Song of the Nile Read Online Free PDF Page A

title I retained as my own. “I am Cleopatra Selene, daughter of Isis, and therefore Thea Notera , the Younger Goddess, the Maiden Goddess.”
    The emperor’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like that title, Thea Notera ; and he especially didn’t like my mention of Isis, his least favorite goddess. My mother’s goddess. His praetorians tensed as if readying for battle and the lictors who accompanied him on formal occasions stiffened. Their axes were ceremonial, but I knew their blades could cut. Somehow I found the courage to press on. “I am Cleopatra Selene, Thea Philadelphoi , the Goddess Who Loves Her Brothers.”
    The emperor’s nose lifted as if to scent treachery in the air. I could see the way his mind was turning, trying to divine whether or not I would declare myself the rightful Queen of Egypt and my twin Egypt’s rightful king. Augustus could have me killed with a mere signal to his henchmen. With a simple flick of his wrist. Still, he let me come. I drew closer, my eyes never leaving his. “I am Cleopatra Selene, Thea Philopatris , the Goddess Who Loves Her People.”
    It had been one of my mother’s appellations and a few of the guests jeered, which shook me. This same citizenry that had come to celebrate my wedding had bayed for my blood when I’d been dragged through the city as a child, so my fears raced alongside my heartbeat. Some faces in the crowd were awed. Others were hostile and whispered of my arrogance. I passed my brother Philadelphus, on my right. After my marriage, he would remain here in Rome to secure my good behavior. Already pale from a recent illness, he went paler at my bold display. The emperor’s daughter glanced up at me and twitched, like a frightened fawn ready to bolt for the woods. My Roman half sisters, the Antonias, cloistered around her, both of them agape. And the emperor’s wife looked as if she saw in me an apparition.
    At last, I found myself standing before Augustus. He knew not what I meant to do but seemed mesmerized by the possibilities. I confess I enjoyed his discomfort. If I named myself the Queen of Egypt, everyone would know it for the truth, but it would also mean my end. I was so close to him, as close to him as I’d been on the day of his triumph, when he held my chin between his thumb and forefinger and decided to spare my life. I lifted that same chin and said, “As I come to this marriage to the King of Mauretania, I remain a friend and ally of the Roman people, loving and loyal ward of Augustus, Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, Divi Filius , Son of his Father, Julius Caesar, the God.”
    Then I lowered my head, bowing as a suppliant before him. The crowd roared its approval. They cheered, stomped their feet, and whistled. They sounded like the mobs in the stadium instead of an assemblage of wedding guests. I’d done all this to stroke the emperor’s vanity, to honor my mother’s legacy, and to speak the name of my goddess even where it was forbidden. But in so doing, I gave the emperor a gift he could have received from no one but me. I’d taken unto myself all the prestige of my lineage and laid it at his feet, giving him more power than he possessed before, letting him glimpse the glory that only I could bestow upon him.
    He knew it, and avarice gleamed in his eyes. “I thank you for the tribute, Queen Selene.” Queen Selene. He’d said it, and all the guests heard. Rising from my bow, I saw that he was also shaken. He hissed, voice low, “You risk much, you impudent thing.”
    “Fortune favors the bold , ” I whispered back, knowing it was Caesar’s favorite motto.
    The omens had already been taken from the entrails of a sacrificial ox and the day deemed provident for marriage, so the trumpeters heralded the beginning of the ceremony and officiates poured libations. If this had been a normal Roman wedding, we would have followed the priest into the emperor’s mask room. We were foreign monarchs, though, so marrying under the wax death