Free Antony and Cleopatra by Colleen McCullough

gallop from the coast, a hundred other equally delectable dishes meant to be eaten with the fingers. Then came the main course, whole lambs roasted on the spit, capons, pheasants, baby crocodile meat (it was superb, enthused the gourmands), stews and braises flavored in new ways, and whole roast peacocks arranged on golden dishes with all their feathers replaced in exact order and their tails fanned.
    “Hortensius served the first roast peacock at a banquet in Rome,” Antony said, and laughed. “Caesar said it tasted like an old army boot, except that the boot was tenderer.”
    Cleopatra chuckled. “He would! Give Caesar a mess of dried peas or chickpeas or lentils cooked with a knuckle of salted pork and he was happy. Not a food fancier!”
    “Once he dipped his bread in rancid oil and never noticed.”
    “But you, Marcus Antonius, appreciate good food.”
    “Yes, sometimes.”
    “The wine is Chian. You shouldn’t drink it watered.”
    “I intend to stay sober, madam.”
    “And why is that?”
    “Because a man dealing with you needs his wits.”
    “I take that as a compliment.”
    “Age hasn’t improved your looks,” he said as the sweetmeats came in, apparently indifferent to how any woman might take this news about her appearance.
    “My charms were never in my looks,” she said, unruffled. “To Caesar, what appealed were my voice, my intelligence, and my royal status. Especially he liked the fact that I picked up languages as easily as he did. He taught me Latin, I taught him demotic and classical Egyptian.”
    “Your Latin is impeccable.”
    “So was Caesar’s. That’s why mine is.”
    “You didn’t bring his son.”
    “Caesarion is Pharaoh. I left him behind to rule.”
    “At five ?”
    “Nearly six, going on sixty. A wonderful boy. I trust that you intend to keep your promise and present him to the Senate as Caesar’s heir in Egypt? He must have undisputed tenure of his throne, which means that Octavianus must be made to see that he is no threat to Rome. Just a good client-king of half-Roman blood that can be of no benefit to him in Rome. Caesarion’s fate lies in Egypt, and Octavianus must be made to realize that.”
    “I agree, but the time isn’t ripe to bring Caesarion to Rome for ratification of our treaties with Egypt. There’s trouble in Italia, and I can’t interfere with whatever Octavianus does to solve those troubles. He inherited Italia as part of our agreement at Philippi—all I want from the place are troops.”
    “As a Roman, don’t you feel a certain responsibility for what is happening in Italia, Antonius?” she asked, brow pleated. “Is it prudent and politic to leave Italia suffering so much from famine and economic differences among the businessmen, the landowners, and the veteran soldiers? Ought not you, Octavianus, and Lepidus have remained in Italia and solved its problems first? Octavianus is a mere boy, he can’t possibly have the wisdom or the experience to succeed. Why not help him instead of hindering him?” She gave a gritty laugh and thumped her bolster. “None of this is to my advantage, but I keep thinking of the mess Caesar left behind in Alexandria, and of how I had to get all its citizens cooperating instead of warring class against class. I failed because I didn’t see that social wars are disastrous. Caesar left me the advice, but I wasn’t clever enough to use it. But if it were to happen again, I would know how to deal with it. And what I see happening in Italia is a variation upon my own struggle. Forget your differences with Octavianus and Lepidus, work together!”
    “I would rather,” Antony said between his teeth, “be dead than give that posturing boy one iota of help!”
    “The people are more important than one posturing boy.”
    “No, they’re not! I’m hoping Italia will starve, and I’ll do whatever I can to speed the process up. That’s why I tolerate Sextus Pompeius and his admirals. They make it impossible for