Caesar tried to keep his gaze firmly planted on Cleopatra’s face and not gaze at her scantily clad, silk draped body. For the last 20 minutes, the two great leaders had been exchanging pleasantries over poached quail eggs and mulled wine on Cleopatra’s sun drenched terrace in her palace in Giza. The hot sun shone down on the jewel of Egypt’s country, the great streets and buildings of Giza stretching off in all directions. In the distance, the mighty aqueducts and dams rerouted water from the Mgombo River to the thirsty citizens. Every farm was tended by slaves and serfs. What hills and mountains were nearby had mines dug in them, Egyptian workers gathering for more natural resources to continue fueling the economy of Cleopatra’s country. Glancing around, Caesar was reminded of Marc Antony’s reports and found himself agreeing with the diplomat’s view on Egypt’s strength and superiority.
“Wine.” Cleo said, raising a silver goblet in one bronze skinned hand for her slave to fill. The shaved manservant stepped forward as requested, topped of the Queen’s drink and stepped back as quietly as possible. Raising the goblet to her berry red lips, the Queen of Egypt drank lightly, staring frankly at Caesar over the rim of her glass, amused at his discomfort. “Lord Caesar,” she said, putting a slight purr in her voice, “the sun in my land here is warm.” Idly, she ran her free hand down the length of her other arm, across the swell of her breast, and allowed it to fall across her hip. “Are you sure that I cannot entice you to removing your cloak?”
Ignoring the sweat that had pooled across his back and shoulders, and unsure if it was the heat of the day or the sexual teasing that he was forced to endure, Caesar shook his head. “As I stated before, Pharaohess, Ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt, my visit to you and your beautiful country is to be brief.”
Taking one of the small peeled eggs from the tray, Cleo brought it to her mouth, teased it slightly with her tongue, and then pursed her lips and sucked the tasty morsel in with an audible pop. Caesar swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Cleopatra chewed noisily, purring again as she did so, smirking at the discomfort she was causing Rome’s King. Waving her hand, she said, “As you wish, Lord Caesar. It is your loss.”
Magnamously, Caesar nodded in her direction, all the while trying to keep his face from flushing and his eyes locked on hers. “Thank you.” Without turning, he motioned Tiberius to step forward, the foreign advisor doing quickly. Tiberius placed a rolled parchment into Caesar’s hand and then stepped back to Caesar’s praetorian guard standing nearby if needed. Unrolling the parchment, Caesar glanced at it briefly and then presented it to Cleopatra. “Our trade agreement for the last 5 years has come to an end and expired today.” He leaned in, laying the paper across Cleo’s plate. “And we have no desire to continue it.” Caesar leaned back, taking a drink from his own goblet.
Egypt’s queen scowled, her eyes dancing across the now expired trade agreement. Both her name and Caesar’s were scrawled across the bottom. “Has it been 5 years already?” She flicked one painted nail at the parchment’s edge. “It has flown by so fast. Let’s renew it for another 5 years.” Smiling, she called out, “Scribe.”
“Hold.” Said Caesar, his hand out as if pushing the approaching Egyptian scribener away.
Cleopatra scowl returned, deepened into a frown. “Hold? Whatever for? Egypt wants to renew the trade.”
“But Rome does not. There has been a decrease in Roman stockpiles and raw gems. To keep the markets from inflating, I cannot send anymore gems to Egypt markets.”
“If it’s about money, we can talk.” Glancing at the page before her, she tapped the figure printed upon it. “See here. It says we would send you 40,000 of your liras every season for 5 years.” Looking up, she said, “I’ll change it to 50,000 liras.”
Caesar shook his head. “Rome will not trade.”
“60,000 liras every season.”
“No.”
“Lord Caesar, you are beginning to displease me.” Cleopatra no longer lounged across her chair; instead she sat upright, her shoulder’s square, chin set.
Caesar marveled that even scantily clad in semi-transparent clothing, Egypt’s queen still carried a command, a presence that billowed off her. “Pharaohess, maybe you don’t understand. Rome has no more desire to trade with Egypt.”
“Caesar, you don’t understand. Egypt needs your gems. We are willing to pay for it. Egypt also needs your dyes, but we have learned to adjust without cheap dyes coming across our borders. How much does Egypt have to give to get Rome to trade gems with us?”
Caesar smiled, trying to keep himself calm. “Rome requires Egypt to open her libraries to our philosophers and alchemists. We want to know the secrets of the ascension of your god Osiris and his role in your new, monotheistic religion. We want to know how you have learned to dam rivers, build bridges, and replant forests in areas that had been denuded. In addition, you will empty your treasury to Rome, and pay us a seasonal trade figure of 100,000 liras.” He leaned in, bringing his face close to Cleopatra’s shocked one, and whispered, “If you do all this, and cease your genocide of the Zulu and Mayan people, I’ll consider trading you the gems your fragile country so desperately needs to keep the peace.” With that he sat back in his chair, his sardonic grin still in place.
