Cleopatra Confesses

by Carolyn Meyer

  “You fainted,” she says. “Mistress, I beg you, say nothing of what my daughter has told you here today. The order has gone out by Queen Berenike’s messengers to every quarter of the city. Tryphaena has left Egypt, therefore she is no longer queen, and it is forbidden even to mention her name.”

  I push myself up from the carpet and struggle to my feet, though I am still trembling. “I must go back to my palace.”

  Charmion and her mother urge me to rest, to wait until I am feeling stronger, but I insist.

  “Be careful, mistress,” Lady Amandaris warns me. “We are afraid for your safety.”

  I embrace them both—the first time I have done this—and hurry away.

  I rush past the guards standing stiffly by the entrance to my palace and find Irisi and Monifa wringing their hands, frantic with worry. The rumors have reached them—that Tryphaena and Titus have disappeared, that they are likely dead, that Queen Berenike is responsible.

  “The royal messenger was just here,” Irisi says. “We are not to speak of Queen Tryphaena.”

  “It is one thing to issue such an order and quite another to stop people from doing it,” I remind them. I think of Hatshepsut, the queen whose image was erased from every building she had constructed, even from the walls of her beautiful temple. But that did not end the talk about her.

  Chapter 28

  BERENIKE

  In spite of Berenike’s edict, rumors of the fate of Tryphaena and Titus grow even more gruesome. Announcements from the palace are now dated YEAR 2 IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN CLEOPATRA BERENIKE. Tryphaena’s name is not mentioned.

  It is summer again, the season of Inundation, the annual flooding of the Nile. We pretend that everything is normal, though it is not. My nerves are on edge. I have always known that Berenike might choose at any time to eliminate me as well. I sleep little—will one of the queen’s guards force his way into my palace at night and stab me in my bed? Fearing poison, I refuse to eat or drink anything unless Monifa prepares it with her own hands.

  Then, as expected, I receive a summons from Berenike. I hurry to obey, though I dread it. She no longer lives in the pretty little palace that has been hers since childhood but has taken over the king’s palace. The throne room where Father once received important visitors from many countries looks much different now. The walls have been repainted with bright scenes, many showing Queen Berenike making offerings to the gods.

  Glittering with jewels, the queen reclines on her new ebony throne. Inlaid with ivory and decorated with gold, the throne is raised on a dais at the end of the great hall, and on either side of it stands a guard dressed in silk, each guard holding a spotted leopard on a leash. The leopards gaze at me coolly with their glowing amber eyes. One of the creatures stretches lazily, the dark spots rippling over his sleek body, and yawns, showing white fangs.

  Berenike’s lips and nails are tinted with henna, her eyes outlined with kohl. On her forehead is the uraeus, the golden cobra, erect and ready to strike. I glance around cautiously to see who else is present, but except for her two guards with the leopards, we are alone. I bow low and wait silently, my head pounding.

  Queen Berenike smiles without warmth. “Welcome, Cleopatra,” she says. The flinty edge to her voice makes me increasingly uneasy. She gestures grandly around the vast hall. “How do you like my new throne room? Elegant, is it not?”

  I cannot say what I am thinking: It is not yours. It is Father’s. I force a smile. “It suits you perfectly, my queen.” But then I cannot seem to stop myself from asking, “Does Queen Tryphaena have one like it?” I immediately regret my question. Berenike will know it is not innocent, that I have deliberately ignored the edict not to speak Tryphaena’s name. But now it is too late to take it back.

  Berenike purses her lips. “Interesting that you should ask about her, Cleopatra! In fact, I have not seen our sister for some time. I have been busy overseeing the redecoration of the king’s palace, and there is no end to the matters of state that keep me occupied from dawn until dusk, and beyond. One of the reasons I summoned you is to ask if you might have seen our sister and her good friend Titus.” Berenike says “good friend” with peculiar emphasis. “They seem to have vanished. You get out and about so much more than I do, Cleopatra. Visiting the king’s harem, and so forth. Naturally, you hear more.” One plucked eyebrow is raised questioningly, and she regards me with an eye as coolly menacing as the leopard’s.

