The Memoirs of Cleopatra Part 77

"And you?" To come to this point, and so quickly! I had not meant to.

"I stay here."

"Forever?"

"That depends."

"On Parthia?"

"Partly. And partly on what happens elsewhere," he said.

"You cannot stay away from Rome forever," I said, "for that would abdicate all power to Octavian."

"Please refrain from offering me political advice in the first few minutes," he said testily.

"Yes, I know, you've done without it for four years now. And seen your authority and power eroded. You have less now than you did when you sailed away to Tyre."

"I'll not quarrel!" he said, his voice rising. "Not tonight! I won't!"

"Tomorrow, then?" I could not help baiting him.

"No, not tomorrow either! Stop it!" he bellowed, holding his hands against his temples.

At the sound, one of the servitors poked his head in a side door, but Antony waved him away. "Not yet!" he yelled.

"But you haven't even asked me if I am hungry. Perhaps I do not wish to delay the dinner," I said. "We can certainly talk while we eat."

"Oh, yes, I am sorry--" He seemed so pliant and eager to accommodate. Perhaps while he was in this mood was the best time to strike.

But not yet, part of me thought. I am not ready. What I really meant was, I am not ready to part if the answer is no. I would like a day or so first-- having come all this way. A day or so to reacquaint myself with this man, the father of my children, after all.

The dinner was served straightway, a flock of attendants bringing an absurd number of dishes and courses for only two people. This region was rich in agriculture, and bulging stuffed vegetables, honey-sweet grapes, and aromatic roasted nuts turned the seasoned fish and delicate oysters into a feast worthy of the G.o.ds. Fine white wine from nearby Laodicea-on-the-Sea swirled in our chased silver goblets. Antony, stretched out on his couch, ate heartily but silently.

Finally he leaned over and said, "You said we could talk while we ate, but you have said nothing."

"Forgive me," I said. "I seem to have no thoughts worthy of repeating."

He smiled and took a long drink from his goblet, his tanned throat moving as he swallowed. I quickly looked away, down at the dark marble floor. "That I find hard to believe. Come, you are celebrated for your conversation. Speak."

What I had to say he would not find so amusing. But later. "Tell me of your preparations for the war. .

And he talked on gladly about the plans, pieced together from Caesar's, to invade Parthia from the north, through Armenia, avoiding the disastrous open plains that had been Cra.s.sus's undoing. He talked about his lieutenants, in whom he had high confidence, including the recently acquired, fiery Ahen.o.barbus. As he spoke, his face grew flushed with excitement. He wanted this venture very badly, was longing to get started. All the better for me.

Like all soldiers, he seemed to have no fears that he would lose--or, worse yet, die. Would he have been so eager to go if he thought this time next year he might be in a grave? Would he hurry it on so? Yet a very wise man had once explained to me the Principle of the Ninety-nine Soldiers. It went thus: If a hundred soldiers were preparing for battle the next day and a seer told them that without fail ninety-nine were slated to die, each man would say to himself, "Too bad about those other ninety-nine men." I knew that he was right--nothing else could explain soldiers. Now Antony was ill.u.s.trating it.

The meal over, he casually escorted me back to his private chambers--as I knew he would. He did not invite, or put it into words, he just drifted there in a natural manner, talking all the while about his troops and equipment. Once inside, he adroitly dismissed his servants, without making a point of it, and then we were alone, the door closed.

He flung off his cloak eagerly and came over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He bent down and attempted to kiss me, saying, "I have waited for this moment for four years, always--"

But I twisted away, keeping his lips from mine. I could not let him kiss me, or I would be lost. My resolution would dissolve at his touch. I pushed his hands off and stepped back.

"And what have you waited for, for four years?" I asked. "To resume our old life? But we cannot resume it. Two great changes have occurred: I have borne you children. And you have become the husband of Octavian's sister; your political partner is now your brother-in-law. You chose her when you were free to choose elsewhere."

"I don't understand--"

"Then you are stupid, and I know you are not stupid. You are spoiled, always getting your own way like some pampered prince of a minor kingdom, acting without thinking, and always being saved. You ran riot in Rome, but Caesar came back in time and saved the situation. You let Fulvia make a ruinous war for you, but she died in time to save you from retribution. You let Octavian best you time and again--and who will save you this time?"

"What has that to do with us?" He seemed to hesitate between being confused and frustrated.

"Just this. We can resume a life together"--his face lightened--"under these conditions. You will marry me. Publicly. You will divorce Octavia. You will recognize our children as legitimate. You will award certain territories to me, to Egypt."

