Authors: Karen Essex
The information gathered thus far is from my man on the inside at Pompey’s. But he is afraid to be found out and wishes to
be relieved of his duties. I fear I have overpaid him and he no longer wishes to disguise himself as a servant.
I have a very busy day ahead, darling, but you will hear from me shortly. It never ends. More later. P. C. P.
“My good friend,” began Auletes. “May we speak in earnest?”
Kleopatra cringed, turning her head away from the table and staring at a small fish darting about aimlessly in the fountain.
Her father was going to humiliate himself once again and attempt to solicit Pompey’s aid in ousting Thea. They sat in the
atrium eating a late afternoon snack of fresh fruits from the gardens and drinking wine from murrine cups that Pompey had
confiscated from the tent of Mithridates. Pompey did not answer the king, but elbowed Kleopatra to retrieve her attention,
pointing to the fawn in the forest scene painted on his delicate piece of plunder, “They say I could get twenty thousand apiece
for these on the open market.”
“You must be tiring of our company. Do you not think we should make a plan to remove my wife from the throne?” asked the king.
“As much as we are grateful for your hospitality, surely you are ready to help us return to our own country?”
“Let me slice you a mango,” said Pompey. He cut a thick piece of juicy orange fruit for the king and fed it to him with his
own fingers. Probably to shut him up, thought Kleopatra. “Have you tried the varieties of grape?” he asked.
Auletes, mouth stuffed, shook his head.
“The politics of helping you are complex, my friend,” said Pompey. “Very complex indeed. I require your patience.”
Pompey’s Greek houseman walked briskly into the room. “Sir, the guards at the gate have informed me that a guest approaches.
I’m afraid it’s the orator, Cicero, sir.”
“Great gods. What does he want? Why did someone not warn me that he was coming?”
“I just received word, sir. He will arrive within the half hour.”
“A man of such fame,” said the king. “My daughter has read all his published speeches. In the Latin, of course. She is very
learned, you know.”
“My friend, I am afraid that Cicero comes on unpleasant business,” said Pompey, twisting uncomfortably in his chair. “You
see, in January, the Tribune of the People, Publius Clodius Pulcher, passed a piece of legislation that makes our noble Cicero
a criminal.”
“You must explain this to me, my friend, because my government is very different from yours. We do not change our laws so
frequently,” said the king.
“But Cicero is beloved in Rome, is he not?” asked Kleopatra. She was intrigued to know why the orator’s arrival made Pompey
so terribly nervous. Were they not old allies?
“Many years ago, when Cicero was consul, there was an uprising in Rome, led by a man named Catiline. Many say he plotted an
attempt to overthrow the entire government, and Cicero claimed to have special evidence of his guilt. Cicero had the conspirators
arrested and executed.”
“As he should,” said Auletes pointedly. “Rebels must be put down. My wife, for instance.”
Ignoring him, Pompey continued. “But Cicero neglected to hold a trial. For this, he came under harsh criticism from some,
while others supported him and hailed him as Savior of his Country, a name he never tires of hearing. He is very vain, you
know.”
“But why is he indicted so many years later?” asked Kleopatra.
“Clodius is not very fond of Cicero. He wrote legislation making it illegal to execute any Roman without a trial, and he made
it retroactive, specifically so that he might incriminate Cicero and have grounds to get rid of him. Such are the times we
live in.” Pompey spoke slowly and indifferently, like a historian delivering a history lecture about a long-lost era rather
than an active participant in the politics of the day.
“Why is he coming to see you?” asked Auletes. “Does he wish your support?”
“I have already told him that there is nothing I can do. The senate has voted against him. His only two choices are imprisonment
or exile. I have advised him to take the latter. When the time is right, I will do what I can to recall him.”
“That seems fair,” said Auletes, wondering if he would be forever condemned to the same indifference from Pompey.
“He doesn’t listen to reason,” complained Pompey, eating a grape and spitting its seeds on the floor. “They tell me he’s retired
his senator’s toga for peasant’s rags, walking the streets all hours of the day ranting that if he is to be treated like a
martyr he will dress like one. He beseeches absolutely anyone he sees, whether knight, senator, magistrate, butcher, or slave,
to come to his aid.”
That is what your indifference is forcing my father to do as well, thought Kleopatra.
“I have told him that he must be an example and obey the Constitution and the laws of the land. He has spent his entire life
defending the very principles he now defies. I am afraid he has gone mad.” Pompey spoke evenly, but Kleopatra could not help
but notice an air of defensiveness in his voice.
“Sir.” The houseman rushed into the atrium and stood nervously before Pompey, as if Pompey would defer to ancient custom and
kill the messenger. “The sentinels report that Cicero approaches the house.”
“Take care of it, man,” Pompey hissed to him. “I am not here, do you understand? I am not here, no matter what.”
Kleopatra heard a commotion coming from the courtyard and the footsteps of Pompey’s household staff rushing to investigate
the disaster.
“Pompey, do not desert me in my hour of need!” The voice came roaring from the outdoors, dramatic, sentimental, and demanding
all at once, having as imperious a quality as Kleopatra had ever heard, despite the fact that the speaker was pleading. The
footsteps grew louder. “Where is the man I have mentored and held dear all the days of my life?”
The door to the vestibule was open, allowing Kleopatra to hear the houseman say, “Please, Senator, he is not at home. May
I offer you a warm bath and a cup of wine before you go back to the city?”
“Out of my way, liar! Hear me, Pompey, who is called Magnus. The animal Clodius had his gangsters sling dung at my person
in the Forum! Come out here, Pompey, and see the shit I have endured for the Republic.”
