The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George Read Free Book Online

he dared not actually touch me; no one was allowed to lay hands on a member of the royal family.
    “My loyalty? My loyalty to whom? To what?” This was very odd. “I have been at the tomb of Alexander, which I have always been free to visit.” Even as I said it, I realized I could not prove it, as I always went alone.
    “Your loyalty to the new rulers,” he said smartly.
    New rulers? Had the Romans seized power, then? Had warships landed? Troops invaded? But there had been no tumult or fighting in the streets, and—I quickly glanced toward the harbor—no foreign ships there.
    “I don’t understand,” I said simply. I did not know what else to say. But I felt a great fear for Father.
    “The daughters of the former King have been elevated to sovereignty,” he said. “Come and do homage. Their Majesties are waiting.”
    My sisters! My sisters, taking advantage of Father’s absence and his unpopularity, had seized power. Now I also felt fear for myself. They could do away with me, with Arsinoe and the boys, and there was no one to prevent them. It could all be done swiftly, this morning, before word got out in the city. It was an old family custom of the Ptolemies—murder of rivals, siblings, mother, father, children.
    “So you refuse!” he said, taking another step toward me, reaching for his sword. He might have been instructed to strike me down if I showed the slightest hesitation. Or perhaps he might just strike me anyway—after all, there were no witnesses. I looked quickly and saw the servants still scrubbing the steps. Whatever they observed, they would keep to themselves. There would be no help from them.
    “No—” How long did I stand there, thinking? It seemed many moments, but that was impossible. I prayed quickly to Isis, to help me. “No, no, I do not. I am their obedient sister, now as always.”
    “Then prove it.” He motioned to another guard to take his place while he marched me toward the main building—again, not actually touching me, but walking so close beside me it was even more threatening. I tried not to betray my fear.
    I was taken to one of the larger rooms of the palace, a room that my sisters evidently felt befitted their new status, as our father had held his audiences here. I stood before the outer doors, which were ornamented with tortoiseshell from India and studded with emeralds, but today their magnificence was lost on me. Slowly the doors swung open and I was admitted to the chamber, where the ceilings were fretted and inlaid with gold. At the far end sat Cleopatra and Berenice, on chairs encrusted with gems. They were consciously seated in the same pose as Pharaohs in carvings.
    To me they did not look at all like queens or Pharaohs, but only my two older sisters, as always.
    “Princess Cleopatra,” Berenice spoke, “we have been raised to the honor of the throne. We are now to be known as Cleopatra the Sixth and Berenice the Fourth, rulers of Upper and Lower Egypt. We wish you to proclaim yourself our dearest sister and loving subject.”
    I tried to keep my voice steady, to sound calm. “Of course you are my dearest sisters, and I, your most loyal sister.” I would avoid the word subject unless I was forced to it. Saying it was treason to my father. Would they notice it missing?
    “We accept your allegiance,” said Berenice for both of them. “The people have spoken. They have made their wishes known. They do not want our father the King to return; they will not admit him if he does. But there is little chance of that! The Romans will not restore him because it seems that one of their prophecies forbids it; something to the effect that ‘under no circumstances must arms be used to restore the Egyptian King to his throne, although he may be received with courtesy.’ Well, they have done that: feasted and pampered him. But that’s all. Oh, and taken his money. He owes so much to the Roman moneylenders that, were we ever to take him back, our country would be