With astonishment, I saw that Caesar, too, had tears in his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was husky. "If that's true, Your Majesty, then go quickly, that you may return all the more quickly to my side!"

Without another word, his eyes locked with Caesar's until the last possible moment, Ptolemy stepped back, turned away, and withdrew from the room, his linen robes of state rustling in the faint breeze stirred by his passing.

Caesar stood motionless, gazing after him.

"Will you tell her now?" I said.

Caesar gave me such a blank look that I repeated the question. "Will you tell her now? The queen? Or should I say simply, 'Cleopatra,' if she no longer possesses that title?"

"I'm sure she'll retain some sort of title," Caesar said absently, as if my question had distracted him from more-important thoughts. " 'Princess,' I suppose, as she was called when her father was alive; she's still the Piper's daughter, and the sister of the king."

"Though no longer his wife?"

"I'm sure there's a royal law to deal with the dissolution of their marriage," said Caesar. "If not, we'll invent one."

"And will she still be an incarnation of the goddess Isis, even without her crown? To lose one's throne must be terrible; to lose one's divinity-"

"If you're making a jest at the expense of the local religion, Gordianus, it's not amusing."

"Will you tell her now?" I said again.

He drew a deep breath. "There are some tasks that make a coward even of Caesar! But if I put off telling her, she'll find out some other way, and that could lead to trouble. Best to be brave and face the situation head-on. It may be that the queen-the princess, I mean-has left already for Antirrhodus, but perhaps we can catch her before her boat departs."

" 'We,' Consul?"

"Of course I include you, Gordianus. When you witness the beginning of a thing, do you not wish to see it to the end?"

"Perhaps. But does the consul wish me to see it?"

"I've always found it useful to have another pair of eyes and ears to witness important events. My memory is not what it used to be; a second account comes in very handy when I sit down to write my memoirs. Meto has long served that purpose for me."

"I'll make a poor substitute for my son. Perhaps you should summon him to resume his rightful role."

"An excellent suggestion. The cell where he's been confined is close to the pier. I'll send men ahead to release him, so that he can meet us. Having played antagonist to the queen-the princess-Meto deserves to be on hand when I announce my decision to her. Come, Gordianus!" I walked alongside Caesar as he traversed the palace complex accompanied by his retinue, stopping every so often to issue orders to subordinates along the way. We came to the gardens along the waterfront. Beyond the palm trees and flowering jasmine, out on the stone pier, Cleopatra stood in the company of a few servants, as well as the Roman messenger who had been sent to detain her from boarding the boat that would return her to Antirrhodus.

Closer at hand, I heard a familiar voice. "Caesar!"

The consul, seeing Meto beside the path, stopped and opened his arms wide. "Meto! You look well, thank Venus!"

Meto hung back, but the smile on Caesar's face overcame his hesitation. They embraced.

"The messenger said-"

Caesar nodded. "You've been cleared of all suspicion, thanks to the insights of your father."

"Papa!" Meto hugged me. It was to Caesar he had first spoken, and to Caesar he gave his first embrace; but I tried to think only of the joy I felt at seeing him unharmed and free and out of danger.

"This must mean you found an answer to the question of what happened on Antirrhodus," said Meto, looking quizzically at me and then at Caesar.

"Indeed, your father did exactly that," said Caesar. "But the explanation will have to wait. Cleopatra stands on the pier, and there is something I must tell her."

Caesar led the way, taking long, quick strides.

"Papa, what's happening?" whispered Meto.

I was about to speak, but Caesar looked over his shoulder and silenced me with a glance.

The afternoon sunlight, reflected off the stones of the pier and the water of the harbor, was dazzling. Gulls swooped and cried overhead. Waves lapped against the steps leading down to the royal skiff. Cleopatra, seeing Caesar, smiled at his approach, but as we drew closer, I saw a twist of anxiety at the corner of her mouth. When she saw Meto, the smile remained but grew stiff. She raised her hands to take Caesar's, but he stopped short of stepping close enough, and she was left with an awkward, unfinished gesture of welcome. She drew back her hands and frowned.

"Caesar, what's happening?"

He looked at her gravely. "There's been… a development."

"Good or bad? Bad, to judge from the look on your face."

Caesar averted his eyes.

"Caesar? What's happening? Tell me now!" In her suddenly strident tone, I heard the voice of her younger brother.

When he still did not answer, she shifted to a more formal tone. "Consul," she said, and I knew she suspected the truth, for she was testing to see whether Caesar, in response, would formally address her as the queen.

He drew a deep breath and was about to speak when a cry came from one of the Roman watchmen who patrolled the rooftops of the palace behind us. "Warships! Warships! Egyptian warships entering from the Eunostos Harbor!"

All eyes turned toward the Heptastadion. Near the center of the causeway, a tunnel allowed ships to sail from one harbor to the other. With their oars working at a furious pace, one Egyptian warship after another was entering the great harbor. Their decks were crowded with soldiers and catapults and bristled with spears.

Another watchman cried out from the rooftops: "Smoke! Flames! Fire at the barricades next to the royal theater!"

As one, those of us on the pier swung around to witness the cloud of black smoke that rose from the area where Caesar's defenses were most strongly concentrated. At the same time, a heavy, percussive vibration traveled through the air, rattling my teeth-the boom… boom… boom of a distant battering ram. Achillas's forces had launched a coordinated attack by land and by sea on Caesar's position.

I looked at Caesar and saw a series of emotions sweep across his face-consternation, outrage, and bitter disappointment. He saw that I stared at him, and he seized my arm in a painful grip. He drew me aside and hissed in my ear. "Gordianus! You were there. You saw. You heard. Did the king not pledge to call off Achillas and his troops?"

"He did."

"Then what can be happening?"

From the direction of the approaching warships, I heard a loud crack, followed by a recoil. One of the Egyptian warships, slipping past Caesar's galleys, had advanced to a point within firing distance of the pier. Had some eagle-eyed scout spotted Caesar and Cleopatra, or had those in charge of the catapult simply let off a shot at the first available target? Whatever the case, the flaming ball of pitch hurtled towards us. One of Cleopatra's serving girls let out a shriek, and some of those around me scrambled back. But the missile fell short; with a splash and a hiss, it landed in the water some distance from the pier, but close enough to send a spray of hot vapor across my face.

My arm was still captured in Caesar's painful grip. "It's because of her!" he whispered. "It's because I wouldn't let him have her. He hates his sister more than he loves me! He must have issued an order to attack, the moment he reached Achillas. He knows where I've deployed my men and fortified my defenses; he's told Achillas exactly where to mount the assault. The wretched little viper!"

Cleopatra stood a short distance away. Her eyes were not on the approaching warship, but on us. In all the commotion, she had not moved at all. Her expression, if anything, was more composed than before. There was even, unless I imagined it, a slight intimation of a smile on her face. Had she grasped, in an instant, exactly what had transpired? I think so; for the smile on her face was a smile of a queen who has snatched triumph from the jaws of defeat.