Queen Cleopatra swept into the Reception Hall, her sandals snapping across the tiles like whips. ‘Who does Caesar think he is ordering a feast?’
Iras and Charmion followed closely behind her, along with a company of Roman guards. The Queen was almost to the base of her throne when she noticed Wen standing at its edge.
‘Where have you been, Wen?’
Wen collapsed in obeisance.
‘Apologies, my Queen, I could not ascend the Library stairs.’
‘Oh, rise by the goddess, Wen, we are far beyond that now.’
Wen jumped to her feet as Cleopatra sent a flurry of expletives echoing through the hall. ‘If Caesar thinks he can simply reconcile me with the brother who put a price on my head, he is gravely mistaken.’
Cleopatra arrived at the base of her throne and scratched her head. ‘And now this cursed feast!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who does Caesar think he is ordering a hundred cattle slaughtered by tomorrow evening?’ She paced back and forth between the marble sphinxes that guarded her throne, too distraught to ascend. ‘The audacity of it!’
Wen suspected that the Queen was not angered by Caesar’s announcement itself, but by the fact that she had not been the one to make it. ‘And free beer in the temples? That will require significant purchasing. Where does he think it all comes from, I wonder?’
‘I suspect Caesar wishes to placate the Alexandrians,’ Wen said without thinking, ‘for they are violent and prone to riots.’
Iras and Charmion looked at Wen in shock, for she had not been invited to speak.
But the Queen did not reproach her. ‘The people of Alexandria are indeed prone to riots!’ she exclaimed. ‘They are violent, dangerous agitators! By the gods, they may as well be Romans!’
At that, the four women broke down into something resembling the laughter of hyenas.
The Queen crossed to a nearby table and poured herself a goblet of wine. ‘The royal treasury will be empty by morning thanks to Caesar.’ She held up the goblet as if to make a toast.
‘Has that wine been tasted?’ Iras asked Charmion.
‘I believe so,’ said Iras, ‘but we should ask Apollodorus just to be—’
The Queen did not wait for Iras to finish. She drank down the goblet’s contents in a single gulp. ‘If I die now, at least I shall be remembered as the Queen who would not submit to Caesar’s extravagances.’
She took three more goblets from a shelf and poured wine into each. ‘There you are, my sisters,’ she said, motioning to the vessels. ‘If you dare. I assure you that we have nothing left to lose.’
Iras gave Charmion a glance and they both reached for their goblets. Then all three turned to look at Wen, who walked to the table and raised her goblet high.
Wen remembered that moment upon her tongue as much as she did in her memory, for it was the first time she had ever tasted wine.
‘Well done, ka sisters!’ exclaimed Cleopatra. ‘Now let us get to work, for we have only a single day to arrange a banquet for the history scrolls. Charmion, would you call my scribe? There are requisitions to be written.’ Charmion gave a bow and scuttled out of the chamber.
‘Iras, would you please find my Steward Hemut? I would like to see his expression when I tell him we have one day to arrange a royal banquet.’
‘Yes, Goddess,’ said Iras and she was soon rushing after Charmion.
‘And, Wen...?’
‘Yes, my Queen?’ said Wen, the powerful tartness still exploding on her tongue.
‘Oh, Wen, there is so much to be done! I can hardly think.’
‘Shall I advise the temples about the beer and bread distributions?’ Wen asked, remembering how much she had appreciated such distributions herself.
‘Ah, yes! Go to the Isis Temple and tell the head priestess. She will send word to the other temples. Tell them the rations will arrive this afternoon.’
‘Yes, my Queen.’
‘And would you find Apollodorus? I need a bodyguard. Pothinus was so enraged after Caesar’s speech that I fear he might try to kill me himself.’
‘Pothinus, my Queen?’
‘My brother’s advisor. The brains behind his unfortunate reign.’ Cleopatra sighed. ‘I cannot beat Pothinus without Caesar, but I fear that Caesar has outmanoeuvred me.’
‘I do not think so,’ Wen said.
‘I want to believe you.’
‘He may appear as Alexandria’s saviour today, but Alexandrians are cynical. They know better than to trust him.’
‘I fear they are enamoured of him.’
