The Memoirs of Cleopatra Read online

  “Princess Cleopatra,” Berenice spoke, “we have been raised to the honor of the throne. We are now to be known as Cleopatra the Sixth and Berenice the Fourth, rulers of Upper and Lower Egypt. We wish you to proclaim yourself our dearest sister and loving subject.”

  I tried to keep my voice steady, to sound calm. “Of course you are my dearest sisters, and I, your most loyal sister.” I would avoid the word subject unless I was forced to it. Saying it was treason to my father. Would they notice it missing?

  “We accept your allegiance,” said Berenice for both of them. “The people have spoken. They have made their wishes known. They do not want our father the King to return; they will not admit him if he does. But there is little chance of that! The Romans will not restore him because it seems that one of their prophecies forbids it; something to the effect that ‘under no circumstances must arms be used to restore the Egyptian King to his throne, although he may be received with courtesy.’ Well, they have done that: feasted and pampered him. But that’s all. Oh, and taken his money. He owes so much to the Roman moneylenders that, were we ever to take him back, our country would be bankrupt.”

  “Yes, and is that any way to love your country? He called himself Philopator, ‘lover of his father’—his fatherland?—but he has sold us to the Romans!” cried Older Cleopatra, her voice full of self-righteousness. “Egypt for the Egyptians! Let us take care of our own affairs! Why pay Rome to give us a king, when we have queens available for nothing?”

  “I am to be Queen of certain districts, mainly in Upper Egypt, and Berenice will be Queen of Middle Egypt and the Moeris Oasis,” she continued. “We will begin negotiations for marriages.”

  “We have brothers,” I suggested, as if I were trying to be helpful. “Do not we Ptolemies marry within our own family?”

  They burst out laughing in unison. “Those little children? One is three and the other an infant! It is a long time until they’ll father any heirs. We need men in our beds,” said Berenice.

  “To wed a baby—why, it would be like wedding a eunuch!” Cleopatra laughed cruelly. Then she stopped, pointedly. “Oh, I forgot; you like eunuchs. Busy yourself with them and your horses, then,” she said grandly, waving her arms over the jasper arms of her chair. “Do not meddle in things of state, and you shall do well. Do you still have your horse?”

  “Yes,” I answered. My horse, a white Arabian, was truly my best friend at that age. My horse took me away from myself and the palace and out into the desert.

  “Then keep to them. Ride, hunt, and study. Do not concern yourself with things that do not concern you. Do this and you will prosper. We mean to be gentle with all who are gentle with us.”

  “Yes, Your Majesties,” I said. I inclined my head, but did not bow and did not fall to my knees. And as for calling them majesties, that was no treason. Were not all the King’s children recognized as gods? And are not gods majesties? I acted calm as I took my leave.

  But once in the safety of my own rooms, I shook with shock and fear. They had turned on their own father, seized the throne. They had committed a most grave sin; it was the curse of the Ptolemies. Their blood was compelling them to it.

  For we came from a very murderous and bloody line, with such familial killings as sickened the world. Brother had killed brother, wife, mother…it was a hideous legacy. I had prided myself that we, this generation, were made of finer stuff. Now it seemed that I was horribly mistaken.

  Father! Father had been deposed by his own daughters. And what would they stop at? Me, Arsinoe, the two boys—would they destroy us all as well?

  I had no one to confide in. I was long since too old for a nurse, and no confidant had replaced her. I felt utterly alone.

  There was only, as always, Isis.

  I was safe, for now. They would allow me to live as long as I kept myself in obscurity, was young enough to be harmless, and did not attempt to build up a following. As if I could have!

  And so I contented myself with my “eunuchs and horses,” as they had contemptuously described them. There were, in those days, flocks of eunuchs around the royal grounds. Eunuchs were important in nearly every sphere of life; it is impossible to imagine palace life without them. In a world in which dynastic ambition ran riot, the eunuchs alone were exempt from suspicion. They served as tutors to the royal children, as confidants to both kings and queens, as ministers and generals. A man whose earthly fortunes would end with himself was devoted to his master. Curious how much we do for our posterity, and how our behavior would change without descendants. And the popular, sneering prejudice about their condition meant that they could never seize open power, but must always remain hidden, shadow-figures behind their masters. Ideal servants, then, for such as the Ptolemies.