  A prickle of danger runs along my spine like an icy finger. Why would she think I know the whereabouts of Tryphaena if, as she claims, she does not? I do not believe her. This is all an act, a great lie. And who has been reporting to her about my visits to Charmion? Who are the spies in the king’s harem?

  “No, dear sister queen,” I answer truthfully, “I know nothing of them.”

  “What a shame,” says the queen coldly. “Do let me know if you hear anything. Her absence worries me deeply.”

  Queen Berenike dismisses me with a curt nod. I want only to get as far away from her as possible as quickly as possible, but at the last moment she calls me back.

  “Cleopatra!”

  The leopards are tense, suddenly alert, ready to pounce.

  “Yes, my queen?” I am shivering, in spite of the heat, and I am certain the beasts sense my anxiety.

  “I am holding an important banquet in three days,” she says. “I expect you to be there.”

  “I am deeply honored, my queen,” I reply, and prepare to leave.

  “Cleopatra!” Berenike calls after me again. I freeze in place, my heart in my throat. My eyes lock with hers. “I would much prefer you to spend your time with the daughters of noble families,” she says. “Not with a common dancer.”

  How I despise this woman! “As you wish,” I mutter, and flee.

  Chapter 29

  SELEUCUS

  Three days until Queen Berenike’s banquet, three days to wonder what she has in store for me. There is still no explanation of Tryphaena’s disappearance; she and Titus are not spoken of. And I understand that, for now, it is better for me not to see Charmion.

  For months before Tryphaena vanished, there had been fewer large banquets of the kind Father used to hold regularly. As the royal court became divided into opposing factions, Berenike entertained her supporters in one palace, Tryphaena entertained hers in another. I was seldom invited by either, which suited me well. Now I am obliged to attend. Arsinoë is with me, her face flushed with pleasure. Despite the efforts of Monifa and Irisi to calm me, I am apprehensive, my nerves stretched taut.

  The banquet is one of the most lavish in years, with whole roasted oryxes and wine from the vineyards of the Fayum that our father always favored. An air of anticipation hangs over the crowd, and in the midst of the feasting, Queen Berenike calls for silence. She is about to make an announcement. “I have decided to marry!” she proclaims. Everyone gasps, though this was not surprising: Egyptian queens are not expected to reign alone. “I have chosen a fine husband!” she says, laughing loudly. Her guests laugh along with her. I am not amused—only puzzled. “At the end of the banquet, I shall reveal his name!”

  Seated beside me, Arsinoë squeaks excitedly, “Who can it be? Do you know, Cleopatra?”

  “I have no idea,” I tell my little sister. “Be still, and we’ll find out soon enough.”

  If she follows the tradition of the Ptolemies and the pharaohs who ruled before us, she will marry one of our brothers. But Ptolemy XIII is just six years old, Ptolemy XIV not quite five. Knowing Berenike, I am certain she will have none of this tradition. From my place near the dais I search the sea of faces and find no one who seems a likely candidate.

  There has been no mention of the disappearance of Tryphaena and Titus. It is as if our sister never existed. Even Antiochus, Titus’s uncle, has shown no reaction to his nephew’s unexplained absence. And what about Akantha, sister of Titus—does she not wonder? She was once Berenike’s good friend. Is she still? Does she dare ask the queen about Titus? A par
t of me still hopes the lovers have somehow reached a place far away where they can be safe. But I know that cannot be so.

  The banquet is coming to a close. The dancers have finished their performance—Charmion was not among them—but the trumpets play a flourish and Berenike announces that she will now introduce her future husband.

  “Seleucus, Prince of Syria!” she proclaims.

  The bridegroom stumbles to his feet, grinning foolishly, and acknowledges the tepid applause of the guests.

  “It’s that man who smells so bad!” Arsinoë whispers too loudly.

  “Hush!” I frown at her. But I cannot imagine what has prompted Berenike to choose Saltfish Monger as her husband. What power can the oafish Seleucus bring to her that Berenike has not already seized for herself?

