The Judgment of Caesar (27 page)

But it seemed there was another, more immediate choice at hand, to be made by Caesar. He turned from me and summoned the guard at the door, to whom he issued an instruction in a voice too low for me to hear. He began to pace the room, staring at his reflection in the highly polished marble floor, apparently oblivious of me. Like many of the powerful men I had known, he possessed the ability to move from one preoccupation to another without transition, focusing his entire energies on the problem immediately before him. He had dealt with and was done with me, and though I might linger in his physical presence, for all practical purposes I had already vanished.

I cleared my throat. “If the consul is done with me—”

Caesar looked up, like a sleeper pulled from a dream. “Gordianus! No, stay. I’m about to make a decision too long deferred. Someone should be here to witness the moment. Why not you? Yes, I think Gordianus the Finder is precisely the man to be with me at this moment.”

We waited; for what, I wasn’t sure. At last, the guard stationed at the door announced that Caesar’s visitor had arrived. A moment later, leaving his courtiers in the antechamber outside, the king stepped into the room.

CHAPTER XXVIII

I dropped to one knee. Caesar remained standing.

Giving a vague wave of his hand to signal that I might rise, but otherwise showing no acknowledgment of my presence, Ptolemy strode directly to Caesar and stopped a few paces from him. He wore the uraeus crown with a rearing cobra; his bearing was erect. He seemed somehow different—no longer a boy with the attributes of a man, but a man who had left boyhood behind. The gaze he exchanged with Caesar was that of equals, despite the difference in their ages.

“Your Majesty,” said Caesar, inclining his head slightly.

“Consul,” said Ptolemy, his eyes flashing and a faint smile softening his lips. The resemblance to his sister was more striking than ever.

Caesar sighed. “We’ve talked before, at great length, about what’s to be done. You remain adamant in your position?”

“I shall never share the throne with my sister. Pothinus, whatever his true motives, eventually convinced me to compromise; but Pothinus is no longer here.”

I realized the source of the change I saw in Ptolemy; it was due not to something added, but something subtracted. Except for his exhortations from the balcony of the Tomb of Alexander, I had never before seen the king outside the presence of Pothinus. Perhaps those who believed the lord chamberlain had cast an undue influence over the king were right. With Pothinus gone, Ptolemy seemed to have grown to full manhood overnight.

“Your Majesty realizes the difficulties of the decision I face,” said Caesar.

“I do.”

“But ultimately, as events have unfolded, and as the character of each of the Piper’s children has become clearer to me . . .”

Ptolemy regarded him quizzically. “The consul has made a choice between us?”

“I have.”

“And?”

“You know how fervently I desired to reconcile you with your sister. Even now, were it possible, it seems to me the judicious course. And yet it manifestly is
not
possible, and so another choice must be made. . . .”

Ptolemy tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes. “Go on, Consul.”

“I have decided, Your Majesty, to support your claim to be the sole ruler of Egypt.”

I saw the flash of a boyish grin breaking through the constrained smile of the king. “And my sister?”

“Cleopatra may not readily accept my judgment, but she will be made to see she has no choice; her position in Alexandria relies entirely upon my protection, after all.”

The king’s smile faded. “What if she should slip out of Alexandria to rejoin her rebels, just as she slipped into the city?”

“That won’t happen.”

“How can the consul be sure?”

“For one thing, some of her closest confederates—those who assisted her entry to the city—are no longer with her.” Caesar glanced at me with a tacit command to say nothing about Apollodorus and Merianis. “For the time being, she’ll be returned to the palace on Antirrhodus and confined there. My soldiers will keep a close watch upon her.”

“As Caesar’s soldiers have kept close watch on me in recent days?” said Ptolemy.

“During the uncertain interim that has just ended, I found it necessary to prepare for all eventualities,” said Caesar. “Now that my decision is made, Your Majesty shall of course be free to come and go as he pleases. Cleopatra will not.”

“She must be handed over to me for judgment.”

“No, Your Majesty. That I cannot do. No harm must come to her.”

“If my sister is allowed to live, sooner or later she will escape and raise a revolt. Even in custody, she’ll find some way to make mischief. As long as she breathes, she’ll never stop plotting my death.”

