The Time-Traveling Fashionista and Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile

by Bianca Turetsky

  “Achoo!” Louise sneezed, her nostrils full of ancient dust.

  The vase would probably be in a museum under a locked glass case one day along with all the other little stone statuettes, but that didn’t impress Louise quite so much now that she was the one required to clean them. Knickknacks, her mother called them. This palace was filled with them.

  By the time Louise had finished her housework and Livia had led her back through the labyrinth of corridors to Cleopatra’s wing, the queen was immersed in an intense discussion with her brother/husband, Ptolemy. Louise hovered outside the doorway so as not to interrupt, but she stayed close enough that she could still listen.

  “The grain supply is being disrupted in the South, and because of this terrible drought, if we do not intervene, there will be a famine. We have to do something about this dire situation. You must defer to me. I know how to handle this crisis,” Cleopatra said confidently. The assured tone of her voice made her sound much older than a typical teenager.

  “It’s not fair. You do everything,” Ptolemy whined.

  “That’s hardly true. But I don’t have time to argue with you. Let me mobilize the army and deal with this at once.”

  Ptolemy burst into tears of frustration. “It’s not fair,” he cried. Under the oversize gold crown and leopard robes, he was really just a little boy, no match for the intellect and poise of his sister. And judging by this tantrum, he knew it.

  “You must support me and know that I will take care of it,” she replied firmly. “There is a feeling of great unrest. And if the people sense that we are not working together, we will be overthrown. There are already small mobs starting to gather at the palace gates. Do not be foolish, brother.”

  “I am not foolish! You are!” He fled the room, pushing past Louise in a fit of rage. He hopped back up onto his portable throne, which was parked and waiting for him around the corner, and his dutiful servants swiftly carried away the sniffling child-king. Louise hesitantly walked in the doorway, not sure what sort of mood she would find her new boss in.

  “Charmian, come in. Sit.” She directed Louise to an ornately upholstered chair across from her at a wide table, which was covered in several large, curling maps marked THE NILE RIVER. “I feel as though I can trust you as you are my oldest servant.” Cleopatra looked Louise directly in the eye for a long, uncomfortable moment, as though trying to gauge her loyalty. Louise had a moment where she wondered if Cleopatra meant oldest as in they went back a long time or if Charmian was perhaps really, really old. She brushed that tangent aside and nodded solemnly, trying not to let her gaze settle for too long on Cleopatra’s wide, crooked nose.

  “But I need you to swear on Amun that you will not speak a word of what I am about to tell you.”

  “Yes, my queen. You can trust me with anything.” Louise had a feeling she was about to get some really juicy ancient gossip, although she did wish she had Stella there to share it with. What good was gossip if you had to keep it to yourself?

  “And, of course, if I find out that you have so much as breathed a word of this to anyone, I will simply have you fed to the palace lions,” Cleopatra stated plainly, as though throwing a person into the lion’s den was a common practice during this time. Which perhaps it was.

  Louise’s mouth dropped open. Yikes!

  Cleopatra must have registered the horrified look on Charmian’s face as she grinned and said, “I am joking, of course.” Louise relaxed. “I’d feed you to the crocodiles on the bank of the Nile River.” This time she didn’t crack a smile.

  “Oh, my.” Louise gulped. That was a pretty specific threat. Was this girl serious or was this considered ancient humor? Louise certainly didn’t want to find out. She was definitely going to keep this secret as if her life depended on it, which it probably did.

  “I think,” Cleopatra paused dramatically, “that my little brother, my co-ruler, King Ptolemly, is planning to have me assassinated. My life is not safe here at this time. I fear that his tutor, Theodotus, and his adviser, the soldier Achillas, are guiding him in a dangerous direction. I have heard rumblings from my sources around the palace. Of course, I expected this, but not quite this soon.”

  Whoa! That ten-year-old crybaby kid was plotting a murder? Of his own sister? Of his own wife? Before Louise could wrap her twenty-first-century brain around what she had just been told, she swore she saw a shadowy figure dart away from outside the door. They were being spied on!

