Cleopatra's Secret: Keepers of the LIght (15 page)

Suddenly her words caught in her throat. Her mind went blank.

Iris held her breath as the shadows deepened around her, like gathering thunderclouds, into an impenetrable blackness throbbing with life. Some unseen force unleashed itself, knocking her back on the dirt floor as the chamber suddenly overflowed with Her presence.

Iris’s mouth fell open and the pregnant darkness rushed in, filling her to the brim with its primal power. Her head throbbed as the magic blew through her nerves, pushed the boundaries of her physical and spiritual form, until she lost the ability to tell where her body began and the presence within her ended. She felt so big she would overflow the small shrine. Her strength would burst the limestone around her like shattered glass.

It was too much. She couldn’t hold the charge.

The screeching of spectral ravens tore through her brain until she couldn’t think, her skin sizzling with too much electricity. She had heard whispers of people dabbling in magic, taking in too much power and then going insane. She hadn’t understood. Hadn’t believed them. If only she'd listened!

As a new current of lightning force shot through her, her only instinct was for escape. Iris staggered to the steps, trying blindly to break away from the temple.

Amidst the deafening shriek of ravens, and the mind-numbing pain tearing her body apart atom by atom, through some primal instinct for survival, she put one hand in front of the other, crawling drunkenly to the top of the stairs. With one final pure act of will, she pushed through the temple door and collapsed onto the chilled desert sand.

She just lay there under Nephthys’ waning moon, shielding her eyes with her hand from the piercingly bright stars glaring down on her. But to her relief, the primeval darkness began to release itself from her spent body, flowing into the sand, the earth absorbing the waves of excess magic she had been foolish enough to think she could contain. She lay panting as the screaming birds quieted and her mind began to clear. Her muscles unclenched their spasmodic grip and her shivering body settled.

She let out a long, deep breath. Carefully sitting up, Iris peeled a few strands of sweat-drenched hair from her face.

Something was wrong
.

Gone were the baby-fine waves of gold. Instead, her fingers ran through thick smooth hair as black as a raven’s breast.

She looked down at her body illuminated in the moonlight. Her creamy complexion and willowy limbs had been replaced with the warm honey-toned skin and womanly shapeliness of the mother Goddess, Isis.

Her blood ran cold. What had she done? What if someone saw her? Dear Gods, she had been a fool!

Not stopping to think, she bolted across the desert until she reached the entrance of her tent. But there she paused. She could not go in. If Charmion woke up and mistook her for Cleopatra…

Or worse––what if she didn’t?

No, she could not go back to her own tent. Which left only one place.

Her eyes darted to Cleopatra’s pavilion. Antony’s pavilion.

She thought of the handsome Roman asleep on his luxurious silk carpets and tasseled pillows, of the curve of his well-muscled back, the masculine beauty of his face, the way his dark blue eyes filled with desire when he gazed at Cleopatra. What would it be like to see that desire inflaming him when he looked into her eyes, touched her skin, left a trail of kisses across her virgin breasts?

She burned to know.

Iris stole across the sand to his pavilion and peered in. Antony lay entwined in sheets, his naked body exposed to her hungry eyes. Holding her breath, she stepped inside and crept a bit closer, her heart raced with excited terror as she looked down on him.

Sensing her presence, Antony’s eyes opened and sleepily he rolled over and grasped her hand to hold next to his cheek. She felt the rough beginnings of a beard, the strong line of his jawbone and sleep warmed skin.

He began to speak but she put a trembling finger to her lips. With a drowsy smile, he reached out to pull her into his embrace. Like taking a leap into a cold fathomless pool she went. She closed her arms around every solid inch of him she could hold and felt his warm hands slide down her back to cup her buttocks in his firm grasp, before his mouth closed over hers in a hot deep kiss that would be seared into her memory for the rest of her life.

