Cleopatra’s Daughter

What else?”

“Perhaps a schola.”

Livia’s cheeks grew flushed, and she put down her weaving. “Perhaps I should build a portico as well,” she said. “What do you think?”

“That would be a grand gesture,” Agrippa remarked, but it was Octavian’s approval that Livia wanted.

“Shall I fund my own building?” Livia asked him.

Octavian peered out from under his hat. “Rome would be grateful for your generosity. But do you have enough time—?”

“Of course,” she said swiftly. “For Rome, there is always time.”

Octavian regarded her with fondness. “I am lucky in the women who surround me,” he said quietly, and Julia rolled her eyes at me. “I will make the notes and Vitruvius will hire the men next month.” He stood, and everyone who was riding rushed to follow him into the stables.

When he was gone, Livia smiled. “A pair of porticoes,” she said to Octavia.

“How generous of you.”

She raised her brows. “The money has to go somewhere. In Gaul, your brother gave me copper mines. And in Judea, entire estates of palm groves. And do you know what he’s giving me in Egypt?”

“A temple?”

Livia narrowed her eyes. “Why would I want that? There’s no money to be made from a temple.”

“Of course.” Octavia smiled. “It’s all about money.”

Livia laughed. “Oh, I see your charity in the Subura. You think you aren’t paid for that with smiles, and respect, and women who scrape the floor to kiss your feet?”

“No one has ever kissed my mother’s feet!” Antonia exclaimed, and everyone looked at her in shock. Even Vipsania, who was always giggling, covered her mouth.

“It’s still payment,” Livia said icily. “I just like my payment to be worth something.”

“You are a crass woman,” Octavia said.

“A crass woman with papyrus marshes. Dozens of them.” She grinned. “And there’s nothing half as profitable in the east as papyrus. Octavian is giving me my choice of fields. Perhaps Selene will help me choose the most valuable.”

“That’s enough!” Octavia stood, and for a moment I wondered if she was going to strike her. “Gallia, you may take Julia and Selene shopping. Return here before the exercises are over.”

Julia rose swiftly, amazed at her good fortune.

“You may take Selene,” Livia said, “but Julia is not going.”

“Julia is my niece,” Octavia said. “She is no blood relative of yours, and if I say she may shop, then she will shop. And if you make her life difficult for this, or I hear that you’ve punished her for obeying me, then my brother will hear of it.”

Livia’s eyes flashed, but she didn’t move, and Julia took my arm. Gallia rushed us away from the Campus, and as soon as we were out of earshot, I whispered, “How do you live with her?”

“She’s too busy watching Terentilla to notice me,” Julia answered.

I looked at Gallia. “Thank you.”

“It was Domina’s wish,” she said humbly. “I am only your escort.”

“May we go by the Temple of Venus?” Julia asked. “Selene would like to see the statue of her mother.”

“It is more than fifteen years old,” Gallia warned.

“I’ll still recognize her,” I promised, but when we reached the end of Caesar’s Forum and entered the Temple of Venus Genetrix, Gallia saw my confusion and smiled.

“Can you find her?”

Inside the cool marble halls, priestesses stood guard over the temple’s works of art. There was a statue of Julius Caesar that was unmistakable, since Caesarion had looked so much like him, and a statue of Venus half- dressed in linen. I skipped the collection of sparkling gems, although this was what caught Julia’s eye, and I passed over a stunning metal breastplate adorned with pearls from Britannia. I went from statue to statue, and it was only by the Alexandrian diadem in her hair that I finally recognized her. “Is this it?” I gasped.

“Kleopatra of Egypt,” Gallia replied.

Julia came to my side and asked eagerly, “Is that what she looked like?”

I studied the woman’s heavy breasts, her long Roman nose, and her pointed chin, then shook my head sadly. “No.” I could see that Julia was disappointed. “My mother was much thinner,” I told her. “With hands that were even smaller than mine.”

“Really? What about her face?”

Although the lips were correct, and the rich amber hue of her eyes, everything else was wrong. “She was plainer,” I admitted. “And her nose …” I hesitated. “It was different.”

“So Caesar did love her for more than her beauty.”

I nodded. “She could speak many languages. Egyptian, Ethiopian, Hebrew, Aramaic, Syrian, Median, Parthian….”

“Latin,” Julia put in.

“Of course. And she lived very well.”

“Is it true, what they say about her drinking the pearl?”

I thought of the story my mother had often told to Alexander and me about her second meeting with our father. In an attempt to impress him with her wealth, she had promised him the most expensive feast ever consumed. When he arrived, there was a single goblet of wine on the table. She dropped her largest pearl into the goblet, and when the pearl dissolved she proceeded to drink the wine. I smiled sadly, remembering how my mother could be mischievous. “Yes. The pearl story was true.”

“I wish my mother were so well known.”

“Is she still alive?”

Julia tensed. “Somewhere,” she said curtly, and didn’t elaborate. “I heard that your mother showed you how to use eye paints. Do you think if Gallia takes us to the shops, you could show me, too?”

“Domina Livia would not like that,” Gallia warned.

“But we can do it in secret,” Julia promised. “Please,” she begged. “We never have any fun.”

Gallia hesitated, and in that moment she was lost.

“Come!” Julia exclaimed. “We’ll go to the street of the Etruscans.”

“Is that where Egyptian goods are?”

“That’s where everything is!”

Gallia dutifully led the way, and I wondered what the soldiers guarding us thought when they were forced to linger outside a shop for Egyptian aphrodisiacs and painted beads.

“These were what we used for our hair,” I explained. “But only on days when there were official ceremonies.”

Julia put her hands in the box of beads, enjoying the feel of the small faience trinkets as they ran though her fingers. “How many would we need?”

“For your hair? You’re not really going to use them?”

“Why not?” She grinned. “Tomorrow, we’re all going to the theater. Before we leave, I can come over, and you can put them in.”

“Livia will never allow it, and neither will Octavia.”

“Who cares what they think?” she asked merrily. “We’ll take them out before anyone can see.” When I hesitated, she gestured to the shopkeeper excitedly. “The entire box!”

“E-everything, Domina?” the old man stammered.

“Yes. Just hurry. You may send the bill to my father.”

He didn’t have to ask who her father was.

“Where shall we go next?” she asked eagerly, handing the purchase to Gallia. “I want to look just like a princess.”

“You are a princess.”

“A real one.” There was envy in her eyes. “With paints and silk tunics and all the things that women should wear if not for Livia. She’s just jealous, you know.” I followed her down the streets as she searched for an Egyptian