Free Rome 2: The Coming of the King by M. C. Scott

raised her striking eyes.
    ‘Is this written by Poppaea’s own hand?’
    ‘Majesty, it is not. The empress had childbed fever and was too sick to write. She dictated to a scribe in my presence. I can attest that the words are hers alone.’
    ‘You must be flattered.’ Amusement warmed the royal voice, but not completely.
    ‘I am.’
    ‘Why? What does it say?’ asked Drusilla, younger sister to the queen. The gossips in Rome said she was the more beautiful of the two. In Hypatia’s opinion, the gossips were wrong in lamplight, but might conceivably have been correct under the harsher light of the sun.
    Berenice finished scanning the letter for the second time and, pensive of face, passed it to her sister. ‘Read it,’ she said. ‘Speak the empress’s words aloud for all of us.’
    ‘As my majesty commands.’ Smiling prettily, Drusilla bent her head. She read it through once in silence, her lips stumbling across the difficult constructs, then began aloud.
    ‘ To Berenice, queen in Caesarea— ’
    ‘A tactful woman,’ Berenice murmured. The room was perfectly still now. ‘Not queen of Caesarea, nor of Judaea. Which I am not, as we all know. Continue.’
    ‘ To Berenice, queen in Caesarea, from Poppaea Sabina, empress, greetings .
    ‘ By the time you read this, the message-birds will long since have brought news of my death and the gossips will have embroidered it, saying I was poisoned, or stabbed, or thrown from a high window. Listen to none of them. I die now at the will of the gods who choose that the new life I bring into the world will not flourish, and that I will wither as it does. The doctors tell me that I will live to give birth to a fine and healthy boy child. I know that they lie, and am content with my lot .
    ‘ But now, while I have my faculties, and my memories – so many good memories of you – I wish to send you that which will bring joy to your days and peace to your land and your heart. I send therefore, as my gift and my bequest, this woman Hypatia of Alexandria and that which she brings .
    ‘ She will tell you herself of the gifts she bears. Of her, I tell you that she is the Chosen of Isis, who has served until now in the temples of Alexandria. She is not commanded by royalty, only by her god, but she has served us well and continues to do so with courage and an intellect few can match. I commend her to your care, knowing you will love her as I do .
    ‘There’s a line here, written afterwards, in a different hand.’ Drusilla turned the papyrus sideways and, frowning, read, ‘ Listen to her. There is much she knows .’ And something else. I can’t read it … I think—’
    ‘It says, The sisters of Isis have no love of men, but will serve the greater good where they may. Trust her if you can. She will help you .’ Berenice took the letter without turning her head. Her gaze held Hypatia’s, unflinching. ‘The extra line was in Poppaea’s own hand. She was my friend; I know her writing. Did she speak this aloud too? Or did you order her to write it?’
    ‘Neither, majesty.’ Hypatia felt heat rise to her temples. ‘I was present for the dictation and saw the scribe write the letter, but it wasn’t given me until after the empress’s death. It must be that she added those words before it was sealed, for I was not aware of them.’
    ‘They say the Chosen of Isis cannot lie. Is that true?’
    ‘I would not knowingly tell a falsehood, majesty. The gods would be dishonoured and to do that would be far worse than the consequences of any lie.’
    ‘Indeed. Listen to her. There is much she knows .’ Berenicemimicked the empress to perfection, kindly, as a sister might, or a mother of her favoured child. ‘Our friend, queen of Rome, lay dying. Her thoughts will have turned to the afterlife, as all do at such times. What did she mean when she wrote this?’
    ‘I know only that she required me to bring you the hounds, and to serve you in whatever capacity you