The Shards of Heaven (28 page)

Selene hoisted herself up. Caesarion stayed standing, and Didymus did the same.

“I suppose you heard we were just talking about the war,” Caesarion said. “I'd been telling Didymus about the latest news from the north and my plans.”

Selene's face lit up. “There's news?”

“There is, Selene. But I don't know that you should stay to hear it.”

Selene's eyes flashed with hurt. “Why not?”

“Well, you did just sneak away, against my orders, trying to
spy
on us,” Caesarion said, trying to sound stern. “That doesn't make you quite trustworthy, does it?”

Selene started to say something in anger, then caught herself and clenched her jaw on the emotion.

“Caesarion is right,” Didymus said. “We must have secrecy over what we discuss here.”

“I
can
be trusted,” Selene said, her hurt feelings just barely straining her voice. “Just no one's ever let me prove it.”

Caesarion knew she was right. As Khenti said: it was past time that she understood the dangers she faced. But, even so, could she be trusted? Especially after today?

“Besides,” she said, looking down at her dress and smoothing it with her hands, “I've never told anyone what I know about you.”

“About me?” Caesarion asked, surprised.

“No,” Selene said. Her voice was quiet and eyes still downcast. “About Didymus. About back in Rome.”

Didymus crumpled down into his chair, a look on his face as if he'd been kicked in the gut.

After a few moments of silence, Caesarion managed to gasp out, “How—?”

“I heard it. With Didymus and that man. I didn't hear much, but I heard that. I've known, and I didn't tell.”

“Oh, Selene,” Didymus said. “I don't know what to say.”

When Selene at last looked up at him, her eyes were wet but her face stoic. “There's nothing to say. It can't be changed. And it doesn't matter now: you refused to betray us again.” She took a deep breath, turned her bright eyes to Caesarion. “I've never told anyone. Not even Helios. I
can
be trusted.”

Caesarion was uncertain what more he could say. He looked over to Didymus for a sign, but the Greek scholar's face was sunken, as if he'd fallen back into himself. “I'm sorry we never told you,” he finally said.

“I understand why, though,” Selene said. “I just … I think I'm old enough now.”

“You are,” Caesarion agreed, hoping it was true. He sat down, letting out a long sigh as he did so. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment to clear his thoughts. Then, realizing there was no easy way to begin, he laid out the facts: “The news from the north, as I was telling Didymus, is dire. Our army has been trapped by Octavian at a place called Actium, in Greece, with no clear way out. Our men are starving to death, riddled by disease, and defecting to Rome in large numbers. It's probably only a matter of time until they're defeated.”

Whatever smile of success Selene had upon her face went out like a light, and for a few seconds she blinked too often as Caesarion watched her. Quickly, though, her face moved to a stoic impassivity, just as their mother had taught them to do in times of emotion. Gods and goddesses weren't meant to feel emotion, after all. It wouldn't do for the public image. “Surely my father—” she started to say.

Caesarion shook his head. “Not this time.”

The girl swallowed hard, gave the slightest nod. “And what now?”

Caesarion started to say something, then decided against it. What to tell her? That Antony and Cleopatra, if they lived, would probably be captured, paraded through Rome in a Triumph? And if not captured, pursued home in frightful defeat to await their doom here? Caesarion knew that he himself would be a dead man if he fell into Octavian's arms—as Caesar's blood child he was, after all, the greatest threat to Octavian's ambitions—but what would await Antony's children? Would they die, too? Or would Octavian marry them into his family, subsuming the threat? To whom would Selene go? Who would claim this beautiful little girl, raping her in a victory bed that was too terrible for Caesarion to imagine?

“We don't know,” Didymus said, breaking Caesarion's dark thoughts with a weak but steady voice. “Peace with Octavian? More war? We don't know. We need to be prepared for anything.”

Selene nodded, her jaw clenching again despite her stoic face. For a long minute no one spoke, and her gaze seemed to be far away. “It must be kept quiet,” she said at last, talking to no one in particular.

“Yes,” Caesarion said. “We cannot have panic. Even if they are defeated—today? tomorrow? we don't know when—we'll send word to the citizens of victory. There will be rumors—we can't prevent that—but it will buy us some time. Meanwhile I'm redoubling the work on the walls and defenses.” He sighed. “It's all we can do right now.”

