The Memoirs of Cleopatra Part 21

As the waters continued to rise, everyone rejoiced. During the first two years of my reign there had been insufficient water, causing famine. Now, on this first flood since I had been restored to the throne, a restoration in nature seemed promised as well.

But then the waters kept rising, and rising. They came up into the very precincts of the sacred temples, lapping at the portals of the inmost sanctuaries. They overwhelmed the dikes and basins and flowed out over the desert sands. The mud-brick houses, which were supposedly set a safe distance away, were overtaken and began to disintegrate back into Nile mud.

My engineers at the First Cataract, where the floodwaters initially appeared, sent frantic dispatches. There the Nilometer, the gauge by which the floodwaters were measured, already had a marking higher than any in living memory. And it was "thin" water, not the deep brown that signified fertility. Something was wrong.

Water. That night I sat staring at a beaker full of freshly drawn Nile water from Upper Egypt. It sat innocently on my table, betraying only the slightest hint of color. It was completely unlike its usual self, which at this time of year should be opaque with the life-giving black substance that came down in the flood. Egypt called itself the Black Land, after the black ribbon of rich soil the Nile left behind on its banks each year. Not to have that gift was not to be Egypt. And after two previous years of too little water!

Was there anything to be done? What caused the black soil to enter the river in the first place, and where did it come from? Surprisingly enough, neither Olympos nor Mardian seemed to have any clear idea, or even an opinion.

"It must gush out wherever the source of the Nile is," said Mardian. "And you know no one has ever found that."

"I thought the Nile G.o.d Hapi brought it," said Olympos innocently.

"You, who mock all the G.o.ds on Olympus and in Hades, give me a disappointing answer," I said.

"I think someone at the Museion might know," said Mardian. "Let us sound the call rousing those most formidable beasts, scholar-scientists."

A soft breeze, scented with jasmine from a nearby walled garden, blew over us. I sighed. I wished I could just give myself to this delicious night, rather than concerning myself with meetings and scientists.

In a window on the second story of a villa overlooking the colonnaded street, I saw a lamp being extinguished, and the glow of the room faded. Someone, one of my subjects, was doing just that. But I, the Queen, must stay awake so he could sleep in peace.

"Tomorrow we will consult with them," I told Mardian and Olympos. And tonight I will lie awake thinking of what I must learn from them, I thought.

My bed, spread with bleached linen sheets, felt soggy to me. There was moisture everywhere. I remembered being told that engineers set out unfired pottery near the Nile and weighed it after a night to see how much water it had absorbed; in this way they predicted the river's rise. If it was true that the Nile gave off a foggy breath, then his exhalation was full of dew now.

No one can stop the Nile, I told myself. All we can do is to move things out of its reach, dig bigger basins to contain the water, and collect manure to spread on the fields that will not get any silt. As for the vermin and the snakes--I must inquire about those snake-people, the Psylli, they say they have magic powers. . . .

Despite the oppressive air and the tangle of heavy sheets, I slept.

I had sent word that a council of scholars and scientists should be a.s.sembled at the Museion to help me plan how to combat the threatened disaster. Have I recounted the history of the Museion? It is an academy devoted to the Muses--hence its name--and attached to the Library; they share a common dining room. But in the years since it was founded, it had grown into a beehive of scholars, who were supported by the Ptolemies. We provided for their every need, gave them perfect working quarters--a magnificent Library with ma.n.u.scripts at their fingertips, lecture halls of polished marble, works of art brought from sites all over the world to inspire them, and laboratories in which to study the phenomena of nature--while asking only one thing in return: that they should put their monumental knowledge at our disposal. We seldom called on them for it, outside of asking them to be royal tutors, and so they had the better part of the bargain. But now I would require their help.

I met with them in the great rotunda, flanked by my advisors and scribes. Ever optimistic, I hoped there would be a great deal of useful material for the scribes to write down. The engineers, historians, geographers, and naturalists were waiting; they cl.u.s.tered around a large potted plant with thick, sole-like leaves, examining something on its trunk. They snapped to attention when we walked in and abandoned the plant.

