The Wadjet Eye by Jill Rubalcaba Read Free Book Online Page B

of his mother anyhow.
    She listened intently, rising up and sitting near him when he faltered. She put a hand on his. "I shall send word to my priests to pray for her."

    Damon knew that she would.
    She asked Artemas in Greek, "Where are you headed?"
    "To Caesar. Damon's father serves his legion. A centurion." Artemas spoke with such pride, it sounded as if he were talking about his own father. "We must bring him news of his wife's journey to the other bank."
    With the mention of Caesar, Cleopatra stood, setting down her cup. She clasped her hands, squeezing and releasing her fingers. "We have heard little from Spain. He camps through the cold winter on his enemy's doorstep at Munda. They outnumber him, thirteen legions to his eight."
    Artemas stood. "Eight of Caesar's legions are like twenty of any other. Mere numbers are not enough to defeat him."
    Behind a row of trunks chained to the deck a curtain was strung from the rigging. The breeze billowed the sheer fabric, and Damon saw a woman waiting. Cleopatra missed nothing. She followed Damon's stare. "Charmion, come." Charmion stroked Cleopatra's arm and whispered to her.
    Cleopatra squeezed Charmion's hand, then turned to Artemas and Damon. "My brother, Ptolemy, is not well. You will have to excuse me."
    "May I help?" Damon pulled off the blanket draped over his shoulders. "I studied in your Museum, under Olympus."

    "Olympus?" Cleopatra smiled. "I do miss him. So does Ptolemy. Yes, come. Perhaps the gods had designs when they took your ship."
    Damon followed Cleopatra and Charmion through a maze of billowing fabric to where Ptolemy was stretched out across several floor pillows. Ptolemy's face was ashen, the color drained from it. Damon felt the boy's brow and, holding his wrist, found a weak pulse. "You must stop the bloodletting," he told Cleopatra. "It is weakening him." Damon knew that many believed in bleeding, but he had found no evidence that it made a patient stronger.
    Ptolemy coughed. The spasms drained what little strength he had. He collapsed onto the bed when the fit passed.
    "If we could get some dried fenugreek, we could burn it," Damon said. "The smoke has a soothing effect on the lungs."
    Cleopatra spoke to a servant in Latin. Damon raised his eyebrows. It was said that she spoke a dozen languages. She had been in Rome but six months and already spoke Latin. Damon's father was Roman, and Damon could barely put six words together. He shook his head.
    Cleopatra sat next to her brother, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. "My servant will see what can be done. We are limited here on the ship, but whatever you need can be had as soon as we reach shore."

    "I can make a poultice of dried figs."
    "That we have, I am sure." Cleopatra nodded to Charmion, who sped away.
    "He has a fever." Damon began to pull off the blanket that covered Ptolemy. Cleopatra seized his arm to stop him. Damon was surprised by her strength. He hadn't expected it. She was so small and slight.
    "Will the chill not make him worse?" Cleopatra asked.
    "Feel him. He is hot. Does it make sense to trap the heat inside?"
    She didn't answer him. He knew that many physicians wrapped their patients like mummies when they suffered the burning sickness. But Damon knew Olympus would not.
    Damon was aware that Cleopatra didn't trust him. What must it be like to trust no one? To be always on guard? He folded the blanket back. She didn't stop him this time, but he felt her eyes on him. She would watch him closely, he knew. He began the healing chants. He didn't believe they helped, but they would do no harm, and he needed something to take his mind off the Pharaoh, Cleopatra, so close beside him.

SIXTEEN
    By the time the port of Ostia came into view, Ptolemy's fever had broken and his lungs had cleared a bit. His color had returned to normal, and he was able to sit up.

    Damon joined Artemas on deck, staying close to the rail, out of the way of the sailors racing to bring down the sail. The