The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George Read Free Book Online Page A

bankrupt.”
    “Yes, and is that any way to love your country? He called himself Philopator, ‘lover of his father’—his fatherland?—but he has sold us to the Romans!” cried Older Cleopatra, her voice full of self-righteousness. “Egypt for the Egyptians! Let us take care of our own affairs! Why pay Rome to give us a king, when we have queens available for nothing?”
    “I am to be Queen of certain districts, mainly in Upper Egypt, and Berenice will be Queen of Middle Egypt and the Moeris Oasis,” she continued. “We will begin negotiations for marriages.”
    “We have brothers,” I suggested, as if I were trying to be helpful. “Do not we Ptolemies marry within our own family?”
    They burst out laughing in unison. “Those little children? One is three and the other an infant! It is a long time until they’ll father any heirs. We need men in our beds,” said Berenice.
    “To wed a baby—why, it would be like wedding a eunuch!” Cleopatra laughed cruelly. Then she stopped, pointedly. “Oh, I forgot; you like eunuchs. Busy yourself with them and your horses, then,” she said grandly, waving her arms over the jasper arms of her chair. “Do not meddle in things of state, and you shall do well. Do you still have your horse?”
    “Yes,” I answered. My horse, a white Arabian, was truly my best friend at that age. My horse took me away from myself and the palace and out into the desert.
    “Then keep to them. Ride, hunt, and study. Do not concern yourself with things that do not concern you. Do this and you will prosper. We mean to be gentle with all who are gentle with us.”
    “Yes, Your Majesties,” I said. I inclined my head, but did not bow and did not fall to my knees. And as for calling them majesties, that was no treason. Were not all the King’s children recognized as gods? And are not gods majesties? I acted calm as I took my leave.
    But once in the safety of my own rooms, I shook with shock and fear. They had turned on their own father, seized the throne. They had committed a most grave sin; it was the curse of the Ptolemies. Their blood was compelling them to it.
    For we came from a very murderous and bloody line, with such familial killings as sickened the world. Brother had killed brother, wife, mother…it was a hideous legacy. I had prided myself that we, this generation, were made of finer stuff. Now it seemed that I was horribly mistaken.
    Father! Father had been deposed by his own daughters. And what would they stop at? Me, Arsinoe, the two boys—would they destroy us all as well?
    I had no one to confide in. I was long since too old for a nurse, and no confidant had replaced her. I felt utterly alone.
    There was only, as always, Isis.
     
    I was safe, for now. They would allow me to live as long as I kept myself in obscurity, was young enough to be harmless, and did not attempt to build up a following. As if I could have!
    And so I contented myself with my “eunuchs and horses,” as they had contemptuously described them. There were, in those days, flocks of eunuchs around the royal grounds. Eunuchs were important in nearly every sphere of life; it is impossible to imagine palace life without them. In a world in which dynastic ambition ran riot, the eunuchs alone were exempt from suspicion. They served as tutors to the royal children, as confidants to both kings and queens, as ministers and generals. A man whose earthly fortunes would end with himself was devoted to his master. Curious how much we do for our posterity, and how our behavior would change without descendants. And the popular, sneering prejudice about their condition meant that they could never seize open power, but must always remain hidden, shadow-figures behind their masters. Ideal servants, then, for such as the Ptolemies.
    Obviously, one could not come from a long line of eunuchs—no one ever claimed his father and grandfather were eunuchs—but the practice of designating one’s children to be eunuchs seemed