With My brother Osiris I made an end to the eating of men. I taught men to honor the gods. I break down the governments of tyrants. I make an end to murderers. I make the Right stronger than gold and silver. I ordained that the Truth should make men free.”
Singing each of the litanies, my voice soaring up through the sungate, I knew that what I sang was true, and felt in each word the beauty and mystery of it sinking into my bones, timeless and real. Justice. Mercy. Freedom. Those were the things that mattered, the things that made people happy.
And the dreams came back.
At first they were no more than pale shadows, scenes of unfamiliar places or people, but as time passed they grew stronger. Often when I slept I dreamed that I walked in strange lands. I dreamed I sailed blue waters aboard a black ship with a leaping dolphin on her prow, or journeyed in high strange hills with a pacing cheetah at my side. I dreamed of battles that echoed with distant trumpets. Once I dreamed that I fought on horseback on the banks of the Nile, while darts rained down from archers mounted on elephants. I shouted aloud, a sword in my hand, rallying men who struggled in the mud, their horses terrified of the great beasts, while about my horse’s legs I felt the tug of current, the river rising at last.
I woke with tears on my face and lay awake in the bed beside Iras, watching the curtains move in the faint breeze at the window. But I told no one of my dreams. I did not want them to think me foolish.
The Hands of Isis
C leopatra turned thirteen, and then I did. Here, away from Alexandria, we heard little news that wasn’t months old. We heard that Auletes had left Rome, then that he had gone to Ephesos, that he was living in sanctuary at the Temple of Artemis. Then we heard that while it was true he was in Ephesos, he was there to confer with the new Roman governor of Syria, a man named Aulus Gabinius, from whom he hoped to borrow troops. It meant little to us.
Berenice had married a man named Archelaus, a son of a great general of Mithridates of Pontos, and it was reckoned that they would hold the throne together. In time, perhaps, Berenice would send for Cleopatra to make an advantageous marriage. Or she might simply think that forgotten was best.
In the afternoons, Cleopatra had lessons with Apollodorus, though Iras and I did not. We had clothes to wash and linens to hang and fold. We had to help in the kitchens and with the ducks kept behind the temple, clean the dishes Cleopatra would use at her evening meal, and tend to anything she might need.
On the other hand, Iras and I had much more freedom than Cleopatra now. When our work was done, we might leave the temple and go about the city of Bubastis as we wished. Often we went down to the market beside the river docks, not because we had money to spend, as we did not, but for the pleasure of seeing all of the goods assembled, and talking to the crews of the riverboats. We were, after all, thirteen now, and more than one young sailor called after us when we walked along the river. We would pretend to ignore them, putting our heads together and laughing, cutting them glances out of the corners of our eyes. I liked the dark-skinned boys with long black hair, the ones who leaped from deck to dock without looking, surefooted and at ease.
Iras seemed to enjoy all of these games less than I did. She would hurry me along sometimes.
“Don’t you like it?” I asked, looking back at one especially pretty young man who was watching us, his arms crossed on the rail of a fast scout ship.
Iras shrugged. “I don’t like it when they make crude comments, like they’re measuring our breasts and bottoms. I like men who have interesting minds. Most of these men can’t even read! I don’t understand what you could see in them. They’re nothing but sweaty soldiers and fishermen, men who ought to be beneath your notice.”
“You like men with minds.” I was distinctly skeptical. Minds
Singing each of the litanies, my voice soaring up through the sungate, I knew that what I sang was true, and felt in each word the beauty and mystery of it sinking into my bones, timeless and real. Justice. Mercy. Freedom. Those were the things that mattered, the things that made people happy.
And the dreams came back.
At first they were no more than pale shadows, scenes of unfamiliar places or people, but as time passed they grew stronger. Often when I slept I dreamed that I walked in strange lands. I dreamed I sailed blue waters aboard a black ship with a leaping dolphin on her prow, or journeyed in high strange hills with a pacing cheetah at my side. I dreamed of battles that echoed with distant trumpets. Once I dreamed that I fought on horseback on the banks of the Nile, while darts rained down from archers mounted on elephants. I shouted aloud, a sword in my hand, rallying men who struggled in the mud, their horses terrified of the great beasts, while about my horse’s legs I felt the tug of current, the river rising at last.
I woke with tears on my face and lay awake in the bed beside Iras, watching the curtains move in the faint breeze at the window. But I told no one of my dreams. I did not want them to think me foolish.
The Hands of Isis
C leopatra turned thirteen, and then I did. Here, away from Alexandria, we heard little news that wasn’t months old. We heard that Auletes had left Rome, then that he had gone to Ephesos, that he was living in sanctuary at the Temple of Artemis. Then we heard that while it was true he was in Ephesos, he was there to confer with the new Roman governor of Syria, a man named Aulus Gabinius, from whom he hoped to borrow troops. It meant little to us.
Berenice had married a man named Archelaus, a son of a great general of Mithridates of Pontos, and it was reckoned that they would hold the throne together. In time, perhaps, Berenice would send for Cleopatra to make an advantageous marriage. Or she might simply think that forgotten was best.
In the afternoons, Cleopatra had lessons with Apollodorus, though Iras and I did not. We had clothes to wash and linens to hang and fold. We had to help in the kitchens and with the ducks kept behind the temple, clean the dishes Cleopatra would use at her evening meal, and tend to anything she might need.
On the other hand, Iras and I had much more freedom than Cleopatra now. When our work was done, we might leave the temple and go about the city of Bubastis as we wished. Often we went down to the market beside the river docks, not because we had money to spend, as we did not, but for the pleasure of seeing all of the goods assembled, and talking to the crews of the riverboats. We were, after all, thirteen now, and more than one young sailor called after us when we walked along the river. We would pretend to ignore them, putting our heads together and laughing, cutting them glances out of the corners of our eyes. I liked the dark-skinned boys with long black hair, the ones who leaped from deck to dock without looking, surefooted and at ease.
Iras seemed to enjoy all of these games less than I did. She would hurry me along sometimes.
“Don’t you like it?” I asked, looking back at one especially pretty young man who was watching us, his arms crossed on the rail of a fast scout ship.
Iras shrugged. “I don’t like it when they make crude comments, like they’re measuring our breasts and bottoms. I like men who have interesting minds. Most of these men can’t even read! I don’t understand what you could see in them. They’re nothing but sweaty soldiers and fishermen, men who ought to be beneath your notice.”
“You like men with minds.” I was distinctly skeptical. Minds
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