Cleopatra struggled to keep herself in place. He face became red, her eyes stormy. Her breath whistled through clenched teeth. With great effort, she forced herself to calm down. “You…you…how DARE you! You don’t give orders or demands to me. I am the morning and the night. The world trembles at my footstep. The gods themselves have graced my line and lineage since before the earth had formed, ordaining me as queen. Queen! You do NOT make unreasonable demands on me!”
“Do not raise your voice at me!” bellowed Caesar. His praetorian guard stepped forward, hands dropped to hilts and swords. Cleopatra’s guards fanned around their queen, while archers rose over the battlements, arrows nocked and bows drawn.
“Back off your dogs, Caesar,” she warned, “or I’ll bloody their nose and hang your carcass over the walls.”
One of Caesar’s guards muttered, “Yes, let’s destroy them sir, they are scum!” Caesar held his hand up, silencing any further comments.
“At ease men,” he said, his voice calm and even, “So, can I assume that you don’t accept my ‘generous’ offer?”
Cleopatra rose to her feet, her form quivering with rage. “No! No I don’t.” Her finger stabbed out. “Give me the trade goods I require, or I’ll crush you and your puny civilization.”
Slowly, Caesar rose to his feet. “Then I regret to inform you that our two nations are now at war.” He opened his hand, revealing a broken Egyptian coin, the break running directly across Cleopatra’s chiseled profile. As one, Caesar’s guards snapped forward, surrounded their King, and bodily lifting him, ran for the battlements.
“Fire!” Cleopatra screamed. “Kill them you thrice damned jackals!” Archers released their arrows, dismayed as most of them were deflected by hastily upraised bucklers and shields. The Madjai, Cleopatra’s own bodyguards, lifted the still screaming Pharaohess and shielded her with their own flesh as they raced to get her inside. She was dismayed to see Caesar and his men made the battlements and as one jumped over. “I want Caesar brought back to me! I want his hands in a jar! I want his eyes burned from his head! Remove his manhood and feed it to the crocodiles! Kill him! Kill them!”
“Pharaohess,” the Queen’s Madjai captain pleaded, “with what shall we give chase with? Old men with spears? Young boys with slings? All and everyone of our soldiers is on the front line, forcing peace in Intombe, besieging the defenders in Bapedi, ravaging the countryside near Bonampak and Palenque. There are not enough real soldiers here to hunt down Caesar and his guards, nor are there enough to chase away his legionnaires outside the city and still maintain order.” He pointed behind him. “Let him go. His troops will break on the walls of Giza if that is his plan. If not, then it will be some time before he can strike at our mighty empire. We know that Rome does not have the troops to attack us.”
Cleopatra had stopped struggling in her guards grasp as they wound their way through her palace to her chambers. Once safely there and only then, did they release her. “Let Caesar go.” She thought on this before nodding. “I can agree to this. Your words have merit. Leave me.” The Madjai bowed lowed, stepping out from her chambers. Once alone, she walked to the opposite end and knocked three times in rapid succession on the mahogany door there. She heard the sound of the bolt being drawn away and the door opened.
“Well daughter, how’d it go?”
Cleopatra looked down, her gaze contrite. “I failed you, mother. He did not trade and he declared war on us.”
Inside the door, an older version of Cleopatra stood. Her once youthful face was more fleshed out and lined, her hair less luxurious, her body less lithe. “You failed me?” The matronly woman shook her head. “No, daughter, you did not fail me. You failed your people. You failed Egypt.” Disgustedly, she grabbed the Pharaohess by the hair and swung her into the other wing of the palace. “You stupid harlot,” she snapped. “You spoiled brat. First Maya, then Zulu. Osiris save us, you almost pissed Hiawatha off as well. And now Rome.”
She shoved Cleopatra to the floor, stepping on her daughter’s hair, forcing the younger woman to bow at her feet. “When I assumed the mantle of Cleopatra, the undying Queen and ruler of Egypt from my mother, I had more respect for my people than you do.” She spit. “Daughter, we cannot fight Rome. Osiris save us, we cannot fight Maya and Zulu either.” Shoving the now crying queen with her sandaled foot, the former ruler of Egypt walked across the room to stare out the small window there.
“You place Egypt in a dangerous position. The people have come to expect certain goods at the markets. There will be much unhappiness. As your wars drag on, there will be much unhappiness. If our soldiers are defeated in the field, there will be much unhappiness.” She sighed. “Get up,” she ordered. “You will order the barons, counts, and governors of every city in every province to get every able bodied male between 15 and 35 together. You will issue armor, spears, swords, and flails. You will do this quickly. Then, I want all these men brought together in Giza, formed into companies of finely tuned soldiers, and thrown at the Romans.”
“What about the Mayans or Zulus?”
“Forget them. Whatever troopers we have there, let them hold what we’ve captured. All new troops go to support our southern border from Rome.” She rubbed her head. “19 months. You’ve been Pharaohess for 19 months and we’re at war with 3 nations. Daughter, you had better learn fast before Egypt is destroyed.”
Cleopatra walked next to her mother, the former Cleopatra and Pharaohess of Egypt. She folder her hands across her chest and tried hard not to cry. “Forgive me, mother.”
“Only if we can get through this, daughter. Only if.”