Cleopatra's Secret: Keepers of the LIght (10 page)

Antony was not sure if Cleopatra was speaking of herself, or the great Goddess, whose statue must surely lie hidden in the darkness of the temple just beyond the courtyard. It was the first of many times he would wonder in Egypt, for here in the land of mysteries nothing had simply one meaning and secrets were buried inside riddles, both hidden and revealed.

Apollodorus quietly appeared at his side. “Things are quite different here than they are in Rome, are they not, Lord Antony?”

Could the priest read his mind?

“We had best go inside, Queen of Heaven,” continued Apollodorus. “The Priesthood is waiting.”

Cleopatra nodded and the royal party entered the silent gloom of the temple. Antony blinked as his eyes adjusted to the torchlight. The heat of day dissipated as they made their way into the great hall and passed through the temple with its high ceilings and massive pillars to a smaller chamber in the back, where a small cypress door inlaid with mother of pearl images of entwined white lotus stood locked by golden bolts.

Cleopatra nodded to Iris. Her attendant drew a key from a chain around her neck, presenting it to her mistress. Solemnly, Cleopatra placed the key in the lock and opened the door to the sacred chamber.

Antony once more marveled at the wealth of Egypt as they entered the Holy of Holies, the shrine of Isis. The golden walls shimmered in the light of the torches. Incense burning on polished wooden plates coiled up in ghostly tendrils from the foot of the Goddess’s statue which stood in an alcove at the back of the room.

Antony took in the graceful lines of Isis’s solid silver body, which in Egypt was a thousand times more precious than gold. Her black lined eyes, set with ocean blue sapphires, were so lifelike in the torchlight they seemed to flicker with the vitality of a living spirit. In the play of light and shadow, the breath of life seemed to animate her silver form and Antony felt the unnerving sensation that she peered into his soul.

Not so unlike Cleopatra.

A baby boy rested in Isis’s arms, nuzzling close to her breast. Antony recognized him as her son, Horus, the child who would grow to become her husband, Osiris, and with whom she would bear Horus all over again, on and on into eternity.

All of this has taken place before…

The words whispered through his mind like a breeze and then were gone.

Cleopatra approached the Goddess and prostrated herself before Isis. Antony stood awkwardly viewing the scene for a moment, then he too sunk to his knees. Perhaps he did not understand everything about this strange deity, but he had felt her power ever since that night in the woods when the God had taken hold of him.

Cleopatra rose and allowed Charmion to unclasp her heavy turquoise necklace. She draped the beads lovingly about Her shoulders. “Isis, this is our gift to you. We thank you for smiling on our voyage, for uniting our worlds in your love and for blessing Egypt with peace in my absence.”

“Blessed is Isis on earth,” murmured Apollodorus, prostrating himself before Cleopatra, and all in the room, except Antony, followed suit.

“Blessed is Isis on earth,” they chanted in unison.

Once more Antony felt confusion at this blending of identities between Cleopatra and Isis. How could Cleopatra supplicate herself in front of the Goddess one moment and then be hailed as that same divinity the next?

As they left the shrine behind and walked through the great hall of the temple, Antony was deep in thought.

Apollodorus slowed his steps and fell in pace with him. “You have many questions, but when you travel down the Nile with Cleopatra more will be revealed to you. She is a woman
and
a Goddess. If you are to be her consort, you must be a man and a God too.”

Obviously sensing his uneasiness, the old priest pressed Antony’s shoulder warmly. “For now, enjoy Alexandria and its pleasures. The Queen of Heaven has arranged for a wonderful play by Aristophanes to be performed tonight and afterwards there will be a banquet the likes of which you have never seen.”

Before Antony could respond, Cleopatra turned her jade eyes on him and all doubts disappeared as he followed her into the courtyard and lay in the cool grass by her side. Let the priests talk of their mysteries and magic. At present, the only mystery he cared to solve was the secret to his spellbinding mistress’s hold over him.

