Cleopatra: Queen of Hearts
Part 1: Charming Caesar
Disclaimer: …I own everything actually! I don't technically own Cleopatra, Caesar or Marc Antony, but I do own the way I present them…if you understand what I mean. So no copying!
Summary: Cleopatra, a strong and sly ruler…as well as beautiful. She was the Queen of Egypt, and of two very powerful men's hearts: Caesar and Marc Antony. Were her romances really 'romances' or just plots to gain more power? Here's my take on the story of Cleopatra.
Author's Note: I was studying Cleopatra and her two major love affairs when I got the inspiration for this. I didn't particularly like Cleopatra before, finding her 'overrated' and preferring the lesser known but more powerful Egyptian Queen, Hatshepsut. When I began to read about her two major romances and how clever she really was, I was hooked. Since I remember reading a book written as a young Cleopatra's journal, before she met Caesar, I'm going to be writing about her starting when she meets Caesar. This is all 100 historically accurate, except for the dialogues and minor details, of course
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Everyone is always praising my wit, my cunning, my beauty, my majesty…I'll tell you freely, however, that I was scared out of my mind that day as I prepared to be stuffed inside a rolled-up carpet.
In case you haven't heard the story before, I'll tell you part of it: my dear father, Ptolemy XII, had made myself and my 12-year old brother, Ptolemy XIII, co-rulers of Egypt. We were married, to strengthen our union as much as was possible – husband and wife, brother and sister, king and queen – but even in the early days I knew it was a huge mistake.
Ptolemy XIII had always been very foolish. I say 'foolish' not in relation to his education – he knew math better than anyone else in the kingdom and could speak almost four different languages, having received the best education Egypt could offer – but to his common sense. When he was declared king, he was as pleased as a little child who has received just what it wished for as a gift. He would delight in ordering all the servants around, sporting his huge headdress, sitting on his throne, turning his nose up at everything and organizing – well, more like requesting – elaborate banquets. "Cleopatra, look," would be coming out of his mouth all day long, whether it was about the lion he'd just bought, the party he'd just requested or the barge named after him he was about to launch. He never realized ruling was more than just fun and games.
Of course, the male rulers always have more power here in Egypt, but I realized early on that Ptolemy XIII would make a terrible king. And so, gradually, I began to take the power for myself; only my face appeared on coins, his name was no longer on official documents, and I was hailed as the queen of Egypt as he was forgotten. For three years, Ptolemy didn't seem to realize or mind that he no longer held much power, still having fun with that he did have. Finally, however, what I was doing was pointed out to him and, enraged, he had me banished. With Egypt on my mind, I attempted to create a rebellion and gain back my power, but I didn't succeed and was forced to flee.
From my banishment – I went to Syria, taking my sister Arsinoe, my maid Iboni and my manservant Buikhu with me – I heard about how he'd had Pompey killed and how furious Caesar was with him for it: Pompey might have been his political enemy, but he had been his late daughter's husband and they had been friends, I think. Some even say he wept over Pompey's body! For a while, I could only bemoan the injury my foolish brother had done to all of Egypt, and then I realized this was my chance to set things right again. Caesar, in his hatred for Ptolemy XIII, would help me regain my throne.
And so here I was, wrapped up in a carpet. Even the most expensive and beautiful carpets are stuffy, humid, cramped, tight, itchy, and they smell. I couldn't wait for Iboni and Buikhu, my most trusted servants, to unroll the carpet. When it happened, I was taken by surprise.
I know they tried to do it gently, but unrolling a carpet gently is nearly impossible. Caesar didn't even have time to point out that he hadn't asked for a carpet before it unrolled and I came tumbling out.
I hit my side and my head on the floor, though if I say so myself I did perform an impressive somersault, not on purpose but due to the instinct to protect my head from more damage. Though I felt humiliated and as foolish and young as my now 15 year old brother, I stood up slowly and regally all the same. I wore a toga that was simple for me, queen of Egypt, a pale cream with only a heavy blue-and-gold collar and swirling designs at the hems. Instead of my usual impressive headdress, my head was adorned with a silver circlet, a snake's head jutting from it. My ebony-to-black hair was piled into a simple bun at the back of my head, not in several intricate braids as usual. The one luxury other than my circlet that I allowed myself were the many bracelets lining my arms.
My heart beat fast even as my head was held high and a look of almost disdain was present on my face. I made the tiniest bow possible, and only when it was finished did I let myself look at Caesar. For all the tales I had heard about his valor, he looked almost ordinary, though certainly quite pompous: a man halfway to a hundred in military uniform who still held on to much of the handsomeness he had possessed when younger, though now plumping out a bit with a few gray hairs on his head. He looked quite startled and taken aback, which gave me a little bit of confidence.
