“That’s because this is Jupiter Ammon, his Egyptian manifestation, who is called Zeus Ammon by the Alexandrians, who speak Greek. Alexander the Great worshiped Zeus Ammon. So did his general Ptolemy, who inherited Egypt. It was Ptolemy who founded the dynasty that ruled Egypt for almost three hundred years, until the royal house ended with Cleopatra.”
“And…she was not a whore?” The boy remained dubious.
“Her enemies in Roma alleged that she was, while she lived. Everyone seems to believe so now, long after she’s dead. But Caesar didn’t think so. Nor did Antonius. Cleopatra considered herself the manifestation of the goddess Isis. A woman tends to take procreation rather seriously when she thinks that carnal union might result in a god or goddess springing out of her womb!”
“Whatever she was, she lost everything, didn’t she, and she took down Antonius along with her?”
Lucius nodded. “Antonius and Cleopatra gathered a great navy and sailed off to Greece, to meet the Emperor in battle. I stayed behind in Cyrene, and waited for news. The sea battle took place at Actium. The navy of the emperor, under the command of Marcus Agrippa, destroyed the navy of Antonius and Cleopatra. It was all over then, and everyone knew it. Antonius sent me a desperate message, saying he was coming to collect my troops.”
“And then what happened?”
Lucius’s face grew dark. “I killed the messengers. I sent word to Antonius that he would not be welcome in Cyrene. I finally came to my senses, you see. I saw that the gods had sided with the emperor, that they had sided with him all along, and only an ungodly man would continue to stand against him.”
The boy nodded gravely, as at the outcome of a moral tale, satisfied that his grandfather had at last seen reason. But the look on Lucius’s face was grim.
“Antonius and Cleopatra retreated to Alexandria, to await the end. Some say they spent those final months indulging in every possible vice, squeezing life for the last vestiges of pleasure. Perhaps that tale is only another slander against them, but to me it has the ring of truth. How those two loved to drink and carouse! Cleopatra also set about testing various poisons on her slaves, to determine which caused the least painful death. When the emperor and his legions arrived in Egypt, and all hope was gone, Antonius fell on his sword. But Cleopatra…”
“Yes, Grandfather? What happened to Cleopatra?” The boy studied his grandfather’s face. His eyes grew wide. “Were you there, Grandfather? Were you there in Alexandria when…?”
“Yes, I was there. Octavius-the emperor-insisted that I accompany him. He was determined to take Cleopatra alive. He wanted to bring her back to Roma and parade her in his triumph. But the queen had other plans.”
How much should he tell the boy? Certainly not all of the story. He had never told that to anyone…
Antonius was dead. Cleopatra’s army had vanished, like smoke on the wind. Occupied by Octavius’s forces, the city of Alexandria held its breath. The queen remained in the royal palace, holed up with two handmaidens in a sealed chamber that could be entered only by climbing a rope through a trapdoor from below. She could not flee, but nor could she be taken by force.
On a terrace of the palace with a splendid view of the harbor and the famous lighthouse, Lucius was summoned before Octavius. The commander dispensed with greetings and got straight to the point.
“You have a long association with the queen. She knows you, cousin. She trusts you.”
“Not anymore. I betrayed her.”
“Even so, you stand a better chance of coaxing her out of her lair than I do. I want Cleopatra alive, not dead. Go to her. Talk about Antonius and the good old days, and what might have been. Flatter her. Cajole her. When you’ve regained her trust, say whatever you have to say to convince her to surrender to me. Assure her that I intend to treat her with all the respect due to her rank and lineage. She will appear in my triumphal procession, but she will not be mistreated.”
“Is that the truth?”
Octavius laughed. “Of course not. I intend to see her completely broken and humiliated before she dies. Roma demands nothing less than the complete destruction of the Egyptian whore. She’ll be raped and beaten, kept in chains, starved, and tortured. When people see her crawling naked behind my chariot, they’ll wonder how such a wretched hag ever seduced a man like Antonius. Then she’ll be strangled in the Tullianum, but not before she sees the boy Caesarion killed before her eyes.”
“He’s only fourteen,” said Lucius.
“And he shall never be fifteen.”
Lucius had no choice. He agreed to act as Octavius’s emissary.
Through the trapdoor, in whispers, he negotiated with the queen’s handmaidens, Charmion and Iras. Cleopatra agreed to see him the following day, but only if he arrived alone, with no other Roman in sight.
The next day, Lucius arrived at the appointed time. He brought a gift for the queen. She had expressed a craving for figs. The basket that Lucius lifted up through the opening was full of plump, ripe figs nestled atop a bed of fig leaves. Iras accepted the basket. A little later, Charmion lowered a rope, and Lucius was allowed to climb up.
He had expected to find the three women cowering in a squalid little room, but the chamber was magnificent. Small openings high in the walls admitted beams of sunlight. The floor was black marble. The columns were red granite. The walls were painted in dazzling colors. Cleopatra sat on a magnificent throne in the shape of a vulture with its wings spread, ornamented with gold, silver, and lapis. She wore a cobra-headed diadem and a robe encrusted with jewels. Iras sat at her feet with the basket of figs.
“Will you not change your mind, Your Majesty?” said Lucius.
“Too late for that,” said Cleopatra. In one hand she held a fig. On her wrist were two puncture marks-the bite of the asp, which Lucius himself had obtained from one of the queen’s agents and hidden beneath the fig leaves. “Thank you, Lucius Pinarius. When I see Antonius in Elysium, I will tell him of the great favor you did me.”
Her eyelids fluttered and closed. Her head fell to one side. The fig dropped from her hand.
Lucius’s eyes filled with tears. “Was this a fitting end? Was this worthy of your mistress?” he demanded of the handmaidens.
Iras was silent. She had already joined her mistress in death. Charmion, beginning to stagger and sway, was using her final moments to straighten the queen’s crown, so that in death her appearance would be perfect. “It was very worthy,” she whispered, “as befits the last of all the Pharaohs.”
Lucius wept, but only briefly. He braced himself to deliver the bad news to Octavius….
To his grandson, Lucius merely said, “The queen submitted to the bite of an asp. The emperor wanted her for his triumph, but she cheated him of that victory, at least.”
“But even so, they say it was the greatest triumph of all time,” said the boy.
“So it was. A very great triumph, indeed. On that day, my cousin Gaius, who had been born Octavius but had become Caesar, took the name Augustus, to celebrate his elevation to divinity. The whole world was made to see that the emperor was worthy of worship-not just a king, but a god on earth.”
Lucius gazed at the statue of Cleopatra for a long moment, then reached for the boy’s hand and led him away.
As they were leaving the Temple of Venus, there was a stir of excitement in the square.
“The emperor! The emperor!” men shouted.
A litter appeared, splendidly appointed with purple and gold and surrounded by a veritable army of attendants. Onlookers fell back in awe. Within the litter, Augustus could clearly be seen, reclining on purple cushions. To Lucius, despite the jowls and wrinkles and all the other ravages of age, Octavius still looked like the callow boy who boldly laid claim to Caesar’s legacy, rode the whirlwind to greatness, annihilated every rival, and never looked back.
The ways of the gods were capricious and impossible to predict, thought Lucius, and their methods were often maddeningly obscure; and yet, surely, steadily, the story of mankind progressed. After many convulsions, the world had at last attained a state of stability and peace, perhaps even of perfection: one empire, ever expanding, to be ruled by one emperor, from one city, Roma.
Men like Romulus or Alexander or Caesar could seemingly arise from nowhere and change everything. If men could become gods, anything was possible. Might the older gods, like men, someday perish altogether? Who could
