CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

 

Annen was dead.

        As we ate at the heavily laden carved banquet table, a soldier rushed in to Cleopatra, rasping quickly into her ear.  She stood, her face drained of color and fled the room without a word.  Antony, Hasani and I stared at each other in shock.  My immediate thought was that something had happened to one of the children.  Her expression had been that grave. 

        “I’ll go,” I murmured, pushing away from the table.  Hasani’s expression was concerned as he placed his hand gently on my back. 

        “If you need us, call quickly,” he instructed.  If only I could.

        I nodded as I turned and chased after the queen.  I could feel the stares of everyone in the room between my shoulder blades and I had to say, I was surprised that Antony didn’t follow.  But he didn’t.  He simply trusted that we would send for him. 

        Cleopatra was already in her room by the time I caught up with her, pacing holes in her carpet again and wringing her hands.  Her face was as pale as I’d ever seen it.  I rushed to her side, grabbing her arm lightly.

        “Cleopatra, what is it?” I demanded, my eyes frozen on her colorless face. 

        Her colorful eye makeup and lip stain looked brash against the suddenly white tone of her skin. She practically blended right into the paleness of her white evening shift.

        She shook her head morosely, opening her mouth.  But nothing came out. 

        “Cleopatra, you’re scaring me.  What is it?” My voice held wild notes of alarm. 

        She turned to me, placing her hand comfortingly on my shoulder, but it wasn’t comforting at all, not with her tension so palpable.

        “Charmian, Annen is dead.  I have to assume that Pothinus killed him. He was found on the altars of the Serapis, run through with a sword.”

        I gasped sharply.  “No.  If he is dead, then…”

        “Then he cannot further help us.”  Her mouth was a thin line, pressed tightly together. 

        “And I have no idea how to leave here,” I added tentatively, my voice small.  I dropped onto the lavish softness of her bed. 

        “Cleopatra, I have to admit… I’m at a loss for what to do.  It seems as though fixing this is impossible!  Do we beg Ahmose to go back in time once again and repair this?  Because Annen wasn’t meant to die this way.” 

        Cleopatra’s face was thoughtful as she stared out the balcony doors at the twinkling stars.  A golden statue of Ra the sun god gazed down at me, his expression stern and judgmental… as though even he, a mythological creature, was holding me responsible.  I stared back defiantly.  This wasn’t my fault.  I hadn’t asked for this. 

        “I think not, Charmian,” Cleopatra finally murmured, turning back to face me.  “I wish that we could, but as you know, we seem to make things worse when we attempt to repair them.”  That was the honest to god truth. It seemed we could do nothing right.  It was discouraging.

        “Then what shall we do?” I whispered. 

        “We will continue with our plans.  Tomorrow morning, we will summon Tehran and put our plan into motion.  We must get this going, Charmian.  Every minute that you are here, we risk changing history, rather than repairing it.  It is becoming exhausting.”

        I nodded silently and helped her prepare for bed.  After removing her wig, brushing her long hair and helping her wash off her make-up, I stood back as she shrugged into a sheer nightgown.  The breeze from the window fluttered the hem around her legs, making her seem almost ethereal in the lamplight. 

        “Are you good here, Cleopatra? I think I will retire as well.”

        “Yes, you may go, Charmian,” she sighed.  “Try to sleep well and I will see you in the morning.  We have our work cut out for us.  We’ll have to depend on your dramatic prowess.” She smiled in the moonlight.  Even now, she couldn’t help but tease me.  “And Charmian?  Will you send someone for Antony?” 

        “Of course, Cleopatra.  Good night, my queen,” I smiled back before I quietly walked out into the hall, pausing only to instruct the guards to send someone for Antony, before I continued on to my chambers. 

        Opening my door, I sensed Hasani’s presence before I even entered my room.

        “I thought you would never get here,” he murmured, stepping from the darkness to cup my face gently.  Tilting it up, he ran his thumbs along my lips, before he kissed them softly.

        “Silly man,” I murmured, as I inhaled his woodsy fragrance.  “I wasn’t with Cleopatra long.  And weren’t you with Antony?  Strategizing?” 