***

As the early morning sun began to heat the desert to an inferno, Cleopatra and Apollodorus returned to camp. Cleopatra hoped she did not look as tired and drained as she felt. The rites they had undergone at Abydos had been strenuous and Cleopatra longed for her luxurious baths back at Lochias Palace with their warm bubbling springs filled with fresh lavender and rose oil. But she broke into a smile as she spotted Antony stepping out of their pavilion to greet the new day.

He squinted in the bright sunlight, looking at her as if she were a mirage standing there with her robe covered in dust, hair tangled by the desert wind.

“Have you been working more of your magic?” Antony asked, as she came to him and pressed a kiss to his lips before stepping inside the cooling shade of the tent.

Her inner radar sparked. “What do you mean?”

“Where have you been?” he asked, almost angrily.

“In Abydos.” Cleopatra splashed the rosewater which her servants had prepared onto her hot dusty face, then patting the droplets away with her fingertips turned to Antony. “Does that surprise you?”

He shrugged his thick shoulders and raked a hand through his hair. “I thought you came to me in the night. Was it a dream? A vision? I must tell you, I’m growing impatient with never knowing what’s truth or illusion.”

She smoothed his brow, searching his eyes for some clue to what he was talking about. “Antony, I don’t know what you speak of but––”

Sensing a presence behind her, Cleopatra turned to see Iris and Charmion respectfully waiting just inside the tent.

They bowed and she thought she detected something strange in Iris's face, but the girl's eyes were cast down, making it impossible for Cleopatra to catch a glimpse of the soul that lived inside of her young attendant.

“Queen of Heaven, forgive our intrusion,” said Charmion. “We know you are tired from your journey but there’s a soldier here who insists on seeing Lord Antony. He has traveled from Rome to give him a message.”

Cleopatra followed her attendant’s gaze as she looked over her shoulder at the Roman soldier waiting outside the tent.

Antony's face split into a grin of pleasure. “Germanicus!” He turned to Iris and Charmion. “Don’t leave him standing in the brutal sun after such a long journey!” he reprimanded the waiting women as he strode forward and pulled his friend into the shade of Cleopatra’s pavilion.

Germanicus nodded formally to Antony who, unable to control his joy at seeing his friend, grabbed the legionnaire’s shoulders in a hearty grip and held them for a moment. “It’s good to see a fellow Roman! Come, sit and rest. I can’t believe you’ve traveled all the way down the Nile. Charmion, Iris bring refreshments!”

The two women silently slipped from the pavilion to follow his instructions. But Germanicus did not rest, his gray eyes were focused on Cleopatra who stood at Antony's side.

Antony smiled broadly. “I see you are properly bewitched by Queen Cleopatra.” He turned to her. “My lady, may I present my friend and legionary commander, Germanicus Domitius.”

“You are welcome in Egypt, Lord Domitius,” she said graciously. “Doubly so, as you are Antony’s great friend.”

Remembering himself, Germanicus gave Cleopatra a polite bow and murmured his thanks, but then returned his attention to Antony.

“It’s not merely for the pleasure of your company I’ve traveled such a great distance. I have news from Rome,” he glanced at Cleopatra, “news which is for your ears only.”

Antony laughed in his good-natured way as Cleopatra stood silently at his side. “Don’t feel you must hide anything from the Queen, Germanicus. Anything that’s fit for my ears, is fit for her’s as well.”

Germanicus shifted uncomfortably on his hob-nailed sandals, but his good manners prevailed and he nodded. “As you like. There’s trouble in Rome. Octavian has been poisoning your name and reputation in the Senate, and now that you have begun this––association with Queen Cleopatra, he speaks her name and treason in the same breath. He would convince the citizens that you desert Rome and care only for the pleasure gardens and delights of the East. Only your immediate return will dispel these rumors.”

Cleopatra steadied herself. Once more the Romans called her a whore. Once more they plotted to destroy her and her kingdom. She was not fool enough not to understand what this proud young commander was saying to Antony:
Leave your Egyptian harlot behind. Return to Rome and we will forgive you
.

