Page 21 of Cleopatra

21

CLEOPATRA

T he loneliness is a weight I carry with me everywhere, like the golden amulets shackled to my wrists. I think of Charmian and hope that her happiness is enough to balance out my pain. I don’t think of Apollodorus. He took her from me. She chose him instead of me. Time has not yet scabbed the wound.

I distract myself with Caesarion, chasing him through the long grass. He screams with delight and hurtles from me, intent on joyous escape. I let him run further from me, feel the space between us lengthen until he’s too far and the tug of him is like the pull of an invisible thread and I sprint to catch him, sweeping him up in my arms, and cover him with kisses, tickling his neck and belly as he shrieks and giggles.

‘Again! Again!’ he shouts, wriggling free and setting off once more, tottering and unsteady as he weaves along.

It’s spring and the air is threaded with birdsong, and yellow sunshine spills along the path. There’s a scent of turned earth and damp green things and dandelion seed pods feather the breeze. My feet are bare and smeared with mud, and a tiny beetle with a glossy carapace squats on my big toe. I flick it away, and prepare to run again, anticipating catching my boy once more, the feeling of his squirming warmth, his hot breath on my cheek.

Then I stop abruptly, for at the far side of the garden I see three slaves running towards me. They are shouting. There is something about their frenzy that unnerves me. I can’t hear their words, tossed away by the wind. Caesarion continues to play, shrieking happily, but I no longer chase him. Shading my eyes, I glance at the slaves who still race towards me. A coldness trickles into my chest. I glance back at my boy, and for a moment can no longer see him amongst the tall grass, and I feel a sudden panic as though he is really lost to me. I can hear him still, his echoes of delight, and my heart rushes in my ears. I want only to follow him. A voice whispers that if I don’t, I will lose him, and I know that is foolish for he is only playing in the grass, quite safe, and there are slaves and guards all around. I know my fear is not sensible yet cool dread rises within me like a spring tide. I want to chase him and play this game while we have time, and I am frightened as to what will happen when we stop. Time dilates, and then contracts again. The slaves draw closer, their shouts louder. I catch a single word caught on the wind and carried to me.

Death.