The Memoirs of Cleopatra Part 36

"Indeed," she said.

They pa.s.sed on into the larger room, and I turned to Valeria.

"At last, a wholehearted supporter of Caesar!" I said.

"Yes. But he is such a broken reed to lean upon." She shook her head. "Lepidus is . . . flaccid."

In what way? I wondered. On the battlefield, or in bed? I watched his wife's back as she disappeared into the throng.

A woman approached us boldly. She was with no man, but carried herself with a soldier's gait. She was rather attractive, with ma.s.ses of wheat-colored hair bound in at her neck, and a wide jaw.

"Fulvia, Your Majesty," she said, looking directly into my eyes. She waited a moment before saying, "Of the Fulvian family ofTusculum," as if that would enlighten me.

But I had heard of herWhat had I heard? Was she not that fiery wife of the insurrectionist Clodius? I remembered hearing her name in connection with the street fights of Rome.

"Welcome," I said, thinking how fierce she looked--like an Amazon.

"Is she not the widow of Clodius?" I asked Valeria a moment later.

Valeria looked surprised. "So her fame has spread even to Alexandria," she said. "Indeed she is. And also of Curio."

"She does not look as if she will need another husband," I said. "He would have to be Hercules."

"They say that is exactly what she has in mind," replied Valeria.

As if this were a staged performance, she had scarcely got the words out when a man dressed as Hercules burst through the doorway.

He was big and muscled like a bear, and with a lionskin knotted around his neck and a club slung over his shoulder, he looked Olympian. Hanging on his arm was a woman so garishly dressed I had to blink at beholding her.

"He didn't!" said Valeria. "He didn't bring herl" herl"

The man made his way over to us, striding easily. He stopped and stared at me as if he were seeing a curiosity of nature. He had a wide, well-formed face with intelligent dark eyes, and a thick neck, and a smile that would have blinded a G.o.d.

"How the child has changed!" he blurted out. "Princess Cleopatra, do you not remember me? I am Marcus Antonius--Marc Antony. I came to Alexandria with Gabinius. I saved your throne, if you don't mind my saying so."

The young soldier. Yes, I remembered him now. He had changed as much as I. "Yes, of course. But I thought it was Gabinius who saved my father's throne, since he was the only man in the world who dared undertake the task, which all of Rome had forbidden."

"Gabinius needed a cavalry officer," he said. "And it was I who overcame the frontier fortress of Pelusium, the most difficult part of the campaign."

"So you did." I remembered now the recounting of it, how he had bravely and quickly taken the fortress, thought to be una.s.sailable. "So you did."

"Yes, Princess. I did." He said this not particularly proudly, but as a matter of fact.

"I am Queen now," I said likewise matter-of-factly.

"And Caesar's woman," he said. "Fortunate Caesar." He waved his hand high. "Beloved of the G.o.ds, to be given you as prize and treasure!" His voice was too loud, and everyone heard him.

"Why are you dressed as Hercules?" I asked, to deflect the curious ears.

"Why, is this not a costume party? Do you mean to tell me you dress this way daily? I came as my ancestor, for I'm descended from Hercules--as everyone knows."

"Yes, as everyone knows," parroted the woman.

"May I present Cytheris, the foremost actress of Rome?" said Antony innocently.

Fulvia glided over and said, "My dear Antony, I have hoped to speak with you--" and guided him off forcibly.

Valeria could not suppress a laugh. "So he brought that actress. Does he have no restraint? It is hardly the way to win back Caesar's favor."

Where was Caesar? I began to long for him. The party was becoming overwhelming, and there was no one to direct it--although Antony and his actress friend would doubtless relish trying.

Octavian approached, boys near his own age on each side. He actually had a smile on his face, and seemed relatively lighthearted.

"Your Majesty," he said. "You remember Agrippa?" Beside him, Agrippa nodded. " "And my friends Publius Vergilius Maro and Quintus Horatius Flaccus."

Two pale faces stared at me, as if they were bewildered by the sight.

"I am called Horace," said one, the st.u.r.dier one.

