Free The October Horse by Colleen McCullough Page B

transparent that the veins showed blue beneath it. She wore the white ribbon of the diadem tied behind her hairline; it was her only evidence of royalty, for her simple Greek dress was a drab fawn, and she wore no jewelry.
    She was inspecting him just as closely, and in surprise.
    “What do you see?” he asked solemnly.
    “Great beauty, Caesar, though I expected you to be dark.”
    “There are fair Romans, medium Romans and dark Romans—also many Romans with red or sandy hair and lots of freckles.”
    “Hence your cognomina—Albinus, Flavus, Rufus, Niger.”
    Ah, the voice was wonderful! Low-pitched and so melodious that she seemed to sing rather than to speak. “You know Latin?” he asked, surprised in his turn.
    “No, I've had no opportunity to learn it,” Cleopatra said. “I speak eight languages, but they're all eastern—Greek, old Egyptian, demotic Egyptian, Hebrew, Aramaic. Arabic, Median and Persian.” The feline eyes gleamed. “Perhaps you'll teach me Latin? I'm a very quick student.”
    “I doubt I'll have the time, child, but if you like, I'll send you a tutor from Rome. How old are you?”
    “Twenty-one. I have sat on my throne for four years.”
    “A fifth of a lifetime. You're a veteran. Sit down, do.”
    “No, then I won't be able to see you properly. You're very tall,” she said, prowling.
    “Yes, right up there with the Gauls and the Germans. Like Sulla, I could pass for one if I had to. What happened to your height? Your brothers and sister are tall.”
    “Some of my shortness is inherited. My father's mother was a Nabataean princess, but she wasn't a full Arab. Her grandmother was the Parthian princess Rhodogune, another blood link to King Mithridates. They say the Parthians are short. However, my own mother blamed an illness I suffered as a babe. So I have always thought that Hippopotamus and Crocodile sucked my growth down their nostrils just as they do the river.”
    Caesar's mouth twitched. “Just as they do the river?”
    “Yes, during the Cubits of Death. Nilus fails to rise when Taweret—Hippopotamus—and Sobek—Crocodile—suck the water down their nostrils. They do that when they're angry at Pharaoh,” she said, absolutely seriously.
    “Since you're Pharaoh, why are they angry at you? Nilus has been in the Cubits of Death for two years, I understand.”
    Her face became a study in indecision; she turned away, paced up and down, came back abruptly to standing directly in front of him, biting her lower lip. “The matter is extremely urgent,” she said, “so I can see no point in striving to seduce you with woman's wiles. I had hoped you'd be an unattractive man—you're old, after all—and therefore amenable toward unbeautiful women like me. But I see that the tales are true, that you can have any woman you fancy despite your great age.”
    His head had gone to one side, and the aloof cold eyes were warm, though they didn't contain any lust. They simply drank her in, while his mind reveled in her. She had distinguished herself in adverse situations—the murder of the sons of Bibulus, the uprising in Alexandria, no doubt other crises as well. Yet she spoke as a virginal child. Of course she was a virgin. Clearly her brother/husband hadn't yet consummated their union, and she was a god on earth, she couldn't mate with mortal men. Hedged around with eunuchs, forbidden to be alone with an uncastrated man. Her situation is, as she said, extremely urgent, otherwise she would not be alone here with me, an uncastrated mortal man.
    “Go on,” he said.
    “I have not fulfilled my duty as Pharaoh.”
    “Which is?”
    “To be fruitful. To bear children. The first Inundation after I came to the throne was just inside the Cubits of Plenty because Nilus gave me the grace of time to prove my fruitfulness. Now, two Inundations later, I am still barren. Egypt is in famine and five days from now the priests of Isis at Philae will read the Elephantine Nilometer. The Inundation is due,