I felt relief at seeing so many of them, as a sick patient does in seeing a shelf full of medicine bottles and jars. Surely the remedy must be in one of them!

"Good scholars and scientists of the Museion--famed throughout the world--I come to you today in hopes you can help me save Egypt." I paused to let those blunt words soak in. "The report from Upper Egypt is that the river is cresting higher than it ever has, but that life-giving substances are not in it. So we have a double catastrophe: all the damage of a flood combined with the crisis of a famine. I ask you: Is there any known help from science?"

They stared back at me, silently. I saw them s.h.i.+fting their eyes back and forth, watching to see if anyone would speak. Finally a young man stepped forward.

"I am Ibykos of Priene," he said. He had a thin, wavering voice, completely at odds with his compact, overmuscled frame. His arms, s.h.i.+ny like swelling fruit, bulged out of his upper tunic. "I am an engineer. All I can suggest is that we raise the earth--or else lower it--to contain the river. Build dams or dig enormous reservoir basins. Perhaps both."

"And how could we do this in time?" asked another man. "It would require more workmen than built the pyramids! The Nile is hundreds of miles long!"

"Most villages already have irrigation basins. Perhaps each could enlarge the ones they already have. That would not be so prodigious a task," I said. "But as for building a dam--is that possible?"

Another engineer said, "No. The Nile is too wide. We could not stop it up long enough to dam it, and as for diverting it--again, it is too wide. And the current is too strong." He blinked a few times, as if to emphasize his words.

"Very well, then." I believed that exhausted the subject. There was little we could do to hinder the flood itself. "What happens in a flood? What can we expect? Can anyone here tell me?"

A huge mountain of a man stepped forward. "I am Telesikles," he said. "I come from the Euphrates valley, where we often have floods. Indeed, there is a poem about our great flood, the epic of Gilgamesh. The great Utnapishtim had to build a gigantic boat, six stories high, in order to survive. 'As soon as a gleam of dawn shone in the sky, came a black cloud from the foundation of heaven. Inside it the storm G.o.d thundered. His rage reached to the heavens, turning all light to darkness. Six days and nights raged the wind, the flood, the cyclone, and devastated the land,' " he intoned.

We all just looked at him. His flesh was shaking as he recited the poetry, as if the wind were blowing over his limbs.

"And in the Hebrew holy books of Moses, there is also a flood, and an ark is built," said another.

"We are not going to build boats or arks for everyone in Egypt," I said. "After all, the flood is not going to cover all the dry land. I am not interested in poetic descriptions of floods, but in what actually happens as a result of a flood. When Noah stepped out of the ark, everything had been destroyed. What will happen to us?"

" 'And all mankind had turned to clay. The ground was flat like a roof,' " Telesikles recited ominously.

"That is absurd!" another man said in a shrill voice. "The Queen has asked us for details, not a lot of poetry. Everyone will not turn to clay, and the ground in Egypt is already already flat like a roof. Be quiet, you fool!" flat like a roof. Be quiet, you fool!"

"If I may be permitted--" A hawk-nosed man stepped forward, and I saw that he was fairly young. Although his face was creased, his hair was still dark and fairly thick. "I am Alkaios of Athens, an engineer with an interest in history. I have lived here in Egypt long enough to acquaint myself with what happens in the countryside when too much water descends." He looked around, and saw that no one was going to challenge him. "Dangerously high floods are rare, but memory has recorded them. In the first place, what happens when the tide comes in along the seash.o.r.e?"

No one answered.

"Come, come. Have you never walked along a beach? Never been in Judaea? What a bunch of parochials! Well, the tide comes in and destroys everything built of sand. All the little houses children construct--they're washed away. Children aren't the only ones who build of sand. What are the Egyptian villages made of? Sun-dried brick. What happens when brick gets wet?" He gestured toward a tub of water that was standing near the mysterious plant, waiting for his demonstration. Then he tossed a mud brick into it, sending a spray of water out onto the floor. "Watch this. In an hour or two it will revert to mud."

