Cleopatra
CONFESSES
ALSO BY CAROLYN MEYER
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for Marie-Antoinette
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Carolyn Meyer
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Book design by Krista Vossen
Map illustration by Drew Willis
The text for this book is set in Minion.
Manufactured in the United States of America
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Meyer, Carolyn, 1935-
Cleopatra confesses / Carolyn Meyer.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Paula Wiseman book.”
Summary: Princess Cleopatra, the third (and favorite) daughter of King Ptolemy XII,
comes of age in ancient Egypt, accumulating power and discovering love.
Includes bibliographical references (p. 282).
ISBN 978-1-4169-8727-7
1. Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, d. 30 B.C.—Childhood and youth—Juvenile fiction.
[1. Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, d. 30 B.C.—Childhood and youth—Fiction.
2. Princesses—Fiction. 3. Kings, queens, rulers, etc.—Fiction.
4. Egypt—History—332-30 B.C.—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M5685Cl 2011
[Fic]—dc22
2010025989
ISBN 978-1-4424-2245-2 (eBook)
Remembering Patricia Clark Smith
Contents
Prologue
Part I: The King of Egypt
Chapter 1: King Ptolemy XII
Chapter 2: Homecoming
Chapter 3: Father
Chapter 4: Waiting
Chapter 5: Conversation
Chapter 6: Festival of Isis
Part II: The Nile
Chapter 7: The Royal Boat
Chapter 8: Promise and Warning
Chapter 9: Sais
Chapter 10: Pyramids
Chapter 11: Dinner Guests
Chapter 12: Crocodiles
Chapter 13: Expecting Trouble
Chapter 14: Dangerous Passage
Part III: Upper Egypt
Chapter 15: Charmion
Chapter 16: The Bath
Chapter 17: Temples
Chapter 18: Dancers
Chapter 19: Titus
Chapter 20: Shipwreck
Chapter 21: Repairs
Part IV: Into Exile
Chapter 22: Return
Chapter 23: Promise
Chapter 24: Announcement
Chapter 25: Two Queens
Part V: The Rivals
Chapter 26: Year 2 of The Cleopatras
Chapter 27: Tryphaena and Titus
Chapter 28: Berenike
Chapter 29: Seleucus
Chapter 30: Archelaus
Chapter 31: Bucephala
Chapter 32: The King’s Return
Part VI: Father’s Return
Chapter 33: Year 27 of Ptolemy XII
Chapter 34: The New Queen
Chapter 35: Studies in Ruling
Chapter 36: Illness
Chapter 37: Death of The King
Part VII: The New Pharaohs
Chapter 38: Coronation
Chapter 39: Buchis
Chapter 40: Ruling
Chapter 41: Challenges
Chapter 42: Ptolemy’s Banquet
Part VIII: The Queen’s Flight
Chapter 43: At Sea
Chapter 44: Ashkelon
Chapter 45: Caesar’s Orders
Part IX: The Queen’s Return
Chapter 46: Disguises
Chapter 47: Meeting Caesar
Chapter 48: Brother-Husband
Chapter 49: Arsinoë
Chapter 50: Ganymede
Chapter 51: The Battle
Chapter 52: Ptolemy XIV
Part X: Queen Cleopatra
Chapter 53: The Queen’s Boat
Chapter 54: Farewell Journey
Epilogue
Cleopatra in History
A Note From The Author
About The Research for This Book:
Bibliography
Internet Resources
Time Line
Egyptian Gods and Goddesses
Egyptian Calendar
About The Author
CHARACTER LIST
HISTORICAL
Cleopatra VII
Ptolemy XII/Auletes, Cleopatra’s father
Arsinoë, Cleopatra’s younger sister
Tryphaena, Cleopatra’s older sister
Berenike, Cleopatra’s older sister
Ptolemy XIII, Cleopatra’s younger brother
Ptolemy XIV, Cleopatra’s younger brother
Crassus, wealthy Roman politician, member of triumvirate
Pompey, important Roman general, member of triumvirate
Julius Caesar, ambitious Roman general, most powerful member of triumvirate
Seleucus, Syrian guest of Ptolemy XII
Archelaus, son of king of Asia Minor
Dion of Alexandria, Egyptian philosopher and ambassador to Rome
Marcus Antonius/Mark Antony
Theodotus, tutor to Cleopatra’s brothers
Achillas, Roman general, regent to Ptolemy XIII
Pothinus, regent to Ptolemy XIII
Yuya, Cleopatra’s grand vizier
Ganymede, Arsinöe’s tutor-guardian
FICTIONAL (characters added to help tell Cleopatra’s story)
Antiochus, grand vizier
Nebtawi, bodyguard
Ako, pet monkey
Panya, nurse
Irisi, servant
Monifa, servant
Demetrius, tutor
Captain Mshai, boat captain, father and son
Bubu, pet baboon
Akantha, niece of Antiochus
Charmion, dancer
Lady Amandaris, Charmion’s mother
Titus, nephew of Antiochus
Nebibi, royal stablemaster
Bucephala, horse
Sepa, bodyguard
Hasani, bodyguard
Yafeu, messenger
&nbs
p; Apollodorus, linen merchant
Prologue
My enemy stands at the gates of my city, Alexandria, in Egypt. The messenger tells me I have not much time before Octavian will arrive at the door of my magnificent tomb, where I have taken refuge. I have expected him. I know what he wants: to take me to Rome as a prisoner and parade me in chains, to dishonor me.
