Song of the Nile (18 page)

Euphronius!
I knew him on sight. Because the wizard had appeared amidst a delegation from Egypt, the Romans didn’t seem suspicious. To them, he was one more foreigner, a priest of Egypt of no account. Even so, I didn’t risk saying his name. I didn’t wish to call attention to him in any way.

Once the Alexandrians had taken their leave, I flew down the hall to my chambers and sent Chryssa to fetch Euphronius at once. At length, the old mage shuffled into my presence. I’d grown taller or he’d grown smaller, I couldn’t say which, but whereas I’d always looked to him for guidance, now he surrendered his divination staff—an iron rod carved at the top to resemble a hooded cobra. Such staves were common enough in Egypt, but they recalled to me the most devastating moment of my childhood.

Laying the staff at my feet and kneeling before me, Euphronius said, “Forgive me, child.”

I was gratified that he didn’t pretend all was well between us. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“I see that,” Euphronius said. “You’re nearly grown. You have your mother’s look but with the edges softened, like polished stone. I’ve missed you, Princess.”

The title recalled to me happy days, learning at his knee. But those days were done. “Where is Helios?”

“Gone,” he said.

“Where? Thebes would still stand were it not for you. I don’t know that I can forgive you if you tell me that you don’t know where to find my twin.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Euphronius said, his voice breaking. “I can only tell you that I haven’t seen him since the battle in Thebes. Now he’s gone from this world.”

“You’re wrong. I give you glad news that I’ve seen Helios in the flesh, in this world, alive.”

The old wizard exchanged a glance with Chryssa. They didn’t believe me and the mage filled his voice with compassion. “If you saw your twin, Princess, it was only his
akh
come to find you.”

I tried, and failed, to quell my temper. “You’re wrong. Wrong as you were when you said Augustus would die in Spain and that we should escape. Wrong as you were to encourage Helios to rebellion.” I’d touched Helios and let him touch me when I couldn’t bear the thought of any man’s hands. He was
real
. “Helios is no spirit. No ghost. I saw him as I see you now. Work your magic. Look into the Rivers of Time and you’ll see for yourself.”

“I dare not,” Euphronius replied, sadly. “As you’ve said, I’ve been wrong before about what I’ve seen. I failed your mother and your brother both, and when Alexander Helios saw the battle in Thebes was lost, he sent me away.”

“You mean that you
left
him.”

The mage’s eyes glistened with tears. “Majesty, he was my king and he commanded me to go find you. I couldn’t disobey his last request.”

I wanted to shake the old man’s trembling shoulders. “It wasn’t his last request. Helios lives. Now he means to become Horus the Avenger.”

Again, Euphronius exchanged a look of concern with Chryssa. “Princess, we must let him go . . .”

My fists clenched at my sides. “Then there goes the King of Egypt, though none but the three of us may ever know it!”

They waited for my temper to pass, perhaps fearing what I might do next. I only stood there in impotent rage until Euphronius bowed his head. “What I know—what all the world knows—is that you’re Egypt’s rightful queen. I offer myself into your service, if you’ll have me.”

My nostrils flared as I bit back unkind words. I wanted to banish him from my presence, but couldn’t. “It’s too dangerous to have you at court as yourself. Refashion yourself as a wise man or scholar. Take a new name. Claim that you were one of my father’s freedmen. But don’t hold yourself out as an intimate of mine, because I cannot bear to even look at you.”

COMPARED to my mother’s grand palace by the sea in Alexandria, the mansion in which I held court was a crumbling hovel. Our wine was only passable, and when it came to luxuries we had none but what we carried with us from Rome. In such circumstances, the Alexandrians must have thought their princess had fallen low. In truth, I knew that I was fortunate to rule any kingdom at all. Mauretania was my opportunity to rise back up like a phoenix and reclaim what was mine. In time, they’d see this, and I’d make them glad to serve me.

In honor of our Alexandrian guests, we held a dinner at which Crinagoras recited his poem about the sirocco. He couldn’t have had a more appreciative audience. After dinner was served, my mother’s wizard presented himself to Juba as Euphorbus, a learned physician, botanist, and scholar of the magical arts. I worried the Alexandrians would point out his deception. No one did. In truth, it was only a slight reshaping of his identity. After my mother’s fall from power, it may have surprised no one that her magician should want to embrace a different name and calling.

