Read Online 0316382981 by Emily Holleman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Emily Holleman
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heart grew weak but she steeled herself with her mother’s words: Never show them you are soft.
In the days that followed, Berenice avoided her mother—a task that proved easier than she had imagined. As queen, she needn’t answer to anyone, and perhaps her threats had frightened the old woman in the end. Rumors hummed that Tryphaena lay ill with coughs and quakes and shivers. The more dramatic among the slaves claimed that she was near death. Berenice didn’t care. She had finished with her mother’s games. Too many times throughout her childhood, Tryphaena would take to her bed—it was always a ruse, a desperate attempt to draw the Piper in. She would not fall for those same tired ploys.
Besides, she had more important matters to attend. To retake Cyprus, she would need knowledgeable advisers, ones who could muster troops and predict Rome’s movements. Pieton had winnowed out what few of her father’s men might be trusted—or at least kept in line—and so she called for them to be brought before the court. She wanted to see what she would make of these men herself.
“Is it necessary for you to leave Alexandria so soon?” Dio drummed his fingers against the cypress. Perhaps he worried that her support in the city would flag in her absence.
The eunuch glared at the question. “The local interloper,” Pieton called Dio behind closed doors, as though the Alexandrian had no business concerning himself with matters of the throne. The more the eunuch objected, though, the more Berenice’s fondness for the man grew.
“It’s time for me to sail up the Nile to distribute grain. First to Memphis, and then on to Thebes. The locals should be reminded that they have a new queen, one who embraces her duties as their shepherd.” The thought exhausted her; she’d never taken much joy in her journeys to Upper Egypt. But that was where too many of her armed men lay. Even reduced to an echo of its former self, Thebes remained a potent fantasy for the defiant masses: natives from the farthest reach of the Nile’s waters all the way to Alexandria could hardly speak the city’s name without a shiver of awe. Her presence, she hoped, would check any rebellious tendencies. She needed the town and its surrounding lands subdued if she was to recall the legions stationed there. “As queen, I will not let my people starve—any of my people.”
“The solstice has scarcely come and gone. Surely the people are not starving yet,” Dio argued with a light smile. “You shouldn’t forget your beloved subjects in Alexandria either.”
The eunuch eyed the man’s broad belly with contempt. “Well, you’re not starving, Dio. That much is evident.”
Berenice smiled. Pieton’s touchiness amused her. His loathing for Dio sprang from his affection for her, she realized, which she found comforting. It was a relief that someone loved her, her to the exclusion of all others.
“No, thank the good gods, I am not. I am merely jealous to be deprived the pleasure of the queen’s company.” He raised his goblet in her direction. “To Queen Berenice the Shining One.”
Pieton raised his cup in return, grudgingly. That boded well; they’d need to find some way to work together. As she drained her glass, a knock sounded against the door.
“I present Nereus, son of Sostias; Dryton, son of Mentes; and Thais, son of Harmon,” the herald proclaimed in his thunderous voice.
The first to enter was the last announced, a twitchy, beardless man whose balding pate was ringed by a dusting of chestnut curls. Unlike Dio, he did look nearly starved. This Thais was so skinny that his elbows stuck out at angles, as though a stiff breeze might knock him off his feet. He’d directed the farming of the southernmost lands under her father’s rule. He was noted for neither loyalty nor bravery, but, she heard, he had a way of loading up the granaries with wheat.
“My—my queen,” he stammered. “May the gods’ blessings be upon
In the days that followed, Berenice avoided her mother—a task that proved easier than she had imagined. As queen, she needn’t answer to anyone, and perhaps her threats had frightened the old woman in the end. Rumors hummed that Tryphaena lay ill with coughs and quakes and shivers. The more dramatic among the slaves claimed that she was near death. Berenice didn’t care. She had finished with her mother’s games. Too many times throughout her childhood, Tryphaena would take to her bed—it was always a ruse, a desperate attempt to draw the Piper in. She would not fall for those same tired ploys.
Besides, she had more important matters to attend. To retake Cyprus, she would need knowledgeable advisers, ones who could muster troops and predict Rome’s movements. Pieton had winnowed out what few of her father’s men might be trusted—or at least kept in line—and so she called for them to be brought before the court. She wanted to see what she would make of these men herself.
“Is it necessary for you to leave Alexandria so soon?” Dio drummed his fingers against the cypress. Perhaps he worried that her support in the city would flag in her absence.
The eunuch glared at the question. “The local interloper,” Pieton called Dio behind closed doors, as though the Alexandrian had no business concerning himself with matters of the throne. The more the eunuch objected, though, the more Berenice’s fondness for the man grew.
“It’s time for me to sail up the Nile to distribute grain. First to Memphis, and then on to Thebes. The locals should be reminded that they have a new queen, one who embraces her duties as their shepherd.” The thought exhausted her; she’d never taken much joy in her journeys to Upper Egypt. But that was where too many of her armed men lay. Even reduced to an echo of its former self, Thebes remained a potent fantasy for the defiant masses: natives from the farthest reach of the Nile’s waters all the way to Alexandria could hardly speak the city’s name without a shiver of awe. Her presence, she hoped, would check any rebellious tendencies. She needed the town and its surrounding lands subdued if she was to recall the legions stationed there. “As queen, I will not let my people starve—any of my people.”
“The solstice has scarcely come and gone. Surely the people are not starving yet,” Dio argued with a light smile. “You shouldn’t forget your beloved subjects in Alexandria either.”
The eunuch eyed the man’s broad belly with contempt. “Well, you’re not starving, Dio. That much is evident.”
Berenice smiled. Pieton’s touchiness amused her. His loathing for Dio sprang from his affection for her, she realized, which she found comforting. It was a relief that someone loved her, her to the exclusion of all others.
“No, thank the good gods, I am not. I am merely jealous to be deprived the pleasure of the queen’s company.” He raised his goblet in her direction. “To Queen Berenice the Shining One.”
Pieton raised his cup in return, grudgingly. That boded well; they’d need to find some way to work together. As she drained her glass, a knock sounded against the door.
“I present Nereus, son of Sostias; Dryton, son of Mentes; and Thais, son of Harmon,” the herald proclaimed in his thunderous voice.
The first to enter was the last announced, a twitchy, beardless man whose balding pate was ringed by a dusting of chestnut curls. Unlike Dio, he did look nearly starved. This Thais was so skinny that his elbows stuck out at angles, as though a stiff breeze might knock him off his feet. He’d directed the farming of the southernmost lands under her father’s rule. He was noted for neither loyalty nor bravery, but, she heard, he had a way of loading up the granaries with wheat.
“My—my queen,” he stammered. “May the gods’ blessings be upon
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