In vain on the return journey I longed for him to tell me he loved me, and considered me in some fashion his wife. He was jolly, entertaining, light-hearted. He was a passionate lover, an attentive listener. But he never alluded to the brief ceremony at Philae, and I did not dare do so, as the boat came closer and closer to Alexandria.
Chapter 15.
We halted at Memphis, and anchored the ships across the waters from the white walls of the city and the groves of sycamores that threw their flat shade on the procession way. As we approached it, and I saw the stepped pyramid of Saqqara rearing its head, I felt oppression overtaking me. We were reentering the world of politics, commerce, wars, and alliances, leaving behind the realm of gods, temples, and mysteries. The only flicker of worldly matters that had interfered with our idyll had been Caesar's interest in Coptos on our homeward journey. He had wished to know more about the India trade routes that passed that way. When he had mentioned India, the covetous look had passed over his face again. But the intrusion had been brief.
Now, however, Memphis sat on the border of the wider world for us, a world that would reclaim Caesar--I knew it. And before we had properly set the anchors and aligned the ship, a smaller vessel full of Romans was paddling furiously out to us.
"Caesar!" cried an officer I recognized, Rufio, whom Caesar had left guarding Alexandria. "Caesar!"
Never one to hide in his cabin or dismiss business, Caesar waved to him enthusiastically. I almost hated him for that; it made him seem the slave of someone else's urgencies. (Since then I have been accused of having the "eastern vice" for not respecting time or messengers. I do--but at my convenience, not theirs.) Rufio was soon on board, and Caesar was greeting him like a long-lost brother.
"How black you are burnt, Caesar!" cried Rufio. "Has the sun turned you into a Nubian?" He cast an eye toward the ostrich-fan bearers in obvious disapproval.
Caesar laughed and said, "I have seen much and gone many miles, but I am still Caesar, under this sunburn." Then the dreaded question. "What news?"
Rufio pulled out a sheaf of papers and waved them at Caesar, who pushed them aside. "No, tell me yourself. It is quicker. Alexandria?"
"Alexandria is quiet. No more fight in them. But in Pontus--King Pharnaces has overrun your general Calvinus, taken the Roman province, and slaughtered or castrated ail the Roman merchants and citizens. He assumes he can get away with this because you are too . . . preoccupied."
"Calvinus! He sent his Thirty-seventh Legion to us here--and left himself unprotected." Caesar's good-natured mien faded. "He must be avenged."
"You have a full platter of wrongs to avenge, then." Now Rufio seemed apologetic at having to heap them all up. "The reports we have received from the west of Alexandria is that the remainders of the forces of Pompey, including his sons, are gathering along the shores of North Africa, trafficking with King Juba of Numidia." "The only question, then, is which one I must address myself to first."
"Precisely." Only then did Rufio take any notice of me, standing near Caesar. "Greetings to you, most exalted Queen."
"I am always pleased to see you, Rufio, but your news is not as welcome as you are." It was true, I had always liked Rufio. He was a freedman's son, with a broad, toadlike face, but pleasant nonetheless. It is a mystery to me what makes one person more inherently appealing company than another.
"Will the world never be a quiet place?" barked Caesar, as if, momentarily, the constant tasks were too much even for him. He sounded worn out, even after six weeks of rest.
"Not much longer, my dearest," I assured him. "In only a little while, when you return to Rome--"
"Rome is a mess," said Rufio bluntly.
Caesar started. "Here, come below to our stateroom," he said. "These are not matters we can discuss in passing on deck." He turned on his heel and expected us to follow.
He made his way down the ebony-trimmed steps and into the great chamber in the midsection of the ship, where he and I had consulted with the captain, studied maps and manuscripts relating to our journey, and held conferences with the accompanying Roman officers every so often. He sat on the edge of a long table of polished cypress wood, one of his legs dangling.
"Now," he said.
I pulled up a gilded chair and indicated that Rufio should do likewise. "There are chairs," I said pointedly to Caesar. "Or are you already in a war camp?"
He grabbed one and jerked it up to the table.
"What of Rome?" he asked in that low voice, full of menace and tension. I had almost forgotten it on the trip.
"It is all in disarray," said Rufio. "There have been no leaders there since you passed through it a year and a half ago. Your lieutenant Marc Antony may be a good fighting man, but as a political deputy, he seems in water beyond his depth. There has been fighting in the Forum, Antony's men against Dolabella's mob, with eight hundred killed. There's also a mutiny of your veterans in the Italian countryside. They say they haven't had their promised rewards."
"Anything more?" asked Caesar.
"No." Rufio looked surprised that he would even ask. Wasn't that enough?
"I have been in Egypt eight months now," said Caesar slowly. "I came in pursuit of Pompey and became embroiled in another war. I have lost much valuable time."
"You were so out of touch with Rome that until December they did not even know of your whereabouts," said Rufio, almost scolding. "There were some who assumed you were dead."
"I was not dead," he said. "But in some ways entombed." He looked around at the richly furnished stateroom, and dismissed it with the wave of a hand.