  From that night on, I feel not only the queen’s eyes upon me but also the eyes of her numerous unseen spies. I have nothing to hide, nothing to keep from her, with just one exception: Charmion.

  Berenike did not actually forbid me to see her, though she made it clear enough that she disapproves of my friendship. I would much prefer you were her words, not I order you. Still, Charmion and I dare not meet in this poisonous atmosphere where danger lurks in every corner and behind every column. When she dances for the queen’s banquets, we resist exchanging so much as a glance. But after Berenike reveals her intention to marry Seleucus, Charmion and I have too much to discuss to wait any longer.

  I send her a message asking her to meet me in the zoological garden near the great Library of Alexandria. The royal menagerie was established by the first Ptolemy. Later kings added to the collection, sending out expeditions to distant places to bring back exotic specimens—lions, tigers, an elephant, even a great white bear. I sometimes walk in this garden when I have been studying for many hours. This is where I go now, taking a basket of fruit for the elephant.

  At first I do not recognize Charmion. She has dressed in the rough garb of a peasant, her long braid tucked beneath a headcloth, and is busily sweeping the path outside the elephant’s cage. The great beast recognizes me and pokes his trunk through the bars.

  “There is a small shelter where the tools are kept,” Charmion says quietly without looking up from her sweeping. “I will wait for you there.” She works her way on down the path while the elephant daintily accepts the figs from my hand. When I am reasonably certain that I am not being watched, I find the shelter. It is dark inside, not even a glimmer of light. I hear Charmion’s whisper. “It’s all right,” she says, and her unseen hand guides me to a crude stone bench. “No one is likely to look for us here.”

  Before my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, Charmion exclaims, “Queen Berenike cannot be marrying the Saltfish Monger! He smells terrible!”

  We continue to speak in whispers. “And his voice! You can hear him bellowing like the sacred Apis bull!”

  “Antiochus told my mother that her advisors picked him,” Charmion says. “They don’t want her to rule alone.”

  “Three years ago, on our journey up the Nile, there were rumors that this unwashed oaf wanted to marry one of my sisters,” I tell her thoughtfully, “but it’s hard to believe that Berenike actually agreed to marry him, no matter what her advisors say. Nevertheless, if it will keep Berenike occupied, I give my complete approval to the match,” I say to Charmion with mock solemnity.

  “Perhaps you could give her some perfumed wax to hold to her nose,” Charmion suggests, and I struggle to smother my laughter. Charmion is the only person who can make me laugh like this.

  She asks then, as she always does, if I have any news of Father, and I tell her that I have not. I never do. My father does not write to me or send me messages, and I sometimes wonder if he ever thinks of me. Thinking of him now puts an end to my amusement. I realize he may never be able to return, I may never see him again, and our dream of ruling together may be finished.

  I play my proper role as princess at the celebration of the queen’s marriage, along with Arsinoë and the little Ptolemy princes. Charmion is among the dancers at the banquet. While another musical group is performing for the happy couple and their guests, I slip out and find Charmion. The night is hot, even with the breeze from the sea, and her smooth skin is covered with a light sheen of sweat.

  “That idiot!” she mutters, glaring in the direction of my sister’s new husband.

  “What?” I ask.

  “He—he grabbed me!” she sputters, and I remember how he behaved toward the women and girls on the Nile boats. “I pray that he does not decide to get himself a handful of your tender flesh!”

  “Something else to beware of.” I sigh. “As if we didn’t have enough already.”

  Eight days later, Seleucus is found dead, strangled with Berenike’s necklace. The queen does not deny that she ordered the murder of her husband, whom she describes as coarse and vulgar.

  There is no pretense that he “vanished.” She does not speak of him again. No one does.

  Chapter 30

  ARCHELAUS

  More than a month has passed since the marriage and the murder of Prince Seleucus. Berenike frightens me more than ever. I avoid her when I can and force a smile when I cannot, but I am never at ease. Sometimes I arrange a stealthy meeting with Charmion, but each time requires us to find a new and secret place, and I am reluctant to put her at risk. I wonder if I will always live in fear. I am growing thin. Sleep does not come easily, though Irisi and Monifa have moved their beds to block my door. There are no limits to what Berenike will do. She is nineteen years old. Where does she find the strength of will for such things?