The other scholars drew up the hems of their gowns. "Must you be so vehement?" one of them asked.

"I wish to make a point," he said. "Thus the buildings will collapse. No great loss or expense, if in advance new ones are built out of reach of the floodwaters. Unlike the floods of poetry, this one comes gradually. There is time to prepare." He paced a little before whirling around and announcing, "Standing water, however, is quite different from running water."

This fellow was quite a showman, I thought. But what he was saying needed no flourishes.

"It breeds insects, frogs, and sc.u.m. It stinks. Diseases rise up out of it. It seeps into things out of its reach as it creeps underground. Stored grain, unless it is kept some distance away, will become wet and moldy. Then mice will multiply like mad. There will be a plague of mice!" His voice rose like a thunderclap.

"Calm yourself," said Olympos. "They are not scurrying beneath your feet."

"And what will come then?" Telesikles continued, ignoring the gibe. "Snakes! A plague of serpents!" He grabbed an old man's arm and pulled him out of the crowd of scholars. "Tell them, Aischines! Tell them about the serpents!"

The old man had skin like ancient papyrus: it was all lined and flaking and seemed brittle. His voice was likewise fragile and brittle. "The snakes! Hie snakes!" he muttered. "The storehouse of venomous serpents will open and pour forth her treasures!" He blinked and looked around, clearly measuring his audience. It must have been a well-prepared recital. "We live in a part of the world the deadliest of serpents calls home," he whispered. "Is not the asp the symbol of Egypt? The sacred snake, whose spread hood hovers over the brow of every Pharaoh, protecting him? His bite renders the Pharaoh immortal, should he choose that way of death, and gives him the blessing of Amun-Re. The asp!" Now his very voice seemed like the dry sifting of leaves in a sepulcher. "It induces sleep with its concentrated poison. Death is swift. In sudden darkness its victim departs to join the dead, when bitten by this serpent of the Nile."

He suddenly whirled around and stabbed his scrawny finger in another direction. "But the Seps! The horror of its bite! For its poison dissolves the very bones within the body. A person melts! And when the body is burned on a funeral pyre, no bones can be found! Other poisons remove life, but the Seps removes the body as well."

Olympos rolled his eyes in disbelief, but Mardian's were growing large in fascination. I did not know what to think. Was any of this true?

"Then there's the Prester snake," the old man said, now lowering his voice almost to a whisper. Everyone strained forward to hear it. "It causes such extreme swelling that a man will blow up to giant size, so that his features are buried in the shapeless ma.s.s. He cannot even be put in a tomb, because the body just keeps growing and growing."

Olympos gave a great hoot of laughter, and so did many others. But the laughter was nervous.

The speaker held up his hand and glared at them. "Do you laugh? But you have never seen a victim. Had you, there would be no laughter, I a.s.sure you. I suppose you haven't seen a man bitten by a Haemorrhois, either? It turns a person into one big wound--blood gushes everywhere. His very tears are blood! His sweat is blood! And what about the Dipsas? Its venom drinks up the moisture of the body and turns a man's innards into a scorching desert! It is a thirsty poison! A victim will cut open his own veins to drink his own blood!"

"This is most informative," I said, cutting off his recitation. "But we already know that men die of poisonous snakebites. Not all the snakes that will arise to eat the mice are poisonous. In fact, the snakes do us a favor by eating the mice. It is the mice that cause us to lose our food, not the snakes."

"Yes, snakes are not our enemies," said Mardian, finding his voice at last. "They also seldom attack unless they are threatened. As a boy, I kept snakes and I know their ways. I think we need not worry about the snakes."

"The mice and rats are a different matter," I said. "Still, should the proliferation of the vermin cause villagers to be bitten by a poisonous snake, is ' there not a group of snake-handlers that can help them?"

