Read Online The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George - Free Book Online

pleasurable outing. What is one person’s diversion may be another’s supreme test. And so often we sit beside one another, unknowing.
    We were heading out into the harbor, toward the larger boats. I looked down and saw the bottom disappearing beneath us. At first it had been visible, and the sun-dappled spots played on the sandy bottom, where I could also see fish and seaweed. Now the depths were shadowy.
    I felt a cold panic rising up in my throat. We were going to retrace that entire journey of long ago, and were on our way to the very spot where the boat had overturned. I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate only on the sensations of the little slaps of water under the boat.
    “Whee!” Olympos gave a squeal as we hit some large wave; it felt like running over a barrier, as hard as dirt. Salt spray slapped me across the face, coating my mouth. I licked the crust and swallowed hard.
    We sailed around the harbor for what seemed hours, in and out of the wake of the larger ships, and some part of me noted how delighted Olympos was, how his spirits soared. He had ceased paying any attention to me—for which I was grateful. Mardian was absorbed in looking down into the water to try to see squid or sea urchins or even a dolphin. He peered over the side, not minding when waves smacked him full in the face.
    There was no canopy here, so there were no reflections. There were no attendants, screaming and jumping about. Those memories were not stirred. But the sounds, the taste of the salt spray, the piercing colors, all assaulted me. This time I was not helpless, not held down, not torn from anyone. I had the strength to hold myself erect, to make sure I was not dislodged from the boat. I was determined to endure this ordeal.
    At last—at long last—Olympos turned the boat for the palace dock. The sun was halfway down the sky, and the tide was coming in. I could feel how it bore us to shore. The rocking of the boat was not unappealing; the terror of it had subsided, become manageable.
    “Now let’s swim!” Olympos suddenly announced, tossing the rope-encircled stone that served as his anchor out into the water. It sank with a gurgle and jerked the boat to the left when it hit bottom.
    Not this! I had thought the torture—which had been gradually abating the whole time we were out—was over. But swimming…I could not swim.
    Olympos dived overboard, cleanly and neatly disappearing into the water. My stomach turned over, even though I knew he would bob up a few feet away. Or rather, I hoped that he would. And sure enough, he emerged on the other side of the boat and slapped the water, drenching us with a wall of spray.
    With injured dignity, Mardian, already soaked, leapt over the side of the boat, landing like a catapult stone, sending even more water on my head. Then both boys started a water fight, yelling and trying to sink each other. It took them some time to notice that I was still in the boat.
    “What are you waiting for?” Olympos shouted. “You act as if you’re afraid of it!” Clearly he thought that was the most insulting, as well as unlikely, accusation he could make.
    How deep was it? Was it over my head? I peered over the side, trying to see the bottom, but it was all in shadow.
    “Just jump in!” called Mardian. “It isn’t cold!” He was paddling near me, enjoying himself.
    I looked at the blue liquid surrounding me, and felt the purest form of aversion I have ever experienced. It was waiting—no, lurking, lying in wait, ready for me, ready to devour me at last. It would not be balked of its prey.
    You escaped me once , it seemed to murmur. But not forever. Don’t you know that water is your destiny?
    An odd sort of insouciance—I cannot call it courage, it was too offhanded and fatalistic for that—stole over me. Yes, it was waiting. The water, my foe. But I would grapple with it, perhaps take it by surprise. It would not expect that.
    Without further thinking—which would have stopped