Cleopatra Confesses (20 page)

But the truth is that I must return to Alexandria as quickly as I can. My brother has half a month’s lead, and though he is in a much slower boat, he may have already arrived in the city. I am sure that Ptolemy’s three regents are plotting behind my back to seize control. Before he died, Father appointed a regency council to serve for my brother until he is fifteen and of age to rule. In addition to his guardian and tutor, Theodotus, who has traveled with him, the council consists of Achillas, a thin-lipped Roman general, and the eunuch Pothinus, round as a cook pot and cunning as a snake. All three barely disguise their lust for power. Since Ptolemy is only ten, his regents will have five years to exercise control. It is hard to say which of these men I dislike and distrust most, but they have already
gained complete control over Ptolemy. I must find a way to break their hold on him and keep the reins of power in my own hands if I am to restore prosperity to Egypt. The welfare of the people rests entirely on me. I trust only myself, and I am ready.

Chapter 40

R
ULING

Captain Mshai’s son, who is only a few years older than I am, commands the boat on which I am returning to Alexandria. He negotiates the dangerous passage near Dendara without incident, and I am sure he remembers as vividly as I do the whirlpools and the havoc they caused on our journey seven years earlier. He is still surprised, and very grateful, that King Ptolemy did not have his father put to death as a result.

“Hurry,” I tell him now. “Hurry, hurry.”

We are floating with the current, but young Mshai orders the rowers to assist.

When we pass the Nilometer with the markings on the rock, I see that the water level has scarcely risen. The Nile should be in full flood in this first month of Inundation. I understand that the harvest will be poor again. From my visits to the administrators of each nome on the way up the river, I learned that
Egypt faces serious famine. Last year’s harvest filled the granaries only halfway.

Once back in Alexandria, I will have to deal immediately with the kingdom’s financial situation, the enormous debts our father accumulated over the years, and the burdensome taxes that weigh heavily on everyone, from the highest-ranking nobleman at court to the humblest peasant in the field.

But first I must deal with Ptolemy and his three regents.

“Hurry, hurry,” I implore the captain. Though I am young—just half a year past eighteen—I am well trained and fully confident of my ability to rule. I am impatient. But Mshai can do no more to make the boat move any faster.

In a little more than a month I reach Alexandria, take part in the ceremonies welcoming my return, and lose no time in seeking out my brothers and sister. Arsinoë is plainly jealous of me and may soon become a problem. Ptolemy XIV, the youngest of the family, ignores me. I see at once that Ptolemy XIII comprehends none of the crises we face. He likes to strut around, wearing the double crown, which looks rather silly on such a small boy still with the sidelock of youth. The one thing my brother truly cares about is his stable of fine horses. He has been given a two-wheeled Roman chariot, and his greatest pleasure is racing through the streets and marketplaces of Alexandria, scattering donkeys, carts, vendors, and their wares in all directions. Being king is all a game to him. Fortunately, since he is not of age to rule, he stays out of my way. When we are together, he is insolent, which he had not been just months earlier. I have never been close to my brother-king, but I did not expect him to turn against me. I can see that under the influence of his regents he is doing exactly that.

After Father’s return from exile until the day of his death, I spent most of my time with him. Now that he has gone on to the afterlife, sailing across the skies in his celestial boat, my days are taken up by meetings with various ministers. I have named an Egyptian, Yuya, as my grand vizier. He is an experienced administrator and probably as trustworthy as anyone I might have selected. I assume that my other advisors are mostly looking out for themselves. At least one of Ptolemy’s three regents attends every meeting. Pothinus is the worst, challenging everything I say.

There are only a few people I can still trust. Demetrius, my lifelong tutor, is completely devoted, but he is growing old and can no longer see well. Monifa, who has been like a mother to me, complains of various aches and pains. Irisi serves me faithfully and agrees with everything I say in her efforts to please, but that does not make her a dependable confidante. At times, when I feel utterly alone and discouraged, I realize how much I miss Charmion. I have not had even a few private moments with her since before Father’s death. I have allowed myself to become distracted by my responsibilities, and I determine to change that.

