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I had not stopped shaking since we left Pharos. I curled myself into the corner of my cell, where I clamped my mouth against my chattering teeth. My thoughts raced around my head like spooked horses, eyes rolling back, mouths frothing. Gone was the girl crowned queen in her Five Names, lost were the light-winged victories and scattered joys of the last half-year. My dreams were full of fire and blood and the gods were silent.
It reached such a pass that my guards were instructed to force me to eat. They took turns holding me down and pushing a thin gruel into my throat. The tribune named Titus pitied me, I felt it in his grip when it was his turn to hold me. I felt it in the way he held my mouth open when that was his place. I felt it in the slight measuring way he coaxed the gruel into my stomach. He was the soldier whom Caesar handed me off to once I was off the ledge. He had seen all my shame.
I rarely responded to his kindly words, but I knew I was not hidden from him as much as I tried to draw into myself. Slowly, slowly the animal panic in my heart died away, and I was left with only an ironclad numbness. Then I waited for the blade in the night. For the queen’s retribution.
––––––––
I had been in the bare cell a week at the most, though it felt like whole years strung together, when the door opened one morning and Cleopatra walked in. Nausea rose in my stomach as the waves of heka pushed into the confined space and filled every corner in a suffocating layer of pure presence. It slunk around me like a mad dog, sniffing and probing. Looking to her, I could not tell how much of this she could observe.
She reached behind her and harshly thrust someone forward. The young woman lost her balance in the motion and stumbled onto her knees. Her clothes were dirty and her hair was caked in unwashed bunches, but her familiar tear-stained face bloomed with joy when she saw me, reigniting the light in her lifeless violet eyes.
"My lady! My lady!" my sweet Mudjet murmured as she crawled over to me and took me into her arms. I could find no words to express my elation that she was alive, so I clung to her in silence while a few tears wetted her soiled dress.
Cleopatra watched us with contempt as if we were two filthy beasts. "You know that you have brought this upon yourself," she said. "I would have been happy to leave you and Ptah alone,” I raised my swollen eyes to her as she continued, "but you were just so sure you could beat me."
She stalked over and pushed Mudjet away from me. She bent down like an ibis in spite of her pregnant stomach to roughly lift my chin so we could see one another face to face. "How could you be so foolish, Arsinoë?” she asked, a small, aggrieved note clinging to the edge of her anger. “Ptolemy was set to hand you over in exchange for his sorry hide, did you think you could win against him? Let alone me? Do you think I enjoy all of this?"
I remained silent, I could not think of any more words for her. I could have buried my face in the dirt and begged her to protect Ptah; I would have done that once. But nothing I could say would be the luck I needed for such a request. I had failed Ptah as surely as I had failed Egypt and my Lord. The black god had sought out a champion and had found only a child. Now I would die for my mistakes and there was no spell I could cast against my sister that would wipe our history clean. I would be cut down by my family like so many Ptolemies before me. My father had forbidden anyone to weep for Berenice. I found myself wondering if Ptah would be kept alive long enough to weep for me.
She inclined her head to the side and frowned. "No words for me? Is your hatred as deep as that?"
I watched her eyes narrow into a saner version of the look she gave me that night almost a year ago in Judea, as if she were trying to see me through a veil. She searched my face, seemingly both unable to see what she wished and seeing too much that she did not.
"Or are you some holy woman now?" she hissed with surprising malice. "The peasants whisper that the Egyptian gods love you, that you are their hemet-netjer."
The Egyptian words rolled easily from her practiced tongue, though in her mouth they turned sour and ugly. The title I treasured above all others, except perhaps when Set called me nedjet, ruined before my eyes by my embittered sister. "If that sorry little tale is so, it proves their day is done and you with them. I could splatter you and your pride all over this room with my heka alone if I pleased, I know you feel it all around you. Have you really any concept of its might? I could show you, you know.” She waited to let the threat hang in the air with an unexpected delicacy, savoring its sweet venom. “However, I have a more exquisite punishment in store for you, sister-dear."
I responded dully, "Some new poison?"
This made her snort in derision. "Oh no, my wee false queen. What I have planned is much more excruciating than any poison in my book. Once Caesar takes care of Ptolemy for me, which should be short work seeing how your troops now hate him, we shall rest on our laurels briefly and then we shall take you to Rome. And after the good citizens have had their fill of hurling garbage at you and you have been humbled enough to lick my sandals in front of them, I will graciously allow you to be strangled to toast my victory."
I stared at her. I would not have thought she was capable of astonishing me anymore and yet this proclamation stunned me to my core. "You will put me through the shame of a triumph? You would bring such dishonor to the blood of Ptolemy Soter before barbarians? Your own blood?" I whispered, my throat nearly refusing to say the words.
Cleopatra gave a cruel shrug. "You have some of my blood, but you are also a half-Egyptian mongrel and a traitor, and I will have an example made of you before the people of the Black Land. I will make them wish they were under the stony hand of She Who Is Not Spoken Of. And Rome will see I am not to be trifled with."