"Egypt is like a gigantic tomb. Everything that stays here long enough becomes mummified. This is a country of dead men surrounded by monuments to death."
I could stand it no longer. "Am I a mummy?" I cried. "Is Alexandria--the foremost city in the world for learning, beauty, and the art of living--a tomb?"
He laughed. "Alexandria, as everyone knows, is not Egypt. But even it seems remote from everyday life--perhaps because it is so opulent, so civilized."
He had finished with us. He was ready to go. He was straining at his tether.
That night, in our sleeping chamber, he seemed thoughtful, almost sad that it had come to an end. He sat staring at his goblet, which he had uncharacteristically filled with wine. He had even drunk a cupful, and it seemed to soften his stern features. He toyed with its base, running his fingers over the raised decorations.
"Long ago I told you I avoided wine because it incited strange symptoms in me. Now, after that night on the desert, you know what they are. But tonight I do not care."
I stood behind him and put my arms around him. "What will you do? When--must you leave?"
"Soon," he said. "In a few days."
"A few days? Can you not stay for the birth of our child? It is only a few weeks from now."
"I cannot wait a few weeks." He sounded so certain that it was pointless for me to object.
"I see." So I would be left alone to bear this child. But there was no arguing with Caesar. I tried my best to keep my voice level and betray no tremor of emotion. It would serve no purpose but to annoy him. But what about Philae? my mind cried. What did it mean to you? Anything? Would it be announced in any way?
"There is one thing more," he said, still turning the goblet in his hands.
"Yes?" My heart leapt up.
"You should marry little Ptolemy before my departure. You cannot rule alone, and must be nominally married."
"I am married!" I cried. I could not help myself. "It is already announced that this child--"
He laughed indulgently. "That is in the divine, mystical sense. But the Alexandrians are more jaded and skeptical. They will laugh at such a story. And those we laugh at, we lose fear and respect for. Without a husband, foreign princes will come courting you, and that will be tiresome."
"For me or for them?"
"For you and for me," he said. "I am hoping that you would find their attentions tedious, and for myself,
I would find them . . . disturbing." He stood up and put down the goblet. At last he took me in his arms. "I find I cannot stand the thought of you with another man. This has never happened to me before. I excused Pompeia's liaison with Clodius, and frankly I wouldn't care if Calpurnia had been rolling around with Cicero himself the entire time of my absence. But you ... no Syrian princes for you. I could not bear it."
"So I am to wait, preserved, for you--like the mummies you say Egypt is filled with?"
"I will send for you to come to Rome as soon as it is safe."
"Which may be years!" The awfulness of what I was facing suddenly spread itself out before me. To bind myself to Caesar was indeed to make a mummy of myself, with all living forbidden, and no promise of any recognition as anything but his mistress. "The life you are offering is no life at all!"
"Trust me. In just a little while, things may be different." In an ordinary man, his tone would have been close to begging. But could Caesar beg?
"How can they be? The laws of Rome are as they are, and your nature is as it is."
"Trust me," he said, and this time the tone really was begging. "I have never known another person like you, found my counterpart in a woman. You have my spirit, my daring, my gambler's nature, my seeking for adventure. Wait and see what I can bring about."
"Wait and see," I murmured. "What if nothing happens?"
"If it is humanly possible for me to bring about a future for us and our child, I will," he promised. "But I must know you will wait, and that you trust me."
"I have no choice," I finally said. "My heart wishes me to, even though my head warns me not to."
"Because you are very young," he said, "they may be evenly balanced. At my age, it is a wonder that the heart speaks at all."
In two days we were back in Alexandria. From a distance it looked as perfect as ever, but after we had landed and were being transported in litters through the city, I could see the heaps of rubble and the charred timbers that choked the streets. There would be much to repair. The war had been a costly business--but if that was the price for keeping my throne, so be it.
As we alighted and entered the palace, I was aware of more than just welcoming looks. During the journey my pregnancy had advanced to the stage where it was clearly visible. We would have to make the Amun announcement immediately. Or just make no announcement at all? Caesar was right; such a claim would only cause the Alexandrians merriment. My city was known as a place where lovemaking and pleasure blended the sophistication of the Greeks with the sensual indulgences of the east; they would know well enough where this baby had come from. I blushed to realize that even their imaginations might fall short of the actual acts. Who could believe the old Roman soldier, so austere in all his other physical appetites, would be so inventive and vigorous in his amorous behavior? On the other hand, inventive and vigorous were the two words that best described his prowess on the military field as well.
Much as I hated to leave our private world on the ship, I was delighted to see Mardian and Olympos at the head of the officers waiting to receive us. And when I reentered my chambers, Charmian and Iras were there.
"Oh, my dear Charmian! My Iras!" I held out my arms and embraced them.
"Your Majesty! Welcome! Look! We have all in readiness! Goods are flowing into Egypt again, now that the war is over. There are new silk hangings for the bed; fresh incense from Arabia; the good Caecuban wine; and roses from Cyrene--both red and white." I could smell the distinct rose odor, piercingly sweet. Two bunches of them were in large glass vases. "We are so happy you are here," they said, simply.
