Cleopatra’s Daughter

“Yes. Near the Temple of Isis and Serapis.”

He nodded. “She can draw,” he said thoughtfully. “But so can many others. What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Tutor her,” Octavia replied.

“In what?”

“Architecture.”

“A girl?” I thought he was going to laugh, but he glanced at my face and asked soberly, “What does she need with architecture?”

“The same thing my mother needed with eight languages,” I replied boldly. “She commanded the best diplomats in the world, but she refused to leave anything to someone else that she could do better herself.”

“And what do you hope to do better yourself?” Vitruvius raised his brows.

“Build.”

He leaned back. “Where?”

I glanced at Octavia, who nodded encouragingly. “Thebes. It was my mother’s dream,” I explained. “I know what her plans were for it,” I said quickly. “The entire city was destroyed by Ptolemy IX. But if my brother ever returns to Egypt, I could go with him and build a new Thebes.”

Vitruvius looked at Octavia. “You know that Caesar will never allow it.”

“He may change his mind.”

But Vitruvius shook his head. “He will marry her off, and if she’s lucky, Livia will not have a say in it.”

“You mean, Livia may decide—?”

“She’s my brother’s wife,” Octavia cut me off. “Anything’s possible. Which is why you must train her, Vitruvius. Show my brother that she has use beyond being some old senator’s wife. You can make her your apprentice.”

Vitruvius laughed.

“Why not?” she exclaimed. “When Octavian showed you her sketch of Alexandria you said it was inspired.”

“It’s true. She has a gift. But what does she know about architecture?”

“You can teach me,” I said. “I already know every type of tool that’s used in building, and every architectural style from Egypt to Greece.”

Vitruvius shook his head. “Building sites are no place for a princess.”

“Then take me with you in the mornings when you leave to do your inspections.”

“Your son has no interest in architecture,” Octavia pointed out.

The color rose in Vitruvius’s cheeks. “Yes,” he said bitterly. “He wants to be a lover and a poet!”

“Then share your knowledge with me.”

Vitruvius sat forward in his chair, and Octavia said persuasively, “My brother wants a mausoleum like Queen Kleopatra’s. Selene has probably sketched it a dozen times. At least give her the chance to help you with this.”

Vitruvius regarded me in silence. Then finally he said, “Tomorrow at dawn. Meet me in this library.”

I clapped my hands.

“We will begin with Caesar’s mausoleum, and if I’m satisfied with your progress, I may teach you to build.”

“Thank you. Thank you!”

Octavia smiled. “Go. Or you’ll be late to the ludus.”

I met Alexander and Marcellus on the portico and told them what had happened. And when Julia and Tiberius met us on the road, Marcellus said proudly, “Did you hear? Vitruvius wants to train Selene as an architect.”

“Oh, I’m not sure he wants to,” I amended hastily. “It was Octavia’s idea. She pressured him.”

Julia stared at me. “Why would she do that for you?”

“To give me something to do,” I said awkwardly.

“It’s more than that,” Marcellus protested. “She likes you.” I saw Julia’s back straighten. “You’re the half sister to her daughters, after all.”

But it was strange to think of ten-year-old Antonia and seven-year-old Tonia as my siblings.

“They’re not much like us, are they?” Alexander asked. We followed Gallia through the crowded streets toward the Forum. It was the last day of Octavian’s Triumph.

“No, they’re quiet,” Marcellus reflected.

“And charitable,” Tiberius added.

“I’m charitable,” Marcellus protested. “I give in the Circus all the time.”

My brother laughed. “And the bet-makers are thankful for it. Will we go again today?”

“Of course.”

“Your mother had Gallia give me several denarii.” Alexander patted a small leather bag at his side.

“You didn’t tell me that!” I said.

Alexander looked sheepishly at me. “Because you were with Vitruvius.”

“And he really wants to teach you?” Julia asked suspiciously.

“Your father wants an Egyptian mausoleum. Octavia convinced him that maybe I can help.”

Julia was quiet for several moments, and I wondered whether she was jealous. “I’ve heard that Alexandria is beautiful,” she said at last.

“The most magnificent city in the world.”

“Greater than Rome?”

I hesitated. “It was three hundred years in the making,” I said carefully. “All marble buildings perched above the sea.”

“And your mother? Was she as beautiful as they say?”

I blinked rapidly, so that I wouldn’t cry as we approached the ludus. “She wasn’t a traditional beauty,” I explained. “It was her mind.” Julia frowned. She didn’t understand that a mind could be beautiful. “And her voice. It drew men from every corner of the world.”

“Like the Sirens,” Julia whispered. “I’ve seen her image in the Temple of Venus and wondered if that’s what she was really like.”

Alexander and I stopped walking.

“What image?” my brother asked.

“Her statue in Julius Caesar’s Forum.”

“And it’s still there?”

Julia regarded him with a puzzled expression. “Of course. Where else would it be?”

“But why didn’t your father tear it down?” I asked.

“The statue of a queen?” Julia was shocked. “Because she was loved by Julius.”

I glanced at my brother. “So all of Octavian’s rage against her was a lie,” I said in Parthian. “Just a piece of theater so that Rome would stand against her.”

He turned to Julia. “Do you think we can see it?”

“I don’t see why not. We can go after the exercises on the Campus.”

We studied Homer’s Odyssey that morning, reciting passages about Odysseus’s travels on the wine-dark sea guarded by gray-eyed Athena. When we were finished, Gallia took us back to the Campus Martius, deftly navigating through the excited masses who were waiting for the last victory parade. On the marble portico in front of the stables, Juba and Agrippa were seated next to Octavian, who was showing his sister his plans for a series of buildings. I took a chair next to Antonia, and Livia was silent when I reached for my sketches.

“These are the plans for the aqueduct in Naples,” Octavian was saying, “and this is the one for the Forum.”

Octavia smiled. “And did Vitruvius give you the plans for my building?” she asked.

Her brother unfurled a scroll at his side. “The restoration of the old Portico Metelli,” he said with relish, “now to be known as the Portico of Octavia, with three hundred new columns and two temples inside.”

“I want there to be a public library within, as well.”

Octavian took notes. “Good. Very good,” he added. “The plebs will like a library.