Song of the Nile (7 page)

“I dispute none of that,” I said, finally settling upon my own answer. “But I think the most important person here is Julia.”

“Julia?”
He laughed as if I’d told some grand jest.

I braved explaining myself. “You need her because of what
she
represents. Haven’t you called Rome yet another wayward daughter for you to govern? When citizens measure how you treat Julia, they gauge what kind of father you’ll be to the empire.” I said this both because I believed it and because I noticed the way Julia and Iullus flirted, feeding one another grapes at the far end of the hall, laughing at some private joke between them. Julia’s arrangement with her husband had filled me with foreboding. There might come a time when the emperor wished to punish Julia, and even if he forgot all paternal love for her, perhaps he’d remember her political significance if I pointed it out to him now.

Augustus shifted to face me, letting the asparagus fall back to his plate. “You’re right about one thing. Everyone is always measuring me, judging me. Thanks to your twin, this city is filled with malcontents, agitating to steal from me all that I’ve won. Look at these people eating my food and availing themselves of my hospitality as if they weren’t waiting for me to stumble . . .”

I shouldn’t let him dwell on those who resented his power. It made him paranoid and vengeful. “They’ll praise your name when the grain flows again and that’s something I can make happen as Queen of Mauretania.”

“You’re too sure of yourself. Mauretania isn’t like Egypt. It’s uncivilized. You and Juba could fail to turn it into the breadbasket and port of trade I need . . .”

Because no one was listening, I dared to say, “But if we succeed, you must agree that I could rule Egypt even better.”

He caught me with a shrewd sideways glance, and for a moment I worried that I’d pushed too far. Then he laughed. “You’d think I’d tire of your single-minded greed, Selene, but if you ever ceased angling for things out of your grasp, I’d worry you were up to some treachery . . .” He leaned back, eyes searching the crowd. “Sadly, I seem to have overestimated your twin’s affection for you. I hoped Helios might interrupt your wedding or try to smuggle himself into the breakfast, where my guards could catch him.”

With the emperor, there were always layers upon layers of intrigue. I found it strangely comforting to know that I’d been used as bait for my brother. Not long ago, incensed that Helios had escaped the imperial compound and outraged at rebellion in Egypt, the emperor had insisted Helios be denounced before the Senate as a traitor and enemy of Rome. Since then, his temper had cooled and he’d changed his mind. There were those who said Helios hadn’t run away at all; that Augustus had simply had him disappeared. I desperately needed to believe otherwise, so I took comfort in the idea that the emperor was still laying snares. “You want to capture Helios
here
?”

“You should want it too. I’ve put out that the rebellion in Thebes is only a tax revolt. I’ve kept your twin’s name out of it, so that I may be merciful to him and to Egypt, but I’ve done this only for your sake.” I didn’t believe that it was for my sake. Legions were still bogged down in Spain, Egypt was rising up, and the Republican faction in Rome grew increasingly restless. There might be another civil war if my father’s old partisans knew that the son of Antony and Cleopatra was in rebellion. Those who knew the prophecies that a savior would come to purge Rome by fire might see in Helios the bringer of a Golden Age. Consequently, the emperor gained nothing by acknowledging Helios as his enemy; it was far more advantageous for my twin to simply
vanish
. “Make no mistake, Selene. If the Prefect of Egypt can’t put down this rebellion in Thebes, I’ll ask you and Juba to raise legions in Mauretania. You’ll help me end this.”

He thought he could make me fight against my own brother and my own people. I could never let it come to that. Fortunately, I was spared the need to reply when the emperor’s poet rose to recite some verses from the
Aeneid
—a special piece of propaganda the emperor was keen to have him finish. Virgil had been working on the epic longer than I’d been in Rome, like Penelope at the loom, weaving words by day, and striking them out at night. The
Aeneid
told the story of Aeneas, the defeated Trojan who abandoned the powerful Carthaginian queen Dido. Ah, yes, dutiful Aeneas, unmoved by the plea of a pleasure-seeking, goddessworshipping foreign queen. It was a scarcely veiled condemnation of my mother and father, and I loathed this poem. But when Virgil finished his recitation and the applause died down, the emperor’s eyes were filled with tears. He liked to affect emotion in a crowd like this, to persuade them that in his chest beat a compassionate heart. He was a showman; if this poem touched something inside him, it was his ambition.

