Cleopatra's Secret: Keepers of the LIght (27 page)

But Antony silenced him with a gesture of his hand. “Go now. I’ll have the letter for you by morning.”

Germanicus struck his heart and left the tent. Antony felt the frosty rush of air sweep through once more as his friend opened the flap and then he was alone with his frozen wine sack and an empty page of parchment.

“Venus help me,” he muttered, as he took his reed pen from his satchel and sat down to compose his first words to Cleopatra in years.

***

Germanicus rode at dawn. Antony said a silent prayer as he watched his friend’s horse pick its way across the icy mountain range. The days went by and Antony waited impatiently for Cleopatra's reply. He busied himself doing all he could to help his men, but they were dying, and inside so was he as the time stretched on with no word from Germanicus.

Finally a messenger arrived. Glaring at the horseman as if he were half mad, Antony took the scroll and snapped it open.

The letter was short and to the point.

Antony,

She has refused to see me or even receive your letter. You must come yourself.

Your loyal friend,

—
G

Antony crumpled the papyrus in his fist and glared at the messenger. “Is this all? There’s no other letter? No further explanation?”

The messenger took a step back from the fuming general. “No, my lord.”

Cursing, Antony uncrumpled the scroll and read it again, then tossed it aside in disgust. Annoyed at the frightened messenger still lurking in the corner of the tent, he barked, “Go to the cook's quarters and see if there's anything left to feed you.”

The youth beat a swift retreat.

Antony paced his tent like a caged lion. He could not leave his men and go to Alexandria. Surely Germanicus knew that. But if he didn’t, his men would die. He pressed his palms against his brow to block out the frustration.

In the darkness of his mind’s eye he saw her, breathtaking as she had been in their last embrace, jade green eyes glowing with the intimacy of sacred love, her ripe lips parted in a secret smile like the Egyptian Cat Goddess, the long tangles of her hair as black as desert midnight. He could almost smell the ghostly scent of damask roses mingled with lotus blossoms and the smoky spice of incense….

He opened his eyes and stared at the swirling snow outside his tent.

So it had come to this at last.

As the blizzard caught the wind and obscured everything in a kaleidoscope of spiraling white flakes, he wondered that it had taken so long.

Her presence was so strong.

He closed his eyes again and reached out his hand, half expecting to feel her warm palm against his. He clenched his fist and whispered into the frosty air. “I can’t stay away from you any longer. No matter what comes of it.”

His strong body shivered in the chill down to his bones and he felt hollow with fear. This decision would shatter the world as they knew it, and somehow, he was powerless to stop it.

***

Octavia gritted her teeth and yanked hard on a particularly stubborn patch of weeds invading the rosemary of her decorative garden. Of course she had a villa full of servants to do this work for her, but she was never one to sit idle. Especially now.

The news traveled quickly to Rome when Antony set sail for Egypt. Gossip and speculation circulated through elegant villas and bathhouses, through crowded bazaars and into the halls of the Senate. There seemed to be nowhere Octavia could go without catching the gawking attention of the citizens. It was the scandal of Rome and since she, and not Antony, lived still on the Seven Hills, it was she who endured the whispers behind her back, the low twittering that floated like malicious birdsong as she made her way through the twisted maze of the Palatine. So Octavia closed herself up in her villa with little Antonia, unwilling to face the scandalmongers outside her door.

She brushed the earth from her hands and rose stomping around the lavender and climbing jasmine, fuming.

Crescentia came into the garden bearing a tray of figs and chilled wine. “Take some refreshments,
tibi
. You must eat. You’ve grown too thin. What will Lord Antony think when he returns?”

Octavia waived away the figs, annoyed at Crescentia’s refusal to accept the reality that everyone else seemed to understand perfectly––Antony was not coming back.

“Is Antonia asleep?” she snapped more sharply than she meant to.

Crescentia smiled and patted Octavia’s hand. “She’s taking her rest. Don’t worry about that child. The Gods gifted her with the sunniest nature I have ever seen.”