I am in my thirty-ninth year, and I have prepared well for the moment when I will leave my earthly life behind. My crowns as queen of Upper and Lower Egypt, my splendid robes and fabled jewels, quantities of fine food and wine and rare perfumes and oils to last an eternity—everything I could need or want.
Many of those I loved and who shared my life have gone before me, and soon I, too, will die. For the present, I sit alone. Before the end of day, Octavian will come, demanding to see me. I wait for him. I am Queen of Egypt, the most powerful woman ever to rule Egypt, yet I cannot save myself.
But what memories I have and what stories I can tell! Listen, then, to my stories of love and hate, passion and bitterness, envy, greed, ambition—I have experienced them all—and I will explain to you a world so different from yours, and yet in some ways so much the same.
I begin in my childhood, when I am ten years old; by our reckoning, Year 23 in the reign of my father, King Ptolemy XII. On your calendar it is 59 B.C., fifty-nine years before the birth of Christ.
PART I
THE KING OF EGYPT
Alexandria, beginning in my tenth year
Chapter 1
KING PTOLEMY XII
It is the season of Inundation, the time of year when the Nile overflows its banks, flooding the fields and renewing them for planting. The royal palace is quiet. I, the king’s third daughter, called Cleopatra, am ten years old. I sit alone in my quarters, reading the scroll laid out on my table. I am nearly halfway through a history by my favorite Greek writer, Herodotus, when I hear a commotion in the forecourt. I abandon the scroll and step outside to investigate.
Glistening with sweat, a runner bows low before me and delivers his message. A lookout has sighted the royal fleet outside the entrance to the Great Harbor. My father, Ptolemy XII, the king of Egypt, is returning to Alexandria. This is the news I have longed for. He has been away for many months. Word reached Egypt that the king had left Rome, but much can happen to a ship crossing the vast sea called the Mediterranean.
A dozen runners have sprinted across the causeway from the lighthouse, the swiftest dispatched to the royal palace to relay the news to the king’s household, beginning with his grand vizier, Antiochus. The grand vizier is no doubt sleeping, having finished duck hunting in the cooler hours of the morning. He will not like having his rest disturbed.
Next, the king’s children are informed, starting with my older sisters, Tryphaena and Berenike, followed by me and then by Arsinoë, who is eight—two years younger than I—and, finally, the nurses who care for our little brothers. I hurry to look for Arsinoë. She is plump and affectionate but not the least bit clever. She will be glad to see Father, though he has never paid much attention to her. He had not wanted a fourth daughter.
I find Arsinoë playing with her pet monkey, Ako, under the watchful eye of her devoted bodyguard, Nebtawi. My sister has dressed Ako in a little kilt and is dancing it around like a furry doll. The monkey screeches, breaks free, and leaps onto me, flinging its hairy arms around my neck. Annoyed, I pry it off, and it scampers away, still wearing the ridiculous kilt. In two long strides Nebtawi captures the runaway and tenderly returns it to Arsinoë. My sister beams at her bodyguard. He is a short, muscular eunuch, and they are almost like father and daughter.
“Father is coming today,” Arsinoë announces. “I’ve already heard. Panya says I may wear a new dress and jewels but that I may not use cosmetics.” Her lower lip is already forming a pout. Panya has been my sister’s nurse since our mother died giving birth to Arsinoë, and she is very protective.
“You still have your sidelock,” I remind her, looking at the long lock of hair hanging from her head, the mark of childhood. “No cosmetics until it is cut off.”
“When will that be?” she asks, although surely she already knows.
“When you start to grow breasts.”
I lost my sidelock only a month earlier, though I was not quite ready. More than a little, but I wish to be taken seriously and not treated like a child.
“Your hair is growing faster than your breasts,” my sister Tryphaena had said with a sneer when I first appeared without my sidelock. My eyes had welled with tears, though I refused to let her see them.
I leave Arsinoë with Nebtawi and her monkey and consider visiting my older sisters to take the measure of their mood, but I decide against it. I am not at all fond of them, nor are they of me. Tryphaena is sixteen, Berenike fourteen, and they have been jealous of me for as long as I can remember. It is because of Father. Sometimes they hint darkly that I am not even his true daughter. “You are not like us, Cleopatra,” Berenike has said. They are right to believe that I am his favorite. But this is not my fault. I have done nothing to win his favor. Nevertheless, I avoid both of them.
