place that's safe and happy, where the people you love are all together and nothing ever changes. But of course that's a dream, a fantasy. Every place is the same as every other place. No one is safe, anywhere. But I never thought… that Bethesda…' He shot me an angry look. 'I didn't even know she was ill. You might have told me in a letter-if you hadn't stopped writing me letters.'
I drew back my shoulders and stiffened my spine. 'There, then. I've told you. Bethesda is gone. Her body was lost, or else I would have mummified her, as was always her wish.'
Meto shook his head, as if dazed. 'And Diana? How is she? And little Aulus? And-'
'Your sister-' I corrected myself. 'My daughter and her son were well when I left them in Rome. She's expecting another child, or else she might have come herself.'
'And Davus? And Eco? And-'
'All are well,' I said, wanting to end the conversation.
He sighed. 'Papa, I know what a tribulation this must have been for you. I can only-'
'Say no more!' I said. 'You needed to be told, and I've told you. Go back to Caesar now.'
'Go back?' He laughed without mirth, even as he wiped a tear from his cheek. 'Didn't you see the look on his face? And the look on her face? She's trouble. It's one thing, dealing with that starstruck boy-king and his eunuch, but I'm afraid Queen Cleopatra may be another matter altogether. I'll give her credit for sheer nerve-'
'I see how long your tears for Bethesda lasted. Now it's back to Caesar and the queen and whatever game the lot of you are up to.'
'Papa! That's unfair.'
'Think what you wish, but don't address me as your father.'
He drew a sharp breath. He winced, as if I had turned a knife in his chest. 'Papa!' he whispered, shaking his head. I could have sworn he was a child again, no older than ten or twelve, an uncertain boy clad in the armor of a warrior.
It took the last measure of my resolve to resist embracing him at that moment. Instead, I turned and strode resolutely down the hallway and then down the many flights of steps, leaving Meto to await the pleasure of his imperator and the queen.
CHAPTER XV
'You knew,' I said to Merianis as we walked side by side through courtyards and past bubbling fountains, heading back to my room. She had been waiting for me at the checkpoint marking the boundary of the Roman enclave.
'You knew,' I repeated, turning to look at her. 'Thus your coy smile earlier. Thus your arch comment about surprises.'
'Whatever are you talking about, Gordianus-called-Finder?' 'You knew that another visitor besides myself was going to call on Caesar tonight.'
'Who's being coy now?' she said. 'Are you saying that you were joined at dinner by an unexpected guest?' She could not suppress a broad smile. Her white teeth, in contrast to the black luster of her flesh, were dazzling.
'A gift for Caesar arrived from an unexpected quarter.'
'A gift?'
'A surprise with another surprise hidden inside. It was compared to the Trojan Horse.'
Merianis laughed. 'Did Caesar say that?'
I frowned. 'No, it was one of his men.'
'And was this Trojan Horse successfully delivered?'
'It was.'
'Did the contents emerge safe and sound?'
'Yes, and just as ready to wreak havoc as those Greek invaders who jumped out of the real Trojan Horse. When I last saw him, Caesar looked poised to surrender to an overwhelming force.'
Merianis clapped her hands with delight. 'Forgive me for laughing, but the metaphor is so novel. It's always a woman who's described as a city under siege, with gates flung open and walls tumbling down. It makes me laugh to think of mighty Caesar that way.'
'He's only human, Merianis.'
'For the time being,' Merianis said, then muttered something in Egyptian that I took to be a brief, ecstatic prayer of thanksgiving to Isis. A group of palace guards was waiting outside my room. Before I could step inside, the officer in charge politely, but firmly, ushered me to a place in the midst of his men, and I found myself heading off once again, leaving Merianis behind.
'I'll look in on Rupa and the boys,' she called after me.
I was taken to a part of the palace I had not visited before. The corridors grew wider, the gardens more lush, the draperies and other appointments increasingly more magnificent.
The guards escorted me into a large chamber where scores of courtiers were clustered here and there in small groups. The room echoed with the low buzz of many conversations. Curious eyes peered in our direction. The officer in charge disappeared, leaving me to stand idly in the middle of the room with an armed escort surrounding me.
'It's that Roman,' I overheard someone say. 'The one the king allowed onto his barge. Isn't he a soothsayer?'
'No, some sort of spy, or maybe a famous assassin, I think.'
'Looks a bit old for that.'
'You never know with Romans. Treacherous, devious types. The older, the wilier.'
The officer reappeared and gestured for me to follow. We wended our way through the crowd until we came to a pair of gilded doors. The doors opened. The officer stayed behind but gestured that I should enter. I stepped into a room in which every surface appeared to be covered with gold-golden urns atop golden tables, golden chairs with cushions of gold thread, walls of hammered gold, and a gold-painted ceiling from which hung golden lamps. Even the floor of dazzling white marble had veins of some glittering golden stuff running through it. Sculptures in low relief adorned the walls, depicting the exploits of the first Ptolemy, Alexander's general; these entablatures, though surely carved of stone, were heavily gilded, either painted with gold or covered with gold foil, so that the images shimmered with the reflected light of the golden lamps. Among them I saw the very scene I had read aloud to the boys earlier that day, in which Ptolemy witnessed the first encounter of Alexander and the horse Bucephalus.
It was a room without shadows, for every surface reflected the light. The air itself seemed golden, suffused with a mellow glow of no apparent origin. Carried upon the golden air was the music of a piper playing a familiar tune.
At the far end of the room, upon a gilded throne, sat Ptolemy, dressed in a pleated gown of white linen with a golden mantle over his shoulders. He must have previously attended some religious function in his role as the god Osiris, for he was wearing the atef crown, his young face looking very stern beneath the tall white cone with its plumes of ostrich feathers. Bodyguards stood behind the throne. Scribes sat cross-legged on the floor nearby. Before the throne stood Pothinus, with his arms crossed and his head tilted back, regarding my wonderment with amusement. I had stepped into a room designed to overawe the likes of me, and the room had done its job.
'Your dinner with Caesar was brief,' he said.
'The evening was interrupted.'
'Ah,' said Pothinus. 'An unexpected visitor?'
I looked at him sharply. Had everyone but me been expecting the queen's arrival? Then I realized he was referring to Meto, whom he knew I had wished to avoid.
'The man whom I once called my son did in fact make an appearance-'
Ptolemy spoke up. 'I think it's sad, this estrangement between yourself and your son. I should give much to have my father back among the living. To look into his eyes again; to hear him laugh; to listen to him play the flute.'
