The Memoirs of Cleopatra Read Free Page A

equally large, chamber, and steered the Roman commander in that direction.
    Beside me, my older sisters were smirking; they seemed to find my discomfiture amusing.
    “ ‘What an enchanting child,’ ” Berenice mimicked.
    “Look, there’s another one,” the elder Cleopatra said, indicating a boy who was watching us pass. “The banquet is turning into a children’s party!”
    I was surprised to see him, and I wondered why he was there. He looked completely out of place. Would Pompey stop and single him out, too? But luckily he seemed more interested in getting to the food in the next room. Everyone said Romans were most fond of eating.
    The boy, who was dressed as a Greek and holding the hand of a bearded, Greek-looking man, must be an Alexandrian. He was studying us the way I had studied the Romans. Perhaps we were a curiosity to him. Our family did not make many public appearances in the streets of Alexandria, for fear of riots.
    We walked slowly, and—I hoped—majestically past him, and entered the transformed room where we would dine. Some late afternoon rays of sun were stabbing almost horizontally across the chamber, just at the level of the tables, where a forest of gold goblets and dishes was waiting. It seemed like magic to me, lighted up like that, and it must have to the Romans, too, because they were all laughing with delight, and pointing.
    Pointing! How rude! But then…I had been warned to expect it.
    Pompey was not pointing, nor were his companions. He did not even look particularly interested; or if he was, he hid it well.
    We took our places; all the adults were to recline, while only the lesser folk would sit on stools—and there were very few lesser folk present. My nurse had told me that in Rome both women and children were relegated to the stools, but neither the Queen nor the older princesses would ever tolerate that here. I tried to figure out how many couches were needed for a thousand people to recline, and knew it was over three hundred—and yet they fitted into this enormous room, with ample room left over for the servers to pass between them easily with their trays and dishes.
    Father was motioning me to a stool, while Pompey and his companions spread themselves on the couches clustered for the highest of the high. Was I to be the only one on a stool? I might as well have worn a huge sign calling attention to myself. I watched while my sisters and stepmother settled themselves, daintily twitching their gowns and tucking one foot under the other. How I wished I were only a little older, and could be on a couch!
    I felt myself to be so conspicuous that I wondered how I would ever get through the meal. Just then Father ordered the bearded man with the boy to join us; I saw him sending for them. I knew he was doing it to alleviate my embarrassment; he was always very solicitous of others, seeming to sense their distress even if they did not voice it.
    “Ah! My dear Meleagros,” Father addressed the man. “Why not seat yourself where you can learn what you wish?”
    The man nodded, seemingly unperturbed at being assigned to our exalted midst. He must be a philosopher; they were supposed to take all things with equanimity. And of course the beard confirmed it. He propelled his son forward, pushing him before him, and a stool was quickly brought for him. Now there were two of us. I suppose Father thought that would make it easier. Actually, it just drew more attention.
    “Meleagros is one of our scholars,” explained Father. “He is at—”
    “Yes, the Museion,” said a square-faced Roman. “That’s where you keep the tame scholars and scientists, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he poked his companion in the ribs. “They live there, but then they have to work for the King. Whenever he wants to know something—oh, say, how deep the Nile is near Memphis—he can just summon someone to tell him, even in the middle of the night! Right?”
    Meleagros stiffened; he looked as