***

Cleopatra dazzled Antony with the splendors of her city, taking him to the tomb of her ancestor, Alexander the Great. They stood at his glass sarcophagus gazing on his perfectly preserved face, marveling at the young general who, by the age of thirty-three, had conquered the world and founded Alexandria.

She led him through the maze of vendors in the colorful bazaar, where turbaned men from India charmed serpents and elegantly clad women leaned down from their sedan chairs to feel the texture of an azure blue bolt of silk or crisp pressed linen. Heavy gold jewelry, finely crafted by the world-renowned artisans of the city, sat next to silver goblets piled high, one on top of the other. Amidst the jingle of coins being exchanged and voices haggling, Cleopatra held delicate alabaster bottles shaped fancifully into miniature hippopotami, turtles and alligators under Antony’s nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled the warm perfume of cloves, myrrh and crushed Egyptian poppies. There were pounds of sweet heavy incense and rare spices, intricately hand-woven carpets, such as the one Cleopatra had once used to hide in when she was smuggled into her first meeting with Caesar, what seemed now a century ago. Ivory, dates and figs; almost all the staples and luxuries imaginable were for sale in what could have been an entire outdoor city in a less populated metropolis.

She took him to the Library of Alexandria, one of her greatest treasures. Ancient priests and scholars scurried to show Antony the rare scrolls the collection contained.

“We posses every book, every play, all the wonders of science and medicine, or the stars and geography, every poem. Anything of worth that man has recorded since the beginning of time is here.” Cleopatra proudly waved a hand glittering with gems about the shelves upon shelves of neatly stacked scrolls.

Cleopatra showed him every beauty of Alexandria she could think of, determined to impress Antony with just how rich her kingdom was, tempting him to become her lifelong ally. She could see him adding up in his mind the estimation of her worth. Now he had only to realize that such wealth, coupled with Rome’s power, could transform the whole world.

In the sultry Alexandrian evenings, Cleopatra threw one sumptuous banquet after another. They dined in the grand pavilion set upon a terrace overlooking the sea. Lounging on soft pillows, they watched acrobats twist their bodies into extraordinary poses, juggle fire and leap over one another like playful Nile frogs. Sensual temple dancers with bells on their feet and hands danced with their gossamer veils, hiding then revealing the beauty of their tattooed bodies and taut breasts tipped in liquid gold. Magicians transformed wooden staffs into writhing cobras, the sacred snake of the House of the Pharaohs, then with a flourish turned water into dark purple wine, which pleased Antony greatly.

One night, as the ripening moon rose over the Mediterranean, the servants cleared the remains of yet another fabulous feast. Cleopatra's elegant courtiers reclined around the great banquet table listening to Iris's expert fingers plucking tranquil sounds from a lyre.

Cleopatra was so happy tonight. She had spared no expense to show Antony the best of Alexandria, and she could tell he was impressed. More importantly, she felt he began to understand why she loved her city so dearly.

She studied him as he reclined with his head propped on one hand nibbling honey cakes contentedly. He was so handsome with his deep mahogany hair and laughing dark blue eyes, his wide masculine face with those full sensuous lips. She realized, as she sat gazing at him, that she loved him in a way she had never loved Caesar. Caesar had been her mentor and her friend. She had respected him for his accomplishment and his great intellect. If someone had presumed to ask her why she loved Caesar, she could have listed a string of perfectly good reasons. With Antony, she could not say why she loved him, only that she did.

Cleopatra looked up to meet his eyes. The passion in them kindled an instant response in her. Her body tingled with desire as he slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her close, whispering in her ear, “Should we not be retiring soon?”

Her body melted next to his and she longed to be alone with him. “We must wait until our guests depart.”

“Your manners are too good for my liking,” murmured Antony in her ear and his lips brushed her neck sending an exquisite shiver down her spine.

Pulling away slightly, Cleopatra looked across the table at her guests. She had done her job as hostess too well and they were still having an excellent time. She smiled graciously then turned back to Antony.