  “Someone is out there!” Louise cried. She definitely did not want to take the blame if someone else spilled the beans. She had no intention of becoming lion—or crocodile—food.

  “Who is there? Announce yourself!” Cleopatra declared. Silence. The hallway was now eerily quiet.

  “I fear that I will end up in the same predicament as my dear sister Berenice,” she continued a little more quietly. “As you know, she was killed by order of my beloved father and his supporters when she tried to usurp the throne. Beheaded.” Cleopatra shuddered at the memory. “Her decapitated head served at dinner on a golden platter. I know that because of my power, I am also in a most vulnerable position.”

  These people are capable of murdering their own children, Louise thought in horror. She definitely did not want to be hanging around in this era for too long if even the royal family was not safe!

  “Despite all the guards, I do not sleep well at night for fear of assassins. Ptolemy might have bribed my own men against me, for all I know. I can trust only you. From this night on, I need you to sleep with me here in my chambers for additional protection. This will be your pallet,” she continued, pointing to a leopard-skin rug clearly made from a real leopard (the head was still attached!) lying at the foot of her bed on the other side of the vast room.

  Louise nodded mutely. She was now totally freaked out, but in her current position, what choice did she have but to agree to this new perilous arrangement?

  “We will speak more about this tomorrow. It is almost time for supper, and I must pray to Isis for strength and guidance.”

  Ohmigod, a murder plot? When Louise was Ptolemy’s age, she was thinking about horses and her Barbie Dreamhouse. Talk about sibling rivalry! She guessed that Charmian was probably willing to take a bullet for her boss, but Louise herself wasn’t feeling quite so generous yet. It was going to be a long night.

  That evening, before dinner, Louise was responsible for brushing and braiding Cleopatra’s many wigs, while Livia once again sat off to the side and watched her work. Louise decided this was a good time to subtly get some information from her new acquaintance. “Did you know Berenice?” Louise asked her companion, who was reclining on a chaise, seemingly relaxed, but nervously picking at her cuticles.

  “Yes, my sister had the honor of being buried with her in the royal tomb, forever serving her in the afterlife. Isn’t that the ultimate honor?” Livia asked with almost a dreamy expression on her face. “I can only hope my life will do such service.”

  “I’m good,” Louise replied quickly. “I’m not looking for any additional honors right now.” Somehow being turned into a mummy alongside Cleopatra wasn’t exactly the type of recognition she was looking for. She had final exams to take, a party to go to where she could see Peter again, which she was incredibly excited about. Considering she hadn’t even had her first kiss yet, she wasn’t exactly ready to get fossilized! “So people seem to get murdered all the time around here?” Louise asked hesitantly. Before Livia had a chance to respond, the girls were summoned by the other servants to join the young queen in the dining room for supper.

  Louise stood at attention with her back against the cool limestone wall as she watched a girl about eight years old, dressed as a miniature version of Cleopatra in a long, pleated sea green sleeveless dress and seated at the table, fidgeting and waiting impatiently for the queen. She was draped in piles of sparkling jewelry and ropes of pearls, with big bauble rings on each finger, like a little kid who had raided her mother’s jewel box and put everything on a
t once. She was a prettier version of Cleopatra, with the same olive skin and dark eyes, but with a more proportional-size nose and chin. Her mouth was set in a perpetual frown, though, which made her look as if she were sucking on a sour lemon.

  Charmian was handed a heavy ceramic pitcher of water, which she assumed was to refill the goblets if they got low. Unfortunately, the cups were made of solid gold, so it was impossible from her vantage point to see how much water was in them. She prayed that the whole roasted pig displayed on the table wasn’t too salty or they’d probably need a lot of refills! There were very few utensils on the table, only a couple of spoons, which seemed very strange to Louise. Did the royal family eat with their fingers? Platters of food continued to be brought into the dining room from the kitchen—and each dish seemed to get more peculiar than the last. An entire cooked antelope, which took four servants to carry in on a wide plank of wood, was followed by a plated gazelle, whose hooves stuck up into the air and slender horns were still attached, and an enormous ox, which was quartered and served alongside piles of onions and squash. These people ate animals Louise had seen only in dioramas at the American Museum of Natural History!