  Obviously, one could not come from a long line of eunuchs—no one ever claimed his father and grandfather were eunuchs—but the practice of designating one’s children to be eunuchs seemed more prevalent in some families than in others. Only the most promising boys were selected—for what was the point in making that sacrifice if the boy did not have much hope of attaining worldly success? Therefore, when one said “eunuch,” one was also implying “talented, clever, and diligent.”

  Most eunuchs in Alexandria were Greek, or Egyptians who had become quite Greek in their thinking. There were also Cappadocians, Phrygians, Bithynians, and such, likewise Grecophiles. In Egypt there was no forced castration, or any castration of slaves. It was entirely voluntary, which made it a little less guilt-laden for those of us who employed the eunuchs.

  Usually the operation was done at a fairly early age. Not in infancy, of course, because it was best to wait until the child had proved healthy. Sometimes, in special circumstances, it was done later, even after a boy had started turning into a man, and then the eunuch was different from the usual kind. His voice would be deeper and he might be easily mistaken for any other man.

  I thought little about eunuchs, taking them for granted. It was only after I went to Rome that I discovered what it was like to live in a world without them.

  I discovered Mardian not long after I embraced Alexander as my comfort. Whenever I went to the tomb, I hoped to have it to myself. But for several days in a row, a bulky little boy was always there when I went. He would be kneeling before the sarcophagus, motionless—he must have had knees of iron—his head bent reverently. Or he would be bending over the coffin, a mooning sort of look on his round face. Truth to tell, he annoyed me. I wished he would go away. I could have ordered him removed, but I hoped he would go away without having to be asked. Day after day he was there. My patience wore away. I began to think he was deliberately interfering with my time with Alexander. When at night I closed my eyes and tried to think of Alexander, this boy’s head would always be sticking up somewhere in the picture. It was not noble or inspiring.

  The next day, as I descended into the crypt, I prayed he would not be there. And for a moment I thought he was not. Then I saw—again!—that round form hunched over, guarding the coffin. It was too much.

  “Leave!” I cried, running over to him. “Or come some other time! Come in the early morning!” I could never get away in the early morning; that was one of the busiest times in the children’s quarters. He could have Alexander all to himself then.

  He stood up. “I can’t,” he said with quiet dignity. He was taller than I was. I had no idea he was a eunuch. It does not become apparent until later.

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  “This is my only free time.”

  “Do you know who I am?” I said. Could he not recognize an order from a princess?

  “Yes,” he answered, again with that strange dignity. “You are Cleopatra the younger. If you were Roman you would be called Cleopatra Minor, which would be wrong. You are no slight personage.”

  “And who are you?”

  “My name is Mardian,” he said. “I live in the Royal Quarters, Princess. I am studying, hoping to be of use someday to the King.”

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p; “Oh…you are a eunuch,” I said, suddenly understanding.

  “Yes,” he said, without flinching.

  “Why do you come here, day after day?” I could ask him that, whereas he could not ask me.

  “Because I wish to be like Alexander.”

  I burst out laughing at his answer, then felt bad when I saw his face. He had not expected that blow from me. “There is no one like Alexander.” I tried to cover it up. “Anyone who attempts it would seem laughable to others. Think of all the pitiful kings who have called themselves Alexander, tried to emulate him, had themselves carved in his poses with his flaring hair, his turned neck. No, we can never be Alexander.” I was talking too fast, trying to apologize without actually saying the words.

  “So you, too, wish to be Alexander? You said ‘we.’ ”

  He had caught me. “Yes,” I admitted. “I would like to be like Alexander. I suppose you would say a woman is an even more unlikely Alexander than a eunuch. And you would be right. But I can attempt to be like him in character. And sometimes he seems more alive to me than to the people walking around the palace grounds.”

