This condescension made me hot all over, but he was right. I’d pushed too hard for something I
wanted
at the expense of something I
needed
. To be present at these negotiations would signal my restoration. Other leaders would come to think of me as the Queen-in-Waiting of Egypt. I
needed
to be there. “I beg your forgiveness, Caesar. It’s only that so much time has passed since the night we were alone together. I worry—”
“That I’ve forgotten?” The icy tone gave way to something else. “No, Selene. I’ve accepted that to beget my son upon you, you must come to my bed willingly. But
you
must accept that you belong to me; you’re as much mine as the chair I sit upon, in all its silken cushions and gilded finery.”
Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. “I’m not a piece of furniture. I don’t sit silently in a room as adornment to be used by whomever I’m offered. I’m a woman and a queen.”
He leaned back, a finger caressing the curved edge of his chair as if it were my flesh. “And I have made you both. Only
my
hands have taken pleasure of you. Only
my
seed has taken root in your womb. I
made
you bear a child and your body is changed because of it.” His eyes swept over my high, rounded breasts, and the swell of my hips, as if he were an artist who’d carved me from stone. “You’re
mine
and you’ll be the Queen of Egypt only when you accept my mastery. Not before.”
I lowered my eyes in feigned submission. “If it pleases you to have me at the negotiations, I’ll be glad to attend.”
I hoped that having made his point, he wouldn’t deny me. But later that night, I wasn’t invited to the banquet at all, much less given Livia’s position.
In my apartments, Crinagoras babbled some verse to entertain me. I paid no attention until the poet asked, “Majesty, why do you refuse yourself the enlightenment of my breathtaking prose?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose did little to alleviate the newest ache behind my eyes. “Leave me.”
Crinagoras rose to obey, stopping at the door to ask, “Augustus
is
like Hades, isn’t he? He’s rolled out the pomegranate of Egypt to tempt you.”
My poet seldom spoke about anything without allusion, but we understood one another. “Right now, he’s punishing me. At this very moment, he could be negotiating with the Meroites for Egypt and I’ve been banished.”
Crinagoras nodded slowly. “I’m sure you’ll find a way back into his favor. As I recall, Hades had a singular obsession with Kore. He let her go, but always he’d send for her again . . . If you wish to be the Queen of Hades, you must partake of the fruit, no matter how bitter.”
LATER that evening, the emperor finally relented and I received a summons. Augustus sat at one end of the hall, flanked by Maecenas and Tiberius. And though Livia’s son had never been my enemy, his dour presence here was a reminder to me that it would take more than sending Livia away to diminish her influence over the emperor.
At the other end of the hall was the ambassador from Meroë, leaving me to find an unobtrusive place in the middle with the scribes and minor officials. My presence wasn’t even acknowledged, whether to prevent awkward questions or because Augustus was still angry, I didn’t know.
Since the Kandake hadn’t come in person, the emperor allowed Maecenas to do the talking, ambassador to ambassador. The balding man began with, “The situation as it stands is this: The Kandake of Meroë has unlawfully invaded Egypt, seized control of the Isle of Philae, defiling the statues of Augustus and taking booty and Roman prisoners. In retaliation, Rome’s Prefect of Egypt has razed Napata and is now besieged in Primis.”
“Your Prefect of Egypt, this Petronius, can leave our lands anytime he likes,” the ebony ambassador said with a good deal more hubris than was wise. “But he will not leave with treasure nor will he keep the city.”
“Tell the Kandake that the city of Primis is lost to her,” Maecenas said with a flick of his bejeweled hand. “She may consider the loss of this city to be the price for her ill-advised adventure in Egypt. However, if she agrees to our terms, we’ll tread no farther into her kingdom.”
“Yet it was Rome who offended first,” the ambassador insisted. “The temples at Philae may be situated in Egypt, but the gods belong to us. If Egypt cannot be a throne for Isis, then it’s the Kandake’s sacred duty as Pharaoh to make Isis a home in Meroë.”
I let my fists clench at the word
Pharaoh
, and the emperor saw it. “Have you something to add, Queen Selene?”