  The thumping sound of beating drums and lyre music filled the air as a heavily made-up Cleopatra regally strode into the room looking statuesque in a long Grecian-style tangerine-colored dress made up of many layers of fine, sheer orange silks and a bright marigold sash. It was looser and more flowing than the skintight Egyptian sheath she was wearing earlier in the day. Louise now understood the difference Irene Sharaff had been talking about back in Hollywood. The intricately pleated fabric was tied on one shoulder and fastened with an emerald snake brooch, and, Louise noted, it looked like a lot of the dresses that have been going down the twenty-first-century red carpet lately. Thousands of years later and they are still making the same style fashion, Louise marveled. The queen had a sheer yellow mantle draped elegantly around her shoulders, long gold dangling chandelier earrings, and thick gold cuff bracelets with even more emeralds adorning both her wrists. This girl definitely did not do anything without a blinding amount of jewelry. Her thick black eyeliner was applied perfectly to show off her deep brown eyes, which were by far her best feature. With her hooked nose and pointy chin, she still wasn’t conventionally beautiful in a fashion model type of way, but Cleopatra clearly knew how to accentuate her best assets. And her intense confidence almost dared you to say she wasn’t the most gorgeous woman in the room. Louise imagined what it would be like to strut into the cafeteria with that attitude. And if not that, she could at least take a few makeup tips back with her to Connecticut to use once her mother allowed her to wear any.

  As two servants materialized out of the background to pull out Cleopatra’s heavy thronelike chair from the head of the table, Louise came to the conclusion that there were workers to cater to Cleopatra’s every possible need: fix her hair, dress her, wash her, play music to accompany whatever activity she was doing, read poetry to her, carry her cup of water—everything, really. And everyone, except Louise, seemed to know exactly when and how to be of service. It seemed as if Charmian’s job was to always be present in case Cleopatra needed anything, in this case a fresh glass of water, but not to say a word unless spoken to first. She turned to Livia, who was standing next to her and seemed to be growing even more nervous by the second.

  “Are you okay?” Louise whispered when she noticed the girl’s hands were shaking. Livia shrugged and stared straight ahead, not saying a word, anxiously wiping her sweaty palms on the skirt of her tight yellow shift dress.

  “Good evening, dear Arsinoe. Have you been waiting long, sister?” Cleopatra asked as she took her seat at the head of the table. They were the only people sitting at the long, overabundant table, being closely catered to by dozens of attendants.

  The young scowling girl, who apparently was Cleopatra’s younger and grumpier sister, greeted her sibling with an icy-cold stare. “Yes, in fact I have. Let us eat, shall we?”

  A man in a floor-sweeping maroon robe brought out a jug of wine and poured a bit into Cleopatra’s empty jeweled goblet. Louise was surprised to see Livia walk over to the table and pick up the queen’s untouched glass and slowly bring it to her trembling red lips.

  “I taste your food, daughter of Isis, and if there be harm, let the harm fall upon me.” No wonder Livia was scared, Louise realized. She wasn’t just checking if it was good—it was possible that whatever was served to the queen could be poisoned! A little anxiety was totally understandable considering her position could literally kill Livia. The royal taster’s job was to try Cleopatra’s food and drinks first, in case someone was trying to assassinate the queen. If something was poisoned, poor Livia would die instead. Louise guiltily acknowledged her relief that her coworker didn’t take Louise up on her previous offer to switch positions—a little dusting never killed anyone. A toxic cocktail on the other hand…

  The hesitant teenage girl took a tiny sip from the large goblet, and after a moment her striking green eyes grew wide as saucers. She stumbled, grabbing onto the arm of Cleopatra’s chair before she convulsed and fell to the floor. Louise dropped her blue ceramic water pitcher onto the tile floor and watched helplessly as it shattered into a million fragmented pieces.

  “Ohmigod, somebody help her!” Louise yelled, rushing over to her distressed friend. She shook the girl by the shoulders, as though Livia were just asleep, as though this were all just a bad dream.

