"It gives the lie to your life with me!" I said. "That's what it does!" And now all my caution, all my restraint, dissolved, and for the first time in my life I acted entirely and completely as a woman, no other considerations clouding my mind. I grabbed his arm. "For five years I've endured it! I cannot stand it any longer!" I began weeping loudly. "You could not stand the memory of Caesar, you wouldn't even let me wear the family token he had given me--how do you think it feels to have you married to a living woman? I hate her! I hate her!"

What had I done? The three words had escaped my mouth, where they would exist in Antony's mind forever, and nothing could recall them. I wept even harder, in shame at my own loss of control.

Antony bent down and knelt in front of me, embracing me. "Well, then," he said simply, "I shall divorce her," as if there was, suddenly, no other consideration.

Was it to be that easy? I was so startled I stopped crying. "Will you?"

"Yes," he said. "Tomorrow, if that pleases you." He reached up and touched my hair. "I fear it is too late tonight. To send for a scribe." He smiled.

Now all his caution entered into me. I knew this move was a provocation to Octavian and the final step before open hostilities. But it must come to this.

"Tomorrow, then." I nodded. Tomorrow--tomorrow would end it.

"And now, my dear, I think it is late," he said gently, leading me toward the bed. It was heaped with rich sheets, pillows, scented herbs, and its frame was gilded. But ail that luxury was lost on me tonight. I was very, very tired, and everything here felt alien. I wanted to sleep next to him quietly and let him take away all the strangeness. It was the last time I would have Octavia as a presence between us.

The letter of divorce was dictated the next morning, and by noon it had left the "palace." That night there was to be a dinner and gathering, and Antony planned to announce it then. We had been holding these council meetings fairly regularly, but this would be the first one in Athens.

It is hard to be in exile, and I had begun to feel sorry for the senators. They had left Rome almost three months ago, fleeing with little notice, and now they must live as perpetual guests and wanderers--until that day when it was safe for them to go back to Rome. Considering all they had to endure, they had been remarkably patient. Of course, they had been well fed and housed--at my expense. But by now they were growing restless and increasingly at loose ends. I had hoped Athens might soothe and divert them, for they still had a long wait ahead of them. It was obvious that the war would not erupt this year. Octavian had made no move to gather his forces, and it was he who would have to make the journey.

In the meantime, we had had the luxury of being able to equip and deploy our forces at our own pace. We were proud of our commanders: Canidius, t.i.tius, and Plancus by land, and Ahen.o.barbus and Sosius by sea. The two ousted Consuls would now take their stand on the decks of warships.

After the meal, when everyone's stomachs were stretched with the pleasure of fine food, and the wine--still flowing--was soothing their minds, Antony murmured, "Welcome to Athens, faithful friends." He raised his cup. "I trust you will find the summer days here fair. There is still much to be decided, such as where we will take up winter quarters while we--wait." For what, he did not say, nor did he need to.

"Are we settled on the middle part of Greece as the place to take our stand?" asked Plancus. "I am yet to be convinced that a more northerly position would not be better. Why surrender the Via Egnatia? It is the vital link between the Adriatic and the Aegean, between Dalmatia and Macedonia. It is the only real road there." He looked truly puzzled, and his blue eyes went from my face to Antony's.

"A good question, my friend," Antony said. "But we don't need the road. We need to be stationed farther south, where the offsh.o.r.e islands offer a base for our fleets. The road will not be bringing in our supplies; the sea will. We will be supplied from Egypt, and it is vital to protect the sea route. We must keep that route open, so we always have a secure place behind us."

"To retreat to?" barked Ahen.o.barbus.

"One always needs a retreat," Antony said firmly. "Pompey did not have one, and neither did Brutus or Ca.s.sius. I am not ashamed to admit that had it not been for my places of refuge after Mutina and Parthia--thanks be to the G.o.ds for Transalpine Gaul and Syria!--the outcome would have been total defeat, not just a temporary setback."

"So you are thinking of retreat!"

"No. But Egypt must be protected. It is, after all, the source of our wealth. And my wife's kingdom." He looked over at me.

"Perhaps she should retire there and await the outcome." It was Ahen.o.barbus again.