Octavia turned back to a trellis of uncooperative honeysuckle and began to pull away the dead vines, carefully winding the tender new offshoots into place. “She has Antony’s high spirits, or at least, I am told as a youth he was like that…before he married.”

Crescentia clucked and patted her hand. “
Tibi
, he loves you. Look at the beautiful gifts he showers you with.”

Octavia shook her head impatiently. “We needn’t pretend. After all, it’s not his fault he doesn’t love me. I know that he would, if he could.”

The old nurse shrugged. “The Gods, not poor mortals, arrange the affairs of human hearts, but that does not mean he won’t return.”

Distracted in thought, Octavia gave up her attempts at gardening and sat by a sputtering fountain, its decorative stone cupid spitting water from puckered lips to tinkle in the pool below. She dipped her fingers in the cool water.

How had this happened to her? She disliked public notice under even the most favorable circumstances, but to be the joke of Rome was too much. The humiliation rose up and she shook the droplets of water from her hands, wiping them heedlessly on her tunic.

How had this happened?

She stared at her lovely garden with its mosaic walkways of blue and gold tiles and the ivy covered walls bathed in the glow of afternoon, insensible to its beauty. Her brow furrowed. “This marriage was my brother's idea. If only he’d known the humiliation it would cause me.”

Crescentia shifted uneasily and smoothed Octavia’s hair. “Best not to think of that. Lord Octavian, I’m sure, would never do anything to cause you harm.”

Octavia froze as her nurse’s words hung in the air. Her heart thudded with a strange irregular beat as she took in the glinting water of the fountain bubbling and splashing.

“Did he know?” Her voice sounded dead even to her own ears. She looked up, searching for the truth in the timeworn lines of her old nurse's face.

Crescentia’s eyes darted away. “There is nothing to know. Lord Antony will come home soon. You will bear him another child and all will be well.”

The wheels of Octavia’s mind spun. “My brother is so clever. The cleverest man in Rome, they say. Surely, he knew Antony’s feelings for Cleopatra. Knew Antony’s impetuous nature. It’s a miracle Antony stayed away so long.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples which had begun to throb painfully. “Why should Octavian arrange a marriage where betrayal was almost guaranteed?”

Crescentia's voice was sharp, as it used to be when Octavia was a small child and her nurse warned her not to place her tiny hand in the fire. “You mustn’t say such things. Don’t even think them.”

Hardly hearing her old duana, Octavia wracked her brains. Snippets of gossip, vicious rumors, and the way people on the street glared at her with contempt as her litter went by once the scandal broke circled through her mind.

“Without Antony, Rome would be entirely his,” she murmured. She clutched at Crescentia’s hands, as if reaching for a lifeline in a world that was suddenly unreal to her. “He wants to destroy Antony––even if it means sacrificing me!”

The old nurse knelt before Octavia hissing, “Hush, you must hush! You don’t know what you’re saying. Think of Antonia!”

“Dear Gods,” Octavia tried to hold back the rising tide of grief as she buried her face against her nurse’s shoulder. “How could he do this?”

Her eyes pressed closed as she allowed Crescentia to whisper comfortingly into her ear and stroke back her hair, until a clear, all too familiar voice made Octavia look up.

“I see that I was right to come. I was worried I would find you in this state.”

As if her emotions had called him up, Octavian strode across her garden. He wore a blue cloak setting off his pretty eyes, and a golden lock fell becomingly over his forehead which was creased with apparent concern. He looked for all the world like the fair God Apollo come down to earth for a visit.

She blinked in disbelief. “Octavian?”

“Dearest,” he said solicitously, “I’ve surprised you. I should have had your woman announce me. But when I heard the news, I knew you would need me at your side.”

And he did come to Octavia’s side and sat down next to her on the fountain.

She slipped from her nurse’s arms. “Please go check on Antonia.”

