I was dressed in clothes I had left behind and almost forgotten, which made them new again. I put on gold jewelry in the Greek style, earrings and necklace, but kept on the pendant Caesar had given me. It must learn to be a friend to all my other necklaces, for it would keep company with them from now on.
We met in the room used for private dining; this enabled me to stretch out on a couch. I arranged myself before anyone else arrived, covering my feet with the hem of my gown. There would be no food--I did not wish to call attention to myself by whether I did or did not eat.
First to enter,the chamber was Mardian, his ever-more-ample frame draped in a gold-fringed tunic. He smiled and saluted me. "A meeting on the very first day!" He bowed. "I brought all the records--"
"Oh, I don't propose to look at records tonight," I assured him. "That's much too specific. I merely wanted to speak with you about what has happened in both Rome and Egypt since our last communication."
Epaphroditus appeared in the doorway, resplendently dressed, as I had come to expect. He had looked so darkly handsome in crimson; now he looked equally forceful in a deep blue robe.
Others arrived: Allienus, commander of the four legions guarding the city (Caesar had lately added another); the overseer of the tax collectors; the head customs official; the guardian of the state treasury; the chief priest of Serapis; the inspector of canals and irrigation. And, of course, several scribes.
One by one they formally greeted me, going through all the set phrases, but I could tell by their expressions and the tone of their voices that they were genuinely happy I had returned.
"I am blessed to be able to return so safely," I said. "And blessed to find that you have taken such care of the kingdom while I was away, have guarded and nurtured her so well." I looked around at all of them. Time to begin, and to begin with the event that loomed over all others. "You have heard about--what has happened in Rome?"
"Indeed," said Mardian. "The whole world has . Heard of it. I expect that even the Kandake in faraway Nubia has heard of it--nay, even in India. The tallest cedar has fallen, and the sound has shaken the world."
"I--I was not there," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "But I was told immediately afterward, and it was I who conveyed him to his home and gave him into the hands of--of his wife, Calpurnia." I paused. All eyes were fastened on me. I should tell it now, all at once, rather than responding to questions. "I was there at the funeral, when he was--was cremated on the bier. I saw the crowd turn frenzied, and behave as if they wished to elevate Caesar to the state of a god."
And what afterward? I remembered the blazing fire, the wild shouts, the dark night--but after that, nothing, until I found myself on the ship, But they must not know that; it would cause them to doubt my strength and sanity. "As for afterward--what have you heard?"
"That Antony, as Consul, has taken his place as head of the government," said Mardian. "The assassins are very unpopular in Rome, and have failed to keep control. They will probably leave soon, for their own safety."
"And what of Octavian?" I asked. Had he received the news yet?
"The young Caesar--for so he wants to be called now--left Apollonia immediately to claim his inheritance;' said Mardian, "He should be in Rome by now."
So he was wading into that nest of confusion and danger! I was surprised; I would have expected him to wait and see what developed first. "The young Caesar?"
"Why, yes, that is now his name--Gaius Julius Caesar. Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus."
That name! That name could belong to only one person! This was a travesty! Before I could say anything, General Allienus spoke up.
"The legions have hailed him as Caesar," he said. "Not all of them, of course, but a surprising number. There is magic in that name, and they want their old commander back." He paused. "As do we all," he added dutifully.
"Antony had best come to terms with him," said Mardian. "He will have to share the power with him. But we know nothing more than this."
This was unexpected. Shocks kept spreading out from Rome.
"We must look to our own safety," I said. "Egypt had just been recognized as Friend and Ally of the Roman People, which meant that we were guaranteed independence and security. But now--the whole world is unstable."
"My legions remain as Caesar positioned them," said Allienus. "They will protect Egypt from predators."
How farsighted of Caesar to have stationed them here! I was deeply grateful.
"So we will wait together," I said, "and keep Alexandria well. But what of the rest of the country? Perhaps we should raise more troops to strengthen the line of defense up and down the Nile, as well as east to west along the coast."
"If we can afford it," said Mardian.
"What is the present situation of the state treasury?" I asked the guardian of it.
"Recovering, slowly. It will take years to recoup the losses to Rabirius, and repair the war damage to the city. But as long as there are not other extraordinary expenses, we will first survive, then live well, and finally be rich," he said. "And of course, Egypt always has her food, and that in itself makes her rich. She can feed not only herself, but others if need be."
I hoped we would not have to feed anyone but ourselves, or customers who could pay, and pay well.
I turned to the chief official of the waterways. "What of the irrigation canals? And the reservoir basins?"
"They are in reasonable condition," he said. "The Niles of the past two years have been adequate, and that has allowed us to do maintenance work on the irrigation system--water neither too high nor too low. But there has been some silting of late. It needs to be addressed."
"It is all related--the crops cannot grow without adequate irrigation, and without the money from the crops, we cannot dredge to improve irrigation. What of the taxes?"
