enemy, his dour presence here was a reminder to me that it would take more than sending Livia away to diminish her influence over the emperor.
At the other end of the hall was the ambassador from Meroë, leaving me to find an unobtrusive place in the middle with the scribes and minor officials. My presence wasn’t even acknowledged, whether to prevent awkward questions or because Augustus was still angry, I didn’t know.
Since the Kandake hadn’t come in person, the emperor allowed Maecenas to do the talking, ambassador to ambassador. The balding man began with, “The situation as it stands is this: The Kandake of Meroë has unlawfully invaded Egypt, seized control of the Isle of Philae, defiling the statues of Augustus and taking booty and Roman prisoners. In retaliation, Rome’s Prefect of Egypt has razed Napata and is now besieged in Primis.”
“Your Prefect of Egypt, this Petronius, can leave our lands anytime he likes,” the ebony ambassador said with a good deal more hubris than was wise. “But he will not leave with treasure nor will he keep the city.”
“Tell the Kandake that the city of Primis is lost to her,” Maecenas said with a flick of his bejeweled hand. “She may consider the loss of this city to be the price for her ill-advised adventure in Egypt. However, if she agrees to our terms, we’ll tread no farther into her kingdom.”
“Yet it was Rome who offended first,” the ambassador insisted. “The temples at Philae may be situated in Egypt, but the gods belong to us. If Egypt cannot be a throne for Isis, then it’s the Kandake’s sacred duty as Pharaoh to make Isis a home in Meroë.”
I let my fists clench at the word Pharaoh, and the emperor saw it. “Have you something to add, Queen Selene?”
Spreading my arms wide, I let them see the sacred knot of Isis between my breasts, my own declaration of devotion to the goddess. “The Kandake must give up all religious claim to the temples in Egypt. If Meroë honors Isis, then build your own holy places for her.”
In saying this, I hoped to give the ambassador from Meroë something to bargain with that he may not have realized he had. The Romans only cared about claims to land. They didn’t care if the Kandake maintained a spiritual claim to the temples, but perhaps the emperor could be made to care for my sake. The ambassador seized the opportunity at once. “How can she give up her claim when the Romans show nothing but contempt for Isis? Egyptian priests have fled to our country to escape persecution.”
Maecenas was a shrewd man when it came to temporal things. He owned luxurious houses, wore the finest clothes, and patronized the most talented artists. Spiritual matters, however, were entirely out of his grasp. He pounced on what he believed to be an advantage. “If amnesty were given to Isis worshippers in Egypt, would Meroë then give up all claim to the temples and retreat from
Egypt?”
I held my breath steady, waiting for an outburst from the emperor that never came. Augustus sat impassive as a statue, his glacial eyes inscrutable. Was it possible, at long last, that he would make peace with my goddess and her worshippers? The Meroite ambassador paused before saying, “If such amnesty were granted, the Kandake would give up her claim. And if—if—the Romans will withdraw from Primis, back to our original borders, I’m authorized to sign this peace treaty and end our hostilities.”
Maecenas would have it done, but the emperor said, “No. We cannot simply return things to their original borders.” I thought that he’d demand tribute from the Meroites, or say that Primis was not negotiable, or baldly proclaim that he’d continue to persecute the Isiacs until the religion was destroyed. Instead, Augustus said, “There will have to be some sort of guarded neutral area to serve as a buffer between both kingdoms and to ensure that this never happens again.”
He made it sound like a point of contention, but I realized the emperor’s offer was startlingly generous. Too generous. I couldn’t believe that he meant it. The ambassador recognized favorable terms and quickly agreed. Then, assuring his guests that Maecenas would see to the details, Augustus dismissed everyone in the room but me.
EVEN after all the officials had shuffled out, I continued to play my role. “Do you mean to honor that treaty? You gave her more than fair terms. The Kandake will continue to call herself Pharaoh and no one will gainsay her.”
“Don’t be petty, Selene. You got what you really wanted. The Isiacs can practice their witchery; the priests and priestesses will be safe too. Perhaps I’ll make a donation and they’ll carve my likeness on some stone tablet in honor of my largesse.”
Song of the Nile Page 33
