Abyss

Chapter 5: Death

Note to Judges: I have purchased a lemon from the Port Market to cure my scurvy.

***

I awoke to the sound of lyres. I felt warmth beneath my head, and I pried open my leaden eyes.

"Oh? You are awake?"

". . . Priestess? Where am I . . .?

Her eyes creased into a smile. "The Pharaoh was delighted with the news that Set's scepter had been recovered at last. News of the Kingdom's victories in the Aegean Sea have spread rapidly, and the Pharaoh attributes these to your exploits." The woman coiled her hand around me. "She has invited us to a mighty banquet to call for the favor of the Ennead upon the motherland."

Egyptian victories in Greece. A war with Rome. I ponder to myself, something seems off but I can't quite place what it is.

The door of our chamber creaks open, and a faint, uninflected voice bore within. "Pardon me, kūríā, kū́rios. The Basílissa wishes for your presence in the dining hall."

We step out of the room and follow the Pharaoh's servant. Rather than basking in the vanities that surround me, my mind instead treads inwards. I think of Esme and the Atlantean girl. All those poor, innocent souls, their blood was now on my hands. Fate is ironic, I thought, that it would let me live while those sorrowful souls were forgotten forever.

A thought creeps into my mind. If I'm in Egypt during the reign of Cleopatra, this must be around the end of the 1st Century BC. In that case . . . I have traveled backward in time. If I'm right, I might just be able to save them. But how did I get here . . .?

THUMP.

I bumped into a pillar. Fuck!

A melodious giggle. I turn to my right, and my senses are assaulted with a beauty so sublime not even Shakespeare could capture. My eyes go wide as I notice the gleaming gold diadem, the stark black kohl, and the bejeweled usekh adorning the neck of this daughter of Aphrodite, and I knew instantly who it was. With haste, I bowed.

The woman smiled. "You are early. Come." I ambled ahead.

"My beloved servant of Hathor tells me you retrieved the was-scepter of Set. Is it true?" She sits down on a tall chair adjacent to a large circular table overflowing with mouth-watering foods. She gestured for me to sit.

"It is true."

A faint smile. She planted her elbows on the table and held her face in her palms. The omnipresent sunshine brushed her cheeks, and at that moment she seemed as if she would shatter at a single touch. There was a subtle sadness in her eyes, nearly unnoticeable. It was then that a stream of remembrance spread through my mind. Egypt's victory in Greece. War with Rome. The tragedy of Actium. In a year hence, she would no longer be alive.

"Are you always in your own mind?" She pursed her lips into a smile. "It is a rare skill to have in these times."

"In these times?"

"You must certainly be aware of the Ancient Athenians. Caesar was a splendid thinker as well. And so was Antonius." She furrowed her brow.

The doors of the banquet hall creak open. Dozens of men, women, and children stream in from all sides, and the fragile beauty disappears to greet her guests.

Once everyone settles down into their seats, she walks up to a podium and with a deep breath, begins to orate with confidence.

"Kalispéra, kyríes ke kýriοi! The war with the dishonorable gràson of Roma rages on in our favor! We are so near victory, the light of the Olympians and the Ennead shine upon us!"

An old man from the crowd stands. "Be truthful, Basílissa tôn Basiléās. There are rumors that the loss in Actium was so terribly humiliating that you and your consort retreated with your tails between your legs." He looked around to gauge the audience's sentiment; murmured whispers filled the room.

The Queen's brow twitched with rage but she composed herself.

"Patience, Artavasdes, you shall soon bear witness. For we have been blessed by the Ennead. The lost scepter of Set has been returned, and his fury will now abate."

Cheers roared through the room, but the aged men scoffed. Cleopatra looked toward me and gave a brusque smile. "Let us feast, kyríes ke kýriοi!"

Weeks passed, then months. We began to spend more time with one another, speaking on history and philosophy. One day, as we walked through the gardens of her palace, she asked me an odd question. "When it comes my turn for death, do you suppose it would be peaceful?"

I pondered for a while, and then replied, "Yes, but death, whenever it arrives, would never not steal you far too soon."

This answer enamored her, and she responded instantly. "The priestess told me you are the human embodiment of Khonshu, but I did not believe so at first. Now, the more we speak, the more certain I am that the rivers of time course through your blood. Tell me, will you not? How is it that I pass?"

I stopped in my gait. Thinking back, I regret telling her of it. But then, I had felt so alone in my travels across time, and being able to indulge in conversation about an age I was certain I would never return to, I surrendered and spilled the secrets of the future I had hitherto kept to myself.

Surprisingly, she appeared invigorated at the knowledge of her death, and the knowledge of all that would transpire leading up to it. In a few days, she ordered her son to be sent to an obscure port in India. She met with Marcus Antonius in secret; what they discussed I do not know. But when the Tenth of August came, and the forces of Octavian stormed the beaches of Alexandria, it was not Rome that flew the banners of victory.

Now I stand, here in a ship headed to Rome, looking back at the prosperous Gift of the Nile. At an Aegypt without its Queen.