"Queen Cleopatra, mighty Caesar," I introduced myself, refusing to bow again. I was slightly confused as what to do next and ended up extending my right arm, bracelets jangling, expecting him to shake or kiss it. He stared at it in confusion for a while before abruptly bursting into laughter. His sides shook as he emptied out all the laughter inside of him, me staring at him in confusion. As he began to finish his jovial laugh, I decided it would be wisest to adopt a small smile onto my own face. "I admit my entrance was rather…unusual, General. But there is an explanation for it. Could we talk? Alone?" My hand had been dropped for some time by then, and I made use of it by shaking it at Iboni and Buikhu, dismissing them. They stood up from their low bows, held all the while, lifted the unfolded carpet I had entered in, and backed out of the room respectfully. Silently, I thanked them.
"Certainly, lovely Cleopatra. My, I see those who sang about your beauty were in no way mistaken." The way he looked at me made me want to shudder, until I realized that it was what I was hoping for; I can honestly say I didn't enter wanting to seduce Caesar, merely to convince him. Seducing him now seemed the best course of action. My scheming mind immediately jumped to the future; he was very powerful in Rome…could I convince him to make our son his heir? By the way he was gazing at my body I knew I would have children with him. I was 21, and I was sure of my fertility. I had no doubts that Isis would bless me with a strong son as my first child. And that son would be Caesar's.
"I came to see if those who spoke of your justice and your bravery were as honest, Caesar," I responded, walking over to the desk he was sitting at, stopping for a moment and then choosing a regal armchair nearby.
"Oh? Let me hear your request then, Most Exotic Queen." A smirk of triumph was on Caesar's face, his eyes glowing. I had to suppress a feeling of revulsion and panic once again: he was no fool, and he knew that I was asking for his help, was in his power. He could do whatever he wanted with me. I would consent.
"To tell the truth, I'm not much of a queen right now; my younger brother Ptolemy XIII has managed to usurp me and is, to put it mildly, not fulfilling the dreams my late father had for his country. I am sure you would agree with me that my," I hesitated for a moment before using the word, "husband is an unworthy ruler."
Caesar looked more than interested. "And you propose that I help you gain back your rightful place as Queen of Egypt, your brother…forgotten for good." Pleased, Caesar leaned back in his chair, his fingertips resting beneath his chin thoughtfully. "I can see how you would need my help with that. Your people obviously support your brother, since-"
"Oh no, General. None of the Egyptians like my brother; it's just his vulnerability and the ease with which he is persuaded to do what they want that attracts them to him. I know that they long for a strong, just, wise ruler who will lead Egypt to prosperity, not a weakling like my brother. He has only a small group of followers."
"Then why, Noble Cleopatra, are you sitting here in front of me, asking for my help? Explain that to me."
"I'm not asking for your help," I replied suavely, leaning forward slightly. "I'm proposing an alliance to get rid of my brother for good. You, with your large army, and I with my many supporters, would have an easy time of defeating him."
Caesar was obviously hooked. On the plan as well as on me. "I see. How do you plan to defeat him?"
"This is the wisest course of action: declare me as rightful queen, demand a battle against Ptolemy, carry it out in the Nile, and shoot him down from his barge with a lead-tipped arrow so that he plunges into our lovely river. I guarantee you that he will be wearing a golden breastplate, and with that on him he will surely drown."
The smile on Caesar's face was delighted; I could see he respected my wits and saw I was no fool. "I accept your plan and I promise to help you carry it out." I couldn't believe my luck; I had come to convince Caesar to help me gain back my throne without much hope or confidence in myself, and here he was, accepting me! "…in nine months that is." I paused, the smile of triumph frozen on my face. Nine months? That was too long to be away from my throne, and who knew what Ptolemy-
Nine months. The gestation period for a human female.
I glanced at Caesar with understanding and submission written in my eyes, and, slowly, I bowed my head down, letting some strands of hair fall forward, my serpentine green eyes staring into my lap. "In nine months then," I assented, bringing my head back up to look into his dark eyes. Quite civilly, he guided me to a door in the wall and I had my first look at his chamber. It was magnificent; the walls were painted a royal purple, gold lining here and there. The floor was covered with rich Persian carpets of the finest make, and the bed, standing in the center of the chamber, could rival my own back at the palace. The one I would be seeing in nine months. With thoughts of regaining my rightful place as queen in my mind, I followed Caesar to the bed. It was over soon enough.