The Memoirs Of Cleopatra by George Margaret

Author:George, Margaret [George, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Adult, Historical, C429, Extratorrents, Kat
ISBN: 9781429924832
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 7986914
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 1997-04-14T23:00:00+00:00

46

“At last!” she said as I opened my eyes. The light hurt them.

“Here.” She laid a compress of cucumber juice on my eyelids; the fresh, astringent smell of it was like a miracle after the artificial, heavy odors of Canopus.

“What did you drink? A sleeping potion?”

The green, heavy liquid—I remembered its glint of emerald coloring, its oversweet taste. “It had that effect,” I said. Actually that was the least of its effects. I would have blushed about the behavior it had induced in the rented room—if I could remember the details. I sighed. “I made the mistake of drinking something offered off the streets.” Antony had had more than I. “What of Lord Antony? Where is he?”

“No one has seen him.” She laid her hands on mine. “But he is back in his quarters, never fear. His guards saw him enter.”

I hoped he was not too miserable. I raised one corner of the compress and looked at Charmian. “I saw you with—with—”

“Flavius,” she finished.

“Was he as—personable as you hoped?” She had looked happy enough when I passed her.

“Yes,” she said quietly. I wondered what had happened, whether this would lead anywhere. He was not exactly Apollo, as she had said she was looking for, but he would do as an earthly substitute.

After a few minutes I got up, swinging my feet over the side of the bed and touching the cool, washed marble floor. In spite of everything, I felt oddly rested.

Outside, the sea was beating against the breakwaters and smashing the base of the Lighthouse. It was mid-January, and the seas were closed to shipping. Very little could enter the port, and almost nothing could leave it, save by land. The caravans were still coming from the east with their luxury goods, but letters, grain, oil, and wine did not move. It was the time Epaphroditus and his assistants spent in inventories and compilations, girding themselves for another year.

I sent for Caesarion, who came as soon as he had finished that morning’s lessons. He had an old tutor from the Museion, the same one I had had, Apollonius. He had been dull but thorough, and I thought he would make a gentle start in learning for Caesarion. He never raised his voice, which had the sometimes unfortunate effect of putting you to sleep.

“I thought perhaps we might eat together, and you can tell me what you are studying,” I said. “And how your lizard is.”

His face lit up. “Oh, the lizard is fine! He’s learned a new trick since the one pulling the cart. Today he hid in my boot. I almost squashed him when I put them on!” He burst into high, pealing laughter.

“And your studies?” I asked. Charmian was setting bread and fig paste out for us, as well as goat cheese and olives. Caesarion reached for them eagerly.

“Oh—” His face fell. “I was memorizing the list of Pharaohs, but there are so many of them…. ” He bit off a big piece of bread and kept talking.

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