The Memoirs of Cleopatra Part 84

I took it and slowly opened it. My first words from him since our parting, a lifetime hence.

M;y dearest--Eros will tell you all It is too long, and painful dearest--Eros will tell you all It is too long, and painful, to recount here, and a wound I received on my hand makes writing difficult. Pray come to me as soon as you possibly can. Eros will tell you, and the ship captains, the exact location. I have eighteen thousand recount here, and a wound I received on my hand makes writing difficult. Pray come to me as soon as you possibly can. Eros will tell you, and the ship captains, the exact location. I have eighteen thousand men, men, all of whom need clothing. And money to buy food. I desire only to see you. all of whom need clothing. And money to buy food. I desire only to see you.

--M. A.

Eighteen thousand men! He had started with sixty thousand crack legionaries! Where now were the other thirty thousand auxiliaries who were supposed to support him? Fled like the cowards and traitors they were.

I saw Eros looking at me.

"Eighteen thousand men?" I said. "He wishes food and clothing for all those soldiers?" I looked out at the sea, churning and dark. It was the height of winter, when ships dared not sail. "He mentioned ships. He expects us to sail?"

Eros nodded. "He said you would not fail him."

Did he credit me with miraculous powers? Or had he so far lost his reason that he gave no thought to the considerable risk that I would go to the bottom of the sea?

I had recently been so weak that I could scarcely leave the palace grounds. Now I was to sail to Syria on stormy seas?

"I will go to him," I said. Or die trying.

Chapter 60.

I stood on the deck of a trireme rolling at anchor in the harbor. It had taken some searching, and a hefty payment, to find a captain brave enough--or foolhardy enough--to venture out in the tossing seas. As Queen, I could have ordered one of my warships and its captain to carry me, but I preferred to persuade rather than command, at least for such as this.

Beside me on the heaving deck stood Olympos, wrapped in a heavy cloak, and cursing softly. No one had wanted me to go, and Mardian and Olympos had tried to forbid me--Mardian citing the danger in travel and Olympos warning of the threat to my health.

"You can't even endure a morning of audiences with amba.s.sadors, and now you want to rush off to Syria to comfort Antony," he had lectured. "Send your soldiers and your own amba.s.sadors--what else are they for?"

But it was not in my nature. If I failed him, all his faith in honor would be destroyed. Not going was the sort of thing Octavian would do. And I needed to see him for my own sake. That dream--and then the picture in my mind of his orders to Eros--the remembrance, and the jerking ship, made me start to feel sick again. I clutched on to Olympos's arm.

"This is insane!" he said, turning to me. "We should get off. Now."

Olympos had finally announced that only if he could accompany me would he allow me to go--and he had forthwith abandoned his other patients, his students at the Museion, and Dorcas. He toted along an extremely bulky box of medicines, with mixing implements and empty bottles waiting to be filled. One thing he had not had to urge on me was his beloved silphion. At last I was more than willing to use it--I could not allow myself to become pregnant; I needed all my strength now for other things. I loved my children and I had even enjoyed my pregnancies, but now I must allow no other claims on my mind and body.

"At least let us sit down!" Olympos fussed. I smiled faintly. On a deck there are not many such places, but the captain--newly enriched by my payment--was most gracious in finding one. His ship was crammed with blankets, tunics, shoes, and cloaks to cover the eighteen thousand soldiers, and two other transports would follow with grain.

On this ship, too, was all the money I felt safe transporting by winter sea. The rest would have to wait until later--not that transporting money is ever safe, by land or by sea. Bandits, pirates, accidents attack the waves and the footpath equally. And gold is very heavy; a talent of gold weighs as much as a big child, two talents as much as a woman, and three as much as a well-muscled man. It does not get from place to place easily. I was bringing about three hundred talents on the ship.

The crossing should take around seven days, and Eros had already instructed the captain exactly where Leuce Come lay.

"It's north of Sidon," he said. "I know it. No good harbor, though. Might have to anchor far from sh.o.r.e if I can't get inside the seawall."

I didn't care. Just let us get that near! I would gladly swim ash.o.r.e, if I had to.