"You refer to the Psylli of Marmarica," said the old man, haughtily. He had not appreciated having his speech interrupted, and now he made a show of his hurt feelings. "They are immune to the poison of snakes. I was was going to tell you that they can render a site harmless by incantation to drive away the serpents, and by a medicated fire that will guard the borders. And if anyone is bitten, their saliva can counteract the poison in the wound, and they can also suck it out. So skilled are they that by the taste alone they can detect which type of serpent bit the victim! I going to tell you that they can render a site harmless by incantation to drive away the serpents, and by a medicated fire that will guard the borders. And if anyone is bitten, their saliva can counteract the poison in the wound, and they can also suck it out. So skilled are they that by the taste alone they can detect which type of serpent bit the victim! I was was going to tell you where to find the Psylli, but now, since you think you are in no danger from the snakes . . ." He shrugged majestically and stepped back into the group of scientists. going to tell you where to find the Psylli, but now, since you think you are in no danger from the snakes . . ." He shrugged majestically and stepped back into the group of scientists.

"We would welcome the information," I said, to soothe him. "Pray, you must tell us. But it seems to me that we must first secure our food supply. The grain remaining from last year's harvest must be transported to new storehouses. These must be built hurriedly. How difficult will this be? Can anyone estimate?"

"I have antic.i.p.ated this question," said a voice from the back. A Nubian stepped forward. "I have already done the calculations."

"Very well. Tell us."

"The storehouses are not even a quarter full at this time of year. Most of the grain has already been consumed or s.h.i.+pped abroad. I estimate there are around a thousand storehouses up and down the Nile. But we would have to build only two hundred fifty full-sized ones to accommodate all the grain left. And they would not have to be well built. Any sort of structure would serve, as long as it is dry and enclosed." He had a deep, sonorous voice that made his figures sound authoritative.

"How long would it take?"

"Not long," he said. "It takes only a few days for mud bricks to dry, and then the building could proceed quickly."

"Is it possible to estimate how far out the floodwaters will spread? We want to build the emergency warehouses at a safe site, but no farther away than necessary. Transporting all that grain will be difficult enough," I said.

"Your Majesty, I am sorry to say I don't think there is very much grain," he said. "Therefore transporting it will not take long."

And should we need to import grain, was there any place to buy it? It was Egypt that fed the world, not vice versa. Some could be procured from Sicily or Numidia. But would it be enough?

"We will have to set up food distribution centers, and appoint overseers," I said. "We must ration the remaining grain. I shall appoint officers to do so in each district. And I will personally visit each of the centers."

Suddenly I felt very tired. The task before me, and all Egypt, was a formidable one. "I thank you all for your help. I appreciate your preparing the information so carefully and thoughtfully," I said. I glanced over at the water tub. "Pray, show us what has happened to the brick," I requested.

With a theatrical gesture, Telesikles stepped forward. "Behold!" he said, dragging an empty tub. He then bent down and picked up the other one, pouring its dark contents out into the waiting receptacle. Once all the water was gone, nothing remained on the bottom but a thick layer of pure brown mud.

"Your dwellings and storehouses!" he said. "See their ruin!"

Chapter 18.

The sun was sinking. I sat waiting by the side of the sacred lake of an Upper Egyptian temple--a lake that tonight would be swallowed up by the Nile, an unwilling offering to the angry G.o.d. Perhaps that would appease him.

My legs were tucked up under me as I hunched on the stone bench that overlooked the lake. Water was ankle-deep around the base of it. That meant that no officials, no priests, no servants or advisors were likely to stand there, looking over my shoulder. I was alone--blessedly, wonderfully alone. It felt like purest balm rubbed over my body, ma.s.saged into my skin. A lone. Alone. Alone. lone. Alone. Alone.