      I smiled gently at him, twining my fingers into his hair and pulling him close.  Something about his solid, muscular frame pressed against me made me feel oh-so-safe, even though I knew how my future was written.  I silently cursed the bloodstone again.  Knowing the future really sucked, because I couldn’t fully enjoy the present.

        “Don’t you worry, woman,” he assured me, running his big hands lightly over my body.  “We’re both here now.”

        Goosebumps formed every where he touched and I shivered in the cool night breeze from my windows. 

        “You are in good hands,” he grinned, his white smile dazzling, as he dropped onto my bed and pulled me down with him, running his lips along the soft skin of my neck. 

        Maybe I could enjoy the present after all. 

* * *

      Hasani was gone when I woke and I squeezed my eyes shut against the light from the flickering wall sconces.  He must have lit them for me before he left and even in my grumpy morning mood, I had to smile at his consideration.  I pulled the covers over my head and rested my cheek against the comfort of my pillow for a few minutes longer before I finally sighed and emerged into the reality of daytime. 

        It couldn’t be much past daybreak, since the orange fingers of the sun were just starting to curl around the horizon.  Hasani must have risen early to run drills with his soldiers before the Alexandrian heat rolled in.  Antony was probably with him. 

        I got up quickly, tying a soft white scarf around my waist and putting on a jeweled golden brassiere.   As I pulled my hair away from my face and fastened gold earrings into my ears, I briefly pondered my older body.  As Charmian, I may be thirty-nine, but my body was as svelte as a teen’s.  Fascinating.  It probably had a lot to do with the fact that ancient Egyptians didn’t have French fries or ice cream.

        Sitting down at my vanity table, I pulled out the multiple jars required for my daily skin care and cosmetics application, sighing as I did.  As Macy, I was a very low-key, low-maintenance person. Charmian’s intricate, Egyptian beauty regime was tiresome.  But I had to admit that it was effective.  I had a perfect complexion.

        Dipping my fingers into a jar of scented oil, I glanced back into the mirror as I began to apply it.  And froze with my fingers at the base of my neck.

        A woman, pale and beautiful, sat on the bed behind me as though she belonged there.  Her eyes were ice blue and her long hair was so blonde that it was snow white. I whirled around to face her.

        “How did you get in here?” I demanded.  “How did you get past the guards?”

        She smiled peacefully at me, but didn’t answer.

        “Can you speak?” I asked.  “Who are you?”

        She studied me again, unmoving and silent from her perch on my bed.  She wore silvery robes embroidered with rich blue which were spread around her and her long fingernails were silver.  They sparkled in the muted light from my window.  She reminded me of what a fairy would be like.  An odd sensation began to build in my chest and I hesitated.

        “Who are you?” I whispered again.

        “You know who I am,” she said gently, as she rose from the bed.  She was so graceful that it seemed as though she floated as she walked toward me. 

        “I don’t,” I argued, as she came to a stop behind me. 

        “You do,” she insisted softly, as she placed her hands on my shoulders.  And in that instant, the second that her hands touched me, I did.

        I was standing face to face with Lachesis, the middle sister of the Fates.  Terrifying and powerful, the last time I had seen her, she had been an ancient, stooped hag.  My eyes flew in amazement to her lovely, young face.

        She smiled.

        “I can appear as I wish, Charmian,” she said lightly.  “You are beautiful.  So, of course I wanted to appear beautiful, as well.  I have no wish to scare you.”

        “Then what is your wish?” I asked quietly, keeping my eyes locked on her face.

        She reached past me and picked up the jar of oil, dipping her long fingers into it. Picking up my arm, she gently began rubbing the scented oil into my skin as she spoke. 

        “You are one of twelve, Charmian.  Did you know that?” I shook my head, instantly intrigued.

        “Yes.  Twelve very important people were chosen so long ago to assist us throughout the millennia.  You were chosen for your bravery and your heart.”

        She turned my wrist over and fingered my scar.