  The room was pin-drop silent as Livia twitched one last time and then lay completely still, her pretty eyes wide open, staring up at the arched ceiling. Louise had never seen a dead body before, but she just knew this girl who’d been standing next to her a second ago was gone forever. She had come close to death on her two previous adventures, but never had she experienced anything like this. Louise let out a scream.

  Two linebacker-size guardsmen grabbed Louise by the arms and dragged her away from the lifeless body.

  “Argh, Ptolemy! I’m not hungry anymore,” Cleopatra declared briskly, standing up and throwing her solid gold spoon onto the mahogany table with a clatter. Immediately, the room started buzzing with servants removing from the table the poisoned wine and the untouched jewel-encrusted plates of roasted meats and vegetables. Other servants picked up the body of the recently deceased taster and quickly walked out of the room, carrying Livia over their head like a canoe. “Charmian, do be more careful with those water jugs. And I need a new taster,” she called to Louise before she exited the dining hall. “Again!”

  Louise lowered her head, hot tears streaming down her face. How could everyone be so callous? Someone had just died right in front of them and no one even stopped to notice!

  Out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but notice a slight smile cross Arsinoe’s lips, which to Louise seemed like a very strange reaction considering someone just dropped dead and her sister was almost murdered. She watched the young girl pluck an oyster from a display that had yet to be removed from the table and greedily slurp it down. Perhaps Ptolemy wasn’t behind this particular incident after all.

  Louise lay down on the leopard-skin rug, trying not to look directly into the dead animal’s preserved glowing yellow eyes. Cleopatra blew out the candelabra by her bed with one forceful breath. The room was thrown into near total blackness with just a sliver of moonlight streaming in through the gap in the curtained window. Louise was covered by a rough woolen blanket that barely reached her toes, and her head rested uncomfortably on a thin pillow that felt as if it were stuffed with a plank of wood. Even though the days were scorching, nights at the palace were very cold once the desert sun went down, and Louise shivered in only a coarse linen nightgown that scratched her skin and provided little warmth. After tossing and turning for a bit on the painful makeshift bed and replaying that evening’s disturbing events, she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to get any sleep.

  “Shhhh!” Cleopatra scolded from behind the sheer silk curtain that en
closed her luxurious platform mattress. “How am I supposed to sleep at all with you moving around so much?”

  “Sorry,” Louise whispered into the darkness. She silently started crying. She hadn’t had the chance to get to know Livia all that well, but Louise couldn’t help thinking about how young she had been, and now she was dead and no one seemed to care. There was a slight consolation in the idea that Livia truly believed she was doing her life’s duty by serving her queen. She was willing to die for Cleopatra and felt that it would be the ultimate honor. But still… Louise held her breath and tried to will herself to keep totally still. The wool blanket was itching her left foot, and she quietly tried to rub it against the other without making any noise.

  “Although, I cannot sleep anyway,” Cleopatra said a minute later, a little more gently. “I miss her, too, you know. Livia and I grew up together. She and her sister were orphans whom my father took in to help keep Berenice and me entertained. I’ve known her since she was a little girl. But that is the way life is. I cannot have you being so sentimental, Charmian. We must be strong.”

  Louise sniffed. “I’m trying,” she said, but secretly she was thinking, I need to get out of here. She didn’t want to have to pretend to be strong anymore. She wanted to be herself. And, most of all, she didn’t want to be next.

  “I wish my father were still alive to guide me. Oh, Isis, please show me what to do.”

  Who was this Isis person Cleopatra kept praying to? Some kind of god? Like a cat? Louise knew she was going to have to do some research on ancient Egypt when she got home. If she got home.

  “But I am glad that I have you here for my protection, Charmian. I feel like I can’t trust anyone right now, not even my own family.”

  “Me, too,” Louise whispered, although she didn’t mean it anymore. If only she knew. How in the world was Louise, a twelve-year-old girl from the suburbs, going to protect Cleopatra, the most famous queen of all time, from anything? Particularly if her potential assassins lived under the same roof! What would happen to the history of the world if Cleopatra was murdered because Louise fell asleep and didn’t warn her of danger? She had never had so much responsibility in her life. It was a miracle that her goldfish, Marlon, had survived as long as he did!