They are probably taking their ease in the garden outside their quarters, as they do most days. Those two will not be happy to learn of Father’s return. The longer the king stays away, the more likely they are to find a way to put themselves in his place. Nothing would have pleased them more than to learn that he was lost at sea. But now he has come back, and they will be forced to put on a good face and pretend to welcome him. It will be an interesting performance to watch.
Our little brothers, one barely two years old and the other born after my father left for Rome and not yet weaned, are not old enough to care. It is the custom among royal families of Egypt to use names over and over, even within one generation, so our little brothers, Ptolemy XIII and Ptolemy XIV, are named for Father. My mother, Father’s first wife, was Cleopatra V, and Tryphaena is known formally as Cleopatra VI. I am Cleopatra VII. The name means “Famous in her Father.” I believe it suits me best.
It has also been the custom of the pharaohs since the earliest days of Egypt for royal brothers to marry their sisters. My mother was Father’s half sister. I remember hardly anything about my mother, except her lovely voice and her scent. Sometimes I catch a hint of perfume that brings back a memory of her as hard to grasp as a winter mist, and her absence often makes me feel alone, though there are people everywhere around me. Father later remarried, hoping for sons, but only weeks after the birth of Ptolemy XIV, the grand vizier delivered a letter to the queen from the king, divorcing her. The grand vizier made sure the former queen moved out of the palace at once, leaving the two youngest Ptolemies in the care of their nurses. I felt a little sad for her, but not much. My stepmother had a cruel mouth and no fondness for me or for any of my father’s daughters. And so no queen now waits to embrace King Ptolemy, but Father will not be lonely. At least a dozen young women of the court are eager to welcome him.
I return to my quarters. My servants, Irisi and Monifa, are not there. Monifa, who has been caring for me since my birth, is like a mother to me. Irisi is younger, closer to my age, but not close enough to be a true friend. Taking advantage of their absence, I choose a coarse linen tunic from Irisi’s chest and wrap one of her plain kerchiefs over my hair, fastening it with two of my own gold hairpins. With Monifa’s market basket slung over my arm as if I were going to buy bread, I slip out of my rooms. I want to be at the harbor when the royal ships arrive.
The king will not make his formal entry into Alexandria in the heat of the day. He will have ordered his ships to lie some distance offshore until the sun god, Ra, hangs low in the western sky and word of the king’s return has reached every quarter of the city and the excitement has had a chance to build. There is plenty of time.
But the grand vizier happens to see me and steps into my path. “Where are you going, Princess Cleopatra?” he asks.
“To watch for Father’s ship.”
Anti
ochus is tall and thin with a gleaming shaved head and ears that stick out like the handles on a wine jar. In the king’s absence the grand vizier has done hardly anything but amuse himself with hunting and gambling. I know he disapproves of my frequent escapes away from the royal quarter and into the world of ordinary Egyptians, but he has never tried to stop me. I am sure he will cause me no trouble, for I am aware of a few facts about him that he would prefer to keep secret. For instance, I know that he regularly pilfers the royal storehouse to pay off his gambling debts. We have an unspoken bargain between us. Antiochus frowns and moves aside.
The palace guards ignore me as I walk boldly past them and make my way through the back streets, avoiding the broad avenues. I have been making these unapproved visits to the marketplace since Father left for Rome. No one takes any notice of a ten-year-old girl dressed in servant’s clothes. If they knew my true identity, it would be otherwise. Princesses are not expected to roam the city alone, without a retinue of servants and bodyguards.
I can see that the royal fleet is still just a handful of dots on the horizon, well beyond the great Pharos lighthouse, which guides ships past the treacherous coast and into the harbor, but the whole city is already wide awake. Before the sun has climbed even halfway to the midpoint of the heavens, preparations are well under way for the king’s arrival. Assistants to the grand vizier sit beneath an awning in the marketplace, giving orders. Workers carry rolls of thick carpet for the king to walk on. Others are draping a special platform with silks from the Orient, attaching torches to tall poles, and hoisting bright pennants that snap in the stiff breeze blowing steadily off the sea. Welcoming speeches will be delivered from that platform by Antiochus and the highest-ranking noblemen. The crowd will be eager to hear news of King Ptolemy’s journey to Rome.
Before my father sailed for that faraway city more than a year ago, he had explained to me what he hoped to accomplish there.
“I am going for the sake of Egypt,” he said. “Rome would like nothing better than to take over our country. They claim to have legal rights to it, and the Romans are formidable—they could do it easily. That would mean the end of Egypt as an independent country and the end of my kingship. There would be no more pharaohs ruling here, no more Ptolemies, only three Romans who hold all the authority—two generals and a public official. I spit on them! And yet I must fawn over them and pretend friendship. Those three men will determine what happens to Egypt, and I must convince them to support me as the rightful ruler of the land.”