The Shards of Heaven Read Online Free PDF

might have been dozens more spectators even in this most private of spaces within the sprawling expanse of red-roofed buildings, pillared arcades, and daunting towers that made up the royal palace, but the threat of Rome had changed all that. For the safety of the royal family, the inner wards of the palace were far emptier these days, even as the city continued to teem with busy life around them.
    Vorenus and Pullo had long disagreed about whether it was appropriate to teach Caesarion how to fight in this way. After all, as pharaoh of Egypt, Caesarion was, according to Egyptian rite, the earthly embodiment of the god Horus, and Vorenus thought it might appear inappropriate that a god be trained in the mortal ways of men. While the uneasy peace with Octavian had lasted, Vorenus’ opinion had carried the day. But now war seemed increasingly inevitable.
    The clash of steel echoed loudly in the little courtyard as Caesarion overreached on a thrust and was promptly disarmed by the experienced Pullo. Vorenus had never known the big man to be patient with anything in his life, but he was loyally so with Caesarion, stooping to pick up the pharaoh’s weapon from where it had clattered down amid the red and white tiles. He handed it back to the young man even as he quietly told him where he’d gone wrong.
    Though he still felt uneasiness about such martial training for the pharaoh, Vorenus could hardly deny its effectiveness. Caesarion was a gifted and able student, qualities that extended, according to the chief librarian who acted as his tutor, into the intellectual realms as well. Indeed, the Greek Didymus often compared the boy’s wide-ranging capabilities to those of his father Julius, who was at once one of Rome’s finest generals, orators, politicians, and warriors. Of course, all those involved with the child’s upbringing had kept such comparisons out of Caesarion’s earshot by mutual and long-standing agreement. He was already the boy who could inherit the world, after all. No sense in giving him even more self-importance.
    In the sunny courtyard the two men were in melee once again, dancing across the patterned tiles, and Vorenus turned away from the wall, thinking he might make a surprise inspection of the barracks. This was certainly no time to allow anyone to get complacent, the Roman guardsmen least of all. He didn’t get two steps, however, before one of the native guardsmen appeared, hurrying up the stairs from the depths of the palace. “Messengers at the gate, sir,” the Egyptian said once he was close. “Requesting entry into the palace.”
    â€œSo?” Messengers arrived daily, if not hourly, these days—all part of Antony and Cleopatra’s efforts to have the most up-to-date information of the events happening around the Mediterranean. War was, after all, in the air, which was also the reason that messengers were never allowed in the palace itself, not unless … “Wait. Messengers from where?”
    The guardsman nodded even as he was starting to beg leave for the disturbance. “Out of Rome, sir. Bearing dispatches for Lord Antony. We thought you’d want to be informed.”
    Vorenus felt his stomach drop. Such messages could only mean that the whispers of war in the air would soon be the heavy footfalls of war on the ground. “Yes. Thank you. Keep them at the inner gate. I’ll be along shortly.”
    After the Egyptian hastened back down the stairs, Vorenus instinctively raised his head to gaze out across the glittering waters of Alexandria’s Great Harbor, toward distant Rome, as if some reflection of the impending doom might be found there. Only the massive height of the Great Lighthouse on Pharos, and the slow-curling smoke of its distant fire, met his eye.
    The sound of happy children brought Vorenus’ attention once more to the square below. Cleopatra’s three youngest—the eight-year-old twins Cleopatra