Juba welcomed the old man to our retinue, even going so far as to recommend he tend me for ailments of the spirit. “My queen’s grief for her twin has quite consumed her. Perhaps you can offer some elixir to comfort her.”

“It would be my honor,” Euphronius replied, but when the old mage bowed in my direction, I turned away.

It was actually Lady Lasthenia who caused the greatest stir. When she presented the king with the writings of Pythagoras and introduced herself as a philosopher, several Romans laughed and Juba arched a brow. “My wife maintains that some women work as scholars in Alexandria. Do you expect it to be the same here in Mauretania?”

Lady Lasthenia straightened her very plain gown, unperturbed. “Majesty, I expect nothing, but hope for much. I come to you from the Museum of Alexandria, the institute of the Muses. I’ve lectured at the Great Library. It’s my understanding that you intend to create a center of learning here in Mauretania, which is why I’ve come.”

Juba’s eyes fell to the scrolls that Lady Lasthenia offered. Copies of Herodotus and Sallust, whose historical and geographical writings he prized. To turn her away would be to turn away precious gifts, so I knew her position was secure. Indeed, the king seemed grateful for the influx of culture from Alexandria. He missed those scholarly days of leisure when he could teach and research and write. And by the end of the evening, he was plainly enchanted by the tragedian, one Leonteus of Argos, who engaged the king in a lively debate over whether or not lowly cooks were actually the civilizers of society. While the two men bantered, I slipped away with Lady Lasthenia to receive news of home.

“Are things so difficult in Egypt that it’s made exiles of those who served my mother?” I asked when we were alone.

The scholar, whose pretty dark hair was always a little unkempt, was frank. “The Romans put several of your mother’s adherents to death, but most escaped punishment. Her court physician, Olympos, has retired to write a history of your mother’s life.”

Now that was something I should like to read. “And Fat Mardion ?”

Lady Lasthenia smiled. “Your mother’s eunuch sends his warmest regards.”

“I worried . . .” I covered my mouth with both hands for I hadn’t believed that my mother’s closest minister would have been spared.

“Oh no,” Lady Lasthenia fiddled absently with the frayed end of her braid. “The Romans would’ve been fools to put him to death. Mardion knows far too much about how the Greek and Egyptian systems work in tandem. The Prefect of Egypt needs him to keep the country from falling into disorder.”

“The prefect. Cornelius Gallus.” I forced myself to say the hated name. Offering Lady Lasthenia hot mint water, I said, “Tell me about him.”

Pouring herself a cup, she said, “He’s a vain man who fancies himself a poet, but he’s enamored with wealth and power. He’s looted the temples, of course, but to impress the emperor he’s persecuted the Isiacs and terrorized the priests. To defend themselves against his ruthlessness, some have carved his name and likeness into the stelae as if he were Pharaoh.”

Such shame! It mortified me that Egypt should honor such an unworthy man—one who wasn’t even the conqueror. Say what I would about Augustus, he hadn’t demanded that we acknowledge him as Pharaoh. Gallus dared what the emperor had not, and now I hated him even more than before.

“When Thebes rose up,” Lasthenia continued, sniffing at the mint tisane in her cup, “there was a glimmer of hope, but then Gallus destroyed the city, which prompted a riot in Alexandria. Worshippers of Isis, the zealous ones, and even the quietly faithful like Memnon believe that Isis must have a throne in this world. When rumors spread that your twin was killed . . . well, you’re now the last hope for those who believe in a Golden Age.”

As a Pythagorean, Lady Lasthenia studied mathematics and pondered theories about the transmigration of the soul. I somehow doubted she’d come to Mauretania seeking religious refuge. “And what about you, my lady?”

“I’m part of a vast network of worldly individuals who wish to have influence. My students and I can be your eyes here, in Rome, and in Alexandria.”

“Why would you risk it?” I asked.

She smiled, taking a deep swallow from her cup. “Because, Majesty, we all believe you’ll be the next Queen of Egypt.”

Twelve

MAURETANIA
WINTER 25 B.C.

