Cleopatra’s Daughter: A Novel by Michelle Moran Read Free Book Online Page A

my father’s memory returned to dust.
    “Every last talent.”
    But the soldier with the paunch squinted in the sun. “Not the girl’s necklace. And what about the children’s crowns?”
    “They’re simple bands of pearls,” Juba said testily. “Perhaps you’d like to take their clothes as well?”
    “The children may keep whatever they’re wearing. I want to leave,” Octavian announced.
    Alexander reached out to take my arm, but I stepped away.
    “This might be the last time we ever see the Museion,” I said. Orthe palace, or the Temple of Isis and Serapis. “I’ve never sketched Alexandria from the harbor,” it occurred to me.
    “We’ll be back,” my brother said sadly. He looked beyond the water to the city of marble that had been built over hundreds of years by the Ptolemies. In the brilliant sunshine, the city rose like a blinding white beacon, home to the greatest minds in the world.
    “I want to stay.”
    “Octavian is already on board,” my brother warned.
    “And who cares what Octavian is doing?”
    “You should.” Alexander, always the practical one, added bitterly, “you’ve seen how it’s been these past months. Nothing happens for us now without his say.” He took little Ptolemy’s hand in his. But I remained on the pier, and only turned away when Agrippa said that it was time. He led the three of us to our cabin, the same one Alexander and I had shared when our mother took us to Thebes every winter.
    “This door is always to remain open,” Agrippa instructed. “Do not close it. Do not lock it.”
    “Even when we sleep?” Alexander asked.
    “Even then. If you would like food, you may ask me. If you are sick, go to the railing, but never disturb Caesar for anything.”
    Our room faced onto an open courtyard where Octavian was already reclining on a couch, scribbling across a scroll with his reed pen.
    “Caesar spends most of his day writing,” Agrippa explained. “There is never a time when he isn’t busy. If he wants to hear noise, he will ask for the harp.”
    Alexander and I both looked to Ptolemy. How would a seven-year-old child keep silent on a two-month voyage? And we weren’t even allowed to shut the door.
    I sat on one of the cedar beds and pulled Ptolemy onto my lap.“You are going to have to be very quiet on this ship. Do you understand?”
    He nodded, and his curls bounced up and down. “Will Mother be coming?”
    I looked at Alexander.
    “No, Mother won’t be coming,” he said softly. “Don’t you remember?”
    Two small lines creased Ptolemy’s brow. “She’s with Father, in Elysium?”
    “That’s right.” Alexander seated himself on the second bed, and we avoided each other’s gaze. Outside, Juba and Agrippa joined Octavian in the courtyard as the ship wrenched away from the port. With the door open, we could hear their conversation.
    “It’s finally over,” Juba said, reclining on a separate couch.
    “It’s never over.” Octavian looked up from his scroll. “Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
    “Then perhaps Plato was wrong, and you’ll forge something different. Who in Rome is going to challenge you now?”
    Octavian smiled. “Antony did me a favor by getting rid of Cicero. He taught the Senate a powerful lesson. Seneca and the rest of the old beards will keep their silence.”
    “For now,” Agrippa warned.
    “Yes,” Octavian said, after a pause. “The danger is no longer with the old men. I must restore the prestige of the Senate. I must make equestrians’ sons want to be senators again.”
    “That would mean convincing them to come out of the whorehouses first,” Agrippa said dryly.
    “Then I will close the whorehouses!” Octavian flushed. “They are breeding grounds for rebellion.”
    “And you will have a different kind of rebellion on your hands,” Juba said. “The boys visit them because they have nothing better to do. But if you increase the Senate’s pay and power, they will thinkyou are bringing back