I briefly explained my relationship with Hieronymus, and gave a reason for coming. "Since his death, I've been reading his personal papers. He said very kind things about you." In truth, he had written very little about Arsinoe. Yet he had visited her more than once. Why had he come back to see her, if there was nothing of interest to report? Hieronymus had not even mentioned Ganymedes, which seemed odd, given the eunuch's obvious infatuation with him.
Had Hieronymus been so embarrassed by Ganymedes' attentions that he kept silent about them, even in his private journal? I thought not. Hieronymus was not easily flustered, and not easily silenced. If he had considered the eunuch's infatuation absurd, he would have said so; it was not like Hieronymus to miss a chance to ridicule someone. But such was not the case.
This left a curious possibility: that the attraction had been mutual. I tended to think of Hieronymus as a voluptuary with an appetite for beautiful boys or girls; such were the pleasures that had been offered to him when he was the pampered Scapegoat. Plain-faced Ganymedes hardly seemed a likely recipient for his passions. But there is nothing as unpredictable as the attraction of one mortal for another.
What did I know about Hieronymus's most secret longings, or about Ganymedes, for that matter? No doubt there was more to the eunuch than met the eye, I thought-and winced at the cutting pun Hieronymus could have extracted from that observation. Ganymedes had risen to a position of power in one of the most competitive royal courts in the world, amid the most elegant and sophisticated surroundings imaginable. His learning and wit had served him well; he had lived the sort of life that Hieronymus should have lived, had Fortune not turned against him when he was young. Then Fortune turned against Ganymedes, at a time when Hieronymus seemed to be living a charmed existence. Each might have served as a mirror image to the other. Could that have been the root of a mutual attraction?
If Hieronymus had indeed felt drawn to the eunuch, it was perhaps not surprising that no mention of the fact appeared in his papers. He would not have told Calpurnia, considering it none of her business, and I suspected he would have kept such feelings out of his personal journal, which was more a repository for scathing observations and witty wordplay than for heartfelt confessions.
I turned to the tearful Ganymedes. I looked long and hard into his glittering eyes, and knew that my supposition was right. Hieronymus, Hieronymus! Will you never cease to surprise me? Even in death, you throw up new puzzles.
Had Arsinoe known? Had she allowed the two of them privacy, when Hieronymus came to visit? His visits could not have lasted long; the guards would not have allowed it. It might be that the intimacy of the Scapegoat and the eunuch extended to no more than a touch or a fleeting kiss. Some relationships are all the more intense for being limited by tragic circumstance.
"Wait a moment!" Arsinoe walked up to me and stared at my face. "I knew you looked familiar, and I now I know why. You were with Caesar in Alexandria! Do you deny it?"
"It's true, Your Majesty. I was in the royal palace when Caesar was there. But I don't recall that you and I ever met-"
"I remember you, nonetheless. I recognize your face. You were among the Romans in the grand reception hall that day-the morning after Cleopatra smuggled herself into Caesar's presence and into his bed. Caesar gathered all the royal siblings and proceeded to apportion our father's kingdom among us. Cleopatra and Ptolemy were to share the throne in Alexandria. I was to be given Cyprus. Of course, that arrangement lasted as long as a drop of water in the Egyptian desert." She looked me up and down. "Who are you? One of Caesar's officers?"
"Certainly not."
"One of his political advisers? Or one of those merchants who came to Egypt with Caesar to pillage our grain supply?"
"I didn't arrive in Alexandria with Caesar, Your Majesty. I traveled to Egypt on personal business. I happened to find myself in the royal palace only because-"
"How well do you know my sister?"
I came to a halt in mid-speech, my mouth open.
Arsinoe locked her eyes on mine. "No ready answer for that question, eh? When did you last see Cleopatra?"
The crocodile had stirred within her. The menacing edge in her voice sent a chill up my spine, never mind that it came from a plump, teenaged girl who at that moment was a helpless captive. This was the conquered enemy whom Caesar considered formidable enough to be paraded in his triumph, and dangerous enough to be put to death.
If I lied, she would know. "I saw your sister this morning, Your Majesty. I've just come from visiting her, as a matter of fact."
"Did she send you to spy on me? Is she afraid I might yet escape? I would if I could! And then I'd go straight to the villa where Caesar is keeping her, like his personal whore, and strangle her with my bare hands!"
She clutched the air with her plump little fingers. The illusion of the crocodile vanished. She was a furious, very frightened child. She bolted toward me. I grabbed her wrists.
"Unhand me, you filthy Roman!" she shouted.
Ganymedes started toward us, but Rupa blocked his way.
"By the ka of my own father, I swear that I am not your sister's spy," I said. The oath seemed to calm her, but I kept a firm grip on her wrists.
"Then what business did you have with her?"
"We talked about Hieronymus."
"Hieronymus visited Cleopatra as well?"
"Yes. But he was not your enemy, and neither am I."
Arsinoe tore herself from my grip and turned her face away. She trembled and heaved, then steadied herself. "Tell Caesar, or my sister, or whatever person sent you, that the rightful queen of Egypt is ready to confront her fate. She shall do so with her head held high and her shoulders back. She will not weep, she will not tremble, she will not tear her hair and beg for mercy from the Roman mob. Nor will she throw herself from this balcony-though I suspect that was Caesar's hope when he placed us in these quarters, that I would kill myself and save him the shame of executing a woman."
She turned to face me, sufficiently composed to stare into my eyes again. "My fate is in the hands of the gods. But so is Caesar's, whether he knows it or not. His crimes against me are an offense to the gods, who never forget and seldom forgive. Caesar will not escape their judgment. When the time comes, his punishment will be terrible. Mark my words!"
The door flew open. One of the guards stepped into the room. "What's the shouting about?"
"My visitors will leave now." Arsinoe turned her back on me and returned to the balcony. Ganymedes, with his nose in the air, strode past me to join her.
As we made our way down the many flights of steps, I pondered the threat posed to Caesar, and to Cleopatra, by Arsinoe. She would certainly kill them both, if she could. The death of Cleopatra would clear the way for Arsinoe to seize control in Alexandria, presuming she could return there alive. The death of Caesar could lead to chaos in Rome and to full independence for Egypt. Yet what means did Arsinoe possess to bring about anyone's death or to engineer her own escape? Did she have confederates in the city, ready to act on her behalf? Might there be individuals in the entourage of Cleopatra who were secretly loyal to Arsinoe?
These were idle speculations. I had no reason to think that Arsinoe could possibly devise a double assassination and a last-minute escape. And yet, Hieronymus had asserted that the threat to Caesar came from an unforeseen quarter…
Skipping ahead of me down the steps, Rupa kept turning back, attempting to tell me something by using his personal system of gestures and facial expressions. I frowned, unable to understand him.
"What are you trying to say, Rupa? Here, stop for a moment, so that I can see you clearly."
He was fairly bursting with emotion. He made a shapely gesture to indicate Arsinoe; that was clear enough. But the feeling he was trying to express was so grand it defeated his vocabulary.