"And I am known amongst my friends as Vergil," said the older, slighter one. "I must tell you, Your Majesty, I am greatly enamored of the Alexandrian mode of poetry."

"They have come to Rome to study," said Octavian. "All of us country boys seem to be drawn here. But afterward Horace will go to Athens, to the university there. Perhaps I'll follow him."

I thought to myself that Octavian would probably be best suited to a scholarly life. I a.s.sumed he would spend his adult years espousing some field of philosophy or history, and writing ma.n.u.scripts no one would ever read.

The boys drifted away, and I saw Octavia bringing someone over. He was a talk impressive man who was actually flattered by the lines of a toga.

"I wish to present to you Vitruvius Pollio," she said, excitedly.

The man bowed low. "Your Majesty, I am honored," he said.

"He is dear to Caesar as an arms expert," Octavia said. "But he is dear to all Rome as an architect and engineer. He understands the mysteries of water, of wood, of stone, and translates them for us."

"I had the honor to serve Caesar in his campaigns in Gaul and Africa."

Africa! So he had been present in that last, grueling war. I was grateful for whatever he had done to bring about its success. Certainly Caesar owed a great deal to his military engineers.

"Caesar is blessed to have men like you at his side," I said.

Another woman was wandering about alone. I saw her as she entered the doorway, but she was searching the crowd for someone. There was something in her bearing that made me curious about her, and I pointed her out to Valeria.

"Ah, that's Clodia," she said. "I thought she was dead!" She shook her head. "Clodia was Catullus's and Caelis's mistress--not at the same time, of course. Now they're both dead, and she's not so young herself. She must be looking for another lover, and what better place to look than a party?"

I was puzzled by the Roman freedom--and lack of it--granted to women. They did not have their own names, but had to take versions of their father's. They were married off callously to make political alliances, and were divorced just as casually. They held no public office, nor could they command troops. Yet they themselves could instigate a divorce, and they could own property. They accompanied their husbands to social gatherings, unlike Greek women, and seemed to have their menfolk well in tow.

Married women also had love affairs, so it seemed--the virtuous, respected Servilia; Mucia, the wife of Pompey--were there others? But the men could carry them on openly, whereas the women could not. And what of women like Cytheris and Clodia? And why must "Caesar's wife be above suspicion," whereas Caesar himself could carry on openly?

And was I, a foreign queen, exempt from these mores?

Trumpets sounded, and a hush fell. Caesar strode into the room.

Even though he was not the tallest or biggest man there, the ranks gave way before him. People backed away to give all the s.p.a.ce to him. For an instant complete silence surrounded him, as if he were ringed by stones.

"Welcome, friends! Welcome all!" he said in a ringing voice, and suddenly sound sprung up all around him.

He was alone. Calpurnia was not with him. Was that why he had come so late?

"Egyptian music!" he commanded, and the musicians took up their playing again, the unfamiliar--to the Romans--chords filling the hall.

He turned and stared at me, his face not registering any emotion. Was it a good silence, or a bad one? One never knew with him.

"The Queen of Egypt presides," he announced. "The Queen reigns over this feast." He took his place next to me.

"You look like a wh.o.r.e," he whispered in my ear.

"This villa looks like a brothel," I whispered back. "I took my cue from you."

He laughed. "I think it is your boldness I always love best," he said.

"Why did you choose to depict Egypt in such a fashion?" I demanded.

"I told you in my note," he replied. "What we scorn, we do not desire."

"What about wh.o.r.es?" I asked.

He looked surprised.

"I mean, the highest men seem to consort with them, even if they shun them in public. They are highly scorned, yet highly desired."

Clodia drifted by, giving Caesar a conspiratorial look.

"Such as Clodia," I said. "And Antony has brought an actress whom everyone is leering at."

"Antony would be naked without an actress everyone is leering at." He turned to Valeria. "Thank you for helping. I trust that you enjoyed the task."

She smiled. "Gossip is always a pleasure." She detached herself and disappeared into the crowd.

