Keeper of the Flame Read Online Free Page A

find no fortune here, Sicilian. And Caesar is in no need of purchases.”
    “A gift, I told you. I ask nothing.”
    There was a pause, and Apollodorus took advantage of the moment. “Though if Caesar should wish to show appreciation . . .”
    The soldiers laughed, and Cleopatra felt some of the tension in Apollodorus lessen.
    “Who sends this gift for Caesar?”
    “The queen.”
    She loved the way he said it with pride, even now with her in exile.
    More laughter. “Not much of a queen, we hear. Running from—”
    “She is Queen of Egypt. No squalling brother’s claims, nor the claims of his power-lusting advisors, will change that.”
    Careful, Apollodorus. You’re just a merchant from Sicily.
    He continued, as though to soften his words. “And the rightful queen of Egypt sends a gift to Caesar.”
    “Give it over, then. We’ll see that he gets it.”
    “I promised delivery. The queen wishes me to place the gift before Caesar myself.”
    Another pause.
    “Fine. Take it to him then.”
    “Can you direct me to his chamber?”
    “Oh, we’ll do more than that.”
    They started with a lurch, and Cleopatra closed her eyes, relief sweeping her. She trained her ears on the sounds of their feet, and could hear that one soldier led them and the other followed.
    It would not be long now.
    The corridors of the palace, though web-like, were her childhood home, and it took little concentration to follow their route through the audience hall, under the lofty square-cut doorway into the corridor that housed a dozen apartments for officials and royal family members. Though Greek, the Ptolemies had built their succession of palaces with Egyptian architecture incorporated, to please those they ruled with uneasy peace. This corridor especially had been her favorite, with its carved reliefs of the history of Egypt and of the sun god Ra, with his great golden orb, bestowing favor on Ptolemy XII as they sailed the sky together in Ra’s barque.
    Which chambers would Caesar have appropriated for his own? There would be many vacant since her hasty departure.Those who also felt the danger of a knife between the bed coverings had fled when she escaped.
    But they reached the end of the corridor and began ascending.
    Apollodorus grunted with the effort of heaving her up the stairs. Neither soldier offered to help, thank the gods.
    When they finally stopped, Cleopatra fought the anger that heated her blood. Her father’s chambers? These were the rooms the Roman had chosen?
    She forced the emotion down. Anger was not needed now. The moment called for something far more calculated.
    One of the soldiers rapped on the door, was summoned forth, and they were inside the rooms. She inhaled, trying to fill herself with the courage of the great Ptolemaic line of rulers, of whom she was next.
    A wry laugh rang out. “What is this? Deliveries in the night?”
    “He says he has a gift for you, General Caesar. From the queen. He insisted on delivering it himself.”
    The air stilled, and she was certain she could feel Caesar’s eyes on her.
    “Make your delivery then, man,” Caesar said. “It is late, and I am tired.”
    This is my moment. Everything changes now. A chill raised the hair on her arms.
    Apollodorus lowered her carefully from his shoulder and laid the roll of carpet on the floor. She took her last stale breath, even as she felt her servant slice at the cord that bound the carpet.
    And then he began to unroll her shroud.
    She rolled with it, feeling her hair wrap around her, feeling the carpet spin faster with her momentum. Coolness rushed in, then light—and she was free.
    She pulled herself to sitting, leaned her head back, and looked into the eyes of Gaius Julius Caesar, Master of the Mediterranean.
    The shock in his eyes was worth the effort. She let her mouth curve into a slow smile and swept her hair behind her shoulders.
    “What—what kind of goddess is this, delivered to my feet in the night?”
    She remained at his feet a