I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter around me.

You will have to improve a great deal in seven days in order to plunge into these these icy waters, I told myself. Are you expecting a miracle? icy waters, I told myself. Are you expecting a miracle?

As we left the relatively calm harbor of Alexandria to be buffeted on the open seas, I watched the waves rise higher, making jagged crests.

The churning, bucking, jerking sea voyage ... my fate was always decided by water. From Ashkelon to Alexandria to meet Caesar for the first time; from Alexandria to Tarsus to meet with Antony in costume; from Alexandria to Antioch to meet with Antony again, this time on my terms. And now to Syria, where yet a different Antony awaited me. An Antony who had staked his reputation and his future on a great battlefield, and been utterly defeated.

With each pa.s.sing day in the cold mist, my strength came stealing back, sneaking in while I slept. Each morning I arose feeling more restored, my legs less shaky, my muscles firmer. Olympos attributed it to the broth he made me drink five times a day, as well as the herbs he plied me with; but finally he said with a grunt, "I suppose the closer you get to him, the faster you revive."

I must grow stronger if he had grown weaker; if we two were one, then as one waned so must the other wax, to preserve the strength of the whole. That I knew. So I merely smiled at Olympos and said nothing.

The harbor--small, low, and desolate--was sighted over the gray-blue sea. Behind it cl.u.s.tered the houses of the village, also small, low, and desolate. There was no color anywhere, no sign of life. As we approached, large waves swept us broadside and threatened to dash us into the seawall, but the captain managed to bring us safely out of the fury of the wind.

"He's worthy of s.e.xtus's fleet," said Olympos.

s.e.xtus. For a moment I wondered where he was, whether Antony had joined forces with him. But all other thoughts fled when I beheld Antony standing--a forlorn, m.u.f.fled figure--on the sh.o.r.e.

He was staring out to sea like a statue, rooted to the ground. As we approached, he had been a little dot, unmoving. Only when we actually came into the harbor did he break his stillness and start running toward us.

From the railing of the ship I gestured with wide arm-sweeps, wild with excitement. His mantle was flapping, flying out from his outstretched arms, giving him the wingspread of a huge bird.

"Antony!" I cried. "Most n.o.ble Imperator!"

He wheeled around and saw me at once, then rushed over to the place where the ship would dock. The folds of the mantle swirled once and then settled as he pulled back his hood. I saw that his face was thinner and much more lined. He was looking up at me.

As soon as the gangplank was down, I hurried ash.o.r.e and into his arms. He enveloped me in the rough mantle, and in the crush I felt his face against mine and his kisses on my cheek, heard him saying, "You are come, you are come. ..." I was so close I could only feel and hear him, not see him.

How long it had been since I had touched him--eight months! I dug my fingers into his shoulder and felt the bones nearer the skin now than before, the warm flesh burned off him. I remembered the dried-up men I had seen in my dream, and knew it had almost come true for Antony.

He was pressing me against him, our entire lengths touching, when he suddenly stepped back a little.

"The baby! It is born? Yes, of course it is!" He had left me thin, and now I was thin again.

"Yes, in November," I said. "A son. Healthy and strong."

"November," he said, shaking his head. "In November we were still struggling out of Parthia. But it was near the end."

"Do not think on it now," I said. "You can tell me every detail later."

"I have been watching the horizon every day, waiting for your ship," he said. "You can never know how hard I watched." His voice was strained, and indeed, he looked worse than I felt.

We sat in the mean, dark chamber of his wooden quarters, a sputtering rush lamp throwing deep shadows on the walls. Antony was hunched over, his big hands dangling over his knees. Without his mantle, his tunic revealed how thin and battered he was; in comparison, his head and hands now appeared unusually large.

We had eaten, drunk, and been left alone in the cold room. His bantering, for the benefits of the servitors, faded as soon as they had exited.

"One has to keep up the spirits of those around one," he had said. "If word got out that the commander himself had fallen into despair. . ." His voice trailed off. "And l am not in despair, just. . . tired."

Yes. Tired. That were we both. If only rest were possible!