Didymus agreed, seeming to recover his wits. “Anything more would look like desperation, which you cannot afford.”

“But this isn't why you're here,” Selene said to Caesarion. “It was Didymus who called
you
with news, wasn't it?”

Didymus smiled grimly. “You always were clever,” he said.

“Too clever sometimes,” Caesarion said, trying his best to smile, too. “I believe Didymus had some news for us, too. News from his latest travels?” He tilted his head toward their Greek teacher, giving him permission to speak freely.

“Of course,” Didymus said, but he then appeared unsure where to begin.

“The man sent after Didymus a year ago had a letter from Rome,” Caesarion started, noticing but ignoring Selene's shiver at the memory of that night. “Only it wasn't from Octavian. It was from a man named Juba, a Numidian adopted into Caesar's own family. He wanted Didymus to give him the Scrolls of Thoth.”

“Scrolls of Thoth?”

“Yes,” Didymus said, his voice sounding stronger as he entered the conversation on familiar turf. “A legendary book of the god Thoth, into which he poured the knowledge and power of the gods themselves. It doesn't exist.”

Caesarion raised an eyebrow, uncertain if he felt relief or not. “Oh? You know this for a fact now?”

Didymus nodded, but his eyes were troubled. “Well, it doesn't exist in the way Juba is thinking. Not on earth, anyway.”

“I don't understand,” Caesarion said.

“Nor do I,” Selene agreed.

“Well, it's … complicated,” Didymus said. “I don't really understand it all myself. Not the way I'd like to. But I'll explain what I can, as I can. And I've asked another scholar to come to the Library this morning to join us. I think he'll be able to shed some, ah, unique light on the facts of the matter. He actually should have been here by now. He's coming from the Jewish Quarter.”

Selene took in her breath abruptly. “Oh,” she said. “I think I met him.”

“Really?” The Greek scholar looked surprised. “He's here?”

Caesarion, shaking away the urge to wonder at how his half-sister had come to know an important Jewish scholar, rose and went to the door, opening it quietly. Khenti melted out of the shadows in response. Caesarion kept his voice low out of instinct. “There's a Jewish scholar in the Library,” he said. “He's supposed to come see Didymus.”

“Yes. He came with young Selene, my lord.”

He really needed to find out how that happened. She was indeed full of surprises today. “Can you see that he comes to join us?”

“At once, sir,” Khenti said, bowing before he strode quickly down the hall.

Caesarion shut the door, turned back to the room. Selene, he noticed, seemed to be blushing slightly. “So you came to the Library with this scholar?”

The girl's face reddened a bit more. “I met him outside,” she said. “He said he was coming here, and so we came in together.”

“Begging your pardon, lady Selene,” Didymus said, “but you need to be wary of the company you keep beyond the palace.”

Selene huffed and rolled her eyes. “I was fine. He reminded me of you,” she said, looking over to Caesarion.

Confusion spread on Didymus' face, gradually twisting into a look of fright. “He looked like Caesarion? That's not—”

Khenti's knock at the door cut off the scholar, who froze, half-leaned over his desk, staring at Caesarion with concern. Selene just appeared flushed.

Caesarion held out a hand to still the scholar—not that it was necessary, given his position—and then moved to open the door from behind it, so that he stood between the door and the girl and could put his whole body into a push against the wood if needed. Trying to appear relaxed for Selene's sake—there might be nothing afoot, after all—he unobtrusively patted his side to reassure himself of the little blade there. Then, nodding to Didymus, he opened the door and looked around it.

Khenti was there, looking rock-solid as ever. With him was a young man about Caesarion's own height and age, dressed in simple robes. He was, Caesarion could see, clearly a Jew: sparsely bearded, but with long curled locks of hair hanging from his temples. In his hands he held a simple cloth-wrap hat, and he was smiling. “Pharaoh,” he said, bowing. “It's pleasant to see you so far from the palaces.”

Caesarion, seeing no danger, opened the door enough to let the young man enter. Khenti followed, stepping to the side just after he entered, to stand beside the door as Caesarion shut it. The guardchief was clearly uncertain about the newcomer.