“Come quickly, dear sister-friend,” I write, and send the note with Yafeu, my loyal messenger. He returns with her reply: “Before the sun sets.”

Charmion enters the forecourt, smiling shyly. She looks different—her hair is not in her usual single braid, and her skin glows as rich as honey. She appears more beautiful than ever. “My queen,” she says, bowing low, “it is my honor to serve you.”

We settle onto cushions in the garden of the palace where I have lived since childhood. “I’ve ordered changes in the main
palace that was Father’s—and, for a short time, Tryphaena’s and Berenike’s,” I explain in answer to her question. “When it’s finished, I’ll make it my official residence. Meanwhile, it’s easier to stay where I am.”

A serving girl brings us fruit and refreshing drinks, and I send away the attendants with their ostrich-feather fans. I ask Charmion about the health of her mother. “She is well, my queen,” she replies, again returning to the formal style of speech.

I interrupt her, taking her hand in mine. “I thought we agreed long ago that we’d talk together informally, as sisters do. Because we truly
are
sisters, dear Charmion.”

“That was before you became Queen Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator,” she says. “Now pharaoh and sole ruler.”

I frown at her. “Then I order you to speak to me as your sister and not as your queen!” I say sternly. She looks startled for a moment before both of us begin to laugh. Soon we are talking together in the intimate way we once did.

“I understand that the king’s will requires you to marry your brother,” she says. “Has that taken place? I’ve heard nothing.”

“I’m delaying as long as possible,” I tell her, grimacing. “At eighteen I’m expected to have a husband as coruler. Ptolemy XIII was Father’s solution to the problem, not mine. He thought it important to continue the Ptolemy line of rulers, and a king from outside the family would change that. Ptolemy XIII is still a child—only ten. The most I can hope for from the boy is that he races his chariot and leaves the ruling to me.” I lean toward her, confiding, “But I would give a great deal to have a man by my side who could be a real companion. My life is a solitary one, as you no doubt realize.”

“A man like that handsome Roman cavalry officer,” she suggests with a knowing smile.

I feel a rush of heat to my face. “I think of him often,” I confess. Marcus Antonius also visits me in my dreams, but I do not mention that.

“And I’m certain he thinks of you as well,” she assures me. “Perhaps one day soon fate will bring him to you again.”

We are silent for a moment, and then I spring to my feet and begin pacing. “Charmion, allow me to direct our thoughts away from the Roman officer with the winning smile. I’m asking you to come to live in my palace, not as a servant but as my friend and confidante. I badly need someone who will not simply tell me what I want to hear, and I know you are that person.” I remove the handsome gold collar I am wearing—a collar that Father gave me—and bend to place it around her neck. “Accept this as a token of my affection for you and the bond of blood that we share.”

But she backs away from me, protesting, “My queen, I cannot accept this gift. I am honored that you wish to have me live near you, but I believe I can be of greatest service to you as a dancer at the royal banquets, with my eyes and ears open. And I will gladly come to you whenever you summon me.”

Her refusal amazes me. “I could order you to do this,” I remind her, “and you would be forced to obey. But I see you’ve already gone against my order that you speak to me familiarly, like a sister.”

“I’m sorry. I forget,” she says. “But my queen—Cleopatra—I believe you just said that you need someone who won’t just tell you what you want to hear. I’m truly that person. You cannot now order me to be someone else.”

“Dear Charmion, you’re right!” I admit, laughing. “Nevertheless, I do order you to take this collar. I believe our father would want you to have it.”

I fasten the collar around her neck, and I am about to refill our glasses when Arsinoë bursts upon us, uninvited and unannounced. “What are you two talking about?” she demands rudely.

“How beautiful you have become, Princess Arsinoë,” Charmion replies smoothly, and begs our permission to leave. I grant it reluctantly, though I can understand why she would not want to stay.

Arsinoë does not fail to notice the gold collar Charmion is wearing. “You gave her that, didn’t you? You give her, a common dancer, more than you give me,” she complains. “Her mother is nothing more than a concubine!”

I hold Ganymede responsible for Arsinoë’s insolence. But to quiet her I make her a gift of a bracelet that once belonged to Berenike, and she leaves the forecourt with an air of victory.