I reached out and touched his cheek, tracing the new hollows beneath the cheekbones. Then I gently touched his neck, that neck which was still thick and well muscled. As I touched it, I could not help following the line where it would have been severed, right above the collarbone. A nasty, deep-cold fear seeped through me. My hand stopped moving.

"What is it?" he asked.

I would not tell him I knew. He would not have wanted Eros to reveal it. "Nothing." I caressed the line. "I have always been very fond of your neck." I leaned forward and kissed it, just at its hollow.

I saw him close his eyes, heard him sigh as I kissed all around the circle of his neck. He was more than tired; he was bone-weary. As yet he had not told me his true feelings about the defeat, nor his plans for his next move. Instead he seemed almost bewildered, paralyzed by his change of fortune.

He let his head slump down, resting it against my shoulder. It was uncomfortable for me, and I wriggled a little to settle it better. As it slid lower, pulling the strap of my gown down, exposing my breast, it set off that tingling which signaled the rush of milk. The warmth, the touch of skin against skin had set it off; I had not had time to wean the baby completely before setting out. Embarra.s.sed, I pulled away and tried to cover my breast again, but it was too late. The milk oozed out and fell in drops, wetting his cheeks. He seemed amused by it, and reached out a curious finger to catch it and taste it.

"I could not bring the baby," I said, "and I had to rush away as soon--I came as soon as you sent for me." I felt discomfited, as if he had caught me at something unseemly.

He took away all my shyness by saying, "I wish you had brought him. I missed seeing you with the twins when they were babies, and now I must miss this one as well."

"He will still be a baby for some time," I a.s.sured him. But unspoken was the question: When do you propose to return to Alexandria? What are your plans?

He sighed and heaved himself up, shaking his head as if he would shake off sleep, and ran his left hand through his hair. I saw then that his right one was swollen, with an ugly, unhealed gash.

"Tomorrow I will show you the troops," he said. "The poor men! And you have brought clothing, you say?"

"Yes," I said. "As many cloaks, shoes, and mantles as I could gather, with the material to make more."

"And the--gold?" He tried not to look too eager.

"I brought three hundred talents," I said.

"Three hundred! But--that is not nearly enough!"

"How much could I carry? Be reasonable! More will follow. But on these seas--I had to divide it, divide the risk. Two more ships are bringing grain. They should arrive within four or five days."

"Three hundred talents!"

I grew angry at him. He had depaanded I come immediately, trusting both my person and the gold to the winter seas. And had he forgotten that I would barely have recovered from childbirth? As it happened, I had not--but I had come anyway. "You are unrealistic," I said. "It is a miracle that I have arrived safely--that I was able to come at all!"

He shook his head. "Yes, yes, forgive me." He was rubbing his hand--was it bothering him? He had mentioned a wound that made writing difficult.

"What is wrong with your hand?" Before he could s.n.a.t.c.h it away, I took it.

There was a diagonal cut across it; it was puffy and an angry shade of red. The area around it felt abnormally hot. It looked ready to fester.

"It is nothing," he said carelessly. But I saw his mouth tighten when I touched the sore place.

"You should let my physician treat it," I said.

"When you see the state of the other soldiers, you will forget this scratch," he said.

Later, alone together in the dark, I caressed his shoulders, seeking to comfort him. Even in his present state, my heart rejoiced to be with him again. But his soul was so burdened that he merely sighed and said, "Forgive me. The spirits of my lost men are with me in this very room, and I would be shamed to forget them so soon." His hunger for me seemed to have been destroyed by what he had endured on the plains of Parthia. We slept chastely that night, embracing like two children.

With the clear, cold dawn, Antony groaned and sat up. He shook his head to clear it before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking stiff-legged across the room to the washbasin. He lowered his head over the basin and splashed water over his face; I saw how he winced when the injured hand got wet.

I rose and imitated him, knowing the day began early in camp. We moved silently, unable to form words. Methodically he went about his business, combing his hair and pulling his tunic over his shoulders, then winding the wool strips around his legs before strapping on his boots. It was so dreary and damp-cold that feet turned numb without such protection.

