"He has honors enough," said Brutus. "A thanksgiving of forty days for his victories has been proclaimed, there will be four successive Triumphs, he has been appointed 'Prefect of Morals' and Dictator for ten years, and his Triumphal chariot will be placed on the Capitoline Hill opposite Jupiter's. He has no need of a month of 'Julius.' He has more than a month already, all his!"

"Brutus, do you begrudge me these things?"

That awful silence, only just dispelled, descended again. And I heard in Caesar's voice such sorrow, such pain, that it hurt me to hear it. What was Brutus to him, that his disapproval should rend him so?

"No, of course not." It was not Brutus who spoke but Servilia, his mother.

"Brutus?" Caesar asked again.

"No," he mumbled, looking away and not at Caesar.

"My Caesar has been away from Rome eleven of the past twelve years," said Calpurnia. "If Rome wishes to honor him for what he has done for her, toiling so far afield, why should we object?" She had a pleasing voice, I had to admit. "Since we have been married, thirteen years ago, he has been at my side only a few weeks."

As she spoke, I realized that he had spent more time with me than with her.

I picked at my mackerel and waited for the remark to pa.s.s.

"It is difficult, now, to know what is n.o.ble in Rome and must be preserved, and what has served its time and must be replaced," said Octavian thoughtfully.

"Young Octavian is a fierce guardian of all things traditional," said Caesar. "If anything pa.s.ses his scrutiny, it is sure to be proper."

"In Egypt it seems we have nothing but tradition," said Ptolemy suddenly. "We are surrounded by things made so long ago they seem divine. Everywhere there are tombs, statues . . . ghosts."

"But Alexandria is a new city," said Octavia, beside him. "All new, and very beautiful, from what I have heard."

"Yes," I said proudly. "It is the most modern city in the world, and it was planned by the Great Alexander."

Servers began removing the plates of the gustum gustum and made ready to bring out the main course, the and made ready to bring out the main course, the mensa prima. mensa prima. The rattling of the utensils, and the busyness of the attendants, made us pause in the conversation. I looked at Caesar and noticed that he had not touched his wine. Then I remembered he had told me he seldom drank it, lest it provoke his condition. He also had eaten very little. The rattling of the utensils, and the busyness of the attendants, made us pause in the conversation. I looked at Caesar and noticed that he had not touched his wine. Then I remembered he had told me he seldom drank it, lest it provoke his condition. He also had eaten very little.

"Did you enjoy Alexandria?" Calpurnia asked Caesar in a loud voice.

He started, taken by surprise. Clearly such bluntness was out of character for Calpurnia; she must be very angry. He cleared his throat, thinking hard. "I enjoy all battlefields," he finally said. "And Alexandria was a battlefield; it required all my resources to teach myself how to fight in city streets, with a civilian population all around. Especially as any mistakes could cost innocent people dear."

Calpurnia opened her mouth to press further, but lost her nerve.

Just then the new courses were brought out, arranged on silver platters. There was a rich, dark pork stew with apples. I was most curious to try it, as pork is not eaten in Egypt. There was also a kid, prepared Parthian style, and a dish of stuffed thrushes fed with myrtle. Then, to the sighs of the guests, came a platter with a gigantic red roasted mullet on it, accompanied by a pickle sauce.

"Did you go down and bid on the mullet?" asked Agrippa, laughing. It seemed that mullet had become a pa.s.sion with Romans, and prominent houses bid in auctions for them at the fish market. "How did you ever outbid Marc Antony? He goes down every day, determined to carry off the best."

"What, in person?" Octavian sounded scandalized.

"It's no worse than the other things he does. Carrying on with that retinue of actors and actresses, drinking, living in Pompey's house without paying for it," said Brutus. "But I speak of the man you appointed to take charge of Rome in your absence, Caesar."

"He did not perform well," said Caesar. "I was disappointed. He was dismissed. There's an end to it. What he does with his drink and his actresses concerns me not."

"But is he not related to us? Is he not part of the Julian house?" Octavian sounded distressed.

"Distantly," said Caesar.

"Not distantly enough," said Octavia.