        “I placed the mark of the phoenix upon your wrist myself.  The phoenix is sacred to the order, Charmian.  It symbolizes re-birth and life, the very thing that we stand for… the things that we protect. And we gave you that mark.  It is an honor.”

        I nodded.  “Yes, of course it is.”

        “Then why have you been doubting us?” she turned her large blue eyes to me, beseeching me. 

        “I haven’t!” I protested. “The priest Annen has tried to convince me of his theories… but being a member of the Order is all I know.  I have no wish to believe him.”

        “But you’ve wondered.”

        She stated it as a fact, watching my face as she absently held her open palm out to a butterfly that had flown in from my window.  The delicate yellow wings quivered as it crawled onto her hand and sat still. 

        “I know your heart, Charmian.”

        I sighed.  “I couldn’t help but wonder how much truth was in what he said.  But I have no wish to believe him. I’ve put his claims out of my mind.”

        “As you should,” she instructed with the first trace of a harsh tone. 

        She watched the butterfly for a moment more, her blue eyes glinting, before she snapped her hand shut, crushing the delicate insect between her fingers.  I gasped as she put it in her mouth, chewing calmly as she contemplated me.

        “You are one of the best we have, Charmian.  Yet you’ve lost your bloodstone.”

        My heart dropped into my toes.  I couldn’t deny it. 

        “Yes,” I admitted in a whisper, my head bowed. 

        “Get it back,” she hissed, her face clouding over and for a split second, one brief moment, I saw a glimpse of the ancient hag that she was.  I sucked my breath in, waiting for a storm.

        She calmed herself, resuming her tranquil tone, her face regaining its youth and beauty.

        “Our bloodstones are powerful, as you know.  They are the keys to everything.  That sniveling eunuch will not be able to use it- because it was made for you.  But the bloodstones were made from one stone. One. When one is lost, we all suffer.”

        I stared at her intrigued, as she pulled her own bloodstone out of her robes.  Hers was larger than mine and set in an intricate setting surrounded by rubies, but it had clearly been cut from the same mother stone… glistening blood-red, with black veins.  

        “Our power as a whole should not be diminished because of the carelessness of one, should it?” she purred, sliding her hands smoothly over my shoulders and stopping with her fingers wrapped lightly around my neck.

        I gulped, then shook my head quickly. 

        “Then, fix it,” she instructed pleasantly, removing her hands.  “No matter what you need to do to repair your error, you have my support.  Do you understand?”

        Did I? Was she saying that retrieving my bloodstone using any means necessary was more important than restoring history?

        Before I could speak, she nodded.  “I see that we’ve come to an understanding.  You’re such a bright girl.  

        Confusion flooded through me as I watched her adjust her clothing.  How could this be happening?   My entire being was dedicated to enforcing the plan of the Fates.  Never had we deviated before, under the threat that chaos would ensue.  How could we deviate now?  Unless the threat was just that… an idle threat.  I had forgotten that my thoughts were not safe around her, until she snapped me from my reverie with a growl.

        “Do not question us again, Charmian!  There are times when the Plan is not as important as protecting the Order.  It is as simple as that.  And I will not explain myself to you!”

        But she just had.  The Order had a weakness.  The Bloodstones.  And nothing on earth was as important as keeping them.  I quickly blanked my thoughts so that she couldn’t read them again and nodded.

        “Yes, Lachesis.  I’m sorry.  Rest assured, I will fix this…” My voice trailed off hesitantly.

        “But?” she prompted.

        “But can I just ask one thing?  Can I just know one thing… because I know I will not remember it in my next life anyway.”

        She studied me quietly, reading my thoughts and hearing my unspoken question.  Her face an unreadable, lovely mask.

        “In each life your memories from your previous lives are wiped clean for your own benefit,” she finally explained.  “It benefits you in many ways.  If you were able to remember the sadness from your previous lives, it would drive you to insanity.  You would lose your effectiveness as a Keeper.”

        I nodded.  Ahmose had been right. 

        “And you forget the gifts you are capable of through your bloodstone as a safeguard,” she added.  “The power that we are able to harness is exquisite and enormous.  Too much burden for any one person to be aware of, life after life.”

