It was necessary to leave at nightfall, to take advantage of the hours of darkness, before Auletes noticed our absence. The streets of Rome never stopped being busy and we could lose ourselves easily in the throng, once we got inside the city. But we needed to cross from the Via Flavinia to the Appian Way. It was unfortunate that we were not already living inside the walls of Rome. The palace that Pompey had lent my father as a residence was located on the outskirts of the city, not far from the Flavinian Gate. We could not have used a chariot in our escape, for undoubtedly some busybody would have scurried off to tell Auletes, if he’d seen my highly visible retainers on the move. Then we would not even have had time to reach the coast road.
My plan was to leave without attracting attention, but we needed some sort of cover before we could reach Rome. Pompey’s palace had a large balcony overlooking the street. I used to spend hours there to avoid the scenes made by the rattled Auletes as one misfortune after another shook his self-esteem. Even I, a child, was frankly embarrassed by him. From the balcony I had noticed that every morning and evening there passed in front of our house the group of gladiators that belonged to our neighbor, Cato. They came up daily from their lodgings in the city to entertain the many visitors who frequented his dining room. They were nine brawny men. Some were dressed in leather breeches, others were clad in rough, woolen coats, typical of the city’s athletes. One always carried in his hands the helmet he wore in his fights; another, dressed like a Gaul, walked with the top of his shield pressed hard against his stomach in a rather laughable way. There was third who invariably kept his face covered with one sort of mask or another. And there was a very young boy, obviously Greek. I had no idea what he was doing in Rome, working at a job his obvious intelligence did not suit him for.
Morning and evening, in hiding, unseen by them, I watched the gladiators from my balcony. Then one day, I showered petals on them, laughing. Other days I tossed them candies and bread-buns. One day, when the heat was oppressive, I sprinkled them with cool water. As I watched them, they watched me, looking curiously at this bored Egyptian princess who wanted to befriend them. We exchanged an endless number of smiles that made us friends, even though not a word had passed between us. That particular afternoon, as soon as I heard their steps approaching our doors, I made an agreed-upon sign to my maids and we all set out to walk in front of the gladiators, slowly enough to be soon overtaken by them. There had been no question of informing Auletes, who was too sunk in his personal problems, anyway, to worry about Egypt, let alone about those of one of his daughters, a cocky little creature who he thought equal to every challenge, at least when protected by her own men. I had already bribed my father’s guards. Accomplices in my daring, Charmian and two faithful maidservants left with me. My personal bodyguard, a handful of men, had gone ahead, to avoid arousing suspicion, along with half a dozen slaves carrying our clothes and other necessaries. And three musicians.
The following day my father would get the following message that I had left for him:
“Sole and legitimate lord of the Macedonian throne of the Lagids in Alexandria: it hurts me to see that our affairs are going so badly in Rome. I am going to seek help and allies on the rebel coasts of Cilicia. I promise you, father, that I will get to Alexandria, safe and sound, and that the troops I will engage will restore to you all that rightly belongs to you.
Your faithful daughter who loves and adores you,
Cleopatra.”
Unimaginable the effect it would have on him when one of his secretaries read it aloud to him. Would he topple over the wine containers in his fury and grief? Or would he simply sleep long hours, consuming his days in endless dreams? Would he summon his friends to search for me? Or would he settle for dispatching a couple of trustworthy servants to follow my tracks and buy information? Or would he erupt in repeated outbursts of rage? Or would he punish the informants, cursing them furiously, calling them liars, till the wretches changed their story to save their skins and line their pockets? It was unlikely that any of our people would lie to him. Or would some sly Roman guarantee to find me and wheedle more gold out of him for the favor? As long as it wasn’t Robirius! I was full of questions but my companions assured me he was bound to send after me, that a good number of his men would come chasing after us.
Before I could reconsider the matter, we were overtaken by the burly gladiators. Their three guards didn’t dare to object, as we squeezed our way in among them, and the fighting men seemed to grasp intuitively that we were sneaking away, all as if we had rehearsed the thing.
The gladiator with the mask was the first to speak. “Hey, is it true you’re Egyptians?”
The only reply was the laughter of my maids.
Then I said, “Well, one day I’m going to be queen of Egypt. But really, I’m a Lagid. I’m heir to the throne of Alexander the Great.”
“Then that means you’re Greeks! I knew it. You don’t look Egyptian, any of you,” he said. “So it’s safe for me to tell you that the reason I have to wear a mask is because of the damned Egyptians!”
“There goes Telephron again!” exclaimed one of the gladiators. “Fabricating another version of his old story.”
“It’s old stuff for you, Cleophas, but it’s my face I’m talking about.”
“Don’t get miffed, Telephron,” replied Cleophas placat-ingly. “Tell the story, tell it.”
Telephron began. “As luck — bad luck — would have it, I traveled to Larissa, during my student days.
“I’ve lived in Larissa,” I interposed. “That’s where Achilles came from.”
“Well, it looked very Egyptian to me, whether Achilles came from there or not. You see, I’m a Greek and—”
“Get on with it!” insisted Cleophas. “Stick to the point!”
“I was a typical student and liked to wander around, exploring things for myself. One day, I saw this old man, perched on a big boulder. He was advertising for somebody to watch over a corpse. The pay was really good — at least to a student like me. I was poor and naive, you see. And I was amused by the idea as well. ’Hey, you mean the dead around here get up and walk, so they need supervision?’ I shouted to the old man. ’Here in Larissa,’ he said, ’same as in the rest of Thebes, the dead neither run nor breathe. But we do have a problem with wizards. They seize any chance to tear off pieces of the face, even teeth and eyes, to use in their spells. So we need to keep a careful watch on corpses all night long.’
‘“What does it involve?”
“‘You’ve got to stay awake all night. Keep your eyes on the body. Not looking away. Staring straight at it, all the time. That’s all. The catch is that the wizards know how to change their shapes. They can transform themselves into flies. Or elephants.’
“I roared with laughter. ’Flies and elephants!’
“‘Correct, young man. Flies and elephants. Or birds or snakes. Anything they like.’
“‘I’ll take the job,’ I said. Not just because I needed the money, but because the whole thing seemed so ludicrous.
“‘You’re taking it? Then everybody here should witness it.’
“‘Right. I take it. The job is mine.’
“‘I only want to warn you about two things. First, the wizards will do everything in their power to make you fall asleep. You’ll have your work cut out to stay awake.’
‘“No problem. I accept. On my honor. And you’ll pay full price?’
“‘There’s one more thing. If the corpse is fully intact the next morning, you get the lot. But listen carefully to this. If you fall asleep and the wizards steal part of the face — the nose, a tooth, an ear or an eye — you’ll have to replace with one of your own, because we’re paying you to ensure our relative goes complete to the Kingdom of the Dead. Is that clear? You must guard Telephron’s body as if it were your own.”