Spreading my arms wide, I let them see the sacred knot of Isis between my breasts, my own declaration of devotion to the goddess. “The Kandake must give up all religious claim to the temples in Egypt. If Meroë honors Isis, then build your own holy places for her.”
In saying this, I hoped to give the ambassador from Meroë something to bargain with that he may not have realized he had. The Romans only cared about claims to land. They didn’t care if the Kandake maintained a
spiritual
claim to the temples, but perhaps the emperor could be made to care for my sake. The ambassador seized the opportunity at once. “How can she give up her claim when the Romans show nothing but contempt for Isis? Egyptian priests have fled to our country to escape persecution.”
Maecenas was a shrewd man when it came to temporal things. He owned luxurious houses, wore the finest clothes, and patronized the most talented artists. Spiritual matters, however, were entirely out of his grasp. He pounced on what he believed to be an advantage. “If amnesty were given to Isis worshippers in Egypt, would Meroë then give up all claim to the temples and retreat from Egypt?”
I held my breath steady, waiting for an outburst from the emperor that never came. Augustus sat impassive as a statue, his glacial eyes inscrutable. Was it possible, at long last, that he would make peace with my goddess and her worshippers? The Meroite ambassador paused before saying, “If such amnesty were granted, the Kandake would give up her claim. And if—
if
—the Romans will withdraw from Primis, back to our original borders, I’m authorized to sign this peace treaty and end our hostilities.”
Maecenas would have it done, but the emperor said, “No. We cannot simply return things to their original borders.” I thought that he’d demand tribute from the Meroites, or say that Primis was not negotiable, or baldly proclaim that he’d continue to persecute the Isiacs until the religion was destroyed. Instead, Augustus said, “There will have to be some sort of guarded neutral area to serve as a buffer between both kingdoms and to ensure that this never happens again.”
He made it sound like a point of contention, but I realized the emperor’s offer was startlingly generous. Too generous. I couldn’t believe that he meant it. The ambassador recognized favorable terms and quickly agreed. Then, assuring his guests that Maecenas would see to the details, Augustus dismissed everyone in the room but me.
EVEN after all the officials had shuffled out, I continued to play my role. “Do you mean to honor that treaty? You gave her more than fair terms. The Kandake will continue to call herself Pharaoh and no one will gainsay her.”
“Don’t be petty, Selene. You got what you really wanted. The Isiacs can practice their witchery; the priests and priestesses will be safe too. Perhaps I’ll make a donation and they’ll carve my likeness on some stone tablet in honor of my largesse.”
Now I was more than astonished. “You’d acknowledge Isis?”
“That depends upon you,” he said and motioned with his fingers for me to come closer. “I’ve taught you patience as a virtue, have I not?”
Patience. Caution. Incrementalism. How many times Augustus had been at the brink of failure, clawing his way out of one perilous situation after another, always stronger, his eyes implacably upon his prize. He plotted, he planned, but he never wavered. I was becoming very much like him. “Yes, Caesar. I’ve learned from you.”
“Then you’ll understand when I say that I cannot yet make you the Queen of Egypt.”
Oh, bitter words! “Why not? How many petty princes have you restored to their little kingdoms? Archelaus, Iamblichus . . .” I went on to list them all. “Why can’t you do the same for me?”
“Because Egypt isn’t a little kingdom and you aren’t a petty prince. Egypt is still the wealthiest, most productive nation in the world. I cannot even allow senators to visit without my permission. It’s that vital. Until Mauretania and Africa Nova produce enough grain, he who controls Egypt can starve the world.”
“But
she
who controls Egypt can feed the world. I’ve already shown you that Mauretania can produce grain. Combined with the wheat from Africa Nova, you’ll have enough. What you pretend to wait for has already come to pass. When you were ill, you said that you couldn’t support my claim to Egypt in death. Now you’re very much alive and I’m offering you the son and heir that you need. I’m offering—”
“For your sake, I’m faced with the rebellion of Agrippa!” he shouted. “I cannot now offer him another weapon to wield against me. If I make you Queen of Egypt, he’ll break with me. As it stands, he has my daughter hostage against your interests.” I bit my lower lip.