Pompey got to his feet. “Do excuse me,” he said curtly to the royals, and then ran so quickly from the room that he knocked
over one of the prized murrine drinking cups, shattering it to pieces. Leaving Cicero screaming in the vestibule, Pompey headed
for the back door leading to the garden. “His usual hiding place,” said Auletes.
The orator entered the room. Not so mean-looking as Cato, the princess thought, but just as old and cantankerous. Covered
in dirt from the ride, he was dressed in a tattered tunic, and trailed by a younger man. Cicero looked down his considerable
nose at Auletes and Kleopatra. “Who are you?” he asked Auletes.
“I am Ptolemy Auletes, king of Egypt.”
“Oh, good gods,” said the orator, rolling his bleary eyes. He turned around and left.
Auletes put his head in his hands. “Are these the great men whose decisions send thunderous shock waves throughout the world?”
He looked into his daughter’s eyes, scaring her with his haggard appearance. She noticed that the skin under his eyes had
begun to sag into his cheekbones. “My god, daughter, who is running Rome?”
“Awaken,” said the voice. “Awaken, child. Rise.”
Kleopatra opened her eyes but saw only darkness. No oil lamp was lit. Only the sound of her cousin’s voice filled the void.
But it couldn’t be him, for he was still at school in Greece. It must be a dream, she thought. He has come to me in a dream
with a message. She opened her eyes again and saw the vague silhouette of a man’s body.
“Surely this cannot be my little cousin Kleopatra. Kleopatra is a child. Even in the dark I see the body of a young woman.”
Kleopatra sat up, pulling her sheet up to her neck.
“It is Archimedes, my love. It is your cousin. I am here.” A large, warm, hardened hand laid itself upon her small one and
gently rubbed it. “It is I, darling cousin, darling girl. You must hurry and get dressed. The king has summoned you into his
chambers.”
A dream. A dream in which her handsome cousin had come to Rome and had entered her bedroom. Now she would go on one of night’s
strange and mysterious journeys with him. She knew she should be afraid, but his voice was as soft as satin and as familiar
as the oldest of friends.
“Archimedes? Are you man or apparition?” The girl withdrew her hand and rubbed her eyes. Her cousin lit a candle, revealing
his familiar face.
“Cousin!” She threw her arms, almost lifeless with sleep, around his strong neck. “Cousin, you have come to us.” He returned
her embrace. “Yes, I have come to you, but there is no time now to talk. Charmion will dress you, my darling. You must come.
It is an emergency of state and your father requires your presence. Now quickly, into your clothes.”
Before she could ask questions, he was gone, and Charmion appeared with a fresh dress. “Do not waste time with speech. Your
father needs you. Here is a lamp. Now go to him.”
The princess navigated her way down the long halls of Pompey’s villa, wondering what had transpired in the night to bring
her cousin to her. Was Auletes ill? She crept along the corridors, shrinking from the shadows. As she approached her father’s
rooms she heard a low mumble of voices. Greek voices speaking in hushed tones. Several men stood outside the door to Auletes’
chamber. Men she knew. Men from home.
Princess. Kleopatra. Some bowed, others commented on her growth in the months she had been away. A young lady. Her soft cheek
brushed several rough faces. She was caught up in the embraces of her Kinsmen, but no sooner had she received their affection
than she was hustled into the room.
“Daughter,” boomed Auletes as she met his cheerful face. He appeared to be in the middle of an odd nocturnal celebration.
Roman slaves served the Greek visitors trays of hastily prepared food and cups of wine. Kleopatra wondered again if she were
awake or asleep, for this was the stuff of dreams. Surrounded by his men, he raised a cup to his child. “Our Kinsmen have
brought extraordinary news.”
“What is it, Father?” Kleopatra blinked at Archimedes, who kept quiet, deferring to the king.
“Thea is dead,” Auletes said slowly, chewing every word as if it were a delicious morsel.
The princess stood very still absorbing the announcement. It was as if all had become silent awaiting her reaction. “Is my
father once again king?”
“Your father has always been king,” said Archimedes. “Sit with us, Princess, and hear the tale we bring, for it is full of
unexpected events. The queen was found slain in her chamber. We do not know the identity of the murderer.”
“Who is this hero?” Auletes asked. “We must find this patriot and reward him.”
“Your Majesty, we believe it was Demetrius.”
“My friend! My savior!” cried the king. “Why did he not join this delegation? Why is he not here to celebrate with us? I have
been so worried about him.”
“Sire, Demetrius, too, is dead. His body was found the day after the queen’s body was discovered. It is believed that he murdered
the queen and then took his own life.”
“Oh blessed friend!” cried Auletes. “Blessed, blessed man. Why did he do this thing? Why did he not spare himself?” He looked
straight at the stricken face of his daughter. “Did he not know that we loved him?”
Kleopatra did not answer. She thought only of the tall, thin man who had become her friend, tutor, mentor, confidant. She
did not believe he was gone. Gone the way of Mohama, snatched from her by merciless Fate. Who was next?
“He shall be deified upon my return to Egypt. I shall have him interred next to Alexander himself,” the king said. “He is
a hero and he died a hero’s death. A Titan in a scholar’s disguise.”
Archimedes stood next to the princess and took her hand. She clutched it tight. It was both strange and familiar, this man’s
hand in hers. Archimedes turned to the king. “Sire, we must save our grief. There are great complications. We must act with
the utmost expediency if you wish to be returned to the kingdom. Egypt is in utter turmoil, but many factions still support
you.”