"Import tax has been collected as usual," said the customs head.
"Profits are up," added Epaphroditus. "Suddenly there seems to be a craze for olive oil. I don't know what people are doing with it--bathing in it?"
"What do we care, as long as they are paying the fifty-percent import tax?" said the tax collector.
"True," said Mardian. "People seem to demand the best nowadays. Earlier they were content with linseed oil; now it must be olive or nothing. Well, why complain?"
"Am I complaining?" said the tax commissioner. "Not I!"
"The great festivals of Serapis and the pilgrimages to Isis have attracted large crowds and many pilgrims during the past two seasons," said the priest, speaking suddenly. He had been so silent I had forgotten he was there. "Perhaps it betokens something."
"People are searching, tired of this present world," said Epaphroditus. "Religion everywhere seems to be attracting converts. The mysteries, the Isis devotions, Mithras--all the eastern rites--seem to be especially popular."
"But not Judaism," said Mardian. "Your laws and rules are too exclusive. You make it too hard to join you."
"That is the idea," said Epaphroditus. "We don't want to become too popular. When things become too big, too successful, then they change into something else."
"Like the Romans?" said the high priest sharply. "When they were just a city, they were supposedly high-minded and self-controlled. Now look at them--now that they own most of the known world!"
"Yes, our God foresaw that pitfall," said Epaphroditus. "He said, 'Beware that thou forget not the Lord thy God--lest when thou hast eaten and art full, and hast built goodly houses, and dwelt therein; and when thy herds and thy flocks multiply, and thy silver and thy gold is multiplied, arid all that thou hast is multiplied; then thine heart be lifted up, and thou forget the Lord thy God, and thou say in thine heart, My power and the wealth of mine hand hath gotten me this wealth. And it shall be, if thou do at all forget the Lord thy God, I testify against you this day that ye shall surely perish.' "
"No'wonder you don't attract many converts," said the priest of Serapis. "Now our god is much more realistic about man's frailties. And o
f course, Isis is the supreme compassionate one."
"We await a Messiah who will complete our God's intentions," said Epaphroditus.
"Oh, everyone is expecting a deliverer--a golden child," said Mardian breezily. "I made a list of them all, once. There's a whole range of them. Some even think the deliverer will be a woman. And come from the east. I think the truth is, we all know there has to be something better; we are good enough to perceive it, but not good enough to bring it about. So we think, 'If only this mysterious person would come and help us ... " He shrugged his rounded shoulders, and the tunic fringe swayed. "But in the meantime we must soldier on."
"I think you have soldiered on splendidly in my absence/' I said. "All of you are to be commended; no ruler ever was served by better ministers." I would have to see to it that they were given some sort of public award.
Suddenly I was so tired I could hardly hold up my head. Egypt was well; I had found out all I needed to know.
Chapter 36.
The fresh air of the harbor poured into my chamber the next morning, and the reflected light played over the walls. I awoke slowly, feeling as if I were submerged on a sea-bed, as I had been dreaming I was. Long strands of seaweed had tangled themselves around my legs, and were streaming out behind me; my hair was waving slowly, caught in branches of coral. As I awoke, I ran my hands through my hair to free it, and then wondered why it was not tangled. What a strange, realistic dream it had been.
I stretched. I felt the fine, polished linen sheets--sheerer than anything in Rome--wrapped around me. I felt somewhat better; the night had done its restorative work.
gave directions to Charmian and Iras to unpack the coffers and trunks, and sent for Olympos. I needed to see him, both for myself and for Ptolemy. Ptolemy had kept his cough, and been sick much of the voyage--the two of us had surely taxed our attendants during that journey. Yesterday Ptolemy had busied himself out in the gardens, but he seemed subdued to me. Perhaps he was just tired. That was what I hoped Olympos would tell me.
But when Olympos stepped into my chamber, after having first spent the morning with Ptolemy, his attempt to smile was unconvincing.
"Dear one," he began, and I knew it was bad.
"What is it?" I asked him. I could not bear to lead up to it. "What is wrong with him?"
"I listened to his chest, and had him cough up some congestion for me, and examined it. I also examined his spine, his joints, and looked carefully at his color. I did not like what I saw."
"What did you see?" Let him say it!
"It is the lung rot," he said. "Consumption."
It was Rome that had done it! Rome, with its cold, its frosts, its damp.
"It occurs elsewhere than in Rome," said Olympos, as if he had read my thoughts. "Egypt has many cases of lung rot."
"Rome did not help it."
"Perhaps not. But he is back here now. People come to Egypt for a cure."
"Do you think he can throw it off?"
"I don't know," he said. "If you were any other ruler, and not a childhood friend, and if I were another type of court servant, I would assure you, 'Yes, yes, Your Majesty, I see a full recovery for him.' But you are Cleopatra and I Olympos, and I must tell you honestly--he is in great danger."