        “But you…”    

        “My sisters and I have each other to keep us in check.  You have no one.  But your Aegis.”

        Realization settled upon me like a cloud.  So, Ahmose wasn’t just there to assist me…  he was there to keep me firmly in place. 

        “So, now you know.” She stared at me.  “For now.  You’ll forget it again soon enough.”

        That thought was not comforting. 

        “Charmian?”

        I looked up at her. 

        “Yes?”

        “Be good.”

        And she was gone. 

      I took a shaking breath and sank into my bed, allowing the softness to comfort me momentarily.  I wasn’t sure what to think.  She had just confirmed that at least some of the things that Annen had told me were true… but since she openly admitted them, didn’t that mean that the Order had nothing to hide?  I was at a loss. 

      My hand brushed against a rolled up papyrus on my bed.  Staring at it suspiciously, I picked it up.  How had she left it?  I hadn’t seen her with it at all. 

      As I unrolled it, the yellow butterfly that I had just seen Lachesis eat flew from the confines of the paper and out my window.  I watched it fly away in shock, alive and well, before I turned my attention to the paper in my hands.  Delicate, feminine writing flowed across the page in English.

 

There are things you were never meant to understand.

You will have to trust me.

 

      Before I even had a chance to ponder its meaning, the cryptic message burst into flame and I dropped it to the stone floor, watching it burn on the stone.  Within a minute, it had disappeared completely… as though it had never existed.

      I exhaled shakily, suddenly realizing that I had been holding my breath.  Forcing myself to calm, I reminded myself of my reality.  I was a Keeper and my job right now was to get my bloodstone back so that I could return home to Pasadena where I belonged.  And I would do it while disturbing my ancient life as Charmian as little as possible.   

      I took a last glance into the mirror before I slipped into the hall, intent on waking Cleopatra up and forming a plan of action for the day.  But my plan was waylaid when a house servant rushed to my side, her face drawn and pinched with worry underneath her tied scarf.

      “My lady, I am so thankful you are up,” she uttered quickly.  “Please, can you come with me?  It is Iras.  She needs you.”

      Iras?!  What on earth could possibly be wrong now?  I quickly sailed through the empty corridors of the palace to Iras’ bedchamber, the servant trailing behind me.  Pushing her door open, I scanned the room. 

      Iras was thrashing in her bed, her forehead glistening with sweat.  I turned in alarm to the servant girl. 

      “How long has she been like this?” 

      I crossed the room quickly to Iras, putting the back of my hand against her cheek, but withdrawing it just as quickly.  She was burning up, her eyes glazed as she moaned.  In her delirium, she didn’t even recognize that I was there.

      The servant girl shook her head quickly. 

      “I know not, my lady,” she admitted reluctantly. “I found her this way this morning.” She hesitated and then continued.  “I do know that the priest Annen was going to be bring her an herb… to help her get over her sickness.  As you know, she has been ill for the past week or two.  I came this morning to tell her that Annen has died. And she was like this.”

      My gaze returned to Iras as my stomach dropped like a lead weight.  This couldn’t be happening.  Apparently, Annen had been meant to heal her.  But he couldn’t… because he was dead himself. 

        If Iras didn’t get better, she would not be in Cleopatra’s tomb to die with us the way she was meant.  I sighed heavily.  I did not want to be the one to tell Cleopatra.  But unfortunately, breaking bad news to her often fell within my job description.

      I turned back to the servant girl. 

      “Please go directly to Cleopatra’s personal physician.  Tell them that I need him here immediately.” 

      She nodded quickly, her face alarmed.  She knew that I would not call for Cleopatra’s personal physician, Olympus, unless the situation was dire.  Olympus was every bit as daunting a person as Ahmose.  She backed quickly out the door.  I suspected that she was running at this very moment.

      I sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Iras’ burning back and pushing her damp hair out of her face.  Her bedclothes were soaked with perspiration.  There was hardly a dry place left for me to perch.  My thoughts whirled, trying to recall from history books the types of illnesses that ancient Egyptians suffered from… and the cures.