"And what, pray tell, might those be?" His voice was cold.

"My lost ancestral territory of Phoenicia, Judaea, parts of Syria--and Cyprus, which the a.s.sa.s.sins appropriated and has not yet been returned as you promised."

I expected him to laugh and say no. Instead he thought for a moment and said, "Judaea I cannot grant. Herod is my friend, going back even before you. He is a valuable and loyal ally; I would not turn him into an enemy."

"Would you rather have me as an enemy?"

"You could never be my enemy."

"If you do not grant me these things, I swear I will be. Egypt will cause you trouble if you attempt a war in the east, unless--"

Now he did laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Don't you know I could swat you like a fly if I wanted to? All I have to do is raise my arm and you are dethroned, and Egypt becomes a Roman province the next day. I have twenty-four legions--how many do you have?"

"Enough to delay your start for Parthia. And a respectable navy--two hundred ships." But of course what he said was true. I glared back at him.

"Ships cannot come out on land. And I don't need the sea to transport my troops. They are already here, at your doorstep. They can starve out your navy."

"It would be an expensive undertaking for you."

"I would be amply repaid by capturing the fabled treasury of Egypt. In fact, it would be a worthwhile venture in any case. Any strategist would recommend it at this point."

"Try, and you will find it harder than you think. And it would certainly delay your Parthian campaign by a year, if not longer."

He laughed. "I admire your courage, especially when you know you are outflanked. Come, come. I only said it to show you that what I do, I do willingly."

This sudden turn took me by surprise.

"Yes," he continued. "You will find that I have already acceded to your demands, had thought of them even before you. I will prove it."

He went over to a corner of the chamber and picked up a stout lockbox, circled with iron bands. Unlocking it, he took out another box, this one decorated with delicate designs of ivory. He handed it to me. "Open it."

I raised the lid and saw inside an explosion of gold. It was an elaborate necklace of fine gold leaves, twined to look like a vine, covered with emerald flowers. There was also a matching diadem. It was one of the most exquisite pieces of jewelry I had ever seen, and it must have cost him a year's tribute from a wealthy city.

"It is beautiful." I drew it out; it was heavy, but the edges of the leaves were so polished that, although they were thin, they would not catch on silk or skin. "But what has that to do with--"

"I brought it as a wedding gift."

Why was a necklace proof of that?

"I meant it to go with this." He pulled out another box, a much smaller one, and handed it to me as well.

Inside was a gold ring with his signet and ancestor, Hercules. It was a very small ring.

"I had it made to fit you. As a wedding ring." And indeed, it was not just a ring of his he was pressing into service. It was shiny, new, and too small for a man. "Now you've spoiled my proposal," he said, only half-jokingly.

"You wished to marry me?"

"Yes. Why would you find that so unbelievable?"

"Because when you were free, you did not. Now, when you are married--"

"Ah. Perhaps that helped in the decision!" He was laughing.

"Don't joke!"

His smile faded. "I do not mean to make light of it. The G.o.ds know it was no easy decision. But I came here, the decision already made. If you would accept me."

How odd this was. I had never expected this. "Yes. Yes, I accept."

He took the necklace and fastened it around my neck. "Then wear this." The cool, slippery weight of the metal settled like a collar around me. He bent and kissed my throat just above the top of the necklace. His hands took mine and started to put the ring on as well.

"No," I said. "Not yet. It is bad luck. Not before--"

He put his arms around me, running them up and down my back. I shivered, caught my breath-^-- then put my hands on his chest and pushed myself away.

"No," I said. "We do not resume this part of our lives together until after we are married." It was one of the hardest things I have ever brought myself to do. I turned away and put a distance between us. My heart was beating so fast I could almost feel it thumping, even as high up as the necklace.

He stared as if I were crazy. It was true, he was spoiled. No one ever said no to him. But tonight I would.

"Let it be soon, then," he muttered.

"As soon as you can arrange it," I said. "And before the ceremony, you will have the papers ready, granting me the territories we discussed. And the divorce request for Octavia."

"No." He balked. "I cannot serve her with papers of divorce while she is carrying my child. It is--unkind. And insulting."

Antony. Always tenderhearted and n.o.ble. But he was right. And it would be unlike him to be deliberately cruel to anyone.

"Very well," I said. "But soon afterward, you must."

"What sort of ceremony do you wish?"

"Not Roman," I said. He had been married in too many Roman ceremonies, and none of them seemed to take. Besides, it would not be legal there in any case.

