'I'm sorry for your sake, Gordianus. I'm sorry that Egypt has brought you such tribulations.'
I tried to look her in the eye, but she kept her face turned from me. 'When the queen decided that the wine should be tasted, she sent you to fetch Zoe. Where did you find her?'
'In her room, adjacent to the queen's private quarters.'
'Not in the kitchens?'
'Of course not! A taster is never allowed anywhere near the kitchens. A taster must never eat anything that can't be accounted for. Zoe was alone in her room. Like myself, she was attached to the temple of Isis.'
'Not a priestess?'
'No, a temple slave. Her life was consecrated to the goddess. Her duty to taste the queen's food was a sacred duty. The rest of her time was spent in contemplation of the goddess.'
'The clay vessel Zoe brought with her-where did that come from?'
'It was her private drinking cup, to be touched by no one else. Any liquid Zoe tasted for the queen would first be poured into that cup.'
'So the keeping of the cup was one of Zoe's duties?'
'Yes.'
'And you never touched it?'
Merianis at last looked me in the eye. 'Why do you ask such a question?'
'Why do you not answer?'
'You told the queen this was not an interrogation.'
'How do you know that? Were you there, concealed behind a curtain, when I was on my knees in the queen's reception room?'
She stared across the water and made no answer.
'You were! And then you hurried here, so as to be waiting for me.' I shook my head at such a petty deceit. 'Is that a tear on your cheek?'
Merianis wiped it away.
'Is it Zoe you cry for?'
'No. Her death was a holy death. She earned the gratitude of Isis and the gift of eternal life. I envy her.'
'Do you, Merianis?
I think perhaps you've done as much, if not more, for the queen.'
'What do you mean?'
'You're very loyal to her. Is there nothing you would refuse to do for her?'
'I would die for the queen!'
But would you kill for her? I thought. Or help to send an innocent man-my son-to his death? 'When Zoe was dying in the queen's arms, Cleopatra called you to her side. You spoke in whispers. What was said?'
'You go too far, Gordianus! You have no business to inquire about words spoken privately between the queen and myself.'
'She was telling you something, or asking something of you. I saw the way you looked at Meto. Then you went to fetch Apollodorus. What did the queen say to you, Merianis?'
'To repeat words spoken in confidence by the queen would be to commit sacrilege. Even your great Caesar can't compel me to do that!'
'Caesar isn't asking you. I am.'
Merianis shook her head. 'If I could save your son, Gordianus-' 'Then something was said, something you can't reveal-something that might save Meto.'
Merianis sighed, then drew back her shoulders and turned to face me. If some struggle had taken place within her, it was over now. Her expression was serene and opaque, as unreadable as that of the Sphinx. 'The ways of the gods are sometimes obscure to us mortals, Gordianus, but the righteous submit to their will and learn not to question. Don't ask me again what the queen said to me in that moment.'
'Please, Merianis-'
'I understand that you wish to speak to Apollodorus as well. Follow me.'
She led me across the terrace and down a series of steps to a shaded spot near the water. Apollodorus was sitting on a stone bench, leaning against the trunk of a palm tree and whittling a small piece of drift-wood. He looked up at me sullenly and flicked his wrist. The knife looked very sharp.
I turned to say farewell to Merianis, but she had already vanished.
I looked at the piece of driftwood. It was small enough to fit comfortably in the palm of his hand. The sea had worn it into a curious shape suggestive of a lion's head. With his knife, Apollodorus was enhancing the semblance.
'You're a very clever fellow,' I said.
He grunted.
'Should we speak Greek?'
'I speak Latin perfectly well,' he said, looking up at me darkly.
His accent was atrocious, but I made no comment. 'You come from Sicily, I understand.'
'Born there. Egypt suits me better.'
'How did you come to join the queen's household?'
He shrugged. 'Long story. We've been through a lot, the queen and I.'
'She certainly puts great trust in you. I have to say, your relationship strikes me as… rather ambiguous.'
He bridled. 'What does that mean?'
'You're not like Zoe, a slave. Nor are you like Merianis; you don't have-how to put it? — the demeanor of a priest. You're not a military man, like Cratipus; and you're not a court eunuch.'
'I certainly am not!' To prove it, he produced a discreet movement that drew my attention to his loincloth, which was draped over his person in such a way as to demonstrate convincingly the difference between himself and a eunuch.
'I'll be candid, Apollodorus. Once, when I was in his presence, the king suggested that your relationship to his sister is not entirely proper.'
'Did he? I understand people say the same thing about your son and Caesar.' He flashed a nasty grin and whittled another slice from the driftwood.
'She certainly indulges you.'
'How so?'
'Here you sit, idling away the afternoon, with no apparent duties-'
'You don't know what you're talking about! When the queen needs me, I'm always there; have been since she was a girl. Good times or bad-and let me tell you, the last year or so has been about as bad as it gets. There were days out there in the desert, with Ptolemy's army on our heels, when even the most stouthearted were ready to give up hope. But never me! I set an example for the others, and if any man needed a kick in the behind, I gave it to him. No, I'm not a priest; but I know what I believe in.'
'You believe in the queen?'
'Why not? A man's got to believe in something. The queen's twice as brave as any man I've ever met and three times as smart. She's got the spark, if you know what I mean. So far, I've come across nothing better in this world, and that includes your precious Caesar.'
'And King Ptolemy?'
Apollodorus spat on the ground. 'He's as useless as that eunuch who leads him around by the balls. What about you? Isn't there something you believe in?'
'I believe my son never put poison in Caesar's cup.'
Apollodorus stiffened. He looked at the driftwood in his hand, then tossed it to me. I made an awkward catch to the cackle of his laughter.
'What do you think?' he said.
I turned it about in my hand. He had given the lion a fierce demeanor, with a roaring mouth and exaggerated fangs.
'Been making such things since I was a boy in Syracuse. Used to scrape a living by selling them as souvenirs to wealthy Romans who came to check on their Sicilian estates. And now I look after the queen of Egypt. Imagine that!'