It was then that Virgil introduced his friend Crinagoras of Mytilene, whom I knew by reputation to be a master epigrammatist. Crinagoras was sleight of build, with soft, almost feminine features, and when he smiled, his warm eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m pleased to meet you,” I said when he bowed before me. “Your name precedes you, Crinagoras.”

“As well it should,
Your Majesty
,” the little man said with a boastful smile. “Think of the esteem my reputation will bring to your royal court. You should hire me at once before some wiser monarch steals me away.”

I’d never met such a bombastic self-promoter. “Are you asking for a position?”

Crinagoras smirked. “There’s no need to ask. You’re already charmed,
desperate
to have me glorify your reign.”

I stifled my laugh because I knew better than to let a courtier think he had the upper hand. “And why should we hire a court poet when there’s more serious work to be done in Mauretania?”

“Majesty, you must have a court poet, or no one will ever know about your serious work,” he replied, and I followed his eyes to Virgil, catching his meaning at once. The emperor was already seeing to it that his rule would be immortalized in a way that suited him. He was shaping history and making certain that he had a voice in it.

I wanted a voice too but said, “We’ll have to hear your work before we can make a decision of such consequence.”

“How very fortunate that I’ve already composed a toast in honor of your marriage!” Crinagoras waved his hand theatrically and the wedding guests gathered round. It was just the opportunity I’d been waiting for. The chance to slip away from the emperor’s couch and return to Juba’s side. The musicians quieted, and everyone leaned in as the poet recited, “
Great bordering regions of the world which the full stream Nile separates from the black Ethiopians. Ye have by marriage made a destiny common to both, turning Egypt and North Africa into one country. May the children of these princes ever again rule with unshaken dominion over both lands.
”

At these words, my body tightened like a bowstring. I was the rightful Queen of Egypt and through this poem, Crinagoras reminded everyone of that fact. Even the emperor seemed stunned by the man’s nerve. With his gray eyes narrowed, Augustus said, “Crinagoras, how good of you to remember the majesty of Selene’s past.”

“And her future,” the poet said boldly. I might have choked on my wine if I hadn’t already swallowed it. Did the little poet care nothing for his own safety? I had the emperor’s goodwill, but I couldn’t protect him. Still, Crinagoras went on. “Isn’t the House of
Julii
powerful enough to encompass all the greatness of the Ptolemies?”

It was exactly what I wished the emperor to believe—that he should restore me to Egypt where my power could only swell his own. I couldn’t have fashioned better propaganda if I’d tried. But I
hadn’t
tried and I worried when the emperor turned to me as if this were a plot. “Ah,” Augustus said. “You see, Juba and Selene? Your match has captured the imaginations of the people; they find it fitting. Your marriage is the kind of news that should spread all over the empire. Even to Thebes.”

Even to my twin
, I thought. The emperor wanted Helios to know that I married Juba. He wanted Helios to believe that I’d betrayed him. And perhaps I had.

Four

AT length, the banqueters filled their napkins with treats to bring home. Meanwhile, Juba and I stood side by side, making our farewells to the guests. “I’d like to offer Crinagoras a place as our court poet,” I said.

Without looking at me, Juba replied, “Crinagoras is no Virgil; he lacks a grand artistic vision.”

“Yet his wedding verse today indicates that he has
political
vision. Did you disapprove?”

“Of the poem? No.” Juba’s jaw tightened. My new husband obviously disapproved of
something
. Most probably me. “Selene, if it pleases you, I’ll extend an invitation to Crinagoras. Just be ready to travel at dawn. I’m going into the city tonight and can’t say when I’ll return.” Then he turned with a swirl of his toga and walked away.

So it was to be like this between us, then.

Eager to work the knots of tension from my shoulders after the festivities, I hastened to the private baths, where steam made my skin damp even before I undressed. Chryssa followed me into the water with her reed basket of sponges, oils, and scrapers, just as she did the first day I’d come to Octavia’s house. “Will Juba be joining you, my lady?”