      I was pretty sure that I remembered reading about typhoid and smallpox.  And, suddenly I recalled that King Tut had died from Malaria.  Holy crap.  We had no penicillin or antimalarial drugs in ancient Egypt.  There would be nothing we could do but plaster her in herbs and offer gifts to Sekhmet, the goddess of healing.   Somehow, my opulent surroundings seemed a little tarnished now that the drawbacks stared me in the face.  

      Before I could ponder the circumstances further, the door burst open and Olympus hurried in, carrying his leather satchel of herbs.  His face was ominous, like always.  He never looked cheerful- it was as though he always expected a death, even at dinner every night.  The little servant girl scampered in behind him, securing the door in his wake. 

      He strolled to my side, apparently intent on appearing as though he had not been summoned by me, but that he had simply decided to grace us with his presence.  I suddenly recalled why I disliked this abhorrent man so much- he was grossly arrogant.  I honestly didn’t understand why Cleopatra tolerated him.

      “You require my services, my lady?” His stringy eyebrows rose mockingly as he eyed my face.  I pasted on my best superior look and glared at him.

      “Obviously, Iras needs your help,” I gestured toward the bed as I rose to stand beside him.  As if on cue, Iras moaned pitifully.   “Please do all you can for her.  Our majesty will be greatly displeased if anything…unfortunate happens to her.” 

      I couldn’t bring myself to say the words, but my implication was clear.   If Iras died, Cleopatra would be pissed at Olympus.

      He looked down his long Greek nose at me and I backed away from him.  For some reason, he always smelled like pungent cheese.  In a land where everyone was overly concerned with how they smelled, that was strange to me.  Just one more thing to dislike about this unpleasant man. 

      “I will do what I can,” he announced gravely and a little dismissively, as he turned his back to me.  “It will be in the hands of Sekhmet, as well as my own.” 

      I almost rolled my eyes.  I had foreseen this not five minutes ago.  Visions of the offerings that would soon take place in this room flitted through my head.  Good lord- I might as well start lighting the incense now. What I wouldn’t give for just one bottle of penicillin or a Z-Pack.

      “I will check back in this afternoon. Please do not leave her side,” I instructed. 

      He sniffed as he stared at me, but he did not dare to argue.  He knew that what I had implied was correct.  Cleopatra would hold him personally responsible if Iras died.  And right now was not a good time to cross her, although he couldn’t know the extent of that truth.  I sighed at the thought.  I was going to have to break this news to her and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

      I made my way slowly back to her bedchambers, not relishing my job at all.  As her right-hand girl, I always got the short end of the stick. 

      Once, when we were teens, she had inadvertently broken her father’s favorite flute.  It had been a complete accident, but her father was very serious about his flutes.  He had even had an elaborate display case custom made from ebony to house his enormous collection. 

      Out of curiosity, Cleopatra had taken his favorite one, a beautiful hand-carved ivory creation, to see firsthand why her father enjoyed playing them so much.  She herself couldn’t understand it- it seemed a little foolish to her, an utter waste of time. 

      Unfortunately, though, she had dropped it before she could even try it and it had shattered on the marble floor.  I was the one who had to break the news to Auletes for her, although she didn’t ask me to lie.  She simply didn’t wish to get struck and she felt confident that he wouldn’t beat me for her mistake. 

      She had been wrong.  In his intense fury, he had backhanded me so hard that I flew across the room into the wall. A sympathetic guard had helped me to my feet and held me as I regained my balance.  That guard would grow up to be the leader of Marc Antony’s armies… and my fiancée. 

      Hasani had risked Auletes’ wrath in order to help me to my bedchamber…because the room was spinning so much that I couldn’t walk alone.  I could remember the anger and sympathy on his face as though it was yesterday.  But as a member of the royal Ptolemaic guard, he couldn’t say anything to Auletes.  It was unheard of.  

