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Authors: Stephanie Dray
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in my chest but I tried not to react. Philadelphus peeked at me, but I dared not meet his eyes. Helios and I stood like statues, a conspiracy of silence between us.
Agrippa removed his polished helmet, tucking it under one arm. Its gleam reflected a distorted image of my silent green eyes back at me. “We already have Euphronius in custody. It was the old warlock that brought her poison, wasn’t it?”
I envisioned our frail old wizard chained in the jail, and I shuddered. Still, if they were questioning us about Euphronius’s guilt, they must doubt it. So we still said nothing.
A light breeze rustled the netting over my mother’s bed.
A soldier coughed in the hall.
An oil lamp flickered.
“Don’t you want to prove your worth to Caesar now?” Agrippa asked. “Your mother’s deception does her no honor.”
But the fact she’d deceived the enemy inspired me. With my eyes, I motioned toward the cosmetics on my mother’s dressing table. “My mother wouldn’t need Euphronius to bring poison to her. We keep it everywhere.”
Agrippa glanced over at the colorful glass bottles then back at us, horrified. Motioning to a soldiers behind him, he said, “Get rid of that. Dump it in the Nile and let the Egyptians drink Cleopatra’s venom.”
The soldiers collected each harmless vial as if it contained a monster that might be unleashed with the cork. Their fear and loathing of poisons, potions, and magic was evident to me even then. If only I’d known how to use it against them. “So, your mother did die of poison?” Agrippa pressed.
I wasn’t sure why it was important how my mother died, but the fact the Romans wanted to know meant that they shouldn’t find out. I resolved to give nothing away, but Helios said, “She died by snakebite, which made her immortal. You can’t hurt her now.”
I wanted desperately to throttle him. Throughout our childhood, my twin’s compulsive truth telling had gotten me in trouble, but now the stakes were so much higher. What would the Romans do to me if they found out that I’d delivered the snake to her concealed in a basket of figs?
Perhaps Agrippa sensed my fear. “Girl, is this true? Did Euphronius bring Cleopatra a serpent?”
“My mother always had serpents with her,” I said, and prayed my brothers wouldn’t contradict me. “Three cobras adorn her headdress. My mother made them come to life whenever she wished. She said it would bring her to my father. Euphronius is only our tutor—he knows all the tongues, even the holy ones—but he’s not a snake handler or a poisoner.”
I said the last in Latin, because it seemed very important that the Roman understand me, and Agrippa blinked in surprise. Had he expected us to be unschooled barbarians? I was the daughter of a Roman triumvir; I spoke Greek, Latin, and many other languages.
“So, your story is that Cleopatra made a snake magically appear from her headdress and used it to end her life?”
“Yes,” I said with conviction.
After all, Egypt was famed for snake magic. My mother had been a powerful magician and I’d seen her turn staves into snakes for our amusement. But when it came time to die, she’d had me bring her the serpent. If the Romans found that out, would they kill me too?
“It would have taken two cobras to kill her and her handmaidens together . . .” Agrippa’s face seemed unbearably close to my own. His Roman breath was like vinegar.
“ It was two, then,” I said, remembering the coiling motion in the basket. Perhaps there had been two. Perhaps the snakes had been lovers, or siblings or twins . I dared not look at mine.
Agrippa sneered at me. “When I have the old warlock crucified and he screams a different tale, do you think I won’t return to make an end to your miserable, spoiled little lives?”
I felt dizzy because I knew crucifixion was a terrible death that the Romans used to prolong suffering. “Please don’t hurt Euphronius. He is just an old
Agrippa removed his polished helmet, tucking it under one arm. Its gleam reflected a distorted image of my silent green eyes back at me. “We already have Euphronius in custody. It was the old warlock that brought her poison, wasn’t it?”
I envisioned our frail old wizard chained in the jail, and I shuddered. Still, if they were questioning us about Euphronius’s guilt, they must doubt it. So we still said nothing.
A light breeze rustled the netting over my mother’s bed.
A soldier coughed in the hall.
An oil lamp flickered.
“Don’t you want to prove your worth to Caesar now?” Agrippa asked. “Your mother’s deception does her no honor.”
But the fact she’d deceived the enemy inspired me. With my eyes, I motioned toward the cosmetics on my mother’s dressing table. “My mother wouldn’t need Euphronius to bring poison to her. We keep it everywhere.”
Agrippa glanced over at the colorful glass bottles then back at us, horrified. Motioning to a soldiers behind him, he said, “Get rid of that. Dump it in the Nile and let the Egyptians drink Cleopatra’s venom.”
The soldiers collected each harmless vial as if it contained a monster that might be unleashed with the cork. Their fear and loathing of poisons, potions, and magic was evident to me even then. If only I’d known how to use it against them. “So, your mother did die of poison?” Agrippa pressed.
I wasn’t sure why it was important how my mother died, but the fact the Romans wanted to know meant that they shouldn’t find out. I resolved to give nothing away, but Helios said, “She died by snakebite, which made her immortal. You can’t hurt her now.”
I wanted desperately to throttle him. Throughout our childhood, my twin’s compulsive truth telling had gotten me in trouble, but now the stakes were so much higher. What would the Romans do to me if they found out that I’d delivered the snake to her concealed in a basket of figs?
Perhaps Agrippa sensed my fear. “Girl, is this true? Did Euphronius bring Cleopatra a serpent?”
“My mother always had serpents with her,” I said, and prayed my brothers wouldn’t contradict me. “Three cobras adorn her headdress. My mother made them come to life whenever she wished. She said it would bring her to my father. Euphronius is only our tutor—he knows all the tongues, even the holy ones—but he’s not a snake handler or a poisoner.”
I said the last in Latin, because it seemed very important that the Roman understand me, and Agrippa blinked in surprise. Had he expected us to be unschooled barbarians? I was the daughter of a Roman triumvir; I spoke Greek, Latin, and many other languages.
“So, your story is that Cleopatra made a snake magically appear from her headdress and used it to end her life?”
“Yes,” I said with conviction.
After all, Egypt was famed for snake magic. My mother had been a powerful magician and I’d seen her turn staves into snakes for our amusement. But when it came time to die, she’d had me bring her the serpent. If the Romans found that out, would they kill me too?
“It would have taken two cobras to kill her and her handmaidens together . . .” Agrippa’s face seemed unbearably close to my own. His Roman breath was like vinegar.
“ It was two, then,” I said, remembering the coiling motion in the basket. Perhaps there had been two. Perhaps the snakes had been lovers, or siblings or twins . I dared not look at mine.
Agrippa sneered at me. “When I have the old warlock crucified and he screams a different tale, do you think I won’t return to make an end to your miserable, spoiled little lives?”
I felt dizzy because I knew crucifixion was a terrible death that the Romans used to prolong suffering. “Please don’t hurt Euphronius. He is just an old
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