Still we did not speak, as if what we did was too solemn for words. What I witnessed was the opposite of the joyous going-forth of a warrior--it was the retreat, the counting of losses, the licking of wounds after a battle. One was the singing of the blood, the peak of antic.i.p.ation, prideful organization, the other the messy aftermath of defeat.

"All the commanders returned unhurt?" I finally asked.

"Yes, except for Flavius Gallus," Antony said. "In the fifth day of our retreat, he pursued the hara.s.sing Parthians too far from our column. I sent orders for him to turn back, but he refused to give up. It was a trick to lure him; we lost three thousand men through his stubbornness. t.i.tius wrenched the eagles from his standard-bearers to try to force them back, but it was no use. By the time Gallus realized he was surrounded, it was too late. And the other commanders--like Canidius, who should have known better--kept sending small parties to aid him, and they were cut down also. I had to leave the vanguard of the army and lead the entire Third Legion into direct confrontation with the enemy before they were driven off." As he spoke, color came back into his drawn face. "Gallus was shot with four separate arrows and died; and besides the three thousand killed, we had five thousand wounded." He shook his head. "They had to be transported on our mules, which meant we had to abandon much of our field equipment, the tents and cooking utensils. From then on--oh, those twenty-seven days!"

"If Artavasdes had not deserted you, his cavalry could have protected you on that twenty-seven-day retreat," I said bitterly. "He is responsible for those losses as well as for the ten thousand slain with the baggage train!"

"Yes," Antony agreed. "And--"

"He must pay the price of his perfidy!" I insisted. "You must punish him! I suppose he pretended to be innocent?"

"Oh yes." Antony smiled a ghost of his old merry smile. "And I pretended to believe him. After all, by the time we finally reached Armenia, we could not have fought an army composed of stray cats and geese. But neither could we linger in his realm. So I pushed for us to return to Roman territory, even * though the snows were deep in the mountains."

"You must return and take revenge," I urged him.

"All things in time," he said.

When someone says that, you know nothing will happen. I remembered once telling my old tutor, "We must wait and see what happens," and he had replied, "Princess, things do not happen, we must make them happen."

I let it go. He must grieve before he could move forward. "You have heard the news of Octavian's victory--or more correctly, Agrippa's?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes. So the last of the Republicans is snuffed out--or rather, the last of the sons sons of the Republic. s.e.xtus did not stand for anything besides himself." of the Republic. s.e.xtus did not stand for anything besides himself."

"And what do you stand for? What does Octavian stand for?" The question must be asked. "Now you have no cause to pursue together. The a.s.sa.s.sins are killed, s.e.xtus eliminated. What is your mission now?" He would have to decide, or have nothing with which to rally others under his banner.

"I do not know," he said, and it was clear that at that moment he did not care.

"Octavian will find one," I warned him. "He will reinvent himself to keep gathering followers." But Antony was not interested in Octavian just now.

"Oh, perhaps he'll die," he said lightly. "His health is still wretched. He'll cough his way into Caesar's divine company."

There was a knocking on the door, and Eros stuck his head in. "Good sir--I see I am come too late."

"No, you are just in time. Bring us something to break our fast; then we will visit the men and distribute the clothing." He turned to me. "When will the grain arrive?"

"The transport ships were following our galley, but we outdistanced them," I said. "Nonetheless, they should be docking within three or four days."

"Alert the millers, so we can get the grain ground quickly," Antony told Eros. "Bread! We need bread, a mountain of loaves!"

Rows and rows of sick men lay on the ground or on threadbare blankets in the fields behind the town--wilting like plants after a long drought. Some of them were so gray and shriveled it was hard to recognize them as men in the prime of life, and again I was haunted by my dream of the dried, blackened figures.

They stirred as we approached--Antony in his purple cloak, so they could know him from a distance--and called feebly. I saw them struggling painfully to sit up. Awnings had been stretched over the sickest to keep the worst of the weather off them, but the rest had to make do with the open air.

"Imperator," they were whispering, or crying out. "Imperator!"