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to recognize me as the pharaoh. I have Caesar’s word, though I am not sure I can trust him.”
    My father puts his head down in his arms and begins to weep. I have never seen him so distraught. I want to believe that my father really has acted for the good of our country, but I wonder if the people of Egypt will be as understanding. Some are sure to believe he did it only to keep himself in power.
    We have been talking for so long that the stars have begun to fade. I creep close and lay my hand lightly on Father’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off. “Leave me, Cleopatra!” he groans, and obediently I tiptoe away.

Chapter 6
    F ESTIVAL OF I SIS
    It is winter now, and the winds sweeping in from the sea are bitter. Father has been back in Alexandria for four months. Today, the Festival of Isis, I am eleven years old. At the banquet honoring the great goddess of fertility and motherhood and also of magic, Father calls upon me to be recognized by our guests. I stand by his side and smile and even manage to say a few words in praise of Isis, though I am not at ease speaking before a large crowd of people who would rather be talking among themselves or enjoying the dancers. When I have finished my brief speech, Father announces his plan to begin a journey by royal boat up the Nile, stopping at towns and cities to greet his subjects and to make offerings at the temples of the gods. He intends to go as far as the First Cataract, where the river is shallow, the bottom is rough, and huge boulders block a boat’s passage. My sisters and I will accompany him,and most of the members of the court present at this banquet will join the party as well.
    “We will all enjoy a journey to warmer places,” he says. I understand that the real reason is to show himself to the people and remind them that he is their pharaoh.
    Preparations begin at once for our large entourage—as many as a hundred noblemen and their wives and servants—to set out near the end of the fourth month of the season of Emergence as the crops along the river are nearly finished ripening. The journey will be a long one, likely lasting through the four months of Harvest, until summer begins, and perhaps even longer.
    I am delighted. I have never before traveled with Father. I had begged him to take me with him to Rome, but he refused, saying, “A voyage of this kind is no place for you, Cleopatra. You are too young to be faced with the dangers of sea travel.” I was only nine then. But now that I am eleven I wonder if he would consider me old enough to accompany him on such a voyage, if he decides to make another. I long to travel to distant places, but in fact I have seldom been outside Alexandria.
    Arsinoë is excited too, so long as her monkey will be allowed to come with us. But our disagreeable older sisters pull long faces.
    “Four months on a boat! It will be too boring,” Berenike complains.
    “Unbearably dull,” Tryphaena agrees. “We have much more interesting things to do here in Alexandria. Don’t we, Berenike?”
    The two exchange glances, and I wonder what they are plotting. “No doubt you look forward to the journey, Cleopatra,” Berenike says archly. “Father will surely want to have his precious jewel to display wherever he goes.”
    “I am not his precious jewel!” I retort, and immediately regret allowing her to see how easily she can annoy me.
    I have not seen much of my older sisters since Father returned. The royal palace compound is large and sprawling, with many separate parts, and we each have our own small palaces, our own servants and tutors and bodyguards. My sisters certainly do not seek me out. Father expects us to attend his dinners when he entertains guests—that is nearly every night—and we manage to be polite when we meet there. But it will be much harder to keep my distance from my sisters on a boat, even one as large as the king’s.
    Neither have I seen much of my father during these preparations. He spends most of his