"No!" I said. "Why should I? I have supplied a quarter of the navy, have staffed many of the other ships with the finest Egyptian oarsmen, and am supporting the entire army!"

"Just because you are a wealthy patron does not mean you must be present," said Ahen.o.barbus.

"I must disagree," said Canidius. "She is not just a patron. The Queen has ruled the world's richest country for twenty years, has led an army herself, and is certainly more experienced than any of the male client kings we are permitting to join us. It would not be fair to exclude her."

Ahen.o.barbus grunted and crossed his arms.

"Besides, it is in the name of her son--and Caesar's--that this war is being fought," said Plancus.

"Is that what it's being fought for?" asked one of the senators. "I don't like it."

"Yes, it works against you in Rome," added another. "We need another name and plea to rally under."

"Indeed you do." A stranger rose from the shadows in the back of the room. He looked around, then said, "I have been sent by your friends in Rome to warn you."

Antony said, "Who are you, friend?"

"Gaius Geminius," he answered. "A senator who is your partisan, yet did not leave Rome with the others. I thought to do more good for you by remaining."

"Well, then, what have you to say?" asked Antony.

Geminius looked around at the wine cups. "It were better said with clearer heads. But this I tell you, drunk or sober: The Queen should return to Egypt, if you wish your cause to prosper."

I stood up in anger. "His cause will never prosper as long as Octavian remains!" I said. "It is not I who dooms Antony, but his implacable enemy, and mine, Octavian! Enough of these lies about me, blaming me for Octavian's enmity! He would hate Antony even if there were no Cleopatra, had never been a Cleopatra. Can you not see that?"

"But his sister, Antony's wife--" began Geminius.

"She is his wife no longer!" I said. "He has sent her papers of divorce."

A babble of voices rose, all crying, "When?" and looking to Antony for confirmation.

"Yes, it is true," he admitted. "The marriage is formally over. It actually ended a long time ago."

Everyone was staring. They looked angry, cheated.

One senator shook his head. "When this is known in Rome . . ."

"So many of the finest families were torn, not knowing whom to support," another said. "Everyone respected Octavia, and she entertained your friends and clients on your behalf. Now where will they go? You have evicted them, along with her!"

"She'll go straight to her brother's house--where else go straight to her brother's house--where else can can she go? And they'll follow. Oh, folly, folly, folly!" The senator stood up in dismay, eyes bulging. she go? And they'll follow. Oh, folly, folly, folly!" The senator stood up in dismay, eyes bulging.

Geminius looked as if he had been struck in the face. "I see my long journey has been in vain," he said sadly. He held up a coin. "These two things together--the Queen's portrait on your coins, and now the divorce--end even the pretense of your Roman allegiance."

It was Antony's turn to look shocked. "That's ridiculous! How many times has each of you been divorced? Everyone in Rome is divorced! It was a political marriage, and--"

"And its ending has a political meaning,"-finished Geminius. "A grave political meaning." He paused. "And as for the coin--putting a foreign ruler's head on a Roman coin is an unforgivable effrontery! It mocks Rome!"

"Egypt is Rome's ally--" Antony began.

"Since when do you put allies' heads on coins?" Geminius countered. " "Is Herod's head on them? Is Archelaus's? What about Bogud's? You see how lame that claim is!"

"I--".

"You have lost your reason," said Geminius. "But do not expect us to lose ours along with you."

"I have done nothing to deserve such a judgment," said Antony firmly. "I have governed the east well. The frontiers are in order; the region is recovering financially from the devastations of the civil wars. I have conquered Armenia and presented Rome with a new province. These were the monumental tasks a.s.signed to me after Philippi, and I have completed them, and completed them well. Instead of looking at that, you fasten on a minor thing like whose portrait is on a coin! Is there anyone here in this room who could not be faulted for some minor mistake or miscalculation? But it's like complaining about a ten-denarius fine when a man has earned you a million!" fine when a man has earned you a million!"

It was all very logical. But this was not about logic, it was about emotions. Their emotions were whipped up, their minds tossed about on the choppy sea.