“How would you like to leave tomorrow for a trip down the Nile? I could show you the tombs of my ancestors, and the Pyramids and the Sphinx. It will take us several days to get there and the moon will be full just as we arrive. The constellations of the Gods will be rising over the Pyramids and the Nile will flood making fertile all of Egypt.”

Antony’s eyes glowed with excitement at the prospect of new adventure. “We’ll go hunting in the desert and I’ll bring back a lion skin to wear in Rome.”

She forced herself not to show even a flicker of disappointment in her eyes at this talk of returning to Rome. If only he would promise to stay and help her, but despite the passion between them, he had not yet made her any promises at all.

Not yet.

Cleopatra felt a pair of eyes staring at her and Antony. She looked up and saw Iris, who had finished playing. Their eyes met for a moment, before a blush spread across the girl’s face and she looked down at the floor.

Something’s wrong with her.

Iris had been strangely moody of late, one moment gay as a hummingbird, the next, sullen and secretive. Not that she was ever disrespectful or shirked her duties, but there was something troubling the girl’s heart. Cleopatra sat and meditated upon her young attendant, who now began to play again, her slender white fingers strumming a large lyre, her flaxen hair streaming down her back as she began to sing. Her hands fluttered over the strings like doves, plucking golden notes from the instrument, weaving enchantment with her fingers while her sweet voice rose up in accompaniment.

The chatter of the courtiers died down as all attention shifted to Iris. She sang a melancholy ballad of love, and the only sound that accompanied her and the thrum of her lyre was the whispering sea foaming in the moonlight beyond the terrace.

Her song was of the Goddess Nephthys, dark sister of Isis, and her hopeless love for Isis’s husband, the God Osiris. Iris’s voice carried the diners to the world of the Gods, where they beheld the lonely Nephthys standing among the reeds of the Nile as she cried with longing for Osiris. But Nephthys was Mistress of Dark Enchantments and so, weaving a magic spell, she took on the form of her sister, Isis. Through the shadows of night, she led Osiris into the Land of the Reeds and there lay with him. Osiris, all the while, believed he held his own beloved wife in his arms.

Cleopatra listened to Iris's tale and noted the unleashed emotion in the girl's voice. It made her performance superb, but Cleopatra knew it was more than just her musical gifts that lent Iris's song such richness. She focused her attention on Iris and allowed her consciousness of herself to fade as she began to feel closer to her subject.

Terrible longing swept over Cleopatra as she experienced Iris's emotions flooding through her. She closed her eyes, and shaking her head slowly, came back to herself, leaving Iris and her vibrations across the room.

The girl is in love and doesn’t know if her feelings are returned. Poor child
.

Cleopatra’s heart filled with tenderness. She certainly knew what it was to be in love, and how much more dramatic it all seemed when one was a girl of seventeen?

With the last golden notes of her lyre vibrating in the air, Iris's song came to an end. For a moment all were silent as the guest's consciousness returned to the pavilion with its long table and softly glowing oil lamps and the whisper of the sea washing against the terrace walls. Some even dabbed tears from their cheeks and all felt the satisfying melancholy that great works of poetry and song could inspire.

Iris stood modestly as the guests broke into applause.

Cleopatra waved her to the head of the table where she and Antony reclined. Iris fell on her knees before them but Cleopatra lovingly raised her up. “You played and sang more beautifully than I have ever heard, Iris.”

Iris kept her gaze down, but Cleopatra gently lifted the girl's chin so she could see straight into those pale star-like eyes. “You are very dear to me and I wish to reward you for your wonderful performance. No one here, I'm sure, will ever forget it.” Cleopatra pulled one of the golden serpent bracelets from her arm and presented it to Iris.

The girl carefully controlled her face, but Cleopatra could not mistake the love that welled up in her eyes, before she once more lowered her head. “Thank you, Queen of Heaven, but I fear I’m not worthy of your attention.”

Cleopatra patted her cheek. “That is for me to decide. However, your modesty is becoming. Soon we will hardly recognize the wild girl from the North who sought refuge here only a few years ago.”