"Oh!" I could not lose someone else. Not Ptolemy. "I see."
"There is nothing we can do. Nothing, except make sure he is kept warm, gets plenty of sunshine, lots of rest, and spends time outdoors. Then we must wait. In autumn we may have to send him to Upper Egypt, where it stays warm and sunny."
I bent my head. To send him away again, when he had been so anxious to return home. "So be it," I said. I looked up at him, and saw that he was staring at me intensely. "What is it?"
"You are different," he finally said.
"How so?"
"Thinner," he said. "Something has been burned out of you. If you were gold, I would say you had been refined. It is most becoming. You are finally, truly, beautiful." He attempted a laugh. "A useful attribute in a queen."
"I am with child," I told him.
"I guessed," he said. "But I do not need to be a soothsayer to see that this is very difficult for you. Both in the heart and in the body."
"I do not feel well at all."
"Are you surprised? Why should you? The situation is dreadful. Caesar dead, not just dead but murdered, assassinated; your patron and protector gone; a child with no one to claim him."
"I shall claim him."
"And no story to tell your people. Amun has inconveniently disappeared, at least in his human manifestation."
His words were hard, but it was a relief to have them spoken so boldly.
"I am sorry," he said. "I am sorry about what happened to Caesar."
"I know you didn't like him. You never did, and you were honest about that."
"That has nothing to do with lamenting his end, which he did not deserve. He was a great man," he said. "I just never thought he was worthy of you. He attained you too easily; and I thought it meant he would not treasure you as you should be treasured."
"I think he came to, in time."
"Well, time ran out for him. And I am sorry."
"I thank you." I paused. "But I also do not feel well, physically. I fear there may be something wrong. Pray, tell me what you think . . ."
He tapped around and listened to my heartbeat, felt my neck and ankles, had me breathe on him, squeezed my ribs and rotated my feet. He listened to my recounting of all the symptoms I could recall. At length he said, "I cannot find anything overtly wrong--nothing that cannot be accounted for by the bad experience you have had. Come, walk with me in my new garden.
Or rather, it is your garden, since I planted it on palace grounds! We will walk, and I will teach you a little about medicine."
Outside, the air was soft and perfumed with the last bloom of ornamental fruit trees, and their spreading new leaves were creating a dapple of sun and shadow on the green lawns beneath them. How different these grounds were from Caesar's villa. Here the lawns were flat and winking with white flowers, and seemed to call out for a rich purple cloth spread out for a picnic. Come, and enjoy yourself, the lawn whispered in the breeze.
Ptolemy was kneeling under one of the trees, and we called to him. He looked up sharply and said, "I am watching this bird's nest." He pointed to a neat round nest on a forked branch above his head.
"The mother bird won't return if she sees you," said Olympos. "Come with us. I have something to show you."
I looked over at him while he was talking. He also had changed while I was away. His features had sharpened, and now I would describe him as saturnine. That, and his dark sense of humor, must isolate him from people. I wondered if those traits were reassuring in a physician, or kept people away. And what of his private life? He was near my age--had he plans to marry? Such information never passed in letters.
Ptolemy dragged himself to his feet and then ran over to us. I noted how weak his legs looked, and how out of breath even that little run had made him.
"Olympos has made a garden while we were in Rome," I said.
Ptolemy made a face. "Oh, a garden! That's for women--or invalids. No, thanks."
"This is a garden for murderers and for miracle workers," said Olympos. "I think you'll find it unlike any other."
It lay on a flat expanse not far from the temple of Isis, but facing the harbor rather than the open sea. It was bordered by, first, a low stone wall, then, inside that, a hedge covered with red blossoms. Olympos lifted a heavy-bolted gate to let us in.
A fountain was gurgling in the center, and from it four paths radiated out, neatly quartering the garden. "Behold--death in one corner, life in the other."
All I saw were beds of plants, some blooming, some tall, some short. I looked at him questioningly.
"I came across a manuscript in the Museion that had a list of poisonous plants," said Olympos. "Some of them were quite clearly imaginary-- such as a plant that emitted flames and engulfed bystanders. But
others--I became curious about them. How did they work? Why di<^ they if ill ? I thought it would be helpful if someone compiled a treatise o
Ptolemy's eyes had grown round. "Poison!" he said. "Which ones?"
"For one thing, the entire hedge is poisonous." Olympos gestured to it.
"But it is so beautiful!" I said. It was; it shone with deep-green leaves and was studded with flowers.
"Nonetheless, it is violently poisonous. It is called the Jericho rose, and if the flowers are placed in water, they poison it. If the twigs are used for cooking meat, the meat will be poisoned; even the smoke from it is poisonous. Honey made from the flowers is poisonous, and horses and donkeys die from eating its leaves, but here's a mystery--goats are immune!"
Memoirs of Cleopatra (1997) Page 58
