“It is not so much longer until I am free,” she said. “If you will stay with me then, I will show you the great Nile. I will have grapes and fruit lowered into your mouth by the most beautiful girls in Egypt. Musicians will play for us each evening as we slip through the waters. I will be yours for every night, for every hour. Will you stay for that?”

“I do not need the most beautiful girls in Egypt,” he replied. “And your music makes my ears ache. But if you are there and mine alone, I will leave Rome to fend for herself for a while. She has survived without me this long, after all.”

Even as he said it, he knew it was true, but still it astonished him. He had always dreamed of returning in triumph to the city of his birth, to all the honors and rewards he had won over the years. Yet with a word from her, none of it mattered. Perhaps, just for a little while, he could be free of the care and worry that seemed the core of his life. Perhaps he could throw it all off and feel the sun on his face with a beautiful, enrapturing girl who was queen of Egypt.

“I am too old for you,” he said softly, wanting her to deny it.

Cleopatra laughed and kissed him again. “You have shown me you are not!” she said, dropping her hand to his thigh and letting it rest there. He could feel the heat of her hand on his bare skin, and as always, it aroused him unmercifully.

“If we had a child,” she said, “he would inherit Egypt and Rome together. He would be another Alexander.”

Julius looked off into the distance, his mind bright with dreams. “I would give anything to see that. I have no other sons,” he said, smiling.

Her hand moved slightly on his thigh, making him catch his breath. “Then pray to your gods that the one I carry is a boy,” she said seriously. He reached for her, but she slipped from his grasp. “When the mourning is finished, I will show you the mysteries of Egypt, in me,” she called over her shoulder.

Julius watched her go in frustration, overwhelmed by her words. He could hardly take in what he had learned and he would have called after her, but she vanished back into the palace with light steps.

The noise of celebration in Alexandria was enough to leave the ears of the Romans ringing and numb. Cymbals and horns crashed and moaned on every street and the voices of the people were raised in a great shout of joy to send Ptolemy into the arms of the gods. Julius shuddered at the memory of the final rites he had witnessed.