"Why me? Why not Ptolemy?"
"Because Ptolemy would be no fun," she replied, her mouth twisting into a malicious grin. "I want you to know just how much I can humiliate you before I kill you, little sister."
––––––––
Cleopatra was correct, of course. Too many of my men knew that Ptolemy and his allies had sold me to the enemy to save themselves, and they despised him for it. They were not nobles, many were not Greek; they knew they had lost a champion for their Egypt and were now only involved in a bickering fight between rival conquerors. The Gabiniani were so disgusted with my brother that they nearly revolted for brokering a deal with the woman they hated for the most temporary of advantages.
In my broken heart I sighed for those brave soldiers who would now die for a cause that was not their own. I felt the restless bones of the old pharaohs clatter in their plundered tombs. The last death rattle of the old Egypt.
And then Caesar’s ally Mithridates came overland from the east, joining the legions wily Antipater at last deigned to send my sister from the north. Caesar then had twenty thousand men at his disposal, finally enough to match our forces. No more siege, now the Romans went truly on the offensive. As much as it must have galled him, Ganymedes agreed to help Ptolemy defend Alexandria, because a victory was his only chance to gain my freedom. Not that I think it would have mattered in the end. Even if our army had carried the day, Cleopatra would have killed me before she fled our forces. She and I had reached an impasse, our breach could not be healed. We were two sharp-eyed hawks locked in deadly combat. Only one of us would be able to fly away.
My men fought courageously, yet their mettle and their pikes were not enough. The legions were led by lords of war who had fought a hundred battles. Many of my soldiers were farmers and children.
The so-called Battle of the Nile was the last war of Egyptian Egypt. Like the dreamy lotus eaters, too late did this ancient land rise up against the yoke of the Greeks. Now they would wear the chains of the people who had risen to take Alexander's place. The Romans overran Ptolemy's camp as soon as they broke the Egyptian line. My ever-changing brother fled like his soldiers, scattered to the dust of history, and in the end, the ancient Egypt he had always scorned had its final revenge. The primordial Nile — Egypt's Mother, Father, Lover, Foe — its Everything and All Things, dashed his ship against her waves and pulled him down into her silty lap. He burned her land and she fed him to her crocodiles. Such has always been the violence of her love and hatred.
The defeat of my army also killed my beloved teacher. He was found with a Roman pilum in his back still in the confines of the camp, surrounded by the bodies of dozens of his soldiers.
I could see it so clearly in my mind, Ganymedes trying to rally a counterattack long after Ptolemy had abandoned the field. Convincing a detachment of men to keep fighting to allow more of the troops to reach safety and regroup. The relentless push of the legionaries, the exhaustion and fear of my soldiers, one by one being cut down. My tutor at last realizing they too must fall back, and the spear piercing him as they turned to run. Cleopatra ordered his corpse decapitated and the headless trunk hung from an obelisk in front of the palace. The head she threw at my feet and left there so I could watch it rot and be devoured by rats in the moonless night.
With Ptolemy dead, my sister placated her inconstant lords by marrying Ptah and crowning him as her new co-ruler. He had to leave his toys and his nickname and take his place in our family's house, where there must always be a Ptolemy. Ptolemy is dead, long live Ptolemy. Ptolemy Of No Ruling Epithet, the Fourteenth of His Name, was nine years old when the double crown was placed on his head. I begged my mute Lord to protect him.
––––––––
After my sister's visit to me, the forced feedings stopped. In their place was a single small bowl of gruel a day no longer delivered by sympathetic Roman guards, but by Apollodorus or one of his minions. Mudjet and I would sit reciting poetry to one another and pretend not see him or how watery the gruel grew each day.
"You think you can ignore me forever, Princess. You are very mistaken," he said one day, slamming our bowls down.
I slowly turned to him. We might have been prisoners, but I had come too far to acquiesce to his barbarous attitude. "I did not realize you had grown so insecure, Apollodorus, as to need my attentions,” I shrugged his presence away while tipping the bowl of gruel towards me with my toe to inspect the contents like fine wine. “I am sorry if my sister is spending so much time stroking Caesar's... ego... that she is neglecting you."
In a flash he picked me off the floor and slammed me against the wall. Mudjet shrieked. "Both of you can scream all you want, no one will hear you,” he hissed, inches from my face. “I told you that you weren't your glorious sister's equal, do you still not understand this as you sit in a cell in your own filth? You act like you are still a Ptolemy. You are nothing. If you are lucky, your corpse will be thrown into the Tiber."
"And you are still a brute masquerading as a gentleman,” I replied disdainfully. “I have wielded a sword and an army, and held both in the face of Gaius Caesar. I am not afraid of you anymore, Apollodorus."
He pushed me harder into the wall and I tried not to wince in pain. "I'll call in a few of my men and we'll see how long you keep that whorish tongue in your head. If I am feeling generous, they will only use their fists." He glanced over his shoulder. "Or should I have them start with Mudjet?"
