"I said that you may go," said Cleopatra sharply.
Zoe ignored her. Her words began to slur together. "The flavor… the flavor is like fire… like something burning in my throat, and all the way down into my belly. A sweet fire… not at all unpleasant… but burning nonetheless. Oh, Your Majesty! Oh! I think there was something wrong with that wine!"
Zoe dropped the clay vessel. Everyone drew back, startled by the hollow explosion of the clay shattering on the flagstones.
Zoe fell to her knees, trembling violently. "Your Majesty! Your Majesty, help me, please!"
Cleopatra hurried to the girl's side. She knelt and took Zoe's convulsing body in her arms. Zoe gazed up at her, glassy eyed but with a look of mingled reverence and trust. She lifted her face as if in expectation of a kiss. The queen closed her eyes and put her lips to those of Zoe as the girl released her final exhalation. The convulsions abruptly ceased. The body of Zoe went limp.
Cleopatra held the dead slave girl in her arms, closed her eyes, and chanted softly. The chant was Egyptian, perhaps a song for the dead. For as long as the queen chanted and kept her eyes shut, a spell seemed to be cast over everyone present. No one moved.
I stared, dumbfounded at what I was seeing. Cleopatra was not only the girl's mistress and queen; she was her goddess as well, whose divine agency at the very moment of death might serve to convey a lowly slave to immortality in the lands beyond life.
When Cleopatra opened her eyes, I saw that she had been doing more than chanting. Some furious calculation appeared to have taken place, reflected in the fiery blaze of her eyes. She called to Merianis, who put aside the gold cup, ran to the queen, and knelt beside her. They exchanged hushed, urgent words. Merianis looked over her shoulder at Meto, her expression so wild that I felt a stab of dread. Meto, too, sensed something terrible in her gaze, for I saw him blanch. Caesar caught the looks that shot between them, and on his face I saw a mask of puzzlement.
Merianis appeared to resist whatever Cleopatra was suggesting, until at last the queen raised her voice. "Go, then, and do as I say! Bring Apollodorus!"
Merianis rose to her feet and ran from the terrace.
Caesar looked at the amphora of wine, which had been replaced in the stand on the paving stones. He looked at Meto, who stood over the amphora, then at Cleopatra and the dead slave. "What in Hades just happened here?"
Meto looked down at the amphora. "Poisoned!" he muttered. "It must be. Somehow…" He reached down as if to pull out the cork stopper again.
"No!" Caesar shouted. "Don't touch it!" It was understandable that he should speak with alarm, but the look he cast at Meto was tinged with suspicion. He strode toward Cleopatra, but she held up her hand to signal that he should stay back.
"Zoe's ka-what you call the lemur-is still not free from her body. I sense it, still clinging to her flesh. Her death was so unexpected that the ka remains confused, trapped between this world and the next. Be silent. Don't move."
"But I intend to call for my lictors-"
"Silence!" said Cleopatra, gazing up at him with fire in her eyes. I looked on, amazed, as a twenty-one-year-old girl commanded the world's most powerful man to be still, and he obeyed.
And so we stood, motionless like actors on a stage at the final tableau. Surrounded by stillness, I became conscious of the many sounds of the harbor, muted by distance and the gardens enclosing us-shouts of men working on the waterfront, the shriek of gulls, the susurrant voice of the restless water itself. Dappled sunlight danced upon the flagstones. The moment took on a hard-edged clarity that seemed at once dreamlike and more real than real. I felt light-headed, and despite the queen's command that no one should move, I sat on one of the couches and briefly shut my eyes.
At last Merianis came running up the steps. I could see she had been weeping, no doubt shaken by the turn of events. Apollodorus followed behind her, looking grim.
Cleopatra stood. The body of Zoe slipped from her embrace and crumpled, like a cast-off garment, on the paving stones. Presumably the restless ka had been dispatched, for the queen paid no more attention to the corpse.
She raised her arm and pointed at Meto. "I want his person searched."
Meto's face grew long. Caesar stiffened his jaw and nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty. It shall be done. I shall call my lictors and see to it at once."
"No! I summoned Apollodorus for the purpose. Apollodorus shall search him."
Caesar worked his jaw back and forth. "I think, Your Majesty, that in these circumstances, it would be best-"
"This is my home," said Cleopatra. "It's my slave who lies dead. It was my cup that was poisoned-"
"A cup intended for my lips," said Caesar.
"Filled with wine poured by your man-the same glum-looking Roman who carried the wine here. No, Caesar, I must insist that one of my men perform the task of searching Meto's person."
Caesar considered this for a long moment. He turned toward Meto but did not quite look him in the eye, then turned back to Cleopatra. "Very well, Your Majesty. Let Apollodorus search him. Step forward, Meto. Raise your arms and let the fellow do what he must."
Meto looked indignant, but obeyed. His jaw twitched; I knew he wanted badly to cast a scathing look at the queen, but his discipline held firm, and instead he kept his gaze straight ahead.
Apollodorus ran his hands over Meto's shoulders, limbs, and torso, poking his fingers among the leather straps and buckles. Meto grunted and ground his jaw. Cleopatra stepped closer and watched intently. Caesar's gaze shifted apprehensively from Meto to Cleopatra and back again. Merianis, who had withdrawn to another part of the terrace, hid her face and began to weep.
Apollodorus stiffened. "Your Majesty…"
"What is it, Apollodorus? What have you found?"
From between two straps of leather attached to Meto's breastplate, Apollodorus produced a small white object, cylindrical in shape. Caesar leaned forward, as did Cleopatra. I rose from the couch, still light-headed, and moved toward Meto, feeling a sudden premonition of catastrophe.
Apollodorus held the object aloft between his thumb and forefinger. It was a tiny vial made of alabaster.
I could not stop myself; I gasped.
As one, all four turned their gazes on me-Caesar, Cleopatra, Apollodorus, and Meto, whose eyes finally made contact with mine for the first time that day. The look on his face froze my blood.
"Papa!" he whispered hoarsely.
Caesar snatched the vial from Apollodorus. He thrust it under my nose. "What is this, Gordianus?"
I stared at it. The stopper was gone. Though the vial was empty, I caught a faint whiff of the not unpleasant odor I had smelled when I sniffed its contents aboard Pompey's ship. There could be no doubt; this was the vial Cornelia had given me.
Caesar's nose was almost touching mine. "Speak, Finder! I command you! What do you know about this?"
From behind him, I heard the calm, but demanding, voice of Cleopatra. "Yes, Gordianus. Tell us what you know about this alabaster vial that Apollodorus found upon the person of your son."
CHAPTER XXI
An hour later, in a kind of stupor, I was back in my room, sifting through the contents of my traveling chest. Roman soldiers dispatched by Caesar stood by, watching my every movement. Rupa stood across the room, and the boys sat on the windowsill. I had not yet told them the details of what had transpired, but they knew that something terrible must have occurred. The boys were calming themselves by stroking Alexander the cat, who sat purring between them, oblivious to the tension in the room.
"It's not here," I muttered. Carefully, methodically, I had removed every item from the trunk and spread them across my bed. Now, just as methodically, I replaced each object into the trunk, shaking tunics to make sure nothing was hidden in the folds, opening Bethesda's little trinket boxes to be certain that no alabaster vial was hidden inside.