  Alexander lay silent and golden in his coffin while our words flew back and forth over his head.

  “Yes! To me also!” Mardian said. “He helps me to bear it all. When I’m teased or taunted, I just tell myself, ‘Tomorrow you can take it all to Alexander.’ ” He looked a little embarrassed that he would admit such a thing.

  “Tell me where you live in the Royal Quarters,” I asked. “Perhaps I can visit you there.” I had almost forgotten I had considered him a pest only a few minutes ago.

  “I am in the big building directly across from the Temple of Isis, the one that overlooks the eastern sea.”

  I knew it well: it was a busy place, with a school for scribes as well as the archives for war records.

  “Are there others—” I wanted to say “like you,” but I hesitated.

  “No, I’m the only eunuch in my study group,” he answered cheerfully. “There are about fifteen of us. Our mathematics tutor, Demetrius, is a eunuch; for the rest, we have a grammatician from Athens and a rhetorician from Chios.”

  “So do we,” I said, making a face. “Our rhetorician is named Theodotos, and I hate him! He’s sneaky and mean—like a snake.”

  “Snakes aren’t sneaky, and they certainly aren’t mean,” said Mardian gravely. He looked offended.

  “What do you mean?” Everyone knew that snakes had that nature, even if the cobra-goddess Wadjyt protected the Pharaohs and rulers of Egypt, and the royal crown showed her with hood spread.

  “I have studied snakes,” he said. “They are different from what the snake-charmers want you to think. You should see my animals; I have several pens of them near the stables. And I built a big enclosure for my snakes.”

  “What other animals do you keep?” My curiosity was stirred.

  “I had an ostrich for a while,” he said. “It grew too big for me. So now I have only small animals—lizards and tortoises and hedgehogs. I’d like to get a baby crocodile.”

  “I’d like to see your menagerie, Mardian,” I said. And we left Alexander, not having paid much attention to him on this visit.

  5

  It was not many days before I found myself drawn to where Mardian took his lessons, and found him and his schoolmates with their tutor. My arrival caused much stirring and curiosity, but the lesson—on geometry, an Alexandrian specialty—continued. I waited, watching, from the back. There were mainly boys there, but I saw five or six girls, and then—I recognized Olympos.

  He was hunched over his paper, concentrating on it so hard that it seemed it might take fire from his scrutiny. He was bigger now, and he had lost whatever roundness had still been in his limbs and shoulders when I met him at that memorable banquet…was it five years ago already? Now his face was very lean, making his riveting eyes even more noticeable. He must be fourteen now, at least.

  When the class was over, I waited for Mardian to greet me. But he ignored me and continued talking to one of his companions. Finally I went over to him and said, “Are you ashamed to know me, Mardian?”

  He looked terrified. “No, no, Princess!” His companion withdrew as quickly as possible. “I did not wish to presume—to make any claims of knowing you, since it was only by accident that our paths crossed. It would have been impudent—”

  “Nonsense!” I said, while knowing that others in my position might well have seen things that way. A chance meeting did not constitute a friendship. “Are we not brothers in Alexander?” Even as I said it, I realized that brothers was an odd word to use, when neither of us was male in the physical sense. Still, brothers meant more than just the body.

  “If you wish us to be, then so do I,” he said.

  “Good, then that’s settled.” I put my arm around his shoulders. “I wish you to show me your animals. Then I’ll take you to our royal menagerie. And then—”

  Mardian turned out to be such a delightful companion that I found myself missing him a little the next day. Our friendship grew as we did our lessons, picked flowers, constructed miniature walled cities out of tiny baked mud bricks. Together we built a chariot that could be pulled by black she-goats, and we felt very grand as we were carried in triumph around the grounds.

  The next time I visited the class, the teacher was drilling them on the Ptolemies, and looked truly alarmed when he saw me.