I repressed a shudder. "If my sister allows you to do this, you are correct. I am not her equal. I am her superior."
He let go of me angrily and I fell onto my knees. "Still a delusional little girl after all. Let's see if you can hold such a high opinion of yourself when you're too feeble to protest." He stalked out of our cell, pausing only to kick Ganymedes’ skull into the far wall.
I waited until he was gone before crawling over to what remained of my teacher’s head. It was still unpleasant to face, but our midnight scavengers had cleaned up much of the viscera. I picked it up and ran a finger along the angry crack the Sicilian had kicked into the bone.
“Forgive me, Teacher. Though you know Apollodorus has always been ill-mannered.”
––––––––
Then our gruel began arriving every other day. It did not take long for the constant gnawing presence of hunger to squeeze our bellies like a vise. I began to await Apollodorus’ men eagerly, barely able to contain my poise until they departed before falling on the meager gruel in a snarling spasm of animal need. Only the last shreds of my dignity prevented me from snatching Mudjet’s portion for myself, and I could see a matching thread of decorum dangling in her eyes. We waited and dreamed only of food, the longer days only made time pass more leadenly.
"You are growing too thin, my lady."
I ran a restless hand along my jutting collarbones and glanced back at Mudjet's hollowed cheeks. "It cannot be helped,” I answered listlessly. Perhaps we shall be granted the mercy of starving at home rather than being murdered in Rome."
"I would have thought the Queen would feed you well to prevent such an escape.” She looked at me with a wan ghost of her usual saucy smile. “Such as it is,” she added with a rueful little giggle.
"She is distracted. She has her child's future to plan, a kingdom to manage, and a lover to entice to stay abroad as long as possible despite his commitments. She might be forced to forgo some attention to a sister she is only going to kill when it is convenient anyway."
Mudjet gave me a thoughtful look. "I think it is as Achillas told you. She was surprised how lovely and grown-up you were when you came back. She is willing to risk having you die from lack of food to have you appear more plain before the Romans."
It was my turn to try to remember how to laugh. "Now I know our end is imminent, my dear, if Cleopatra Thea Philopator has found something to be envious of me for,” I replied, grinning weakly and holding out my ugly, wasted arms for her approval.
"That, and how long so many of her own people resisted her rule for you. How even here in the bowels of despair, we hear whispers that the people still look for you. You are no longer a weak child before her prowess, my lady."
"No more a child, true. She might succeed in making me weak again," I replied, closing my eyes against the vertiginous wave flooding my head.
Mudjet did not reply for several minutes. Finally she said, “Have the gods abandoned you, my lady?"
I could yet feel the pressure of Set's hand over my heart, the glimmer of him that lived in my ka, but how to explain even to Mudjet how light the feeling had grown? How what once was a firm embrace had become as fleeting as the brush of lips? The stark chasm the gods left inside me with their silence. How truly alone I felt. How part of me feared that my failures meant they had surrendered me to whatever fate my future decreed.
"I know not, my sweet," I said to her, unable to hide my sadness as I did my pensive thoughts. "The gods are quiet, though mysterious are their ways. Perhaps I am being tested."
She frowned. "It seems unfair for the holy gods to test you at this late hour. I think you have sufficiently proven yourself to them."
"Ah, but Ma'at has never promised fairness, dearest. Only balance."
––––––––
The weeks dragged on. I began to lose track of time, of place, even of who I was. Every day, Mudjet and I would rise when the first sliver of daylight crawled up our wall like a lazy spider. We would rise and she would make me recite the same words every morning through our hunger and our growing disorientation like a talisman:
I am Arsinoë, Third-Born of Her Father; Princess of the House of Ptolemy Soter; Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt as the Fourth of Her Name; Beloved of Set, Lord of the Red Land, He Who Thunders; Sister to Ptolemy the Fourteenth of His Name, Pharaoh of the Black Land, Incarnate of Horus the Wadjet-Eyed.
"What are your Five Names, my lady?"
Arsinoë, Light and Renown of Ra; Beloved of the Ka of Set; She of the Two Ladies to Whom the Gods Open Their Mouths; She Who is Like the Shining Eye of Horus, beloved of the Two Egypts.
––––––––
As the ever-lengthening days blazed on and the ceaseless moans of our empty stomachs robbed me of sleep and the ability to think deeply of anything, I began to almost wish I could see Caesar again. I wished I could throw myself at his demon’s feet and beg him to soothe Cleopatra's savage temper. I remembered that despite his own beastly reputation, he was also known to be merciful to his defeated adversaries. It was because of this I told myself he was ignorant of our treatment.
Or maybe that was a foolish fancy of my exhausted mind. Maybe I had wounded his pride too deeply for pity. Maybe they conspired together in each other’s arms just as was said and my wasting body was his revenge as well. I could no longer tell. I ceased to dream of food, and I began to dream of death.