      But Cleopatra could.  My face had swelled up for a week, my eyes black and blue.  Cleopatra had felt so horribly that she had waited on me hand and foot… and she had gone toe-to-toe with her father for the atrocity, all traces of her fear and guilt for breaking his flute were gone at what she saw as a horrible injustice.

      Servants had whispered to me in awe of how she had screamed at her father for hurting me.  But I was in too much pain to care.  It felt like the intense pain was going to split my head apart.   But her railing had accomplished something. The next morning, one of Auletes’ servants had crept into my bedchamber carrying a small ivory box.  The box itself was beautiful, but it also contained a set of matching golden combs.  I still had those combs in my jewelry box, although I never wore them.  I didn’t like to be reminded of that incident. 

      Cleopatra had never asked me to do her dirtywork again.  Although, I was still the one stuck with giving her bad news.  Such as today.  Standing outside of her bedchamber doors, I took a deep, steadying breath and pushed the doors open. 

      She was still sleeping soundly, her beautiful face relaxed and unworried in her slumber.  I walked silently to her side and gazed down upon her, dreading that I had to interrupt her peaceful dreams with this new development.  I sighed heavily once more, before reaching down and shaking her shoulder gently. 

      I had barely touched her when her dark eyes flew open and met mine.  The intensity of her gaze so soon upon waking startled me and I stepped back with a gasp. 

      “Goodness, Cleopatra.  Were you already awake?” 

      She stared at me wordlessly as I crossed to her balcony doors and opened them, allowing the fresh sea breeze to flow in through her rooms, rustling the sheer draperies that surrounded her bed.  

      “No,” she finally spoke, before yawning into her hand.  “I just wasn’t sleeping deeply.  My dreams have been most fitful, of late.”

      “I can’t imagine why,” I muttered ruefully.  Could it be the impending doom that lurked over all of us?

      “Don’t be snide, Charmian,” she admonished lightly.  “We have a big day today.”

      She had no idea.

      “Yeah, um, about that…” I started, but trailed off as she narrowed her eyes at me. 

      “What?” she demanded.  “What now?”

      “Iras is sick,” I started again.  But she interrupted me impatiently. 

      “Yes, I know.  She’s been sick for over a week already.  Tell me something I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes as she stepped lightly out of bed, as naked as the day she was born, and stretched in the sunlight. 

      “Well, you don’t know this,” I paused until she looked at me.  “Apparently, Annen was supposed to bring her some healing herbs.  But obviously he can’t, because he’s permanently indisposed.”

      As she grasped where I was heading, Cleopatra froze in her tracks, dismay immediately flooding her features.

      “And,” I continued, “She is not doing well at all.  She is feverish and delirious.”

        “Summon Olympus at once,” Cleopatra demanded. “This is unacceptable.  We can’t have any more incidents like this.”  She collapsed back onto her bed, her head buried into her hands.  I approached her quickly, wrapping a dressing gown around her thin shoulders.

        “It’s already done, my queen,” I replied quietly. “Olympus is with her now.”

        “What does he think ails her?” Cleopatra asked miserably, rubbing her temples with her fingers, her long chestnut hair tumbling around her shoulders. 

        “He didn’t say,” I answered.  “I doubt he knows,” I added meanly.  She glanced at me sharply. 

        “I know you dislike the man, Charmian, but you must give him credit where it is due.  He usually knows of what he speaks.”  I nodded silently, neither agreeing or disagreeing.  I crossed to her side table and cut her a piece of crusty bread. 

        “Here, your highness,” I handed her the small jeweled saucer.  “Eat something.”

        She snatched it from my hands and grumpily chewed on the bread as she stared out at the harbor.  “Charmian, you know we will still need to summon Tehran today.  This doesn’t change that.”

        “I understand, Cleopatra,” I acknowledged.  “But what shall we do about Iras?” 

        She turned to me in confusion.  “What is there to do, Charmian?  But wait?”

        I nodded dejectedly. She was right.  There wasn’t a thing that we could do.  But perhaps burn a few bunches of incense to Sekhmet.  I would utter some frantic prayers to God, too, even though Christianity hadn’t even been thought of yet.  It wouldn’t hurt to cover all of my bases.