Cleopatra Confesses by Carolyn Meyer Page B

did he tell them they should rule in his absence? Or did he choose one or the other to rule? Or put Antiochus in charge? If only Father had told me what to do in the meantime and what provisions he made for his wishes to be carried out! And the one question I must banish from my thoughts: What if Father never returns?
    As it is, I have absolutely no one to trust, no one I can go to for advice—not Antiochus, or any of the other ministers. The last people in the world I can talk to now are my two older sisters. I hate them, and they hate me. Perhaps they hate each other. If they do, they will destroy each other.
    In the meantime, the less I see of Tryphaena and Berenike, the better. The more I can avoid those two and stay out of their sight, the safer I will be.
    Irisi and Monifa insist that we must stay quietly in my palace until the situation becomes clearer. “We do not know who areour friends,” Monifa frets, “and who have become our enemies.” My two servants mistrust the dishes prepared in the palace kitchens, and they decide to take turns going out to the marketplace to purchase food and prepare it themselves.
    Irisi returns with a loaf of coarse bread, a bunch of onions, and a pot of cooked lentils. “There is great unrest everywhere,” she reports, laying out our simple meal. “And I can tell you that leaving the palace is much easier than getting back in. The guards have been replaced, and these new men do not recognize me.”
    “But who ordered the guards replaced?” I ask. Irisi does not know.
    I would like to take a turn in the market as well. I might learn the answers to my questions. But Monifa insists I must not go out, arguing that it is too dangerous. For once I pay attention to her warnings. I, too, am apprehensive, but I believe the dangers are greater inside the palace than anywhere else.
    I feel like a prisoner. The walls seem to close in around me. When I can bear it no longer, I decide to obey Father—and disobey Monifa—to visit the tomb of Alexander the Great. It may be the one place in my city where I can find strength in these difficult days.
    As Monifa said, leaving the palace is simple. The streets are crowded, as always, and I can feel the tension in the air; ordinary conversations sound more like arguments. I avoid the marketplace and follow side streets until at last I am walking among the graceful columns of Alexander’s tomb. Guards stand motionless, following me with their eyes. In the peaceful silence of the tomb, I kneel beside the sarcophagus. Alexander’s coffin was originally wrought entirely of gold, but Ionce heard that my grandfather ordered it melted down to pay his soldiers. Have my people always had to deal with dire financial problems?
    The translucent alabaster coffin that replaced the original is splendid in its own way. The mummy, covered with a thin sheath of beaten gold, lies bathed in pearly light. I have heard it said that Alexander was as beautiful in death as he was in life. I wish I had known him, asked him questions, listened to his answers. How would this brilliant leader advise me now?
    Every ruler of Egypt has had to meet challenges, going back thousands of years to the pharaohs who ruled Egypt long before the arrival of Alexander—my favorite, Hatshepsut, among them. I understand that I am one more in the long line that came after him. I must believe that one day I, too, shall rule, just as Father promised. Someday, I would make Egypt a great country, her people prosperous and proud.
    Feeling strengthened, I rise and hurry back to my palace. Then I must argue my way past the guard, who does not believe I am who I say I am until Monifa comes out to rescue me. And now she is angry with me too, even when I tell her that I was obeying Father’s order.
    Four more days have passed since King Ptolemy went into exile, and I receive a surprise visit from Antiochus. I had thought he left with Father. “Princess Cleopatra,” he says, bowing—but not quite