‘Hunger motivates love of a passing nature only. After the belly is filled, it disappears.’
‘If he leaves Alexandria now I am as good as dead.’
Wen dared not look at the Queen directly. ‘You still hold fast to what is most precious?’ She had spoken without being questioned, though in truth she did not care. The Queen’s only hope against Ptolemy and his wicked advisors was to win Caesar to her side. Indeed, she needed to make him her champion.
‘I do,’ said the Queen. ‘Though I cannot say if he is even interested in me.’
‘He is interested.’
‘How do you know?’
‘How could he not be? You are utterly magnificent,’ Wen pronounced grandly, as Charmion might have done. The Queen laughed. ‘Also, the two of you are much alike.’
‘Yes, we both wish to rule Egypt.’ Cleopatra laughed bitterly.
‘Apologies, my Queen. I did not mean—’
‘There is no need to apologise for speaking the truth, Wen.’
Cleopatra poured herself another goblet of wine. ‘Caesar could call his legions to Egypt at any moment. He could make us a province at his whim. That is what Ptolemy—and the Alexandrians themselves—do not understand. The Romans are as inevitable as the tears of Isis.’
‘It is true,’ Wen said, speaking freely now.
‘Though I understand that hunger better now,’ the Queen added. ‘It is a hunger born of poverty. Titus explained it well.’
‘That he did,’ said Wen, remembering the taste of his lips. She had stopped their kiss after only a few moments, fearful of being seen. Now she wished she had let it go on.
‘It makes me wonder what Egyptian soldiers would do if they had to fight for their bread.’
‘Conquer the world,’ Wen offered cheerfully, ‘in the name of their Queen.’
Cleopatra smiled sadly. ‘All I want is the kingdom my father left me. I know I can serve its people well—and not just these wretched Alexandrians, but all Egyptians. There is a glory and a grace in our way of life that a Roman governor could never understand.’
‘Yet some kind of relationship with a Roman is inevitable,’ Wen said. ‘You are fortunate, for you stand in a position to dictate the terms.’
The Queen flashed a beguiling grin. ‘You fortify me, Wen.’
‘You must call upon every persuasive tactic you know, Goddess. Though you remain firmly rooted, you must bend like a reed. For every effort of resistance your brother presents to Caesar, you must present an effort of alliance. Or there will be a Roman fort in every town from Thebes to Alexandria.’
‘A covenant with Seth Incarnate.’
‘To save your Egypt’s life as well as your own.’
‘Would you do such a thing, Wen? Attempt to seduce a stranger? A Roman? Speak truthfully.’
A vision invaded her memory: a man with a pitted nose and hair that smelled of rancid oil. He was saying something in Latin—something ugly and perverse—and pulling Wen by the wrists up a flight of stairs.
‘My Queen,’ Wen said, blinking the vision away, ‘I do not know if I could seduce a Roman.’
‘But you already have.’ she said. ‘Do you not see it?’
‘Goddess?’
‘Titus. He looks at you as if you were a sculptor and he a lump of clay. And do not tell me that he did not try to kiss you that night in the labyrinth.’ Wen tried to conceal her surprise. How had the Queen known about the kiss? ‘Queens are trained to observe,’ Cleopatra said. ‘If I did not know better, I would say that you had kissed him again quite recently.’
Was Wen so very transparent? Perhaps so, for even now, she could not stop her blush. ‘My Queen is wise,’ she said. She touched her fingers to her lips, remembering.
‘Let us hope not too wise. These Romans like their women vacuous and pliable, I fear.’
‘Caesar can have any woman he wishes. You must show him that you are different. You are a prize worth fighting for.’
The Queen sighed. ‘And what if I am successful? I fear I will not be able to sustain the ruse.’
‘If a ruse it is. Perhaps you will grow to like him.’
‘There is little to recommend him. They say he is fifty-two years old!’
‘Well, he is almost bald,’ Wen offered.
‘How is that a recommendation?’
‘Does it not make him almost Egyptian?’
The Queen gave a mighty laugh, then buried her head in her hands.
‘Do not despair,’ Wen said, ‘but fortify yourself. And no matter what you do, do not give him your heart.’