“No,” I said, trying not to sound embarrassed by the question. Egyptian weddings involved a ceremonial bath, but I found it difficult to imagine being naked with Juba after this morning’s cool words. It was only natural that he’d want to say good-bye to his favorite teachers, fellow scholars, and dearest friends. Besides, Juba had—in some sense—given me a reprieve on our wedding night and I ought to be grateful. Soon, though, he’d expect to claim me as his wife. Nervously, I fanned my fingers over my belly beneath the water. I had to know what to prepare for because I didn’t want to let out an undignified cry at the crucial moment. “Chryssa, when the emperor took you to his bed, was it painful?”

For a moment, the trickling of fresh water out of the fountain mouth of a gilded lion was the only noise in the room. “He—he wasn’t,” she stammered. “He wasn’t physically cruel.”

No. That wouldn’t be the emperor’s way. The deepest wounds were those he inflicted on the inside. And I was no better, for I’d been thoughtless and selfish to ask her this question. She’d gone unwilling to the bed of Augustus and been horribly ill used. Why had I made her remember it? I turned to apologize when I saw Chryssa clutching the
strigil.
It was only a scraper, meant to slough off sweat and oil. It wasn’t very sharp, but Chryssa’s white-knuckled grip made it cut into her skin. “You’re bleeding,” I said softly. She hissed as if only now realizing it and let her hand drop into the water between us, where the red droplets of her anguish mixed with the bathwater. “He won’t touch you again, Chryssa. I’ll take you away with me to Africa, and you’ll never have to see him again.” Her expression went carefully neutral in the way of a slave and together we watched the reed basket of sponges float across the murky water, like a sailing ship gone adrift. “You don’t want to go with me,” I said, realizing it for the first time. “You want to stay here, in Rome?”

“It’s just that I have a sister,” Chryssa said. “I wish I wasn’t leaving Phoebe behind.”

I was being forced to leave my little brother Philadelphus; I didn’t have to imagine Chryssa’s inner torment. “Maybe I can find a way for Phoebe to come with us . . .”

“No. There’s nothing to be done. My sister belongs to Lady Julia now and considers herself quite fortunate. She’s had cruel mistresses before who beat her with the lash. She wouldn’t want to risk her new station.”

Such were the terrors of slaves. Chryssa’s back was also striped with scars from the lash, for she hadn’t always belonged to me. “I’ll find a way to let you stay here with your sister, then. Perhaps Augustus will allow me to grant you your freedom. I mean to do it anyway, the moment we get to Mauretania.”

I was surprised to hear her gasp with dismay. “What would become of me? Do you think it’s easy for a woman on her own in Rome? How would I feed myself ?”

I felt foolish and confused. “You’re a skilled
ornatrix
. Besides, I have money now. I’d help you.”

Chryssa seemed angry, or at least as angry as a slave ever allowed herself to seem. “Do you know how many barbarian slaves have been brought into the city? It would be cheaper to buy ten of them than to pay me a wage. I was once Chryssa, slave of the emperor’s wife. Then, Chryssa, slave of the Egyptian prince Helios. Now I’m Chryssa, slave of the Queen of Mauretania. If you set me free, I’m nobody at all.”

“That isn’t true. You’ll always be Chryssa, a child of Isis.”

My goddess opened her arms to slaves, and thus had many followers even where the conscript fathers had deemed hers a dangerous foreign cult. But Chryssa only said, “Without you here, Rome is no place for those who honor the goddess.”

I bit my lip, worried about what might happen to the worshippers of Isis in my absence. Until I could return Isis to the throne of Egypt, perhaps I could make a safe haven for her worshippers in Mauretania. I tried to offer Chryssa some comfort. “My new kingdom isn’t so far. With the right winds, Mauretania is just days away. I promise you can visit Rome—”

“No.” She glanced over her shoulder as if she could see Livia and Augustus and all the others who had tortured her. “I’ll never want to come back.”

FOR weeks now, I’d been consumed with the wedding and all that attended it. It was only now, in the quiet aftermath of the celebration, that my imminent departure became a painful reality. Knowing this to be my very last day in Rome, I ushered Philadelphus to the schoolroom. Because my littlest brother was far more prone to pranks and frivolity than a Ptolemy ought to be, I rummaged through the scroll-cases that lined the wall, searching for parchment and vellum works on history and mathematics that I thought it especially important he study. With a roll of his eyes, Philadelphus said, “You aren’t my tutor. Let’s not spoil our last hours together with serious things.”