For the past few weeks I had been surrounded by people at all times. My visitations up and down the river meant that I was always a guest in someone's home, always being officially welcomed with some ceremony or other, always having to make speeches or read reports or confer gifts, and never betraying any weakness, boredom, or fatigue. In its own way, it was worse than war for wearing me down. The truth is, I found it a trial to be pleasant all the time. Perhaps I am not naturally a pleasant person!

No, I think it is more that I need a certain amount of privacy every day--a few minutes completely alone--in the same way I need food or sleep. Just as everyone's need for food and sleep varies, so, apparently, does everyone's need for privacy. I have noticed that some people seem never to have an instant to themselves, and their humor is none the worse for it. I envy those people. But I am not one of them.

Tonight I would swim in a sacred lake. It was something I had always wanted to do, but did not think would ever be possible, for doing so would profane the waters. But tonight the Nile was going to taint it, and before this lake could ever be used again for religious purposes, it would have to be reconsecrated.

The flat, rectangular surface of the lake gave back the fading colors of the sky. It lay tranquil in the twilight, waiting serenely, never suspecting that it was about to be violated. Its waters were supposed to be carried away only by priests in silver buckets, to be used for purifying the temple and the priests themselves, and only a miniature barque of the G.o.d was allowed to sail upon it in the mystery plays. Now I would enter it, swim in its forbidden waters.

Along with privacy, I had longed for a bathe during this whole journey. In the palace we had pools exclusively for swimming, but once I left Alexandria there was no such thing to be found. In each district I was usually a guest of the head official. His house was invariably a fine structure of whitewashed mud brick, with an enclosed walled garden and an ornamental fish pond, bordered with palms and acadias. It provided a cool, pleasant place to sit in the evenings, but the fish would have been startled indeed had a person suddenly joined them.

Children swim for fun, but adults generally do not--most likely because of few opportunities. In Rome I was told--and later saw for myself--that going to the baths was an important part of the day. But their type of bath was neither pure sport--as the Greeks would have--nor pure diversion, as children would have. The Romans managed to turn baths, like everything else, into a hotbed of political intrigue and gossip.

But enough about the Romans. Why am I letting them intrude on my memories of that dusk in Upper Egypt? I remember waiting, silently, for the evening star to come out. When I saw it, I rose from the bench and walked over to the edge of the lake. My bare feet made ripples as I waded through the encroaching flood. About ten feet remained before river and lake would meet.

I made my way over to the flight of steps descending into the water, where the priests in their vestments bend to fill their sacramental vessels. I stood and looked down, at the water so dark and unknown. I had no idea how deep the waters were. I a.s.sumed they would be well over my head, but I had long since lost my fear of water.

One foot in, then the next. The water was warm, as it soaked up the sun all day long. Now it was hard to tell just where the air ended and the water began, so nearly alike were they in temperature. The hem of my gown floated out around my legs, white and delicate, like the sacred water lily. I took another step down; now the water was at my knees. Ripples spread out over the wide surface of the lake, smoothly reaching for the far corners. They made no sound.

I moved farther down the steps, until the warm waters were lapping at my shoulders, soothing them like the gentle touch of Charmian. How monumentally calm it felt. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Tomorrow, tomorrow I would think about the flood and the people and taxation and relief for the oppressed. But now I need think of nothing, nothing, nothing. . . .

I pushed away from the steps and hung suspended in the water. It was deep; I pointed my toes and still could feel nothing beneath them, not even the hint of a bottom. Slowly I began to move my arms, to swim languidly and keep myself afloat. I had no desire to do anything other than float, drift, give myself up to the stillness.

The sky had darkened; one by one the stars were coming out. In a few moments I would not be able to see the edge of the lake, or be able to tell how near I was to the side. I could still see the faint trace of white where my wet gown waved around me, but soon even that would be gone. No one could reach me, no one could see me, and no one would even know I was there.