There was a sudden pounding on the entrance doors. Startled, Wen hastened across the long chamber and heaved back a thick, ebony door. There, standing before her, was Caesar himself, accompanied by Titus.
* * *
He had not expected to see her face again so soon. She inhaled when she saw him and her cheeks turned a lovely shade of crimson.
‘Greetings, General Caesar,’ she told Caesar. She gave a deep bow, then quieted her voice. ‘Greetings, Legate Titus.’
‘Greetings, Wen.’
She did not look at him and her shyness sent a pang of lust through his limbs.
‘Since it appears you have struck my advisor dumb,’ said Caesar, ‘I will say that I have come for an audience with the Queen.’
‘As you wish, General,’ replied Wen. ‘Please follow me.’
As Wen led them down the long, empty chamber towards the elegant green throne stationed at its end, Caesar slowed his stride.
‘Is this the one you were telling me about?’ he whispered in Latin.
Titus felt his skin prickle. Earlier, he had explained to Caesar that one of the Queen’s women had discovered his identity.
He had not mentioned that Wen was a slave, or that she could speak their Latin tongue. Still, there was no way to correct the General now. ‘Well, is this the woman?’ he prodded in Latin and Titus managed a small nod.
‘She is nice,’ Caesar said, taking her measure from behind.
Titus tried to remain calm. He was not supposed to interfere with Caesar’s activities, whatever their nature. ‘Observe and report, Titus!’ Those were Cicero’s orders. ‘Do not disrupt the course of events until absolutely necessary. Remember that you are just a spy.’ He had even made Titus swear an oath.
But now, as Titus watched Caesar’s eyes range across Wen’s lovely backside, he knew that he would break that oath a hundred times if it meant keeping her away from him. The Roman Republic be damned—he would not hesitate to stick a knife in the old lecher if he ever set a finger on Wen.
Fortunately, as they neared Cleopatra’s throne, Caesar’s gaze was quickly diverted from the lovely servile backside moving before them to the royal one stepping up the dais to the throne.
‘Greetings, Caesar,’ said the Queen in her light, musical tone. She glanced over her shoulder in an offhanded way, then completed her ascent with an exaggerated sway of her hips. ‘I am honoured that you have come to visit me in my humble Reception Hall.’
Titus glanced around the towering space and wondered just what was humble about it. Behind the massive stone throne stretched a wall-sized mosaic of the Egyptian goddess Isis, her breasts bared above her tree-sized red sheath, her headdress itself a throne.
On either side of the mosaic stood two massive columns that supported the richly painted ceiling. Careful not to stare, Titus stole a glance at the painting overhead and beheld a river scene populated by innumerable deadly animals and as many naked children playing together in impossible harmony.
But that was only a passing wonder in comparison to the massive marble statues that had been erected on either side of the Queen’s high throne.
They were giant sphinxes.
They stood two heads taller than Titus and twice as wide. How old are you? he asked the feline noblemen. From what fantastic quarry were you hewn? The chimeras gave no answers, yet seemed to carry the wisdom of the ages in their emerald eyes.
‘Greetings, Titus,’ the Queen said, catching his attention. ‘I see you are fond of my little cats.’
He bowed low, trying to conceal the rush of blood in his cheeks. ‘Greetings, Queen Cleopatra.’
Titus noticed that Wen had taken her position at the foot of the dais. She appeared to be trying to suppress a rather sphinx-like grin.
‘You may touch them, if you wish,’ Cleopatra told Titus. ‘The sphinxes, I mean.’
‘Gratitude, Queen, but I find them too beautiful to sully with my brutish hands.’
At that, the Queen let out a laugh. ‘Well, they are the hands that brought me safely to this throne, and for that I shall always be grateful.’
He bowed again, at a loss for words.
‘Titus, you are not the only man here to whom I owe my gratitude,’ the Queen continued, shifting her gaze to Caesar. ‘Your performance today was magnificent, General. I have never seen the Alexandrian horde so moved. Under whom did you study the rhetorical arts?’
Caesar did not answer the Queen’s question. He only stared at her in wonder. ‘You look radiant, Queen,’ he said at last.