Antony looked down at the ground and said nothing. But Germanicus gave him a firm shake. “Antony! You haven’t time to hesitate. The Republic calls you to duty. You cannot fail to respond.”

“The Republic is gone,” growled Antony beginning to pace the room in frustration. “Surely you can see that.”

“It will be gone if you don’t come now and restore it. You can’t let our nation fall totally under the sway of Octavian. He’s cruel and power mad. Most don’t see it yet, but some of us have begun to perceive his true nature.” He fixed Antony with his sharp eagle eyes. “You must come. If not for yourself and your own position, then for Rome and her citizens.”

“When do the wars and intrigues end?” Antony shook his head. “I’m done with it, Germanicus. I’ve done my part for Rome. For the battlefield.” His gaze fused with Cleopatra’s for a moment and his voice softened. “I’ve found so much more here than I can ever express to you.”

Germanicus turned his cold stare on Cleopatra. “I do not doubt you have found much to hold you here, Antony. But the wars will not end until the Republic is secured. Until Octavian’s scheming is checked! Surely you can still see that?”

Antony raised his eyes to meet his legionary commander’s, his expression sober, though his voice was almost tinged with sadness. “No. It’s enough.”

“You will not raise your sword to help Rome?” asked Germanicus, incredulous. “You will do
nothing
?”

Antony, unsheathing his sword, held it up before Germanicus, his composure breaking at last. “I have slain more men with this sword than I care to remember! And what has it brought? Is Rome safe? Is Rome in peace? I’ve lived among the wounded and orphaned, and seen young boys cut down and for what? For the Republic? The Republic is gone, Germanicus! Gone!”

The commander looked furiously from Antony to Cleopatra. “You did not deserve the trust and praise of Caesar when he was alive and you do not deserve Rome's now. Once I thought you had begun to taste the wine of glory, that you would follow Caesar and become as great as he was. I see now I was wrong.” Germanicus sharply pulled the tent flap aside and marched out into the white sunlight.

Enraged, Antony threw his goblet after the commander but it only hit the desert sand. “What does he know of Caesar? He barely knew the man! I’m so sick of hearing always of Caesar! ‘You could be great, Antony, but not as great as Caesar’, they say! Even you,” he said, glaring at her. “Even you think I am nothing compared to the great and mighty, Caesar. You think I am a child, a braggart, a wastleing! I see it in your eyes! Well may the Gods curse you all!” He turned his back on her and marched towards the tent flap, storming out after Germanicus.

Cleopatra stood with the blood pounding in her ears. Antony
was
behaving like an angry child, yet she would be lying if she did not admit she shared some of his emotions. How well she understood the desire to simply escape!

If only they could take Caesarion and travel far, far away, beyond the ocean to some remote corner of India and there live out their lives quietly as others were blessed to do. It was such a sweet temptation, more alluring than all the emeralds, and silks and perfumes she could ever possess. But she could not leave Egypt at the mercy of Rome, anymore than she could desert her defenseless little son to a pack of hungry hyenas.

Wearily she dusted the sand from her robe. She had not slept in two days and she longed to curl up on the soft carpets that seemed to beckon to her. Instead, she stepped out into the blazing heat and followed Antony's footsteps in the sand.

She found him sitting on top of a hill overlooking the expanse of desert. Only sun bleached sand and bright blue sky spread out as far as the eye could see. He was staring at the horizon.

She placed a cool hand on his shoulder.

He took it and pressed her palm against his, brushing his lips over her fingertips. “Forgive me. I’m too quick tempered. It’s one of my greatest flaws.”

She sat down at his side. Suddenly her heart ached with such sadness.

“When will you leave?” she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder.

He turned away, averting his eyes. “At daybreak tomorrow.”

“Let’s go back to Alexandria first. We can spend one more night there before you go. I don’t want to say good-by to you here.”

He turned to Cleopatra and stroked her wind-tangled hair tenderly back from her face. “It will not be for long. Rome, or no Rome, we belong together now.”