The feast table was laid, with a lidded crocodile skin serving to hold piles of fruit--cherries, pears, apples, sweet figs and dates, pomegranates. Huge rimmed platters swam with such sea creatures as squid and sea urchins and oysters. Stuffed boars looked at us forlornly, their gilded bristles drooping. People swarmed around the table, stuffing themselves, washing down the food with enormous quant.i.ties of wine. The noise rose, casting us adrift, in a sea of voices.

At the end of the meal, the sarcophagus was wheeled into the hall by "Anubis."

"In the midst of this feasting, it is good to remember the eternal," he wheezed. "Hear what the dead are telling us!" he stood back and recited. "Follow thy heart's desire while still thou remainest! Pour perfume on thy head; let thy garment be of the finest linen, anointed with the true most wondrous substances among things divine."

He did a little shuffling dance. "Do that which is pleasing to thee more than thou didst aforetime; let not thy heart be weary. Follow thy heart's desire and that which is well pleasing in thine eyes. Arrange thine affairs on earth after the will of thy heart, until to thee cometh that day of lamentation on which that G.o.d whose heart standeth still heareth not thy wail."

He leaned over the sarcophagus and spoke to the mummy. "Weeping obtaineth not the heart of a man who dwelleth in the grave. On! Live out a joyful day; rest not therein."

The mummy started to groan and stir; the bandages heaved with breath. People were disturbed, even though they knew perfectly well it was a performance. The sight of the dead stirring is distressing.

"Lo! It hath not been granted to man to take away with him his belongings." Behind him, the mummy threw a stiff leg out over the side of the coffin. Its fellow followed. The mummy lurched upright.

"Lo! There is none who hath gone hence and returned hither." Then Anubis turned and saw the mummy, and let out a howl. He threw up his hands and then yanked on the strip of linen sticking up from the mummy's shoulder. The mummy spun and turned, unwinding himself.

"Free! Free!" he cried joyfully. Then he began turning cartwheels, stiffly. He ran back to the sarcophagus, dug out handfuls of gold coins, and began flinging them to the crowd. "Spend it for me!" he ordered them. "I'm riot going back in there!"

Now, with the crowd in a playful mood, Caesar led a group out to the Sphinx.

"Ask of him your deepest concerns!" he said, thumping his rump.

"Will Clodia get another man?" yelled someone into the mouth of the Sphinx.

"I see many sleepless nights for Clodia," said a m.u.f.fled voice within.

"That's not fair!" said Caesar. "You can ask only for yourself, not someone else."

"Oh, I am am asking for myself!" the man answered blearily. asking for myself!" the man answered blearily.

Lepidus approached and asked it quietly, "Will I lead troops again?"

"Yes, more than you would wish," was the prompt reply, startling Lepidus.

"Will the Republic be restored?" asked Cicero in ringing tones. A hush fell over the room.

"As Herac.l.i.tus says, 'You cannot step twice into the same waters, for other waters are ever flowing over you.' "

"Yes, I know that!" said Cicero irritably. "There will be different men, but what of the inst.i.tution?"

"Only one question, Cicero," bellowed Antony.

Cicero glared at him and turned his back.

"Now I'll ask one!" roared Antony. "Have my fortunes reached their highest peak?"

"Your fortune is only in the foothills," came the reply. "You have not known your fortune yet."

"Come out and show yourself," I demanded. Who was this man? Was he truly a soothsayer, or just an actor?

Slowly the Sphinx's head was raised, and a dark-skinned man peered out. He was frightening to look at, he was so wizened and sunburnt. "Your Majesty?" he asked. "What question will you put to me?" I knew he was not an actor.

How could I phrase the question whose answer I most longed for? I would not ask it so publicly.

"Will Egypt be blessed by the G.o.ds in my lifetime?" I finally asked.

"Yes, by many G.o.ds," he said. "By G.o.ds in the sky, and by G.o.ds standing in this very room."

I felt a violent shaking trying to take hold of me. I dared not let it show. But what G.o.ds did he mean? Standing in this very room. . . . Standing in this very room. . . .

Nay, it was a foolish answer,. An answer that told nothing. Just as my question had not been direct, neither had its answer. Nothing comes of nothing.