‘If I am radiant then it is you who has made me so. By reuniting me with my husband-brother you have restored me to my throne.’
‘I have merely followed your father’s wishes. In Egypt, a late pharaoh’s will is the law, is it not?’
‘It is.’
‘You are fortunate in that. In Rome the law is much more complicated.’
If Titus had been listening closely to Caesar’s words, he would have recognised the shadow of Caesar’s ambition and the threat to come. But he was thoroughly distracted by Wen. She remained standing at the base of the Queen’s throne only a few arms’ lengths away, her eyes fixed forward in a maddening show of duty.
‘Your father’s will is why I am here,’ said Caesar. ‘I will read it today before the Royal Council of Advisors. It is a formality, but as the executor I wish your restoration to be seen as legal.’
The Queen shifted in her throne, crossing one leg over another and exposing some of the skin of her thigh. ‘You are very thorough, General.’
From the corner of his eye, Titus noticed Caesar swallow hard. ‘I try to be.’
‘You also act with great haste. I was rather shocked when you announced the feasts.’
‘Can you blame me for wanting to experience the pleasures of the Ptolemaic court?’
‘No, I cannot,’ said the Queen. She lowered her voice. ‘And I promise you that they are not to be missed.’ Cleopatra raised her chin to a more regal angle. ‘But it will be no small feat to organise a citywide festival in a single day.’
‘The way in which one confronts the unexpected reveals one’s character,’ Caesar replied. ‘I am sure you will pass the test.’
‘The staging of feasts? As a test?’
‘Why not?’ replied Caesar. ‘It would amuse me to observe if you can organise them. It is not a person’s birth, but a person’s merit that impresses me most.’
‘Is that so? Then in that sense we are the same,’ said the Queen, sliding Wen a look. ‘I have heard that you find your greatest supporters among the common people.’
‘That is true,’ said Caesar.
‘I, too, am supported by commoners. What is it that they are called in Rome, Wen?’
‘The plebeians, my Queen,’ Wen said.
Titus wished she would look at him—just give him a small glance. He needed to know that she felt it, too—this strange force pulling them together, despite themselves. In the Library, she had pulled away from his kiss and stood before him, her cheeks flush, her eyes glowing. She had commanded him to return to his duty and said something about hers. Then she simply opened the door to the Library and slipped past the guards.
By the time he had got past the guards himself, she was already gone—disappeared into the common crowd. But she was not common, not at all. She was advisor to the world’s greatest Queen. Who are you, Wen of Alexandria? he wondered. Who?
‘Ah, yes, the Roman plebeians,’ said Cleopatra. ‘They are like our Egyptian fellahin, yes?’
‘Only in their poverty,’ said Caesar. ‘They are much closer to the Alexandrian mob in their humour.’
‘It is no wonder they favour you, then, for you are able to manipulate their passions.’
Caesar gave a vain toss of his head. He seemed unaware that his own passions were being manipulated quite handily.
‘General Caesar, what is your purpose here?’ she asked suddenly.
Caesar stiffened. ‘I wish to solidify Rome’s alliance with Egypt.’
The Queen smiled tightly. She studied her knees, as if trying to think. ‘You must forgive us,’ she said at last. ‘We have failed to offer you and Legate Titus any refreshment!’
She glanced at Wen, who retreated to a corner of the corridor and emerged bearing a silver tray laden with an amphora and four golden goblets. She placed the tray upon a high table at the base of the throne.
In a blur of nubile grace, the Queen stepped down the stairs of the dais and stood beside Wen.
For a moment the four of them stood looking at each other—like two pairs of opponents meeting before a contest.
The Queen lifted the wine vessel with two hands and began to pour, while Wen held a cloth beneath the lip to catch the drips. As the Queen filled each goblet, she spoke gently and intimately to Caesar, as if she were confessing to her closest maid. ‘You must think me terribly naive to ask you why you are here, General—especially since I already know. You are here to recover my father’s debt.’
Caesar watched Cleopatra carefully but said not a word. She handed him his goblet.
