Song of the Nile by Stephanie Dray Read Free Book Online Page A

My Roman half brother had made a misery of my childhood in Rome, but I never wished actual harm to befall him.
    Julia poked at me with the hard edge of the mirror. “Don’t give me your solemn expression. You’ll have plenty of time to be solemn after a few years of chasing Juba’s brats in Mauretania. You’ll have to give him a whole litter, and you’ll be so busy with motherhood, you’ll forget all about your loved ones here in Rome.”
    At this, I bristled. “I never forget my loved ones.” I didn’t forget my living brothers or the ones that Augustus murdered. I didn’t forget my father, who had fallen on his sword. Nor did I ever forget my mother and how she met her end. Those pains crowded my khaibit , the shadow part of my soul. I didn’t want to make room for more.
     
     
    MY husband arrived at the wedding breakfast without offering any explanation for his early-morning disappearance, and my attempt to engage him in conversation was drowned out by the din of the pipers announcing us. Juba stood tall, a hand at my elbow, turning me to the guests as if for display, but there wasn’t anything improper about my ensemble this time. My hair twisted in a modest knot at the nape of my neck and a light blue chiton bloused low on my hips. It was a Greek garment, but it was still considered appropriate. Even so, it didn’t prevent Livia’s caustic appraisal. The emperor’s wife leaned forward to whisper, “Do you expect everyone to forget that you dressed like a harlot for your wedding? Don’t think you can embarrass me, as you did yesterday, without paying a price.”
    I detested the emperor’s wife but knew better than to antagonize her. I was mindful that my little brother Philadelphus must stay behind in Rome. There were too many people I loved who would remain at Livia’s mercy long after I left to rule my new kingdom, so I made no reply to the emperor’s wife, giving all my attention to the swarm of guests. Surrounded by speculators and hangers-on seeking our patronage, Juba and I were overwhelmed with gifts. Vivid paintings framed with precious wood, engraved gemstones, expensive Greek sculptures carved from the finest marble. More practical gifts too, including couches with golden feet arched in the shape of eagle claws, tall braziers studded with carnelian, and oil lamps that served as a canvas for fanciful creatures painted in black and ochre.
    Amidst all this treasure, Lucius Cornelius Balbus approached us boldly. The Cornelii were a famous patrician Roman family, but this man came from one of its plebeian branches and was an inveterate survivor of the civil wars. He hailed from Spain and had been one of my father’s soldiers—one of the many who deserted. Nonetheless, I resolved to treat Balbus with gracious regard because many of those who would come with us to Mauretania were veterans of Actium. Some of them might remember my father kindly and be well disposed to me. So I said, “Good greetings, Lucius Cornelius.”
    In reply, the stout man unfurled a glorious purple cloak over my knees. “Queen Selene, I bought this for you with the riches of my plantations in North Africa,” he boasted. The cloth flowed over me like liquid and I couldn’t help but test the smoothness of it between my fingers. “I hope your husband will make me richer still by keeping the barbarians off my land!”
    Some laughed at Balbus’s comments, but most of our guests stared with slack-jawed amazement at the costly gift. The cloak had been dipped several times in the ruinously expensive Tyrian purple dye and the covetous glances of the crowd gave me the impression that the garment was worth a small city. Even the emperor seemed impressed, motioning for me to join him on his couch. “Come show me!”
    Normally an abstemious eater, Augustus today ate with gusto. He feasted upon dormice seasoned with honey and poppy seeds. He poured a generous amount of the peppery fish sauce called garum on his eggs. As he ate, I