  “And the eighth Ptolemy, when he was officially entertaining Scipio Aemilianus from Rome, was forced to walk—” He blanched as I appeared. “That is, his gown—it was—”

  “It was transparent,” I finished for him. “And the sight was very comical, because he was so immensely fat, and gasped for breath after walking only a few steps.” Yes, I knew all the embarrassing stories about my ancestors. I must not flinch from them, or make the teacher change his lesson on my account. The obese glutton was my great-grandfather, nicknamed Physcon—“Fatty”—by the Alexandrians, who love nicknames. “And the haughty Roman said, ‘I have given the people of the city a novel sight: their King actually walking and getting some exercise.’ ”

  The students laughed.

  All these humiliations at the hands of Rome—they went back a long way. And Physcon was not the only fat man in my family tree; many others were huge. In consequence, I was always careful of what I ate, determined to stay slim, although the women in our family seemed not to be afflicted with obesity.

  “Yes, Princess,” said the tutor, flustered. I was sorry I had barged into the lessons; it seemed I could never do a normal thing without calling attention to myself. I must not come there again. But to leave now would cause even more disturbance, so I had to remain until the hour was over.

  Afterward Mardian came over to me, followed by Olympos.

  “I am pleased to see you again,” I said. “But have you studied here all these years, and never let me know?” I scolded Olympos. Was being a princess so intimidating that it drove people to flee from us?

  “Mostly I am taught at the Museion,” said Olympos. “But it is good to escape from the shadow of one’s parents—as you doubtless know. My father, with his scholarly reputation, casts a long shadow at the Museion.”

  “Not as big as the one my fat ancestor casts!” I said, laughing. “It is difficult indeed to move out from under his umbrella.”

  “You know one another?” Mardian looked surprised.

  “We met long ago,” I said. “When Pompey came to Alexandria.” I paused. “Both of us wanted to go to a banquet that we had no business attending.”

  “Olympos probably impressed all the adults—he usually does,” said Mardian.

  “Not any longer,” said Olympos. “I am now too old to get by on precocity. It stops working around the age of thirteen.”

  “Yes,” said Mardian. “Everyone likes a witty child, but beyond a certain age they’re considered tiresome.”

  “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to be that,” said Olympos, raising his eyebrow
s.

  We three began to spend time together; Olympos seemed lonely, although he would never have admitted it. Perhaps his intellect and adult demeanor put others off. His interest in medicine had not waned, and he was preparing to study here in Alexandria, where the medical school was the finest in the world. Mardian was also a lone figure, as he approached the age where his condition would make him visibly different from others. And I? I was the princess whose future was in severe doubt, an object of curiosity and speculation and whispers. People kept their distance.

  And then the feared day came, the day I had braced myself for all my life. Olympos announced with pride that he had acquired a little sailboat, and wished to take us out in the harbor. Would it be permissible for him to use the inner, royal harbor to practice on? The water was much calmer there.

  “I know all Greeks are supposed to be born with the skill of Odysseus coursing through their blood, but it missed me,” he said. “Still, I love the water.”

  The water: now I would have to confront it at last or admit that I was afraid, and stay on the shore for the rest of my life. Until now it had not mattered. No voyages had beckoned, no friends had issued invitations that involved boats.

  “Of course,” I said. “Take all the time you like to train yourself there. You can tie the boat up at the foot of the palace stairs, the ones that go right down into the water.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I will practice as much as possible, so I can take you out soon!”

  Unfortunately, I knew he would. By that time I knew him well enough to know he always honored his promises—and his timetable.

  High summer, just like…that day. Sun riding overhead, pouring its warmth out, heating the water in the shallow sandy-bottomed harbor to a lulling temperature. The colors, too, were the same—milky blue-green, gentle waves wearing a rim of white foam.

  “Come.” Olympos had waded waist-deep in the water, and was holding the bobbing boat. He expected us to wade out, too, and clamber over the sides. I looked at the water lapping at my toes, seeming innocent. But farther out it got deeper and deeper.