Cleopatra Confesses Read Online Free PDF Page B

shall concentrate on mathematics, the area where I find you to be weakest.”
    He is wrong about that; I am not weak in any area. But I enjoy mathematics and do not protest.
    Before darkness falls, the royal boat and the long line of boats traveling with it are maneuvered into a quiet cove for the night. Lamps are lit. Baskets of prepared food are hauled by ropes and pulleys from the kitchen boat to the serving pantry next to the royal dining hall, and Demetrius seizes another chance to improve my mind.
    “The compound pulley was invented by Archimedes of Syracuse, the greatest mathematician who ever lived, and a Greek!”my tutor informs me. “Have I not been telling you, Cleopatra? With one hand and a compound pulley, he once moved an entire ship, loaded with men and armaments. Tomorrow you will make a drawing of a pulley to show how it works.” Then Demetrius adds somberly, “Archimedes was killed by Roman soldiers during the battle of Syracuse, even though their general had given orders that the great genius must be spared. Another incident showing that Romans cannot be trusted.”
    But Father must surely trust them , I think to myself. If he did not, he would not have promised to give them so much of Egypt’s treasure—would he?
    I have begun to be concerned about my father’s decisions. We are traveling in great luxury, but already I have seen signs of the poverty in which many of our people live. Does Father give any thought to them? Is he worried? It would be unthinkable for a daughter to question her father’s authority, and even asking Demetrius for an opinion was unseemly.
    And so I keep my thoughts, as well as my questions, to myself.

Chapter 8
    P ROMISE AND W ARNING
    In the evening of the first day as the royal boat drifts at anchor in the quiet cove, we feast on roast duck with crackling brown skin, rice from the Orient fragrant with spices, custard sweetened with honey, and fruit so full of juice that it drips down my chin. As he often does, my father waves his hands to dismiss the musicians and reaches for his flute. Tonight he is playing two short auloi at once. He dances as he plays, eyes closed, as though he is in a trance.
    Most of the guests ignore him, but one who does not is a man named Seleucus. I cannot imagine why my father has invited him on this journey. Seleucus is Syrian and claims to be from a royal family, but he is extremely crude. Behind his back, people call him Cybiosactes, “Saltfish Monger,” hardly a flattering epithet. He was given the name for his offensive odor—probably he does not bathe. His voice is loud. “Play on,Auletes!” he shouts. Worse, he has a way of pressing himself up against any woman who happens to catch his eye. I am too young for him to bother—thank the gods!—but I have heard rumors that he wants to marry one of my sisters, whichever one is likely to succeed Father and become Queen of Egypt. It makes me laugh to think that Tryphaena or Berenike could end up as the wife of this smelly oaf!
    The noblemen and their wives begin to drift away, my sisters disappear, and even the repellent Seleucus takes himself off. Father does not seem to mind. He plays not for their enjoyment but for his own. At first his tunes are lively; then, as the night wears on, the music becomes melancholy and subdued.
    There is a sharp chill in the river air, but I stay on deck, listening. Monifa brings a fine woolen robe and drapes it around my shoulders, whispering as she does, “Come to bed, Cleopatra.”
    “I’ll come later,” I murmur. “I want to stay here with Father.”
    The torches have burned low. Most of the light comes now from a nearly full moon. My father stops playing and leans on the boat rail, staring down at the silvery light shimmering on the black water. The sails are furled, and the wind moans softly in the ropes that hold them. The waters of the Canopus lap at the sides of the boat. Wrapped in my woolen robe, I go to stand close beside my father. He