Caesar nodded. “Clearly, Cleopatra cannot be allowed to remain in Egypt. I think it may be best for her to take up residence in Rome—under my watchful protection, of course.”

“In Rome? Where she can continue to plot against me?”

“A watch will be kept upon her house. Her movements will be restricted, as will the list of those allowed to visit her.”

“Will Caesar be among the visitors who call upon her, in Rome?”

“Perhaps, from time to time.”

Ptolemy shook his head. “Alexandria is far from Rome. Caesar will forget his ties to the king of Egypt. The viper will pour poison in your ears and turn you against me!” In the suddenly strident tone of his voice, the boy within the man made a fitful reappearance.

Caesar was adamant. “Your Majesty must trust me on this matter. I will not allow Cleopatra to be harmed. Is it not enough that I recognize your sole claim to the throne of Egypt?”

Ptolemy drew a deep breath. He squared his shoulders. The boy was suppressed; the man reasserted his primacy, and his decision was reached. “Caesar judges wisely. The people of Egypt and their king are lucky to have found such a friend in the consul of the Roman people. But now there is much work to be done. If I’m truly free to come and go . . .”

“You are, Your Majesty.”

“Then I shall leave the palace now, to join with Achillas and take charge of my army in the city. I shall inform Achillas of your decision in my favor and order him to call back my troops, so that no more blood will be shed, Roman or Egyptian. Once order is established in the city as well as in the palace, and once my sister and those who wish to stay in her service have departed from Egypt under Caesar’s protection, there shall be a ceremony to mark the cessation of hostilities and the affirmation of my rule.” His voice softened. “If the consul has time, I should like him to accompany me on a journey up the Nile, so that he may observe the life of the river and witness the many splendors along her shore.”

Caesar stepped forward and took the king’s hand. “I should like nothing better, Your Majesty. Sooner or later I must leave Egypt; there must be a reckoning with the scattered remnants of Pompey’s forces, who are said to be regrouping in Libya under the command of Cato. But I have little to fear from that quarter, and a full and final settlement of affairs in Egypt takes precedence over all other matters of state. To accompany the king on a tour of the Nile—to cement our friendship with such a journey—would please me greatly.”

The two exchanged a look of such intimate affection that I felt like an intruder. I cleared my throat.

“In the meantime,” said Caesar, resuming a more formal tone, “I shall watch for the cessation of hostilities from Achillas’s men, and I shall eagerly await Your Majesty’s return.”

The king stepped back, pulling his hand from Caesar’s grasp. As he turned to go, the look of manly determination on his face wavered; when he turned back, spinning on his heel, it was the boy-king I saw, timorous and uncertain, with tears in his eyes. He rushed back to Caesar and gripped his arm. “Come with me, Caesar! I don’t want to leave your side!”

Caesar smiled indulgently at this sudden outburst of emotion. His gently laid his hand over the hand that gripped his arm, and he squeezed it affectionately. “The king has no need of me when it comes to dealing with Achillas. The order to cease hostilities must come from you alone. I would only get in the way.”

Ptolemy nodded, but his eyes brimmed with tears. “You’re right, of course. What I do now, I must do alone. ‘It’s a lonely business,’ my father used to say, ‘being a king.’ But never forget one thing, Caesar: The whole of my kingdom is no dearer to me at this moment than the mere sight of you!”

With astonishment, I saw that Caesar, too, had tears in his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was husky. “If that’s true, Your Majesty, then go quickly, that you may return all the more quickly to my side!”

Without another word, his eyes locked with Caesar’s until the last possible moment, Ptolemy stepped back, turned away, and withdrew from the room, his linen robes of state rustling in the faint breeze stirred by his passing.

Caesar stood motionless, gazing after him.

“Will you tell her now?” I said.

Caesar gave me such a blank look that I repeated the question. “Will you tell her now? The queen? Or should I say simply, ‘Cleopatra,’ if she no longer possesses that title?”

“I’m sure she’ll retain some sort of title,” Caesar said absently, as if my question had distracted him from more-important thoughts. “ ‘Princess,’ I suppose, as she was called when her father was alive; she’s still the Piper’s daughter, and the sister of the king.”

“Though no longer his wife?”

“I’m sure there’s a royal law to deal with the dissolution of their marriage,” said Caesar. “If not, we’ll invent one.”

