Simon Hawke - The Cleopatra Crisis

Apollodorus unrolled the carpet and stood back. A youngwoman had been rolled up inside it. She was lying on her stomach. She pushedherself up slightly from the floor and bent one lovely leg, tossed her head,getting the hair back out of her eyes, and looked up at Caesar with a smile.

“You did ask that I come to you discreetly,” she said.

Caesar stood back with surprise.

“I am Cleopatra.”

She stood and faced them. Travers stared at her, stunned.She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was jet-black, longand straight. Her striking features were sharp and graceful. There was a proudnobility to her bearing. Her eyes were a deep brown, with a smoldering.penetrating gaze; her complexion dark: her mouth full and sensuous. Her figurewas voluptuous, with large. Firm breasts that were clearly outlined in thesimple, thin, white linen shift she wore, her narrow waist and flaring hipsaccentuated by the gold girdle encircling it. Her legs were long and shapely,her small feet gracefully shod in thin. delicate sandals. She wore no jewelryexcept for an amulet around her neck. She was breathtakingly lovely.. Traversrecalled that at the time of meeting Caesar, this very meeting, she wastwenty-one years old.

“That which was concealed shall stand revealed.” Caesar murmured.Travers glanced at him sharply.

Cleopatra cocked her head, gazing at Caesar with puzzlement.

Caesar shook his head. “I was merely recalling somethingsomeone told me once,” he said. He glanced at the minister and servant. “Leaveus.”

They went out and shut the door behind them. Caesar gesturedtoward his chair. “Please. Be seated.” She chose the couch rather than thechair and reclined upon it gracefully.

Caesar watched her appreciatively. “Allow me to present myfriend, Praetor Lucius Septimus.”

She inclined her head slightly toward Travers. Travers stoodand gave her a slight bow. “I am honored, Queen Cleopatra.”

“I am not a queen now, Praetor Septimus, merely an exiledprincess. My brother is still king, she said.

‘“For the moment,” Caesar said. He smiled. “I must admitthat I had not expected your arrival in so bold a manner. It was very clever ofyou.”

“Our nights are cool,” she said. “A Roman could be expectedto feel the chill. No one would remark upon his asking for another coverlet.”

“Had I known they made such coverlets in Egypt. I would havesent for one much sooner,” Caesar replied with a smile. “I merely regret that Ihad to ask you to resort to stealth in order to arrive in your own palace.”

“I understood the need.” she said. “Pothinus would hardly welcomemy arrival. Since I was sent to live in exile. he has made a breach between myyounger brother and myself.”

“A breach can be repaired.” said Caesar. “It wants only acraftsman who knows what he’s about.”

Cleopatra smiled. “You do not have the look of a craftsman.”she said.

“Neither have I the look of a general,” Caesar replied, orat least so I am told. And yet I lead Rome’s finest legions. Legions that canassure your future as the queen of Egypt.”

“You plan to depose my brother?”

“Only if it should prove necessary.” Caesar replied. “I haveno wish to harm him. I would be satisfied to have him rule with you to guidehim.”

“I see,” she said. “Then it is Pothinus you wish to have removed.”

“Rome needs an ally, not a scheming, unctuous eunuch wholooks only after his own interests.”

“And you think that I will not look after my owninterests?” she asked coyly, arching a graceful eyebrow.

Caesar smiled. “It is in your interest to consider mine.”

“Not Rome’s’?”

“I am Rome.”

“So. And once I am queen, what would Rome have me do?”

“Merely be a friend to Rome,” said Caesar, gazing at her steadily.

She gave him a knowing smile. “Then I am at Rome’s pleasure.”

The outskirts of Rome, April 30, 44 B.C.

The transition coordinates Travers had selected clocked themin on a wooded hillside a few miles outside of Rome. It was dark when theyarrived, two-thirty in the morning by local temporal reckoning. though theRomans kept time in only an approximate manner. They based it on sunrise and sunset.They divided the day into twelve hours, with the first six hours being antemeridiem (before the middle of the day) and the second six post meridiem

(after the middle of the day), but they did not dividehours into minutes, and their water clocks and sundials were never accurate inany sense of the term, so no one in Rome was ever really certain of the time.

Travers was waiting for them at the transition point, alongwith four other men. Travers. who had spent most of his adult life in MinusTime, did not know anything about what had happened to Lucas, so he naturallyshowed no surprise on seeing him. All he really knew about them was that theywere an adjustment team from Temporal Intelligence. They. on the other hand,knew a great deal about Travers, having read his file, though the man who metthem hardly resembled the photo they had studied. Travers had aged since thatphoto had been taken. The hard life he had led had taken its toll. He was asmall man, well built, with dark hair that had started thinning. He was in hislate forties, deeply tanned and his face had lines in it that age alone was notresponsible for. He had a weather-beaten look about him. His forehead was high.his features looked Mediterranean (partly a result of cosmetic surgery), andhis eyes were dark and alert. He was wearing a simple tunic and sandals, with acloak thrown over his shoulders. A short distance behind him, they saw acovered carriage drawn by two horses. which would be their transportation toRome. There were three horses tied up by carnage and a small fire was burningin the clearing.

“You’ve studied the identities that I prepared for you?”asked Travers, after they had introduced themselves.

“My cover is Marcus Septimus.” said Lucas. “I’m your youngerbrother, from Cumae. Our parents are both dead and we have no other livingrelatives. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, so now that you’vereturned from the wars. I’ve come to visit with you in Rome and I’ve brought mywife. Antonia. with me.” He nodded at Andre, then indicated Delaney. whosebeard had been shaved and whose hair had been dyed black for this mission. “Andthis is our friend. Fabius Quintullus, also from Cumae. We all grew up togetherand we’re very close.”

Travels nodded. “Good.” He introduced the four men who werewith him. “These are your slaves, whom you have brought with you from ourfamily estate. This is Capt. Castelli. C.T.O. in this sector.” Castelli. theChief Temporal Observer, stepped forward and greeted them. He was slim and veryfit, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He looked to be in his mid-twenties,though he was actually far older. “My cover name is Demetrius,” he said. “I wasa Greek soldier, from Sparta. captured in the war.”

“And this is Lt. Corwin.” Travers said, indicating one ofthe other men. “His name here is Corac.”

“I’m a Gaul.” said Corwin. Ile was short and stocky. withfair skin and light brown hair. “One of the many prisoners captured in theGallic War and sent back to Rome to be sold on the block. You bought me from aslave merchant in Ostia.”

“Sgt. Andell.” said Travers, introducing the next man.

“Antoninus,” said Andell. giving his cover name, “also aGreek. from Athens. I’ve been your tutor since you were children.”

He was of average height and dark complected. with thick, curlyblack hair and a wiry, compact build. He looked older than the others, perhapsin his late forties, which meant that he was easily three times that age. aveteran soldier of the Temporal Corps. The fact that he was still only a sergeantsuggested that he must have been reduced in grade a number of times during hislong career. Delaney, whose own record for reductions in grade was unsurpassed.glanced at Andell with interest, he was either a maverick, a chronic screw up(which seemed unlikely, given his posting and the fact that he was stillalive), or somewhere along the line, he had pissed off the wrong person andmessed up his chances for promotion.