Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, -30 B.C. -- Fiction; Egypt -- History -- 332-30 B.C. -- Fiction
All these and other things I did, but I did them as a man without a
soul--as a man moved by a force from without and not from within. And so
the minutes wore away. In the third hour of the afternoon I went as by
appointment fixed to the house where my uncle Sepa lodged, that same
house to which I had been brought some three months gone when I entered
Alexandria for the first time. And here I found the leaders of the
revolt in the city assembled in secret conclave to the number of
seven. When I had entered, and the doors were barred, they prostrated
themselves, and cried, “Hail, Pharaoh!” but I bade them rise, saying
that I was not yet Pharaoh, for the chicken was still in the egg.
“Yea, Prince,” said my uncle, “but his beak shows through. Not in
vain hath Egypt brooded all these years, if thou fail not with that
dagger-stroke of thine to-night; and how canst thou fail? Nothing can
now stop our course to victory!”
“It is on the knees of the Gods,” I answered.
“Nay,” he said, “the Gods have placed the issue in the hands of a
mortal--in thy hands, Harmachis!--and there it is safe. See: here are
the last lists. Thirty-one thousand men who bear arms are sworn to rise
when the tidings come to them. Within five days every citadel in Egypt
will be in our hands, and then what have we to fear? From Rome but
little, for her hands are full; and, besides, we will make alliance with
the Triumvirate, and, if need be, buy them off. For of money there is
plenty in the land, and if more be wanted thou, Harmachis, knowest where
it is stored against the need of Khem, and outside the Roman’s reach
of arm. Who is there to harm us? There is none. Perchance, in this
turbulent city, there may be struggle, and a counter-plot to bring
Arsinoë to Egypt and set her on the throne. Therefore Alexandria must
be severely dealt with--ay, even to destruction, if need be. As for
Arsinoë, those go forth to-morrow on the news of the Queen’s death who
shall slay her secretly.”
“There remains the lad Cæsarion,” I said. “Rome might claim through
Cæsar’s son, and the child of Cleopatra inherits Cleopatra’s rights.
Here is a double danger.”
“Fear not,” said my uncle; “to-morrow Cæsarion joins those who begat him
in Amenti. I have made provision. The Ptolemies must be stamped out,
so that no shoot shall ever spring from that root blasted by Heaven’s
vengeance.”
“Is there no other means?” I asked sadly. “My heart is sick at the
promise of this red rain of blood. I know the child well; he has
Cleopatra’s fire and beauty and great Cæsar’s wit. It were shame to
murder him.”
“Nay, be not so chicken-hearted, Harmachis,” said my uncle, sternly.
“What ails thee, then? If the lad is thus, the more reason that he
should die. Wouldst thou nurse up a young lion to tear thee from the
throne?”
“Be it so,” I answered, sighing. “At least he is spared much, and will
go hence innocent of evil. Now for the plans.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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