‘You may be sure that as long as I sit upon the throne I will labour to pay that debt in full, and with interest.’ She handed a goblet to Titus and one to Wen, then took the fourth into her own hands. ‘I will always remember that you restored me to my rightful throne. The problem is that the moment you leave Egypt, I am as good as dead.’
She raised her goblet and Caesar raised a brow. ‘Your insight surprises me, Queen.’
‘Please, call me Cleopatra.’
Caesar grinned. ‘Let us drink to you, then...Cleopatra.’ Caesar raised his goblet, then emptied its contents in a single gulp. Titus did the same, feeling more at ease as he watched Wen take a tentative sip.
‘I may be young and inexperienced,’ continued Cleopatra, ‘but I assure you that I understand the challenges and responsibilities of being Queen.’
‘Do you?’ said Caesar, smirking. ‘It requires more than just pouring wine.’
The Queen’s eyes flickered with the delight of a challenge. ‘I know that my brother’s advisor Pothinus would much rather go to war with Rome than see your debt paid. And of course every leather-shod noble in Alexandria is behind him.’ The Queen refilled their goblets. ‘I also know that Rome cannot afford another long war.’
‘Nor does it wish for one.’ Caesar gave Titus a look, then drained his cup once again. ‘I am tired of battle.’
It was a lie, of course. Caesar was never tired of battle because he was never tired of glory. It was the difference between Caesar and Titus. Caesar fought for his own glory, while Titus fought to defend the Republic.
Titus shuddered, feeling the sudden burn of Wen’s gaze upon his skin. It was as if she had heard Titus speak his thoughts aloud.
Titus kept his face taut and expressionless, though he feared Wen could see his doubt of Caesar like a halo around his head.
‘And, of course, the city of Rome becomes a starving hamlet without reliable exports of Egyptian grain,’ continued the Queen. ‘With me dead, my brother will ban that trade, for his advisor Pothinus hates Romans even more than he loves beer. I fear it is in your interests to keep me alive, General.’
‘You speak like a politician,’ said Caesar. ‘How is it possible that one so young and lovely should have a mind so seasoned and sharp?’
The Queen only laughed. ‘And now we have delivered our best flattery to each other and are similar in that, as well,’ she said.
‘I am many things, but a flatterer I am not.’
‘Ha! Then I am bested, General, for I have just admitted that I am.’
They both drank at once, never taking their eyes off one another, while Titus stole another glance at Wen. The hint of a smile traversed her lips.
‘Pothinus and General Achillas hold the Egyptian army at Pelousion,’ the Queen said. ‘I fear they will begin their march to Alexandria any day.’
‘I see the net you are weaving,’ said Caesar carefully. ‘I wonder if the thread will hold.’
‘You have everything to gain from helping me defend my throne. Think of it as a test of merit.’
‘A test?’
‘And if you pass, you shall be handsomely rewarded.’ The Queen ran her finger across the lip of her goblet.
* * *
There was a long pause, and Wen held her breath. Cleopatra had just asked the most powerful man in the world to fight for her, with herself as the prize for victory. All of the Queen’s hopes and ambitions—along with both of their lives—depended on Caesar’s answer.
‘If we achieve victory,’ Caesar growled. He appeared angry and energised all at once. He set down his goblet and began to pace. ‘I travel with little more than a legion. They are Roman soldiers, but they are not invincible.’
‘Send for more,’ said the Queen. ‘Does Rome not have legions stationed in every province?’
‘It is not that simple.’ Caesar turned to Titus. ‘Who would send men?’
‘Mithridates of Pergamon would do it, if only to spite his late father,’ said Titus. ‘And ambition alone might motivate Antipater of Judea...’
As Titus spoke, it became clear that he possessed a vast political knowledge—not just of the Roman troops stationed near Egypt, but of their leaders’ proclivities and motivations.
It should have been no surprise to Wen. He was a commander of a legion and an advisor to a general. It was his job to know such things. Still, Wen sensed some deeper purpose beneath his words. She wondered what it could be. Who are you, Titus of Rome? she wondered. Who?
‘Atticus of Crete is close,’ Titus was saying, ‘but he would require some incentive.’
‘Incentive?’ asked the Queen.
