Carmen Boullosa - Cleopatra Dismounts

Perched awkwardly there on one of the sacks of soil, I could hear, as we exited the city, the buzz of voices and noises that accompanied the smells of Rome. My excitement had left me deaf to the noise until now. My eyes had been overwhelmed by the confusion of sights and occupied all my attention. But now the light of the sun was extinguished and only the torches of our guides illuminated our route, and finally I could hear again. Our cart traveled slowly, hardly faster than a couple of women who walked along, complaining loudly about the rise in the price of barley. Along with them came the voices of workmen chatting about their day’s problems:

“And now if he tells me it’s no good, I’m gonna feel like yelling, and why not, eh?”

“All he said to me was they’re gonna give you a set of rules and you gotta follow ’em. So I did it, as far as I understood ’em, but it’s not what I’m used to, you gotta do two jobs in one day, and then figure out when to fit in this one and that one. .”

To these voices were added those of our servants that started up again after they had fallen into silent astonishment at seeing their princess sprawled on sacks, right there in their midst. By now they had decided not to see me, and, under the pretense of chatting among themselves, were using the opportunity to pass me messages they had been wanting me to hear for some time. Things like, “That rascal Lampon, you know we paid him eight drachmas to get rid of the rats down in Toka, because there’s nothing worse than rats in the vineyards, when the grapes are ripening. But instead of catching them, he just lounged around, stuffing his face with fruit and scratching his belly.”

And, “Archibius, the banker, he refused to lend my parents money. Know why? Not that they were asking for too much — but for too little! Just fifty-two drachmas. He said it wasn’t worth his while wasting his ink for a piddling amount like that! But we know he lends even less to some folk!”

And, “Do you know that Lucius Bellenus Gemellus asked his son Sabinus to please send Pindarus over to Dionysias, because Hermonax had asked him to take him to Keresoucha to check out his olive grove, because. .”

The voices around me, the hoofs of the oxen, the clattering of horses, the smell of the earth, the curses of my faithful Charmian, the unconcealed excitement of Apollodorus dressed as an Egyptian woman — he was singing falsetto, in keeping with his long-haired wig — all these things combined to make this trip one of the most enjoyable of my life.

Although our pace matched only a slow walk, I felt myself soaring. I shut my eyes as I heard the lapping waters of the lake. I picked up a sharp-pointed stone that protruded from one of the sacks and, on the planks of the cart’s siding, against which I was resting my back, I scratched “Queen of Kings,” working in the dark, using my fingers to measure the spaces between the letters. I could see nothing. My fingers did all the work. As I scratched away, I fell asleep. I have no idea if my fingers kept on working as I slept, but the following morning, as I awoke, my eyes confirmed what I had written in the dark, as if in a dream: “Queen of Kings.”

That first night, accompanied by the voices of my fellow-travelers and the sailors, we passed down the road built between the Alban and Nemi lakes. As the night got darker, the voices got fewer, even the boisterous banter of the sailors dwindled away, but the lapping of the waves and the sputtering of our guide’s torch attended us all the way.

Our first stop, at dawn, was at Aricia. Afraid we might be being followed, we were quick to resume our journey, replacing the bulls with four stout horses, since we aimed to reach the Appian Forum by nightfall and immediately cross the Pontine canal by barge. Once we were on our way, Apollodorus changed back into men’s clothes, and this time the gladiator was dressed as a sailor. By the fourth hour, we had arrived at the sanctuary and the spring of Juno. At Anxur, where the road passes along the coast, we quickly bought a fine tunic for Apollodorus, and around Terracina we arranged a change of horses. There, the view was impressive. We traveled along the edge of a cliff, with the sea far below. Charmian ordered a halt. We got down from the creaking, rickety cart to stretch our legs and breathe the dry air. Charmian pointed to the Mediterranean, saying, “All this is yours, Cleopatra, as far as your eyes can see, and beyond that, all these great lands that border these wide waters.” With tears in her kindly eyes, she hugged me warmly.

Apollodorus and I laughed. “What’s come over you, Charmian? All this bouncing around in the cart and traveling over bad roads has affected your noodle!”

Yet even though we teased her, we turned back to the humble cart and, taking out the sacks in search of sharp stones, we were fired by the desire to leave the planks covered with the inscription “Queen of Kings” in letters large and small, broad and narrow, according to what stones we used, till every surface was covered. Apollodorus, determined to please me to the fullest, left no corner untouched.

The days flew by, as crammed with jokes and games as we had left the planks of the cart.

Rumor told us it would be unwise to linger in Fundos, because the one-eyed aedile, Aufidius Lusco, a humorless lout, would have half-killed us with his unwanted attentions. He would have burnt incense in our honor, while all we wanted was to escape. So we crossed Fundos without halting, and as we left, we changed horses and spent the night in clean beds.

At the close of the following day’s journey, we reached luxurious Formion. Its wide streets were jammed with pedestrians. The sight of our broken-down cart, an eyesore among so much elegance, brought us scornful attention. I sank down out of sight, ashamed of my appearance, my clothes, and the vehicle, all so inappropriate for a future queen.

Apollodorus, crouched beside me, said, “Don’t worry, Cleopatra. Even if some friend of your father is here, he won’t notice us. We’re invisible.”

Invisible! The notion aroused me! I stopped hiding and raised my head to survey the city, convinced that nobody would recognize me. Charmian had got down from the cart to arrange our lodgings. There was a great demand for accommodation, from palaces down to establishments with dancing girls and young male whores. Charmian send somebody to find us. She had arranged for us to dine and sleep like royalty that night, but she forbade me and Apollodorus to visit any of the entetainment sites. But we managed to elude her, when she fell asleep early, worn out by the journey.

As we turned the first corner, we came across a place with music floating out of its doors. We craned our necks to see the walls of its tiny rooms covered by frescos from floor to ceiling, depicting the pleasures of the flesh. The crude appearance of these clumsily painted figures involved in graceless varieties of sexual activity took away our appetite to go any farther. We returned to our rooms unenlightened as to what other forms of entertainment Formion might offer by night.

As soon as dawn broke, we made our way to Sinuesa and, once again, to poverty-stricken existence. At Sinuesa, the Appian Way left the coast and headed inland. Now my excitement died away and was superseded by boredom. I felt thoroughly fed up. At our first halt, Charmian hired me a good horse. I invited Apollodorus to climb up behind me and we set off at a gallop, leaving the cart behind.

“Now we can get serious about being invisible, Cleopatra.”

“Invisible? On horseback?”

“Totally invisible, here, there, and everywhere. Wherever you like. But to do it, you have to count one hundred white goats and a hundred dappled cows. Once you’ve counted them, you’ll be invisible.”