"Why speak any further of him?" said Caesar. "He has his merits, and they have served me well in the past. He failed in this latest task. But he is a great general, nonetheless. He has a deep intuitive sense of tactics. There is no man I would sooner have with me on the battlefield."

"I met Marc Antony once," I said. "It was when he came to Egypt with Gabinius." I remembered the laughing young cavalry officer who had refrained from making fun of my drunken father when the other Romans looked at him askance. He had been kind.

"That was ten years ago or more," said Brutus. "He has changed since then." He speared a large chunk of meat with his knife, and transferred it, dripping, to his platter. Splatters of sauce fell on the napkin.

More dishes followed: boiled cuc.u.mber and what Caesar announced was "squash, Alexandrian style." It was something I had never tasted before, but obviously it fit what Romans imagined about us. It was filled with cinnamon and honey.

"This is new to me," I confessed. "There is much we do not know about one another's customs. I have found many things in Rome puzzling. For example, the lictors and the bundles of branches they carry. What do they mean? And the ranks of senators, the quaestors quaestors and and praetors praetors and people called and people called curule aediles curule aediles--what responsibilities do they have?"

"You ask questions like a child," said Brutus. "Is this how a queen receives knowledge?"

"It is how all wise people do, Brutus," Caesar reproved him. Then he turned to me. "I see that you need someone to explain things that are foreign to you. Very well--who better than Octavian, that Roman through-and-through?"

Not his nephew! It would be irksome to have this boy trailing around after me, I could tell. Nonetheless I smiled and said, "No, Octavian must not leave his duties at the College of Pontiffs."

"Oh, but this will be good training for him! He can clarify his own thoughts in explaining things to you," said Caesar. "He must venture out in public. He is, after all, to ride in a chariot in my Triumphs."

"Even though he did not join you on the battlefield," said Agrippa. "Well, next time we'll both be there!" He chewed heartily on a piece of kid.

I bent to my plate and enjoyed tasting the pork. It is a robust meat, with a rich flavor. This particular animal had been fed on acorns in Brutus's province, so he said.

"Brutus may soon remarry," said Servilia abruptly. "He may marry my niece Porcia, Cato's daughter."

Caesar put down his knife and looked steadily at Brutus. "Perhaps you will wish to reconsider," he said slowly.

"We have no king in Rome from whom I must ask permission," he answered. "Or does the Prefect of Morals control all the marriages?"

"Of course not," said Caesar lightly. "But marrying within one's own family can get monotonous. One has heard all the same family stories, knows all the jokes and all the same recipes. No novelty."

"Well, we Ptolemies like it that way!" said my brother. "We've practiced brother-sister marriages for generations, just like the Pharaohs! That's because we're divine!"

Everyone stared at him.

"We don't believe in that in Rome," said Servilia quietly.

"In brothers marrying sisters?" Ptolemy asked.

"No. In kings, and in people claiming to be divine. We have a republic here--all citizens are equal."

"What a funny idea!" Ptolemy laughed.

"It is a western idea," I said quickly to him. "People in the east feel differently. In our part of the world, kings are the tradition. And we believe that G.o.ds mingle with men on many levels."

"Yes, particularly in bed," said Agrippa. But there was no malice in his voice. "Zeus seems to spend most of his time attacking mortal women in one guise or another--first as a golden shower, then as a swan--and creating hordes of half-divine offspring. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

"Men do enough of that on their own/' said Calpurnia. " "They need no help from the G.o.ds."

Clearly she was alluding to me and Caesarion. So it was known all over Rome. Now it was up to Caesar to say something. Let him speak!

But he refused to rise to the bait. The moment pa.s.sed, and the servants began removing the plates and getting ready for our last course, the mensa secunda mensa secunda--a selection of rich, sweet treats. We would drink possum possum with them, a heavy raisin wine. with them, a heavy raisin wine.

On little trays they brought out honey custard, made with Attic honey, and a preserve of pears. Last they brought a platter heaped high with pomegranates. Caesar took the topmost one off the pile and put it directly on my plate, looking knowingly at me.