Crescentia looked at her fearfully and hung back, despite Octavia’s orders.

“Crescentia, did you not hear your lady?” asked Octavian coolly. “You may go.”

Reluctantly, Crescentia nodded, and with a warning glance to her mistress, she headed into the villa, leaving Octavia alone with her brother.

Octavian placed his hands over hers. “I know how upset you must be, but rest assured, though Antony has abandoned you, I’m still here.” He put his finger under her chin and smiled reassuringly. “In fact, I think it would be best for you to come live with me again under my protection. You mustn’t worry about anything at all, Octavia. I will take care of you always.”

The sincerity in his voice amazed her. Could he possibly mean it?

Wrenching her hands from his grasp she stood to face him. “You knew, didn't you?” Her voice was low but steady. “You knew he would return to her.”

He smiled calmly. “You’re upset. It’s a difficult thing marriage, but I’m here now and I will defend you. I swear by Apollo, Antony will pay for this.”

“
Antony
will pay?” A fire had been lit in the pit of her belly and it roared through her as rage broke through at last. “
I
will pay, Octavian! I and my daughter!”

She backed away from him in disgust as tears flowed down her flushed cheeks. “I have heard for so long the stories of your cruelty and your treachery! They fill Rome like a foul stench, but I wouldn’t believe them. I thought people were jealous, or liars, or just fools. But I was the fool! You married me to Antony, knowing he would disgrace me, so you would have an excuse to declare war. You have used me in a manner I would not expect of my worst enemy.”

“Octavia…”

She shook her head and wiping the tears from her face, looked him straight in the eye, her voice like steel. “I tell you this, I’ll aid you in your plots and schemes no more! I’ll do everything in my power to help my husband. I’ll raise money and troops for him. I’ll spread propaganda. If it’s a war you want, brother, you shall have it!”

Octavian looked stunned. For once he seemed lost for words. Dumbly, he reached out to take her hand again, but she stepped back a pace.

“You must understand…” he whispered, his eyes pleading. “Come back to the Palatine with me and I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. You’ll forget––”

But she raised her hand, halting him in his tracks. “Get out, Octavian. Get out of my house before I kill you!”

He gaped at her in disbelief, as if he saw a stranger glaring at him in murderous rage. He stood there stricken for a moment, before his back straightened and the coldness returned to his pale eyes.

They stared each other down, and for the first time in her life, Octavia did not drop her gaze.

“You will regret this,” he said through clenched teeth, and swiftly turned and marched out of the garden.

She watched him go, knowing at some later time she would mourn his loss bitterly, but right now the pumping anger running through her gave Octavia strength. As she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, she considered her position. She had broken ties with her brother and her husband had deserted her. She fingered the silver crescent moon of Diana which hung around her neck.

From now on she would answer to no one but herself.

Taking a deep breath, and winding her hair back on top of her head, she headed into the villa. There was much to be done.

Dusk was settling over the Mediterranean, turning the sea foam a pale blue as it washed against the hull of Antony’s ship. At this magical hour between night and day, the ocean seemed to pause its churning waves and the wind held its breath as the ship slid closer to the harbor. Antony took in the great lighthouse of Pharos, its flaming beacon a guiding star in the twilight.

Low crawling mist crept in from the sea, obscuring Antony's ship as it sailed into port. It seemed as if nature herself was aiding him in his plan to enter Alexandria undetected, he thought, gratefully.

He had managed to keep his identity hidden to his fellow shipmates, who would hardly have expected to see the celebrated Lord Antony traveling on a cargo vessel loaded with stinking animals. But even those who knew him might have at first passed him by in the street without recognition. The hardship of his campaign in Parthia had taken its toll. He'd grown lean, purple shadows lined his deep blue eyes and a shaggy beard covered his usually clean-shaven face. He relinquished his scarlet cloak and shining breastplate for a tunic of rough wool and a dark threadbare cloak which he purchased from one of his soldiers for ten times its worth.