"What have you done for Caesar's quarters?" I asked.
"Made ready a working table," Charmian said. "Mountains of documents have come in for him."
I sighed. He would not care about, or notice, the new silks or the roses. Only the documents. "There are undoubtedly documents for me, too," I said.
"Many less," they said. Iras pointed to a table that held a little pyramid of them.
Yes, I did not rule the world, but only one country. And on this journey I had seen many of the concerns of that country with my own eyes. The business in Egypt was the same as it had been for the earliest Pharaohs: crops, harvests, taxes, soldiers. It was Caesar's world that was in flux, not mine.
"He thanks you for your efforts," I said. I felt tired, and sank down on a chair of citrus wood.
"Your . . . your . . . condition . . . ?" They flopped around, searching for words.
"I have had no problems except that now I am growing tired easily. The journey was restful for me," I said.
"And when is--is--?"
If my own dear ladies were so embarrassed about it, how did the rest of Alexandria regard it? "I am not really sure," I said. "I must ask Olympos to do the calculations. I think in a month, or perhaps a bit longer. Caesar cannot stay." I had to say it then, so there would be no mistake about it. But the look on their faces told all. They disapproved. I found myself in the position of having to defend him--to myself and to them.
"There are urgent matters--" I began, but my voice trailed off. It was not convincing. "This is the drawback to loving the master of the world," I finally said. "One tends not to be as important to him as one would wish."
And that was the truth of the matter. I was a queen, descended from an old royal house, and my country was the richest one in the world. But he did not need to remind me that when we met, I had been reduced to living in exile in a tent. Without him I would still be there--or dead. He could have turned Egypt into a Roman province after Alexandria had surrendered, like every other country in the Mediterranean after a defeat: Greece, Syria, Judaea, Spain, Carthage. The fact that he had left me on my throne and had even spent precious weeks on our journey up the Nile spoke of his personal feelings for me. More than that I would not get.
Now we belonged to the world again, and our privacy was gone. Caesar read detailed reports of the insurrection in Pontus, the gathering of malcontents in Africa, the turmoil in Rome, and received a flock of messengers with current information.
He shook his head late one night as he sat in a wide chair and dropped each report on the left side as he finished reading it. Outside, the waves in the inner harbor were dancing in the moonlight. It was a soft night; the breezes barely swayed the flames in the wicks of the lamps. Probably all over the city people were sipping honeyed wine, listening to soft lute music, holding evening symposia, reading quietly, or making love. That was what Alexandria was famous for: pleasures of the mind and body. Caesar worked on through the hours, stopping only to shake his head or stretch his arms occasionally.
It was well past midnight when he muttered, "That's all." The pile of papers on his right side had all been transferred to the left.
"Where have you decided to go?" I asked quietly.
"Pontus," he said. "I cannot return to Rome, leaving an enemy at my back. The east must be made secure."
"But you are already in Africa," I said. The Roman rebel forces were much closer.
"I always finish pesky side rebellions before turning to the main task at hand," he said. "That is why I reduced Spain before pursuing Pompey. It looked as if I were going in the wrong direction, but it was by intent. Now I must go to Pontus before returning here. It is almost sixteen hundred miles in the wrong direction." He stood up and made for the open roof terrace. I came and stood beside him, looking at the Lighthouse belching out its fire and smoke. It still had the power to move me with pride every time I looked at it.
"You will sail out of this harbor," I said, voicing the obvious. "When?"
"In a few days," he said. "I have decided to leave behind three legions to protect you, under Rufio. There will not arise another Pothinus."
"But--that will leave you only one legion to take to Pontus!" No, I could not let him endanger himself so. Better I should take my chances here.
"Yes, the Sixth," he said.
"That is not enough!"
"It will have to be," he said.
>
"No, not again! It happened once in Alexandria that you were undermanned. Do not repeat it!" Then I remembered something else. "The Sixth Legion is not even up to full strength! There are only a thousand men in it-- not even a fourth of its full quota!"
"Yes, I know," he said.
"You push your luck too far!" I cried. "I think you mean to force the goddess Fortune into abandoning you! It is insane to take only a thousand men!"
"That is my business!" He was starting to show irritation.
"No, it is my business as well, now!" I resorted to touching my belly.
"My military campaigns are my business," he repeated.
"Why do you tempt fate so?" I begged. "Why do you think you are immune to defeat and misfortune?" I could hear my voice rising, propelled by fear. "I think that fate spares us--spares some of us--for a good long time, to lull us into the trap she means to spring for us. Those she spares the longest, she may have the cruelest ending for."
"In that case, there is little I can do to sidestep it," he said. "Fate will have her way, whether I take one legion or twenty."
"Yes, and no." I knew that if fate wished otherwise, twenty legions would not protect you, but sometimes fate did not care one way or the other, in which case you were better off with your little human preparations.
Memoirs of Cleopatra (1997) Page 22