"We could go to the shrine of Apollo near here," he said. "It is reputed to be very beautiful, and it is ancient. I know you have a fondness for ancient things--"

"No, not Apollo! How can you have forgotten? Apollo is Octavian's patron G.o.d!"

"Oh yes. Well, what about--"

"I know. The Temple of Isis. There is bound to be one here. And it is fitting, since she is my G.o.ddess, and your G.o.d is Dionysus. We will make an offering there, take vows before the priest, but have our festivities within the palace. I wish all your Roman officers to help us celebrate. All All of them." I wanted hundreds of witnesses. of them." I wanted hundreds of witnesses.

"Yes, of course." He threw up his hands. "You don't seem to understand," he said. "I wish all the world to see! When I came here, I shook the dust of Rome from my boots. I leave all that behind, and am not ashamed to stand up before the world itself with you."

I knew that this extraordinary man meant it--once again he was doing what he pleased, without thinking. But this time it pleased me that he did so.

"Yes," I said. Now let him make it good; let him prove it. "Let us hold the ceremony tomorrow. And now I leave you. We have much to arrange in the next few hours."

He did not flinch. "You will find it all done, and done well."

Back in my own, unfamiliar apartments, I wandered in like a ghost. I was stunned. Although I had rehea.r.s.ed my "demands," I had not expected this to happen so fast. Tomorrow! To marry a man tomorrow whom I had not seen in four years! It was crazy, as crazy as something the G.o.d Dionysus would indulge in. I felt I must be drunk to do it.

Iras leapt up, surprised to see me return so early. Her eyes fastened on the necklace, and she stared.

I touched it lightly. "Do you like it?" I said. Indeed, I did feel drunk. None of this was real. "It is my wedding present. Yes, I am to marry. Tomorrow."

She just sputtered, unable to find words.

"You and Charmian will have to make me ready. I hope the ceremonial gown I brought will be suitable." I had had a special one made, but even to myself I had not used the words wedding gown. wedding gown. "You had best get it out and air it. Call Charmian." "You had best get it out and air it. Call Charmian."

Iras rushed off to do so. I looked dreamily around the chamber.

Married. I was to be married--in public. In only a few hours.

"Madam, what is this?" Charmian came running in. "Married?"

"Yes. Tomorrow." I did not have to identify the man. "Well, isn't it about time?" I laughed. "After all, our children are three years old!" "But--"

"Charmian, Iras, your task is to make me beautiful tomorrow. Nothing else."

"That we can do," said Charmian. "But I must ask--you must ask yourself--and answer before tomorrow--I know you wish to marry Antony, but do you wish to wed Rome as well? Will you yield Egypt up like this?"

"It is a fair question," I said. "But by doing this, I hope to preserve Egypt."

I lay in the darkness, the hours pa.s.sing in this strange city, under this strange sky. Nothing was as I had pictured it, adding to the unreality. Thus, whatever happened tomorrow would be fitting.

Charmian's question . . . how to answer it to myself? Because my position was unique, I could not expect to be like any other bride. But I felt I was marrying a man, not marrying Rome. He, like Caesar, was an unusual son of Rome, one who seemed to understand that there were other peoples in the world, and was willing to share the stage with them--or at least grant them some dignity and liberty under the Roman eagle.

The wedding would take place in the late afternoon. Basins of water from the famous springs of Antioch were brought in to fill a tub for me to bathe in. I declined to add any perfume or oil to them, since they had been tasted by Alexander on his way to Egypt, and he had p.r.o.nounced them like his mother's milk. If anything, milk should have been added. Charmian and Iras washed me, one rubbing each arm, and washed my hair. Afterwards they combed it out, drying it before a brazier, brushing it smooth until it gleamed. Then they took a pair of shears and cut a lock of it to be dedicated to Isis before the ceremony.

My gown, a Grecian-style one of pale blue silk, hung airing in the breeze before the open window. On a separate cord hung my veil of matching silk. I would wear it covering my face, in accordance with Greek custom.

Each of them tended to my hands, rubbing them with almond oil, buffing the nails with ground pearls.

I was oddly calm. I knew it was a momentous step, and because it was of such great consequence, I could not dwell on it. I must go forward, trusting my own leading, committing myself to fate. It did not feel unkindly.

The procession to the Temple of Isis, and the ceremony itself, would be witnessed by only a dozen people. Antony would take me in a carriage, with his chief officer, Canidius Cra.s.sus, on my other side. Others would follow, including Iras and Charmian and more staff officers.