I considered leaving the room, but decided it looked cowardly. Instead I just sat there, feeling my ears growing hot. They were probably bright red. I could feel Geminius staring at me, as if to say, What is it about her? She looks ordinary enough from here. What is it about her? She looks ordinary enough from here.

"I understand Octavian is collecting taxes," said Antony, attempting to change the subject. "And that there is unrest."

Geminius's mouth gave a jerky smile. "Unrest, and more than unrest. There have been arson, riots, murder. But the soldiers suppressed it."

So completely did Octavian have control of the army. I realized that in the ten years since Antony's men and Octavian's had fought side by side at Philippi, the armies had grown apart. There were no active soldiers left in Italy who had ever served under Antony or Caesar; they had long since retired. The new soldiers were all Octavian's, with no divided loyalty.

"Perhaps we should invade Italy now, while people are still disgruntled with Octavian and his situation is shaky," said Dellius suddenly. "Our army is ready, the ships here to serve as convoy,'and it is only June."

"Only if the Queen remains behind," said Plancus. "Any attempt to invade with a foreigner would unite all Italy instantly."

"Then you will have to do without my ships, too!" I said. Did they forget who was paying and supplying the forces? The ingrates!

"It is difficult to invade Italy, anyway," said Ahen.o.barbus smoothly. "There are only two harbors on the east and south coasts, Brundisium and Tarentum, and landing at them is impossible if they are armed against you-- just ask Antony and me, from our earlier attempts."

"So you are determined on war?" Geminius asked. "Now I see my mission was doomed before I set out. I wish I had not wasted the time!"

"No, we are not set on war," Antony a.s.sured him. "After all, how many times have Octavian and I almost fought, only to pull back at the last moment? Five years ago at Tarentum, eight years earlier at Brundisium. It seems we quarrel often, but no blows are struck."

"Are you calling it a lovers' quarrel?" asked one of the senators, and everyone burst out laughing with high, nervous t.i.tters.

"There is little love lost between them," said t.i.tius.

At this point I excused myself. I could not bear to sit there any longer. My head was aching, and the welter of accusations and justifications was confusing even me. I needed to get out of that room.

I was not familiar with the way the house was laid out; it was the headquarters of our legate stationed in Athens. Rome always did her sons proud, and this dwelling was no exception. Little wonder that officers were reluctant to rotate back to Rome, when they could live like this abroad. I wandered down wide hallways, with arched niches filled with statuary, all copies of masterpieces. To the right, Leochares' Apollo looked down on me beneficently; to the left, Pheidias' Dionysus leaned out toward me. Just like Antony and Octavian, their patron G.o.ds stood across from each other, staring.

I stopped and lingered before the Dionysus. The workmanship was superlative. I knew that Athens had gained a new prosperity when wealthy Romans had begun requesting artworks to adorn their homes. Since the world could not order great artists to be born on demand, Athens had risen to the occasion by turning out copies of masterpieces in local workshops and shipping them out everywhere. Today the Roman governor of Syria or the corn merchant on the Esquiline could gaze possessively on identical copies of Praxiteles' Aphrodite. Athens could barely keep up with the orders, and this hallway was a good example of why.

In spite of its grand size, there was still a formal courtyard surrounded by a roofed colonnade, as in a family home. I found my way to it by following the flow of air through the hallways.

Air. I needed air. Gratefully I stepped out under the roofed shelter and leaned against one of the columns, cooling my cheeks on the smooth stone. The garden was dark; the moon, past full, would rise later tonight. I could hear a fountain in the middle of the gra.s.sy courtyard; the wind, stirring the flower beds around me, brought the delicate sound of splashing water to my ears.

I sighed; this cool, dark refuge was what I needed to regain my equilibrium. Who would have thought the divorce would have stirred up such heated emotions? But I should not have been surprised. Antony had always had the potential problem of trying to ride two horses: being a Roman magistrate with the inevitable clashes with other Romans, and claiming eastern rights and t.i.tles as well. The strain of trying to play-both roles was becoming impossible; the horses were pulling him in different directions. Those who had supported the Roman Antony--that is, the senators and his partisans still in Rome--were horrified to behold this other side. They might refuse to march under his banner at all. But their demand--that he jettison the eastern side-was impossible, in military terms, if nothing else. Abandon the eastern side and he abandoned the money that supported his military machine.

