Page 13 of Cleopatra

“Do you know what my father valued more than friendship? Money.”

Pothinus’s lips pressed into a line.

“Bring him to me,” I said.

The regent was still unused to the strength of my obstinacy, and so he opened his mouth to disagree, but I cut him off. “Go.”

Pothinus rose from his stool slowly, making his displeasure known. I could have dismissed him for such insolence, but the truth was, I was too scared to. Though I had been trained to take over the ruling of Egypt, Pothinus had been closer to the day-to-day activities that kept the country prosperous.

I watched as he made his way across the room and approached the Governor of Thebes. The man was of my father’s age, though he wore his years more proudly in the lines of his face and the greying of his hair.

He rose from the dining table and followed Pothinus to the dais. He bowed low by my feet.

“Pharaoh. My thanks for this wonderful celebration. May your father find peace in the realm of the dead.”

I inclined my head, acknowledging his blessings.

“A feast full of splendour and elegance, just like our gracious queen,” he continued. A speck of oily food clung to the corner of his lip and I found myself dabbing an imaginary fragment from my own mouth.

“My father deserved no less.”

“Of course. He was truly chosen by the gods to have such a generous daughter.”

“Generosity comes at a price, would you not say?”

His eyes crinkled. “Yes, that is true.”

“I have noticed that during the last few years of my father’s reign, your tithe to the crown has lessened considerably.”

“My queen?”

“Your taxes, Governor. They are short.”

“But Pharaoh, your father and I had an agreement. Half of my taxes would be paid in wine.”

“Wine?” I said doubtfully, though the deal sounded very much like something Father would do.

“The finest of my batches have always been sent to the palace; I believe we are sampling some of them tonight.”

I looked to Pothinus, who nodded. And though his expression did not change, I felt the smugness ripple around him like a mirage.

He knew. Not once in all our conversations of Thebes did the eunuch mention my father’s dealings with the governor.

Was this my first hint of his betrayal? Or do I grant my past self too much clemency? No, I have promised you truth, so let me bare it—I was ignorant of Pothinus’s motives.

“And the shortfall from the taxes you take from your people, where does that go?” I asked the governor.

He looked abashed. “The vineyards require maintenance, Pharaoh.”

His coffers, then.

“I had believed your father’s word would hold true in the afterlife. If this is not so, then I will be happy to—”

“No,” I said, my breath fluttering in my chest. I would not go back on my father’s word. I couldn’t; it was sacrilege. “Let my father’s arrangement stand.”

I waved a shaking hand at Pothinus and he led the governor away.

When I brought my cup to my lips, I found the wine tasted more sour than it had before.