Chapter 41

C
HALLENGES

I had not expected ruling my country to be so difficult. The problems I am confronting have tangled roots that reach back years. Most pressing is another poor harvest. The Inundation again fell far below normal and the grain crops failed, as they often have in recent years. Now farmers cannot pay their taxes, people are hungry, and peasants are leaving their lands and streaming into the city, demanding food. This angers the Alexandrians, who blame me for the shortages and the unrest—as though I have the power to command the waters of the Nile to rise and the crops to flourish!

There is also the problem of my brother, Ptolemy XIII. In the months after Father’s death, when I first became queen, it was easy to ignore my ten-year-old brother and to rule alone, as I intended. But now, over a year into my reign, Ptolemy has grown increasingly arrogant, and I blame this on his three
regents. Though I mistrusted them all along, I underestimated them. Their treachery becomes evident when, in order to quell the growing turmoil in the city, I issue a decree ordering grain in the nomes to be shipped only to Alexandria. Until now, mine has been the sole signature on official documents. Now I discover that Ptolemy’s regents have succeeded in placing his name on the decree, where I should sign.

“How dare you!” I demand when I see what has been done. I toss aside the stylus, refusing to add my signature.

“Because I am king,” retorts my brother smugly. “And you are only the queen.”

Smirking, Theodotus retrieves the stylus and holds it out to me. I snatch it from him, scrawl my signature on the papyrus, and stalk out of the hall.

That is only the beginning. My brother’s popularity among the people seems to be growing. Nothing is turning out as I planned. If only the rains would fall far to the south in the headwaters of the Nile and the floods would return and nourish the land, then the granaries would again burst with grain to feed the people!

But it does not happen, and I do not know what to do. My advisors argue among themselves. Egypt has always fed the world, and now it cannot feed itself.

Adding to my burden, the news reaching us from Rome is deeply disturbing. The crushing debt incurred by my father—ten thousand talents plus the interest, which I have not even bothered to calculate—has not been reduced by so much as a single silver drachma. Moreover, two of the Roman triumvirs are reported to be at each other’s throats, Julius Caesar against Pompey. How I wish Father were here to offer counsel!
He knew these men well—Pompey had become his friend, even taking him into his home. Would he have approved my decision to send military aid to Pompey, which has further enraged the Alexandrians?

The months pass, and the people question everything I do. The latest decree on my writing table does not even require my signature. My brother’s stands alone.

It is a dangerous time. I am twenty, I have been the ruling queen for two years, and I find I cannot even trust my own advisors
. Who is my friend and who is my enemy? Is my grand vizier, Yuya, plotting behind my back?
I invite members of my court to banquets, as I am expected to do, but I am always on guard for poison in my cup or the sudden thrust of a dagger.

Charmion remains my sole confidante. I often send for her late at night, after I have dismissed my servants and sleep will not come. She prepares a warm infusion of mint and honey that helps me to relax, and she listens, saying little, while I talk.

“The people question everything I do!” I tell her, pacing restlessly. “Pothinus slyly turns them against me. What shall I do? Tell me, dear friend! What do you advise?”

Charmion is silent, her feet curled under her, sipping her warm drink as I continue to pace. “Perhaps you should leave Alexandria,” she says quietly.

I stop short and whirl to face her. “What? And let my enemies see that they have defeated me? Never!” I commence pacing again.

“Just temporarily,” she replies. “Only for a little while, until people have had a chance to calm themselves. Let them see the trouble Ptolemy will create in your absence. They will come to their senses soon enough.”

“And if they don’t?” I stare at her. “If you were not my best friend, I would have you seized as a traitor.”

“But I
am
your best friend, and I think you should finish your tea and lie down. I will stay here and watch over you while you sleep. We will talk again in the morning.”

I obey, too tired to object. “You know, Charmion,” I murmur as she draws a silk coverlet over me, “sometimes I wonder if my life would not be easier if I had a true partner to share the burden of ruling. Not my dull-witted brother, who is merely the puppet of his advisors, but a strong, intelligent man.”