The Father-Loving Goddess

"Ah! Tiberius," exclaimed Caesar when General Tiberius entered his command post. "Any news from Cleopatra?"

"No, sir," answered Tiberius as his gaze drifted to a cinerarium resting on a table in front of Caesar. "This should have never happened... not to him."

"Thank you, Tiberius..." Turning to the courier standing next to him, Caesar said, "Take this letter, Pompey’s ring… and his ashes. Deliver them to Cornelia in Cyprus... tell her I grieve with her."

"Caesar!"

"I do not understand how they can lose a body, like a parcel!" said Caesar, slamming his fist on the table. "Recall the men, we need them here," he ordered.

"Caesar, there is something you should see," added Tiberius. Caesar looked at him with an inquisitive gaze. "A beggar woman — no one understands what she is saying. The legionaries are keeping her locked up; they think she might be a sorceress."

"Bring her," said Caesar, and looking over his shoulder he called, "Faberius!"

"Caesar."

"How is your Alexandrian Greek?"

"I can speak it."

Tiberius returned alongside two legionaries escorting an old woman in rags, pushing her abruptly to Caesar's feet. Caesar looked at Faberius and pointed at the old woman with his index finger.

"Sah-phes leh-geh, o graoú; tis ey?" Faberius spoke to her. "Hoy strah-tee-óh-tai seh ah-po-kteh-noo-sin eh-áhn mē leh-gēys."

Faberius demanded in old Greek. The woman remained silent, darting her eyes between Caesar and Faberius. Realizing she didn't know Greek, Faberius tried the native tongue.

"Se-nefer em medu, iat-et; me-re tchoo?" he spoke in ancient Egyptian.

The old woman lifted her head and spoke, looking directly at Caesar. "Wia-a en ankh, en p-uro." The tone of her voice was calm.

"She says she is a messenger," Faberius translated. "A proof of life."

"Ask her whom she serves, who her master is."

The woman spoke while looking at Caesar in the eye. Caesar watched her closely — the shape of her lips, the way she moved her hands, her complexion. The old woman said that her master wished to know Caesar's intentions, for the throne of Egypt was highly coveted by many.

"This woman is no beggar! Do not let any of Ptolemy's men come within two hundred paces. Tell her my patience is wearing thin and that, if she does not reveal who her master is, I will treat her as a spy!"

"Caesar, forgive me!" the old woman replied in Latin, extending her hand toward Caesar and showing him a ring.

"Cleopatra!" Caesar exclaimed, taking the ring from the woman's hand. The ring made a profound impression on those present, especially on Caesar.

"Why did you deceive us?"

"Caesar, I needed to know your heart. Even in this room, we could be overheard; there are secret passages behind these walls. No one is safe from Pothinus. He has spies; he hears and sees everything."

Her words had a devastating effect on the room. Everyone looked at the walls and the ceiling, searching for something whose appearance they did not know.

"We are safe behind these walls now; we have allies inside the palace who arranged my meeting with your soldiers."

"Where is Cleopatra?"

"She is safe, but I can say no more," the old woman responded, shaking her head slowly.

"I will not discuss our intentions with you, slave, but with Queen Cleopatra. She and I shall meet soon; that is my message for her."

"My queen intends to do so."

"I can guarantee her safety, but first we must secure the meeting place."

"Secure the palace," the old woman interjected, fixing her gaze on Caesar's eyes.

"Here?"

"I must return to her. Excellency, do not have me followed; I would notice... and I would lead them elsewhere," she said, lowering her head as befitted a slave. "It will only delay the meeting."

Silence fell over the room for a moment. Caesar glanced around again. His face betrayed his mistrust, yet he had no other choice.

"Tiberius, take her back to where you found her. Make sure you aren't followed," he said, and looking at the old woman, added, "She knows what to do next."

The day progressed slowly for Caesar and the legionaries stationed at the Royal Quarters. Reports reached him that his troops had been attacked.

"Caesar, the city is a tinderbox. We have suffered casualties. Alexandrians are attacking our men and dispersing quickly into the narrow streets."

Caesar did not respond, continuing to listen to Tiberius while leaning over a map of Alexandria. His face was tense; he had heard nothing but bad news.

"Caesar, help from Mithridates and Antipater will take months to arrive..."

"Then we should prepare for a long Alexandrian campaign," Caesar interjected without lifting his eyes from the map. "The streets are narrow for them as they are narrow for us. The fighting line is very small, and we are better prepared for that fighting. Are we not?"

"Yes, but... it will cost a great deal of Roman blood..."

"And Egyptian blood. No great victory comes from small effort..." And looking at Tiberius he added, "I value our men. Summon all prefects and chief centurions. Let them decide."

Moments later, the room was full of officers. Tiberius stood at Caesar’s right flank, looking at the men.

"Centurion Marcellus, to my side."

Marcellus moved swiftly to Caesar's left flank, still bleeding from an open head wound.

"We are being attacked unfairly. Centurion Marcellus has lost men just moments ago." Caesar spoke to his officers with a firm, steady voice, looking at their faces as they stood before him.

"Egypt owes us a great deal of money. It is time they pay what is ours."

Caesar let his words settle in their minds; they had not been paid for months. Some were family men, some had debts of their own.

"Should we retreat to Rome, or stay and collect?"

The city continued to rumble as night approached. Legionaries at the Royal Quarters felt uneasy at their posts but ready to counterattack; those were Caesar's orders.

"Halt!" shouted a centurion commanding three contuberniums at the entrance facing the channel to the Royal Docks.

"I have an important message for Caesar," answered a tall silhouette of a man in Latin, carrying what appeared to be a bed-sack over his shoulder.

"State your business, or suffer my wrath!" said the centurion at the gate.

"Hold on, centurion," said General Tiberius, approaching. "Who are you? What business at this hour?" he asked, looking at the man.

"Are you General Tiberius?"

"Yes."

"Then my visit was foretold to you and others," replied the man calmly.

"Open the gate."

The man was escorted by Tiberius and four legionnaires. Wall torches illuminated their path to Caesar’s command post. He carried his bundle with ease. Tiberius glanced at him sideways as they passed a torch and sensed determination in his gaze. The men walked in unison, enhancing the echo of every stride. Ahead, Caesar waited behind a campaign table covered in documents and maps. Caesar raised his right hand as the men entered, and they halted five paces from the table. The man and Caesar studied each other for a moment.

"You may set down your bundle... state the reason for your visit."

"My business is for the eyes and ears of Caesar alone," the man said firmly, without lowering the bundle he carried on his shoulder.

Caesar drew his gladius, under the watchful eye of the visitor, and laid it on the table before him. Caesar nodded and ordered his men to leave the command post.

Tiberius showed visible disapproval but obeyed the order. Once everyone had left, the visitor placed the bundle on the ground with great care. He untied the cord holding it shut and opened it. As he did, the sound of a living breath was heard; a young woman, bare-breasted and glistening with sweat, was revealed to view.

The woman looked at Caesar with innocence.

"Before you is Her Majesty Cleopatra Thea Philopator — the Father-Loving Goddess, Queen of Egypt, and the New Isis."

Cleopatra extended her hand between them. After a moment, Caesar stepped out from behind the table, taking her hand. It felt warm, delicate, and moist; a living goddess. They remained motionless, holding hands. Caesar watched her — her lips, her complexion... Her bare breasts rose with every breath. "Her eyes..." he thought for a moment; they seemed familiar, as if they had met in the not-too-distant past.