Didymus, still standing at his desk, appeared more confused than ever, but before any of them could speak, the young Jew had turned to Selene and bowed again. “My lady Selene,” he said.

Selene's upper lip tucked in slightly in a pout. “You knew who I was, Jacob?”

The man grinned but didn't reply, straightening to stand before Didymus. “I'm sorry my father could not come in reply to your letter,” he said, drawing a summons from his robes and handing it to the flustered scholar. “He's ill, and he sent me in his stead.”

Didymus took the letter, opened it, saw that it was indeed the one he'd sent. “Joachim is your father?”

“He is. My name is Jacob.”

“I see,” Didymus said. He blinked, seeming to remember himself. There was a second chair, like Caesarion's, tucked away in the corner of the little office, and the scholar gestured to it. “Please, do sit down. We were just getting started.”

Caesarion moved his own seat closer to Selene's stool to make room for Jacob as he pulled the extra chair out and into position in front of the scholar's desk. Khenti remained standing, quickly fading into the woodwork.

When he sat down, Jacob had a pleasant smile on his face, as if remembering a joke. “To what do we humble Jews owe the pleasure of being called to a meeting of such powerful folk? Something to do with the impending defeat of our beloved ruler at Actium?”

Didymus seemed much more in control of himself as they all settled into their seats, only the twitch of his eyebrow betraying his surprise that the young Jew was so well informed of the situation to the north. “Only partially,” the scholar said. “Your father holds a well-deserved reputation as the finest living Jewish scholar in Alexandria. A student of history, I know. I wanted his particular experience to confirm, and perhaps clarify, a few bits of, ah, unique history we were going to discuss today.”

“I see,” Jacob said, his voice serious despite the hint of bemusement on his face. “Well, I shall do what I can in his place. He's taught me well, I assure you. Perhaps only my younger sister knows my father's work better than I.” He looked over to Selene and Caesarion, winking gently at the girl. “One never suspects how much they truly know, of course.”

Selene laughed lightly, and Caesarion felt that what tension had been in the room had melted away. He decided he liked Jacob, young though the man was.

Didymus leaned back in his chair. Caesarion, too, settled into his seat, noticing that Selene, still pouting a little that she'd been so easily identified on her morning's travels, did the same. “Octavian, as you know, will probably defeat our armies sooner rather than later,” Didymus said. “While this is a concern for us all, it isn't directly the matter at hand. What brings us together is the fact that a man at Octavian's side, a Numidian named Juba, is trying to acquire the Scrolls of Thoth. Do you know them?”

From the corner of his eye Caesarion thought he saw the smile on Jacob's face flicker for a moment. “I do. An old legend. The pagan god Thoth was supposed to have put his powers into them. They're not real, you know.”

“You sound sure,” Didymus said.

Caesarion kept his face impassive, feeling quite suddenly that there was a dance going on between the Jew and the scholar, and that he himself didn't know the steps.

“Thoth isn't real,” Jacob said.

“Of course.” Didymus smiled. “The belief in one god is a central tenet of your faith, isn't it?”

“‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God is one,'” Jacob said, the tone in his voice clearly identifying the phrase as memorized doctrine. He shrugged. “God alone is God. There is no Thoth, so he can have no scrolls.”

“So no gods but your own exist?”

“I could not be a Jew and believe otherwise,” Jacob said, before he nodded slightly toward Caesarion. “Begging your forgiveness, Pharaoh Horus.”

Caesarion felt a sudden heat in his face as his trained impassivity failed him. Certain that the emotion showed, he embraced the loss of control and tried to turn it to his advantage in whatever game was being played. “I no more believe myself divine than I believe you don't know that there's truth behind the legend of the Scrolls, Thoth or not.”

Jacob's smile broadened even as his eyes narrowed in measurement. “I misjudged you, lord Caesarion. My apologies.”

“Accepted. Things are not often what they seem, my friend. Octavian's armies would seem our biggest threat, for instance, but Juba's goals are not to be misjudged, either.” That he himself didn't understand Juba's goals didn't matter to his point, he figured. Besides, Didymus seemed ready to reveal them. “It's just important that we be honest with one another here.”