I should make for safety while I could still see my way, but still I lingered in the warm water, turning slowly, feeling weightless. Weightless, that was what I wanted to be. I was tired of the weight of the kingdom, tired of carrying what felt like the load of ten men. I had thought to help Caesar carry the burden of the world. It is too much for one man, It is too much for one man, I had said to myself. I had said to myself. Let me help you carry it. Let me help you carry it. What a fool I had been! I could barely carry Egypt, and I offer to help shoulder Caesar's world as well? What a fool I had been! I could barely carry Egypt, and I offer to help shoulder Caesar's world as well?

But you are only twenty-two, came the voice from inside my head. And Egypt is not just any country, but one of the largest in the world, and still the richest. And the G.o.ds have not been kind to Egypt since you came to the throne; they have sent famine and now a flood. And there is the aftermath of war. . . .

Silence, I told that voice. The strong look for more strength, the weak for excuses. The truth is that any country is more difficult to rule than it would first appear. Even a small village has its problems. Nothing is easy.

Inside the nearby temple, I saw a flicker of light. Torches were being lit, and reflections of fire danced on the water. The thick sandstone columns seemed to glow. I saw the outline of black figures moving between columns, and even from this distance could smell the sweet-burnt smell of camphor incense. The priests were preparing the statue of the G.o.d in his s.h.i.+ny black stone sanctuary for the night.

I could also hear a faint grunting and wheezing coming from some distance away. The sacred crocodiles! Their pond lay on the far side of the temple, with strong fences around it--if I remembered correctly. But when the Nile rose higher--might not the crocodiles swim free? It would seem a blessing for them, and they would doubtless praise the Nile for his kindness.

I swam silently toward the far corner of the lake, making for the other set of steps. I b.u.mped up against them and sat on one that allowed me to remain nearly all submerged. Now that I had found my way to safety, I had no desire to quit the waters entirely. I could stay there as long as I liked.

It was thoroughly dark by the time I finally climbed the stairs, water streaming from me as from a sea G.o.d's daughter. Now the air felt strange to be so light and cold; water had come to seem natural.

Yes, it was cold out here. I s.h.i.+vered as I remembered I had a long walk back to the town, and I had not even brought a mantle. During the day in Upper Egypt it is so hot you cannot believe you will not always be comfortable in the sheerest linen, and so it is easy to forget to bring a covering.

Yet I was glad to feel the cold, to learn what my subjects who cannot afford a mantle must feel. I have been told it is common to share a mantle, one staying at home in bed while the other goes out. What must that be like? And Egypt is the richest country in the world! They say the poor in Rome are indescribable in their misery.

But I'll not think of Rome now, I told myself sternly. No. Not now. It is far away, and it may come about that I shall never see it.

There now remained only a small strip of dry path between the river and the sacred lake; while I had swum, the river had silently risen. I splashed through it, kicking up waves and spray. I felt like a child again, playing in forbidden places, jumping in puddles, not thinking about Rome or diplomatic dispatches.

When I reached the village administrator's house, my idyll came to an end. They were all waiting for me: Senenmut, the secretary; Ipuy, the district official; and even Mereruka, the governor of the bureaucratic jurisdiction. The walled house, the grandest in the village, was nonetheless barely big enough for all of them to sit in the garden comfortably, where they were playing a board game called "snake" by the light of a smoky lamp. They all leapt up when I entered, and Mereruka sputtered, " "A covering! A covering for the Queen!" Then he clucked, "What has happened? Did you have an accident in the Nile?" Clearly he was terrified that I might perish within the boundaries of his jurisdiction, and punishment would follow swiftly.

I shook my hair, still wet. "No." Should I tell them? "I have been swimming. It was delightful--I found all my cares were borne away on the water."

"In the dark?" cried Senenmut. "With the crocodiles?"

"Not with the crocodiles," I a.s.sured him. "They are still behind their fences, although I heard them thras.h.i.+ng about."

"Where, then?" demanded Mereruka.

"In a secret place," I replied, in my most imperious tone. "Now, my good ministers, what have you been discussing here in the dark?" It was my turn to interrogate them.

"A little of this, a little of that," Ipuy replied.