Considering that the king's father had killed his oldest sister, and that he himself was at war with his sister- wife, I was not in a mood to have young Ptolemy pass judgment on my familial relationships. But I kept my mouth shut and found myself studying Ptolemy's face, framed by the golden mantle and the atef crown. Having just met his sister, I was struck by the strong resemblance between them. Neither of them was strikingly beautiful in a way that would turn heads, yet both possessed a certain undeniable presence. I felt it more strongly from Cleopatra, but was that only because of my erotic inclinations? The image of her standing erect and shaking loose her hair to let it fall past her shoulders flashed in my mind…
Pothinus loudly cleared his throat. Apparently he had said something that I missed. 'If Gordianus-called- Finder can return to the present moment…' he said, giving me a condescending look that put me squarely in my place: a befuddled Roman mortal agog in the king's golden room. I bristled.
'Pardon me. I was lost in thought, considering how the king does and does not resemble his sister Cleopatra.'
For a moment this comment went over their heads, then simultaneously Pothinus gave a start, and the king lurched forward in his throne.
'What are you saying?' cried Ptolemy.
'The family resemblance is obvious-the nose, the eyes-yet there's a difference, and I can't quite put my finger on it.'
'You've seen her? Cleopatra?' Pothinus's voice broke, as the voice of even a mature eunuch sometimes does. 'Where? When?'
'Tonight, in Caesar's chambers.'
Ptolemy slumped back in his throne and bit the end of one finger. One knee jerked up and down in agitation. 'I told you she'd find a way in, Pothinus.'
'Impossible, Your Majesty! Every entrance is guarded; every package is examined; every-'
'Obviously not! We left a way open, and she found it. She's like a snake, nosing its way along a wall until it finds the merest breach to slip through.'
'Actually, she came by sea,' I said. Was I acting rashly, putting the queen and perhaps even Caesar in danger by this revelation? Was I not doing exactly as Pothinus had intended, conveying intelligence back to the king? Perhaps, but the aggravation I was causing them gave me a great deal of pleasure, and I couldn't stop. 'A fellow named Apollodorus rowed her across the harbor. The two of them found an unguarded landing somewhere along the waterfront and made their way to the Roman sector of the palace.'
'As brazenly as that?' Ptolemy slapped the crown on his head, a gesture most unworthy of a god. 'She and that stud-horse Sicilian went traipsing through the palace, right up to Caesar's door?'
Pothinus lowered his voice. 'There are ways, as Your Majesty knows, of traversing the palace and its grounds without being seen. Some of those secret passages are very old; there may be some unknown even to me. Once your father, remodeling his private chambers, tore out a wall and came upon a network of tunnels that even he had never suspected-'
'Even so, Pothinus, you assured me that this would not happen!'
'Actually,' I said, unable to resist, 'the two of them didn't traipse anywhere. Apollodorus carried her.'
'What?' Pothinus looked at me, confounded. 'Carried her? In his arms?'
'Over his shoulder, mostly.'
The king and his lord chamberlain looked at me as if I must be mad. One of the bodyguards snickered. The man next to him covered the noise by coughing.
'She was rolled up in a rug,' I explained. 'Apollodorus carried the rug over his shoulder. He told the Romans he had a gift for Caesar from the queen. I was there when Apollodorus was shown into Caesar's quarters. The rug was unrolled for Caesar's inspection. The queen appeared. Shortly thereafter, I took my leave.'
'Who else was in the room?' Pothinus demanded.
I shrugged. 'Meto. He left when I did. I'm not sure where Apollodorus went; maybe into one of those secret passages you were talking about.'
The king curled his upper lip. 'She's alone with him?'
'Even as we speak,' I said.
Pothinus sighed. 'She's like a wine stain on white linen. We'll never get rid of her.'
'Best to burn the linen, then, if the stain won't come out.' Ptolemy glowered darkly, then drew a shuddering breath and let out a bleating sound. He sniffled, holding back tears. He seemed very much like a boy at that moment, and like a boy who was not simply furious, but also heartbroken. Learning that his sister was alone with Caesar, Ptolemy wept bitter tears. I gazed at him, confounded.
'Cleopatra!' muttered Pothinus. 'Relentless. Ruthless. She's trouble.'
Meto had said the same thing.
CHAPTER XVI
The bodyguards who had shown me to the royal chamber escorted me back to my room. The hour was growing late. The passageways were empty; the palace was quiet. Long before the open doorway of my room came into view, I heard the high-pitched voices of Androcles and Mopsus, breathlessly assailing a visitor with questions.
'Did you kill anyone at Pharsalus?' said Androcles.
'Of course he did! But how many?' said Mopsus. 'And did you kill anyone famous?'
'What I want to know,' said Androcles, 'is this: Were you there with Caesar when he went crashing into Pompey's tent and caught a glimpse of the Great One's backside disappearing out the rear flap? Is it true they were all set up for a banquet, with Greek slave boys strumming lyres and Pompey's best silver laid out?'
I drew closer, and at last heard their visitor's voice, even above the sudden pounding of my heart in my chest. 'Boys, boys, how I've missed you! Though I don't know how Papa puts up with all your pestering.'
I stopped in the hallway, several steps from the door. 'Go!' I whispered to the officer escorting me. 'You've delivered me to my room, as you were ordered to do. Don't say a word. Take your men and leave!'
The officer raised an eyebrow, but did as I asked.
I stepped through the open doorway.
Meto leaned against one wall. The boys were gamboling about and gazing up at him until I entered the room, whereupon they collided and almost knocked each other down. Rupa, who had not met Meto before, stood off to himself, near the window; his shy, but good-natured, smile vanished when I looked at him. Merianis stood nearby, holding Alexander the cat in her arms. She saw my expression, put down the cat, and stepped toward the boys, grabbing each by a shoulder to stop their constant motion. The cat disappeared beneath my bed.
'What are you doing here?' I demanded.
Meto gazed at me for a long moment, his expression at first beseeching and then, when I showed no response, exasperated. 'Papa, this is madness! I'd beg for your forgiveness-if I even knew what I'd done to offend you.'
Had he forgotten the things I said to him at Massilia? I hadn't. Far from it! How many nights had I lain awake while Bethesda tossed and turned beside me, remembering the words that had come tumbling out of me on that occasion? 'Words once spoken can never be recalled,' as the poet warns, but in the heat of the moment, I had lost all inhibition and the words had rushed forth, delivering me to a decision I had not foreseen.
Meto! First you became a soldier, and you thrived on it, killing Gauls for the glory of Caesar. Burning villages, enslaving children, leaving widows to starve-it always sickened me, though I never spoke against it. Now you've found a new calling, spying for Caesar, destroying others by deceit. It sickens me even more…
What matters most to me? Uncovering the truth! I do it even when there's no point to it, even when it brings only pain. I do it because I must. But you, Meto? What does truth mean to you? You can't abide it, any more than I can abide deceit! We're complete opposites. No wonder you've found your place at the side of a man like Caesar…
This is our last conversation, Meto. From this moment, you are not my son. I disown you. I renounce all concern for you. I take back from you my name. If you need a father, let Caesar adopt you!
