Caesar glanced at me. "Do we have another guest?"
"It chanced that Gordianus was here; Merianis brought him, knowing I desired to meet him. Don't worry, there'll be enough octopus for us all. But will there be enough Falernian?"
"Of that, have no fear," said Caesar. A moment later, Meto arrived on the terrace. He was dressed in his finest military regalia, bearing an amphora in his arms as one might carry an infant. He grimaced when he saw me, but said nothing.
I observed the amphora. It was typical in shape, with little handles near the wide-mouthed top and a rounded bottom; it was designed not to stand upright but to be laid lengthwise alongside other amphorae for shipment and storage. The top was stopped with a cork sealed with red wax. Along the side several words had been etched in the clay in letters large enough to be read at a glance:
FALERNIAN
"The wine comes from Pompey's private store," said Caesar. "When we overran his camp at Pharsalus, I found his pavilion abandoned but laid out as if for a great banquet-silver plates, great portions of roasted game, and this very amphora of Falernian wine sitting upright on a stand beside Pompey's dining couch, ready to be unsealed and opened and decanted into pitchers. He escaped at the very last moment, leaving his victory banquet untouched. Pompey must have brought this amphora from his own cellars in Rome, lugging it all over Greece and waiting for the proper occasion to drink from it. You can see his personal seal, the letters 'M-A-G-N-V-S,' impressed in the wax. His ring fits the impression exactly."
Caesar produced the ring King Ptolemy had presented to him, which he kept on a silver chain around his neck. While Meto held the amphora steady, Caesar, holding the ring between his fingers-superstitious about slipping Pompey's signet ring onto his own finger?-demonstrated how the seal had been impressed in the red wax, fitting the ring into the impression.
"Let's open it at once," suggested Cleopatra.
Meto sat on a couch and set the amphora upright into a clay stand on the floor between his knees. He produced a short knife, with which he carefully sliced away the sealing wax. He gently pulled out the cork stopper. Merianis brought a silver pitcher, but before Meto could fill the pitcher with wine, the queen lifted her hand.
"Stop! Before the first pitcher is filled, let Caesar receive the first taste from the amphora itself."
Caesar smiled. "A kind gesture, Your Majesty. But I think the first taste must go to my hostess, the queen of Egypt."
Cleopatra shook her head and smiled. Every exchange between them became a flirtation. "The queen declines. The queen insists that Pompey's conqueror should enjoy the first taste of Pompey's wine. And I know just the cup from which you should drink it! Merianis, fetch the cups of beaten gold I received on my nuptial day."
Merianis disappeared into the palace for a moment, then returned bearing two cups fashioned in the old Greek style-wide, shallow bowls with stout bases and handles, made not of painted clay but of gold.
Rising from her couch, Cleopatra took one of the cups from Merianis and displayed it to Caesar. "These cups were presented to me and my brother on the day of our royal marriage-a gift from the king of Parthia. Are they not beautiful?"
"Quite," said Caesar. "But is it proper that I should drink from one?" "It is proper if I say it is proper," said the queen. "My brother's lips shall never touch this cup, any more than his lips shall touch my own. There's only one man's lips I want upon this cup; only one man's lips I want to kiss my own." She put her face close to his, and for a moment I thought they would kiss; but at the last moment she drew back and flashed a teasing smile. Merianis laughed, and I recalled that she had done much the same thing to Apollodorus earlier. Which of the women was emulating the other? They both seemed impossibly young to me at that moment-not a goddess-queen and her priestess but two flirtatious girls. Whatever Caesar saw, he liked it; the vaguely stupid look on his face was that of a man so smitten he doesn't care who knows it. Meto, still sitting with the amphora between his knees, saw what I saw, and glowered.
Cleopatra turned to Meto, bearing the golden cup aloft. "Glum Meto! The very picture of the earnest Roman-never a smile for the queen of Egypt!" Meto sought to change his expression and managed an unconvincing, lopsided smile. "Stand up, glum Roman, and pour a splash of wine for your consul!"
Meto stood and lifted the amphora. Pouring a small amount from the long, heavy vessel into the wide cup presented a challenge, but he managed to do so without spilling a drop. When he was done, he replaced the amphora in its stand and put the cork back into the opening.
Cleopatra, walking slowly and carefully, carried the cup to Caesar. He took it in both hands and raised the rim to his lips, smiling at Cleopatra across the dark expanse of wine that reflected both their faces.
Cleopatra smiled back at him; then a shadow crossed her face. "Wait! The wine hasn't been tasted!" She pulled it from Caesar's lips. A tiny portion spilled from the rim and splashed onto the paving stone at her feet.
"Tasted?" said Caesar. "But surely there's no need for that. The wine came from Pompey's private store with the seal intact."
"Seals can be penetrated, and so can cork," said Cleopatra. "What was I thinking? The wine must be tasted first."
"But surely-" said Meto, looking exasperated.
"No! It must be tasted. That was one of the first lessons my father ever taught me. All food and drink must be tasted, without exception. Enjoyment of the moment blinded me. Merianis, fetch Zoe!"
Merianis, anticipating the queen's desire, had already stepped inside. She returned a moment later with a demure young slave girl who carried with her an ordinary clay drinking vessel. Cleopatra handed the wine-filled cup to Merianis. Merianis poured a tiny portion of the wine from the gold cup into the clay vessel held by Zoe, since protocol would not permit the lips of the taster to touch the golden cup intended for the queen's consort.
Meto stiffened his jaw; I assumed he was impatient with the queen's intensely suspicious Egyptian ways. Caesar appeared mildly amused, but at the same time slightly disturbed, for the queen seemed to be acting as much upon a premonition as upon the training she had received as a child. Like Caesar, I, too, had seen the agitation on Cleopatra's face when she withdrew the cup from his lips, and the sudden look of fear in her eyes.
Without self-consciousness-for she was used to being watched when she ate-the girl Zoe put the clay vessel to her lips and drank. She lowered the vessel and wiped a bit of red wine from her lips. Her features assumed a curious expression. "Your Majesty…"
A wrinkle appeared across Caesar's forehead. Cleopatra peered at the slave girl apprehensively. "Yes, Zoe? What is it?"
"Your Majesty…"
I held my breath.
"Your Majesty, I have tasted many wines for you-but never a wine as fine as this one!"
The tension evaporated. Caesar laughed softly. Cleopatra sighed. Meto gave a snort as if to say, "What were you all so worried about?"
Zoe grinned. "Your Majesty, I don't exaggerate! I've never tasted anything like it. Falernian I've tasted before-though not in a long time-but it was never this fine. It's hard to explain…"
"Then I suppose we must find out for ourselves," said the queen. "Go now, Zoe. Come back when the first course is presented."
But the girl did not move. "As I said, Falernian I've tasted before, but never… never like this one…" Her eyes, staring straight ahead, took on a glassy look.