  Then, only months after doing away with the unfortunate Seleucus, Berenike chooses a new husband, Archelaus, son of the king of Pontus in Asia Minor. She arranges another brilliant celebration, and her supporters rejoice, apparently forgetting all about the ill fate of Seleucus. Archelaus is rough and shaggy looking, laughs at his own jokes like a braying donkey, and spends his days out hunting, but he is not boorish like Saltfish Monger. His first official act as king is to banish Bubu. Archelaus objected to the baboon’s presence in his bedroom. I applaud his decision. I think it might even be possible to like this man, and I hope that Queen Berenike likes him well enough not to have him murdered like his predecessor. One can never be sure.

  I understand why Berenike decided to marry Archelaus, but I cannot begin to understand why Archelaus agreed to marry Berenike. Does he worry, as I do, that each meal might be his last, or that he will go to sleep one night and fail to wake up the next morning?

  But already the queen has a problem. By the time I mark the fifteenth anniversary of my birth, word has reached Rome of events in Alexandria: that Tryphaena and Titus have ceased to exist, that Seleucus is dead, and, most seriously in the view of the Roman triumvirate, that Berenike has married Archelaus without consulting them. Rumors again swirl through the royal quarter. Even Demetrius, who usually ignores political matters, has talked with his friend the philosopher Dion of Alexandria. I persuade my tutor to tell me what he knows.

  “Queen Berenike is sending Dion as ambassador to Rome with a delegation of a hundred men,” he says. “Their mission is to persuade the triumvirate that all Berenike has done is for the good of Egypt.”

  “Does Father know about this?” I ask him. “The two murders—three, counting Titus—and the new husband?”

  “Most certainly King Ptolemy has been informed.”

  “What will happen now?”

  “We must wait and see. The king is in exile in Rome. Even if he knows exactly what occurred, he can do nothing.”

  This is far from reassuring. There is not one powerful person on my side.

  And so we wait, and what we learn before a new season begins is that Dion of Alexandria is dead, murdered on the orders of my father. Likewise, many members of the delegation, those who were not bribed or somehow threatened into silence, have been killed. Hardly any of Berenike’s delegates return alive to Alexandria.

  The news appalls
me. Why did Father do this? I understand his anger at Berenike, but was it necessary to kill Dion, one of our leading scholars, and so many delegates? My father’s actions seem senselessly, terribly cruel. Many other loyal subjects are shocked as well.

  “The murders have created a scandal in Rome,” the bitter survivors report. “King Ptolemy has been forced to flee once more, this time to the temple of Artemis in Ephesus.”

  The temple of Artemis is known to be the most sacred place of sanctuary in the world. I know from my study of our maps that Ephesus is a long journey from Rome—and a long way from Alexandria.

  “Do you think my father is planning to come home to Egypt?” I ask Demetrius.

  My tutor shakes his head and lifts his shoulders in his familiar shrug. “Only the gods can answer that, Cleopatra.”

  Chapter 31

  BUCEPHALA

  Many things have changed since my father was forced into exile three and a half years ago. I am fifteen, old enough to rule Egypt alone and capable of ruling well. Only Queen Cleopatra Berenike stands between me and the throne—and she knows that as well as I do. Yet she and her husband, Archelaus, rule without any apparent opposition. Everyone is afraid to anger her. But my time is coming, I feel sure, and so I watch and wait. One day soon Berenike is certain to make a serious mistake. Maybe even a fatal one. And I will be ready.

  With Archelaus at her side, Queen Berenike seems less interested in what I do, and I have become bolder. Surely the queen’s spies have informed her of my visits to the harem to spend time with Charmion and her mother, but so far she has not interfered.

  Charmion humors me with lessons in the dances she performs for royal banquets. “You have a talent for this, Cleopatra,” she assures me, “though you will never perform in public.”

  “Only in private, someday, for your husband,” adds Lady Amandaris, who is as wise as she is elegant. “But your truest talent, like your greatest beauty, is in your intelligence and your charm.”