At last I have found someone who is exactly like me. We are two halves of a pomegranate, and each section fits perfectly together. last I have found someone who is exactly like me. We are two halves of a pomegranate, and each section fits perfectly together. I remembered those words he had spoken in Alexandria. Yet here, in Rome, surrounded by his family-- was he more like them, or more like me? Which was he, truly? I remembered those words he had spoken in Alexandria. Yet here, in Rome, surrounded by his family-- was he more like them, or more like me? Which was he, truly?

"What will happen?" I asked, so low that only he could hear it. I saw now that nothing was settled, nothing safe. The master of the world, who had swept aside all the playing pieces in Egypt with one quick brush of his hand, was just a man at a dinner in Rome, surrounded by cold, unfriendly friends. And beyond them lurked--genuine animosity. I sensed it. We don't believe in that in Rome. We don't believe in that in Rome. What could be Caesar's ultimate place here? What could be Caesar's ultimate place here?

"I know not," he answered, equally softly.

I had thought the dinner was over, but I was surprised to hear the musicians begin playing new tunes, and Caesar said, "Friends, I wish you to be the first to hear the beginning of a composition on the Alexandrian War. My good friend, the praetor praetor Aulus Hirtius, has begun to recount it, and I invited him to join us and bring both his account and his famous mulberries in sapa." Aulus Hirtius, has begun to recount it, and I invited him to join us and bring both his account and his famous mulberries in sapa."

Everyone murmured expectantly, and I later was told that Hirtius was well known for his refined tastes in food. His mulberries, it seemed, would be far superior to regular ones.

A pleasant-looking man strode into the room, a slave following him with a silver serving dish. I could see the deep reddish purple berries inside.

"It is my honor to give my humble recounting of the war before those who lived it," he said. "Your Majesties, I beg you to correct anything I say that is wrong. As you know full well, I was not there." He nodded to us, looked around at the company, then stepped back and began reciting. " ( (Bello A/- A/-exandrino conflato Caesar Rhodo atque ex Syria Ciliciaque omnem cla.s.semarcessit: Creta sagittarios, equites ab rege. . . . ' "

Caesar frowned. He knew Ptolemy and I could not follow it. Yet I wished he would just let Hirtius continue. It gave me an opportunity to look carefully at the others, to study them without the constant necessity of being on my guard and responding to comments and questions.

My wish was not to be granted. Caesar held up his hand. "I pray you, our royal guests are not as practiced in Latin as the rest of the company. I believe they could better enjoy it in Greek."

"Oh yes. Of course." Hirtius shut his eyes and went back to the beginning. " 'When the Alexandrian War flared up, Caesar summoned every fleet from Rhodes and Syria and Cilicia; from Crete he raised archers, and cavalry from . . . ' "

The berries had been ladled out into small, multicolored gla.s.s dishes. Multicolored gla.s.sware was an Alexandrian specialty. Who had thought of this touch--Caesar or Hirtius? I tasted the berries, finding them tart and pungent.

" 'Highly productive and abundantly supplied as it was, the city furnished equipment of all kinds. The people themselves were clever and very shrewd. . . . ' " Hirtius's voice droned on. I had trouble following him; my mind kept wandering. I felt a slight breeze coming from the open garden opening off the dining room; it was heavy and scented with unknown leaves, dusty and vaguely sweet.

Octavian started coughing, a high-pitched, fretful hacking. It was only then that I realized that his fragile beauty might be the result of illness. He had the transparent look of a consumptive. Hirtius paused until the boy had got control of himself.

Then he continued, " 'Yet, as far as I am concerned, had I now the task of championing the Alexandrians and proving them to be neither deceitful nor foolhardy, it would be a case of many words spent to no purpose: indeed, when one gets to know both the breed and its breeding, there can be no doubt whatever that as a race they are extremely p.r.o.ne to treachery.' "

"I object!" said Ptolemy shrilly. "Why do you say such things?"

"I believe what Hirtius meant meant to say was--" began Caesar. to say was--" began Caesar.

"No, let Hirtius speak for himself!" Ptolemy insisted.

Hirtius looked around to be rescued. "It is a well-known fact that the mob of Alexandria is volatile, violent, and fickle," he said. "Even in peacetime, they riot! Isn't that true?" He turned to me.