“And will she still be an incarnation of the goddess Isis, even without her crown? To lose one’s throne must be terrible; to lose one’s divinity—”

“If you’re making a jest at the expense of the local religion, Gordianus, it’s not amusing.”

“Will you tell her now?” I said again.

He drew a deep breath. “There are some tasks that make a coward even of Caesar! But if I put off telling her, she’ll find out some other way, and that could lead to trouble. Best to be brave and face the situation head-on. It may be that the queen—the princess, I mean—has left already for Antirrhodus, but perhaps we can catch her before her boat departs.”

“ ‘We,’ Consul?”

“Of course I include you, Gordianus. When you witness the beginning of a thing, do you not wish to see it to the end?”

“Perhaps. But does the consul wish me to see it?”

“I’ve always found it useful to have another pair of eyes and ears to witness important events. My memory is not what it used to be; a second account comes in very handy when I sit down to write my memoirs. Meto has long served that purpose for me.”

“I’ll make a poor substitute for my son. Perhaps you should summon him to resume his rightful role.”

“An excellent suggestion. The cell where he’s been confined is close to the pier. I’ll send men ahead to release him, so that he can meet us. Having played antagonist to the queen—the princess—Meto deserves to be on hand when I announce my decision to her. Come, Gordianus!”

I walked alongside Caesar as he traversed the palace complex accompanied by his retinue, stopping every so often to issue orders to subordinates along the way. We came to the gardens along the waterfront. Beyond the palm trees and flowering jasmine, out on the stone pier, Cleopatra stood in the company of a few servants, as well as the Roman messenger who had been sent to detain her from boarding the boat that would return her to Antirrhodus.

Closer at hand, I heard a familiar voice. “Caesar!”

The consul, seeing Meto beside the path, stopped and opened his arms wide. “Meto! You look well, thank Venus!”

Meto hung back, but the smile on Caesar’s face overcame his hesitation. They embraced.

“The messenger said—”

Caesar nodded. “You’ve been cleared of all suspicion, thanks to the insights of your father.”

“Papa!” Meto hugged me. It was to Caesar he had first spoken, and to Caesar he gave his first embrace; but I tried to think only of the joy I felt at seeing him unharmed and free and out of danger.

“This must mean you found an answer to the question of what happened on Antirrhodus,” said Meto, looking quizzically at me and then at Caesar.

“Indeed, your father did exactly that,” said Caesar. “But the explanation will have to wait. Cleopatra stands on the pier, and there is something I must tell her.”

Caesar led the way, taking long, quick strides.

“Papa, what’s happening?” whispered Meto.

I was about to speak, but Caesar looked over his shoulder and silenced me with a glance.

The afternoon sunlight, reflected off the stones of the pier and the water of the harbor, was dazzling. Gulls swooped and cried overhead. Waves lapped against the steps leading down to the royal skiff. Cleopatra, seeing Caesar, smiled at his approach, but as we drew closer, I saw a twist of anxiety at the corner of her mouth. When she saw Meto, the smile remained but grew stiff. She raised her hands to take Caesar’s, but he stopped short of stepping close enough, and she was left with an awkward, unfinished gesture of welcome. She drew back her hands and frowned.

“Caesar, what’s happening?”

He looked at her gravely. “There’s been . . . a development.”

“Good or bad? Bad, to judge from the look on your face.”

Caesar averted his eyes.

“Caesar? What’s happening? Tell me now!” In her suddenly strident tone, I heard the voice of her younger brother.

When he still did not answer, she shifted to a more formal tone. “Consul,” she said, and I knew she suspected the truth, for she was testing to see whether Caesar, in response, would formally address her as the queen.

He drew a deep breath and was about to speak when a cry came from one of the Roman watchmen who patrolled the rooftops of the palace behind us. “Warships! Warships! Egyptian warships entering from the Eunostos Harbor!”

All eyes turned toward the Heptastadion. Near the center of the causeway, a tunnel allowed ships to sail from one harbor to the other. With their oars working at a furious pace, one Egyptian warship after another was entering the great harbor. Their decks were crowded with soldiers and catapults and bristled with spears.

Another watchman cried out from the rooftops: “Smoke! Flames! Fire at the barricades next to the royal theater!”