CORNELIUS Gallus.
Everything Lady Lasthenia had told me about him further enraged me. He was a man of that knighted class that wasn’t even noble by Rome’s dubious standards. He’d destroyed one of the world’s oldest cities, killed Egyptians, and broke my twin’s spirit. But Helios wasn’t the only one who could wield a weapon in vengeance, was he? I’d learned from the emperor that you could wound a man’s reputation without ever taking to the battlefield, and sometimes that wound was fatal. A pen could be as sharp as a sword, ink as deadly as venom. Choosing carefully from a sheaf of blank papyrus rolls, I prepared to write to Augustus.

As the ink swept across the papyrus, I observed all the proper courtesies and salutations, then wrote:
You promised mercy for Egypt and for my brother. Now Helios is dead—
I stopped, shuddering at having committed those words to paper. It was a lie, I reminded myself, and there was no lie I wouldn’t tell to have my way. I started again.
You promised mercy for Egypt and for my brother. Now Helios is dead and Thebes is no more. You refuse to make me Queen of Egypt, but you let Cornelius Gallus carve his name into the Great Pyramids. He demands the worship of the people as if he were their conquering god. I told you that Egypt needed a Pharaoh, but how bitter to know that you’ve given the title to a mere equite!

The emperor would never lose a moment’s sleep over the death of my twin or the destruction of Thebes, but he tolerated no rivals. He believed his own propaganda that my father’s ambitions had been fueled by Egypt’s mystic sands. In making him suspect that Gallus had fallen prey to the same Egyptian grandeur, I aimed a poisoned dart precisely where it would do the most damage.

The courier I found to carry my letter informed me that I should have a scribe make copies. Military dispatches would be sent even during winter, he said, but the seas were treacherous. Messages sent overland from Mauretania might never reach Rome because of the hostilities on the border. “The Garamantes have conducted devastating raids in the countryside, Majesty. They don’t want to be ruled by either the Romans or a Numidian king.”

I’d heard nothing of recent raids but knew Tala’s husband had been killed by Garamantes. I guessed that
these
were the meaty matters Juba discussed with his advisers when I wasn’t present. Appalled, I went straight to the king’s study, nearly tripping over the stone threshold, which had come loose. He’d been writing—for Juba was always writing—and he cleared his throat in surprise. “Selene . . .”

From the doorway, I asked, “Who are the Garamantes?”

Juba twirled his reed pen between two fingers. “Have you returned to me as a pupil?”

One should never be too proud to admit ignorance, but his tone galled me. “When dispatches arrive, when you receive advice from Balbus and the others, I should like to be there.”

The king gave a bark of mocking laughter. “Should you?”

Though my cheeks burned, I bit back my pride. I’d marched here to make demands, but in some ways I had less influence in Mauretania than I’d had in Rome. Juba had soldiers at his command. He had men who honored his authority, whereas I had only a handful of bodyguards, maidservants, poets, and a mournful old magician. “I want to learn; I’ll listen quietly in council.”

He snorted. “No, you won’t. You’ll never hear me disparage your quick wit or even your good intentions, but the fact remains that you’ll meddle in
everything
and you’re a girl with no experience in governing
anything
.”

As my attempt to be reasonable failed, my temper flared. “And what experience do you have beyond governing a schoolroom?”

He dipped his pen back in the inkpot with a wry smile. “I’m sure most of the empire is asking the same question. I must pretend that I wouldn’t rather be in Rome, debating scholars. I must pretend that I wouldn’t rather be writing my books than practicing statecraft. Why not enjoy the freedom you have, Selene, unburdened by these concerns?”

“Juba, I’m a Ptolemy. I wouldn’t need to pretend that I’d rather be doing anything else in the world. I was born to rule. I
want
to be involved with these matters.”

Wiping a stray spot of ink from his finger, he shook his head. “The Garamantes are a warlike tribe and their rebellious spirit needs to be crushed. Their leaders need to be captured and crucified. Do you want to be a part of that? War is no proper concern for queens and I should think your mother’s example would’ve taught you that.”

His words stung me. I’d quietly endured the disparagement of my family in Rome, but must I endure it here too? “What my mother’s example taught me is that but for some bad weather and a lack of concern for her reputation, Cleopatra might have ruled the entire world. How am I to fare in her shadow?”

He let out a long, frustrated breath. “Selene, I don’t begrudge your desire to make a mark. Perhaps we can find a building project to interest you . . .” Pondering, he ran a hand through his dark hair, something he did often, and this habit annoyed me almost as much as his attempt to distract me. To send me off to do something somewhere I couldn’t be a bother.