I tried to think of myself as only that--a military ally who was indispensable. Even had I been a man--Geminius's Herod or Archelaus--with the wealth of Egypt, I would be crucial to his success. He could not leave me-- leave Egypt.

My eyes became a little accustomed to the dark now, and I could make out the statues--more copies, undoubtedly--standing at gray attention in the garden, surrounded by box hedges emitting their characteristic strong scent. It vied with the lush, full smell of the roses nearby, in full bloom.

There was a marble bench discreetly set against the wall, and I sat down on it. I would stay here until my thoughts stopped racing, I promised myself. There was no hurry, no need to leave. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I could hear the fountain distinctly now. I let its silvery sounds caress my ears.

I felt trapped here in Athens, as if I could not breathe. From the moment we had landed, one unpleasant finding had followed another. Even Rome had not felt so . . . unfriendly. I was tired of the senators. I wished they would leave . . . no, I didn't. If they left, it would be bad for Antony's cause. I missed the children. I had had to hurry away from Alexandria six months ago, leaving them. June. Tomorrow was Caesarion's fifteenth birthday, and I would not be there.

Were all these--all the nineteen legions and the four hundred senators-- truly gathered in the name of my fifteen-year-old son's rights? Oh, Caesar-- what a task you left for me. And I am tired, tired, tired ... tired ... of pursuing it. I may not be up to it. Your demand may be more than a mortal can bring about, even a mortal who is also a G.o.ddess. of pursuing it. I may not be up to it. Your demand may be more than a mortal can bring about, even a mortal who is also a G.o.ddess.

There was no answer, of course. The fountain splashed on, and I could even hear--very faintly--a nightingale somewhere in the dark.

I must have slept, because I awoke with a start when I heard voices. Men were pa.s.sing into the garden on the opposite side, their feet crunching on the gravel paths. Instinctively I held still and waited. The meeting must have broken up--or else these men had left early.

There were no other sounds, so I a.s.sumed it meant they had stolen away together, or even that they lived somewhere in the labyrinthine house. They were pa.s.sing by the fountain. I could see them now, or rather, make out their light-colored tunics moving in the gloom.

"--it's impossible," one of them muttered.

"You could see that tonight," his companion answered, in a familiar voice.

"We must choose."

"I'm tired of choosing. Just once I'd like to choose right." "Well, even when you choose wrong, you've been able to correct it."

"I? What about you?"

"Sure, I have a genius for choosing the losing side. I admit it. But at least I don't stick with it."

"So much for s.e.xtus." There was a laugh. A laugh I had heard before.

"How many times have you changed sides now?" The voice was half-admiring, half-sneering. "First Caesar, then Cicero, then Antony. Love 'em and leave 'em, that's my uncle." A slap on the shoulder.

Plancus and t.i.tius!

"I didn't leave leave Caesar," he protested. "He left me." Caesar," he protested. "He left me."

"Oh, you mean when he was killed? Thoughtless of him." A laugh.

"Still, we should congratulate ourselves. We've never failed yet to scramble for the winning side," he continued.

"Better late than never," agreed Plancus.

"So you think he's going to lose?"

They were pa.s.sing right before the hedge near me. I held my breath and gave thanks that my gown was dark and hard to see.

"I don't know. It isn't his love for the Queen that disturbs me, it's his dependence on her. He is not free to make the best military plans, but must always consider Egypt and its position. The G.o.ds know he's a great tactician, probably the best in the world, but he must compromise his overall strategy because of Egypt. And in war, do you know what they call generals who compromise?"

"Losers," said t.i.tius.

They pa.s.sed by, their arms about each other's shoulders, laughing. Their sandals ground the gravel underfoot.

Chapter 71.

"Plancus has gone," said Antony in disbelief, as he read a note just delivered to him in our rooms.

At least he had the courtesy to write a note, I thought. His mother had taught him well. If you are going to be a turncoat, my If you are going to be a turncoat, my boy, boy, always mind your manners. Otherwise always mind your manners. Otherwise youll youll reflect badly on traitors. reflect badly on traitors.