‘You must reach into your coffers, Cleopatra,’ said Caesar. ‘Can you do that?’
Cleopatra laughed. ‘I have no choice. Without your help, I will be dead by the Festival of Osiris.’ Caesar gave her a doubting look, but the Queen only smiled. ‘Do not fear, General. I will find the gold to pay the legions. I will melt Alexander’s golden sandals if I have to.’
‘Do not do that!’ Caesar exclaimed. ‘I mean, let us hope it does not come to that.’
‘Then you will help me defeat my brother?’ asked the Queen.
‘Before I agree, I have a request.’ Caesar gazed up at the Queen’s magnificent throne. ‘Allow me to sit on your throne for a few moments, then join me upon it.’
‘What?’
‘I wish to sit upon your throne, then I want you to sit on my lap. That is my request. If you will fulfil it, I will help you in your cause.’
A wickedness had seeped into Caesar’s expression, making Wen’s skin prickle. Here he is at last, she thought, the dissolute womaniser, the famous seducer of other men’s wives.
She stole a glance at Titus, but his face was a mask of stone. Was he shocked by what the General had said, or merely bored by it? She sensed it was the former, and that there was something Titus continued to hide from her. From everyone.
‘Think of it as my...incentive,’ said Caesar.
To her credit, Cleopatra betrayed no emotion. ‘It appears that we have run out of wine,’ she said. ‘Come Wen.’
Before Caesar was able to respond, they had disappeared through a servant’s exit and into a small anteroom. The Queen collapsed into a chair. ‘Oh, Wen! Will the debasement ever end?’
‘It is an unusual request.’
‘Do you not think it unusually depraved?’
‘I think that he is a Roman man and thus he is by nature depraved.’
‘Hem! Well, I do not believe Titus to be depraved. You hesitate to agree—why?’
‘It is just...a feeling that I have about him. He is obviously one of Caesar’s closest advisors, yet there is something about Caesar that disagrees with him.’
‘Caesar’s depravity!’ cried the Queen, laughing. ‘If only it were Titus I was obliged to seduce.’
‘Perhaps it is well that you find Caesar depraved. It will enable you to keep your...honour from him as long as possible.
‘My honour? He wants me to sit on his lap, by the gods!’
An idea struck Wen. ‘You must ask for something in return.’
‘Beyond his promise to defend my throne?’
‘He must know that he cannot trifle with your honour. If he pushes, you will push back.’ It was a strange thing to say, especially for a slave, though Wen believed it with all her heart.
The Queen jumped out of her seat. ‘Gratitude, Wen! You have saved me once again.’ She lifted the amphora of wine and handed it to Wen.
‘We must first refill it, yes?’ Wen asked.
‘That is not necessary,’ said Cleopatra. ‘It is still quite full.’
* * *
Titus saw Wen re-emerge from the shadows and tried not to stare. She followed behind the Queen with quiet grace, the large amphora balanced effortlessly in her arms, her expression full of secrets.
‘Apologies for the delay,’ the Queen said, and Wen placed the large jar upon the table as Cleopatra met Caesar’s gaze. ‘Of course I will allow you to sit on my throne, General. And I will join you there, as you have requested. But you must give me a small token in return, so that I may preserve my honour.’
‘And what might that be?’ Caesar asked, swallowing his wine.
‘Cyprus.’
Caesar almost choked. ‘What did you say?’
‘I want the island of Cyprus. Rome took it from my grandfather. Now I want it back.’
‘An entire island?’
‘Return Cyprus to Egypt and I will allow you to sit upon my throne.’
Caesar shook his head. ‘It is impossible. Even if it were in my power to grant, I could not appear to favour you over your husband-brother. The Alexandrian mob would murder me in my sleep.’
‘Give it to my younger siblings, then,’ she said at last. ‘Give it to Arsinoe and Ptolemy the Younger. In your career, you have doubled Rome’s territory. Are you not allowed to do as you like with a small island? Return Cyprus, and let the Alexandrians marvel once again at your generosity.’
Titus could see the flattery at work on the great General’s resolve. ‘Did you know that this particular throne belonged to Rameses the Great?’ the Queen continued. ‘It is true. My great-grandfather, Ptolemy the Third, had it transported from Thebes. It is said that Rameses launched his campaign against the Hittites from that throne.’