"Yes," I had to admit. "They are difficult to rule. Ever since they more or less deposed"--how I hated that word!--"Ptolemy the Tenth, they have grown ever more strident. When I was a child they rioted because a Roman had inadvertently killed a cat. When I came to the throne, they had got much worse. They drove me from the throne. By the time Caesar fought them in the Alexandrian War, they had become almost ungovernable. Now they have met their master."

"In other words," said Brutus, "Caesar arrived to put down the people, to force something on them they did not wish?"

"You make them sound like heroes," I said. "These same heroic people are the ones who turned on their benefactor Pompey, and slew him when he came seeking refuge on our sh.o.r.es. They are not n.o.ble, merely traitors who disregard all moral laws."

"It was not the people who killed Pompey," he insisted, "but a corrupt palace faction."

"Supported by the people," I said stubbornly. One would have to have grown up in Alexandria to understand it. This Brutus had all sorts of misguided ideas about things he had never seen.

"And this corrupt faction embraced some of the royal family; one of them is to pay the price by being led a captive in the Triumph, and the other has paid with his life," said Servilia. As she spoke she moved her head vigorously, and her two enormous pearl earrings swung to and fro.

Caesar's eye was caught by them, and his voice softened. "I see you still enjoy the treasures of Britain," he said.

Brutus looked down at his mulberries and fell abruptly silent.

"Is it true you invaded Britain just to satisfy Servilia's love of pearls?" asked Octavia. Her question was straightforward and seemingly lacking in malice, but it was shocking nonetheless.

"Who started such stupid gossip?" said Caesar. "People will not desist from spreading the most insulting and inane stories about me!"

"I--I did not start it," said Octavia, her low, pleasing voice trembling.

"Then don't repeat it!" he barked. "I would never conduct a military campaign to please anyone's vanity, including my own. My G.o.ds! What do you take me for?" He struggled to beat his anger down. "I explored Britain and claimed her for Rome because I was called to do it. For the glory of Rome."

Brutus opened his mouth to say something, then closed it in a hard, straight line.

A hot gust of wind came in, followed by a rumble in the distance. Hirtius's papers rattled. Gamely he tried to continue his reading, but a clap of thunder drowned him out. Suddenly the thunder sounded as if it were right here in the garden.

"My friends," said Caesar, "perhaps we should cease with the recitation and allow you to return home before the storm comes. These summer thunderstorms can be severe."

Everyone rose hastily. Giving Caesar profuse thanks, they did not linger. One by one they said farewell to me as well--Servilia and Octavia kindly, Brutus and Calpurnia curtly. Octavian said he would be pleased to show me about, or to answer any questions, whenever I wished. I a.s.sured him I would send for him later, thanking him. He coughed his way out the door, accompanied by Agrippa.

There remained only Ptolemy, Hirtius, and me. Caesar said, "Dear Hirtius, thank you for your recitation. I will send both you and Ptolemy home in the litter; I myself will see to the Queen's safe return."

"But--" began Ptolemy.

"Go with him," I said. "The storm is going to break any moment." Even as I spoke, a gigantic clap of thunder boomed out.

We were alone in the room; Calpurnia must have departed upstairs. A blast of wind, carrying loose leaves, flapped the doors against the wall. They hit so hard they chipped some of the deep blue-green fresco, depicting a seaside, behind them. Outside, bright streaks of lightning appeared, stabbing the air and illuminating the garden, with its statuary, in blue light.

I shivered. There was coldness wrapped in the mantle of the hot gushes of air. I had never seen thunderbolts before, even though our Ptolemaic coins all carried the picture of an eagle with thunderbolts in his talons. I was not prepared for the power of them.

Caesar stood next to me, watching.

"Thank you for the dinner," I said. "It was--"

"Unpleasant," he finished for me. "Yet it was necessary. Now all of you have seen one another; curiosity has been satisfied."

"Why did you invite Brutus? He is not of your family."

"No, in spite of idiotic rumors that he is my son!" He sounded disgusted. "Yet in some ways I feel as if he were ... as if, had I a grown son, I would wish him to be like Brutus."

"Why?" He had seemed so dour, so lacking in any human vivacity.

"He has a purity about him that's rare. His outside is the same as his inside."

"His outside is so off-putting that one has no desire to get to know his inside," I said.