Free Cleopatra by Kristiana Gregory Page B

curtains made of thin blue silk that protected me from splashes and from the eyes of curious men, but the heat was stifling inside. O, to be home again, where the sea breeze is as near as my face.
    During our ride through the streets, Puzo jogged alongside me. And to my amusement, so did someone’s little muddy pig, which followed us until some boys chased it away. When we arrived at the theatre, Puzo’s legs were so caked with dung he washed in a public fountain before coming in with me. This theatre is similar to the one we have in Alexandria, an open-air stage surrounded by seats that spread upwards, giving the appearance of a large bowl.
    We were escorted to the front seats, which are reserved for nobles, that is, senators and visiting royalty such as myself. The next twelve rows behind us are for knights – this is what Julia calls the wealthy businessmen (such grand flowing togas and fat chins!).
    A servant placed cushions on the stone bench for us. I turned around to look up at the crowds beginning to fill the audience. The steps upwards were such a steep climb, my heart was thankful that we were on the ground level.
    Soon the play began. It was titled The Clouds. It is a Greek comedy written hundreds of years ago by Aristophanes. From where the actors stood, their voices carried clearly to us as well as high up and around the theatre, for the audience laughed or hissed at the same times we did. I was lost in enjoyment! The satire was about our great Socrates. But it was so biting, I think if he were alive today he would drive a sword through the writer.
    O, it was good to be out. I noticed people staring at me from time to time, as I was in the front row, centre, which is the seat of honour. Perhaps they are curious about an Egyptian princess who dresses as a Roman. No matter. Puzo watches carefully for my safety.
    The play ended at sunset. On the way home, Julia instructed our servants to carry us down an alley that opened up into a quiet little courtyard. It was lit by a lantern hanging from the branches of an olive tree. Tall walls surrounded us, and I could hear from the apartments above sounds of families ending their day – children being tucked into bed and other noises.
    I soon realized we were in a public eating place. We stood at a waist-high table that curved around a charcoal fire. Julia took two coins from a pouch that was tied to her belt and laid them on the bar. She told me that children stop here in the mornings for breakfast before they go to sit with their tutors.
    The cook put ground meat onto a plate. Several small bowls on a sideboard held salt and other spices. He pinched some of each, then added a fistful of pine nuts to the meat, mixing it together with his hands. Then he patted the meat into two flat disks, each the size of his palm.
    From a jar he poured olive oil into a pan that was heating on the coals. The oil spit when he dropped in the meat, then began sizzling. I was quite taken with the delicious aroma. At last, the cook picked the meat out of the hot pan with his fingers then placed it between two slices of bread, handing one to each of us.
    We ate standing up. I was so hungry I wanted more, but did not want to impose on Julia. I had not thought to bring coins of my own. As we were climbing into our sedans something splashed near my feet. I looked up to see an open window where someone had just emptied a chamber pot.
    Barbarians.
    Julia and her guard saw me to the door of Atticus’ villa. Thanking her for the lovely day, I asked what our meal was called. It had tasted so good.
    â€œThe usual,” she said, “fried dormouse.”

To continue…
    Bad news has me in low spirits today.
    It seems there are not enough soldiers to escort us to Egypt. Most of the military is far north with Caesar, so now we must wait! We need legions to battle the peasants and those who put Berenice on Father’s throne, but it will be many weeks before more men are