Titus wondered if it was true, though it did not matter. Upon hearing the name Rameses the Great, Caesar grew misty-eyed and he walked to the base of the throne like one entranced.
‘Cyprus, then,’ he said. If Caesar had not been so distracted by the invocation of Egypt’s greatest King, along with the idea of his own largess, he might have realised that he had been outwitted.
By a woman.
‘Cyprus it is,’ said Cleopatra, grinning in triumph.
And so it was that Caesar made the short journey to the top of Cleopatra’s throne and settled himself into its wide marble seat. He took several deep breaths of the rarefied air and cast his gaze out across his imagined audience. ‘This is how it should be.’
Titus glanced at Wen. Her head was bowed, but she was watching Caesar out of the corner of her eye and her lips twisted in the beginning of a grin. Cyprus was her idea, Titus realised.
It was Wen who had encouraged the Queen to heed Caesar’s call and counselled her in how to seduce him. And now, thanks to Wen, Caesar had postponed his ambition. Whatever designs he had on Egypt would have to wait, for he had agreed to be the champion of its lovely Queen. It occurred to Titus that by neutralising the Roman Republic’s greatest threat, Wen might have singlehandedly saved it.
When he returned his attention back to Caesar, he noticed that the General’s face had twisted into a mischievous grin. Caesar motioned to the Queen. ‘Come, Cleopatra,’ he commanded.
Obediently, Queen Cleopatra ascended the stairs and sat down upon the great General’s lap. Titus’s impulse was to look away. For reasons unknown to him, he did not wish to see Cleopatra in a state of debasement.
But then something quite unexpected occurred. The Queen began to laugh. He glanced up at the throne—there she was, her mouth agape, lost in a flurry of giggles.
She had placed the loose ribbon of her diadem over the top of Caesar’s head. It fell over his long forehead, between his eyes and down the long sweep of his aquiline nose. The great General was blowing at the ribbon like a child might do, and it was fluttering in the air above his nostrils.
It was the most undignified thing Titus had ever seen. Gaius Julius Caesar, Roman General, Senator, Imperator and Consul of Rome, was acting a fool. And Cleopatra Philopator, Queen of Egypt, was baiting him.
Had the two gone mad? Had they been struck dumb by the gods? Had they simply drunk too much wine?
Wen stood silently beside Titus, her head still bowed, pretending not to watch. As Cleopatra pulled her ribbon off Caesar’s head and the General moved his arm more tightly around the Queen’s waist, Titus realised that their antics were not wholly innocent: they were expressing what appeared to be real affection.
Out of respect, he looked away and, in that same moment, so did Wen. Her gaze collided with his and he felt a pulse of warmth vibrate into his bones. On impulse, he reached out his hand.
Incredibly, she took it and let him pull her next to him. They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched Cleopatra and Caesar share a kiss.
‘Congratulations to us both, Titus,’ Caesar said in Latin, peering down from his high seat. ‘You have your woman and now I have mine, though I am certain that yours will not ask you for an island.’
Titus squeezed Wen’s hand, then smiled and nodded at Caesar, struggling to remain composed. And as the drunken General bent to plant another kiss on Cleopatra’s lips, Titus kissed the top of Wen’s head. ‘He does not know you speak Latin,’ he whispered into her ear.
‘But he knows of me, for you told him,’ Wen whispered back.
‘Do you find that so hard to believe?’ Titus asked, letting his lips linger in her hair.
‘What is this?’ clucked the Queen. ‘Do our two closest advisors conspire against us?’
Startled, Wen stepped away from Titus.
‘They conspire for certain, though I fear only Venus knows their aim,’ said Caesar.
The Queen and Caesar raised their goblets. ‘I salute you, Wen and Titus,’ said Cleopatra, ‘for there are no two people better matched.’
Titus reached for Wen’s goblet, and offered it to her with a wink. They had witnessed the bargaining and shared in the revelry of these strange, secret alliances. Their fates were tied together, in victory or in defeat.
Titus and Wen raised their goblets high.
And they drank.