Julia
. I loved her as much as I resented that she too was now in my way. “Selene, everyone thinks my military victories are not mine. They give all the credit to Agrippa. It makes me look like a man of straw. It
invites
him to defy me.”
“So what are you saying? That Agrippa must be destroyed before I can have Egypt?”
“I’m saying that I must win my
own
war. I must return victorious from Parthia, and when I do I’ll then be in a position to give you what you want.” This was why he’d waited to take me to his bed. Also, why he’d dealt so fairly with the delegation from Meroë. He merely wanted to be rid of distractions so that he could effectively pursue
his
war. “Selene, if I’m successful against the Parths, I’ll have the power to give you Egypt. I’ll have the power to do
anything
.”
How many times had my mother heard these words and hung her hopes on them? Caesar had said this to her. My father had said it too. But Caesar had been assassinated for his ambition, and my father had gone down in defeat. As far as I was concerned, Parthia was the battlefield upon which all hopes and dreams were slain. “
Must
there be war? Romans want a Golden Age too. Maybe you can give it to them.” How bitter it was to stoke a desire in him to accomplish what Helios and I had been prophesied to bring about. “After your Triumph, you closed the doors of the Temple of Janus, a sign that Rome was no longer at war. What a legacy you could leave if you became the man who keeps those doors closed!”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Ever since the Battle of Carrhae when Marcus Crassus lost Roman battle standards to the Parthians, we’ve tried to avenge the loss. Your father tried too, and he failed, losing his own eagles. I need to win those standards back. Are you so naive as to believe the Parths will allow me to wipe this stain from Roman honor without a fight?”
“Why not? Surely there’s something the Parths want that you can offer in exchange for Roman eagles.”
Like me, Augustus was a born schemer, and the machinations of some plot turned behind his eyes. Whatever it was, he didn’t share it with me. In the end, he only said, “I must lay the groundwork for war. I’m leaving the island for a time. When I return, I expect you to be here. No sailing off into the night as you did before.”
So this was to be another test. “Where are you going?”
“I have matters to settle in Bithynia, Syria, Commagene, and so on.”
He had people to punish, cities to tax, and territorial boundaries to redraw. That was why we’d all been summoned here, wasn’t it? “And you want me to
wait
for you?”
“I will want a good deal more from you than that.”
Thirty-two
ISLE OF SAMOS, GREECE
SPRING 2 0 B. C .
THE delegation from Meroë sailed away without giving me an opportunity to say farewell, as if they knew the terms they’d reached with the Romans were altogether too favorable. There was no reason to risk Augustus changing his mind. Or perhaps the emperor had told them to go. He didn’t like to leave things to chance.
Overlooking the courtyard where Augustus readied for his expedition, there was a balcony. It wasn’t nearly as pleasant a perch as the terrace at the back of my rooms overlooking my private beach, but from this vantage point my ladies and I watched the Romans rush back and forth readying for Augustus’s journey. We sat there painfully idle, a lute player making music for us.
“You won’t travel with Augustus?” Circe asked, a well-plucked eyebrow raised.
“I’ve no desire to be in the company of Livia.”
“I think you’re relieved to see him go,” Circe said quietly. I turned my head to the side, as if I hadn’t heard her, but she only drew closer. “Majesty, you think that he’ll never notice your contempt, that you can lie to him, and you can. But you’ll never reconcile yourself to this if it is
only
a lie.”
“What do you know of it?” I whispered.
“I know it’s a mistake to feign desire. You must feel it. If it is a fat man, you must glory in the size of him. If it is a cold man, you must admire the way his ruthlessness has made him rich. If it is a man you
hate
,” she said, meeting my eyes, “you must find something in him to
love
.”
“I am no
hetaera
. Remember that I’m the queen and you are my daughter’s grammarian.”
How unworthy of me to reprimand her for advising me when it was precisely the reason I kept her near, but the ease with which she’d deduced my true feelings for the emperor left me unsteady. Unnerved. What expression had betrayed me? What words had slipped? Were she an intimate like Chryssa or Tala or even Crinagoras, I might have expected her to read my heart, but if I couldn’t fool Circe, how was I to deceive Augustus?