will also make it easy for anyone to steal in, make his way to the great palace gates, and throw them open to the angry crowd. I shake the guard awake with a warning. “Hold your post!” I order him, and he snaps to attention. Berenike would not hesitate to have him put to death for sleeping on duty.
We circle to the rear of the main palace and cautiously enter through the servants’ quarters. The corridors are empty, but I am not sure if this is a good thing or not. Where is everyone? I steer Arsinoë across a deserted courtyard to her quarters. Her nurse, Panya, rushes out to meet her, carrying Ako. There is much weeping as they are reunited. I wish them good night and turn to leave.
“Where are you going, Cleopatra?” Arsinoë asks, clinging to her monkey.
“To bed,” I tell her. That is a lie. I am going to the king’s palace to find Father. This time, I will not wait for Father to summon me. I must know if he is safe and what he intends to do now.
For perhaps the last time, I forget to worry about my own safety.
Chapter 23
P ROMISE
An angry mob surrounds the king’s palace. I skirt the hundreds of fist-waving, shouting people who are demanding that King Ptolemy come out and face them. I seize a chance to slip by the distracted guards and race through darkened corridors to the king’s private apartment. Once inside, I find Father huddled with Antiochus and his other advisors, debating what to do. Everyone has a different idea. The men are so deeply involved in their discussion that they do not even notice when I glide in behind a servant. I recognize the girl: She is one of Berenike’s servants. I murmur close to her ear, “I will serve them. You may go.” I dismiss her, but she hesitates.
“It is all right,” I assure her, taking the jar from her hands. “Princess Berenike has asked me to take your place.”
That is another lie. Berenike will be furious when she finds out.
I have never served before, but I have watched often enough to know how it is done. Then Antiochus happens to glance my way. At first it seems he cannot believe it is me he sees.
“My lord,” he says to my father, interrupting him, “your daughter has joined us.”
“My daughter?” The king’s head jerks up. All the men turn to stare at me. “Cleopatra! What are you doing here?”
“I have come to serve you, my lord,” I reply, and begin to fill the men’s goblets.
“You have no business here, daughter,” he says. He sounds weary, drained of energy.
“My business is to be sure that you are served by a friend, not by a spy.”
“Princess Berenike sent the girl to serve us. All the others have retired for the night.”
I say nothing. Let him figure it out for himself.
I carry around a platter of fruit, but I am careful with the wine, adding only a few drops to Father’s goblet. He needs to keep his wits about him.
Annoyed, he holds up his goblet. “If you are indeed here to serve us, Cleopatra, then be kind enough to fill my goblet. To the brim.”
I bow low. “I beg your forgiveness, my lord, but the wine jar appears to be empty.”
My third lie. I think he knows it, and I am a little afraid he will be angry and send me away to bring another jar. Father reluctantly sets down his empty goblet, and the men resume their discussion.
Suddenly, he rises. “I have made my decision. For the sake of Egypt I shall go into exile. I shall leave as soon as myships are made ready and provisioned.” The men begin to talk loudly, all at once. Father pounds his fist on the table, and his empty goblet clatters. “I, Ptolemy XII, king of Egypt, have spoken! Antiochus, summon the commander of my ocean fleet.”
His decision stuns me. If his advisors are surprised, they hide it well. Maybe it is what they have urged him to do. The men stand, bow low with hands outstretched to their pharaoh, and leave the hall in silence. I remain still as a statue, unable to move, though my mind is reeling. My father turns to me. His
We circle to the rear of the main palace and cautiously enter through the servants’ quarters. The corridors are empty, but I am not sure if this is a good thing or not. Where is everyone? I steer Arsinoë across a deserted courtyard to her quarters. Her nurse, Panya, rushes out to meet her, carrying Ako. There is much weeping as they are reunited. I wish them good night and turn to leave.
“Where are you going, Cleopatra?” Arsinoë asks, clinging to her monkey.
“To bed,” I tell her. That is a lie. I am going to the king’s palace to find Father. This time, I will not wait for Father to summon me. I must know if he is safe and what he intends to do now.
For perhaps the last time, I forget to worry about my own safety.
Chapter 23
P ROMISE
An angry mob surrounds the king’s palace. I skirt the hundreds of fist-waving, shouting people who are demanding that King Ptolemy come out and face them. I seize a chance to slip by the distracted guards and race through darkened corridors to the king’s private apartment. Once inside, I find Father huddled with Antiochus and his other advisors, debating what to do. Everyone has a different idea. The men are so deeply involved in their discussion that they do not even notice when I glide in behind a servant. I recognize the girl: She is one of Berenike’s servants. I murmur close to her ear, “I will serve them. You may go.” I dismiss her, but she hesitates.
“It is all right,” I assure her, taking the jar from her hands. “Princess Berenike has asked me to take your place.”
That is another lie. Berenike will be furious when she finds out.
I have never served before, but I have watched often enough to know how it is done. Then Antiochus happens to glance my way. At first it seems he cannot believe it is me he sees.
“My lord,” he says to my father, interrupting him, “your daughter has joined us.”
“My daughter?” The king’s head jerks up. All the men turn to stare at me. “Cleopatra! What are you doing here?”
“I have come to serve you, my lord,” I reply, and begin to fill the men’s goblets.
“You have no business here, daughter,” he says. He sounds weary, drained of energy.
“My business is to be sure that you are served by a friend, not by a spy.”
“Princess Berenike sent the girl to serve us. All the others have retired for the night.”
I say nothing. Let him figure it out for himself.
I carry around a platter of fruit, but I am careful with the wine, adding only a few drops to Father’s goblet. He needs to keep his wits about him.
Annoyed, he holds up his goblet. “If you are indeed here to serve us, Cleopatra, then be kind enough to fill my goblet. To the brim.”
I bow low. “I beg your forgiveness, my lord, but the wine jar appears to be empty.”
My third lie. I think he knows it, and I am a little afraid he will be angry and send me away to bring another jar. Father reluctantly sets down his empty goblet, and the men resume their discussion.
Suddenly, he rises. “I have made my decision. For the sake of Egypt I shall go into exile. I shall leave as soon as myships are made ready and provisioned.” The men begin to talk loudly, all at once. Father pounds his fist on the table, and his empty goblet clatters. “I, Ptolemy XII, king of Egypt, have spoken! Antiochus, summon the commander of my ocean fleet.”
His decision stuns me. If his advisors are surprised, they hide it well. Maybe it is what they have urged him to do. The men stand, bow low with hands outstretched to their pharaoh, and leave the hall in silence. I remain still as a statue, unable to move, though my mind is reeling. My father turns to me. His
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