Free Cleopatra Confesses by Carolyn Meyer

the riverbank, where it is cooler, Demetrius stops to point across the river to the royal necropolis on the western bank. For almost two thousand years kings and queens and members of the nobility were buried in hidden tombs dug into the limestone. Yet in spite of every precaution, grave robbers found the tombs and stole their treasures. The tombs have been broken into so many times that guards are posted to keep out thieves.
    At the foot of a great limestone cliff an eerily deserted temple lies half-buried in drifting sand. It is not like any other temple I have seen and must have been quite beautiful in its time. As the desert sands continue to blow in, it may soon disappear entirely, like a dream.
    “The temple of Hatshepsut,” Demetrius explains. “She was an amazing queen, though little evidence remains of her rule. Only a few of the scholars at the Museion know anything about her. She dared to rule as pharaoh—she even wore the false beard andthe royal kilt. I believe you would find much to admire about her, but you will not see her name on any of the king lists. Her statues were smashed and all representations of her erased, even from the walls of her own temple.”
    “Someone must have really hated her,” I murmur as we walk on.
    “Her stepson, probably. She overshadowed him, and he resented her.”
    “But why?”
    Demetrius lifts his shoulders in his familiar gesture. “Power, Cleopatra! Hatshepsut had it, and she was not afraid to use it.”
    I consider this as my tutor and I make our way back to our tents. I am beginning to understand that whoever has power also has enemies. Was Hatshepsut ever afraid? Would I have her courage? Because someday soon, I may need it.
    Irisi is waiting for me. “Do you wish to join your sisters at the bath today?” she asks. “I have fresh linens ready for you.”
    The pleasure of bathing in the lovely warm water is appealing, but the idea of having to listen to the idle chatter of Tryphaena and Berenike and their gibes about my beaded belt ignites my anger all over again.
    “No,” I tell her. “I want to stay here in the tent and rest.” And avoid my hateful sisters , but I do not say that.
    I lie down on my bed, and Monifa draws the silk curtains. I hear the musicians come to escort my sisters to the bath and Monifa telling them that I am resting. I close my eyes, but they snap open at once when Tryphaena and Berenike rudely open the curtains and, laughing loudly, rush into my tent with Arsinoë just behind them.
    “Well, now, what’s this? Up, up, dear sister! What will people say if you’re not with us at the baths this afternoon?”
    “I was out exploring the temples with Demetrius, and I want to rest,” I tell them, though they do not deserve an explanation of what I have been doing. “Please, dear sisters, do go on without me.”
    “It won’t be half so amusing if you’re not there, Cleopatra. We want to see your fertility belt!” Berenike cries. “Are you wearing it now?” She snatches my coverlet, but I manage to hold on to it.
    “We’ve been thinking that we’d like to have them as well,” adds Tryphaena. “Where did you get it? Come, now, Cleopatra, tell us!”
    “I don’t need to tell you anything!” I am shouting, though I know this is a mistake. I try to lower my voice.
    My raised voice summons Monifa, who stares openmouthed at me clutching my coverlet while my sisters try to pull it off. Tryphaena turns on my servant. “What are you gaping at, old woman? Where did our sister get that cowrie-shell belt?” she demands.
    “I have no idea, mistress,” Monifa murmurs, bowing politely. She is lying, of course, and I am grateful for that. Monifa does not like my sisters any more than I do, but she is a servant and must not allow her feelings to show.
    My sisters again exchange the look that I have come to recognize and fear. This time my fear is for Monifa as well as for myself.
    Berenike makes a sound of disgust, as though she has tasted