9780141999197

CLEOPATRA

Read more in the ADVENTURES IN TIME series: stories so exciting you won’t believe they’re true

DOMINIC SANDBROOK

‘One of the most exciting new voices in children’s non-fiction’ DAILY TELEGRAPH

I S B N 978-0-141-99919-7

I SIBS NB NI978-0-141-99919-7 S978-0-141-99919-7 B N 978-0-141-99919-7 Illustrations by Ed Bettison Cover design: Matthew Young 9

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780141 999197

780141 999197

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Cleopatra

•Estimated •Confirmed IN THE GAME OF POWER

SHE PL AYED TO WIN

90000 U.K. £8.99

FORMAT

B-Format (129 x 198mm) PRINT

••Pantone ••CMYK • 1505 C FINISHES

Queen of the Nile

BY

90000

9 9 00000 00 0

Date: 31 July 2023 Designer: Matt Prod. Controller: Katy Pub. Date: 06 April 2023 ISBN: 9780141994284 SPINE WIDTH: 19 MM

QUEEN OF THE NILE

Aged eighteen, she is made Queen of the greatest kingdom of all time.

But ancient Egypt is a dangerous place. On all sides lurk enemies who want to destroy her – even her own brother and sister. And when Roman war ships threaten her city, her destiny suddenly hangs by a thread. Cleopatra was born a survivor. Now she must use all her wits to stay alive.

ADVENTURES IN TIME

CLEOPATRA HAS ALWAYS KNOWN SHE IS DESTINED FOR GLORY.

ADVENTURES IN TIME

ADVENTURES IN TIME CLEOPATRA: QUEEN OF THE NILE

DOMINIC SANDBROOK

31/07/2023 12:41

Regular coated stock Matte varnish to seal PROOFING METHOD

proofs •Wet only •Digital No further proof required •

‘A must-read for fans of Ancient Egypt and the Romans . . . this book is a well-deserved fist-bump to this heroic female’ Imagining History ‘The latest book in Dominic Sandbrook’s fast-paced, gripping and well researched Adventures in Time series tells the tumultuous story of the legendary Egyptian queen’ Daily Express ‘A spectacular new series retelling thrilling tales from past eras . . . Sandbrook demonstrates that the facts don’t stand in the way of a good story: they enhance it’ Financial Times, Books of the Year ‘All are brimming with facts and rich in detail, but it is the brio of the accounts that will sweep children along on the adventure and introduce them to the way in which history shapes our modern world’ Daily Mail ‘Few plots can rival the real-life dramas played out in the superb Adventures in Time series, by one of the most exciting new voices in children’s non-fiction’ Daily Telegraph ‘Sandbrook’s narrative series tells the facts of history by concentrating on individuals who played a part, and adding a sprinkling of imagination’ Sunday Times, Books of the Year ‘Many children will already be hooked on his brainy historical thrillers’ The Times

Dominic Sandbrook has been passionate about history ever since he read the Ladybird children’s books. As a historian, he has written eight books for adults. He has also presented several BBC television series, covering topics such as time travel, alien invasions, the James Bond films and the Harry Potter stories. His favourite book is The Lord of the Rings. His favourite football team is Wolverhampton Wanderers.

He lives in Oxfordshire with his wife and son, Arthur. It was Arthur who came up with the idea for Adventures in Time, after a family trip to the Imperial War Museum. He now serves as the books’ chief battle consultant.

TITLES IN THE SERIES 1. THE SECOND WORLD WAR 2. THE SIX WIVES OF HENRY VIII 3. THE FIRST WORLD WAR 4. ALEXANDER THE GREAT 5. CLEOPATRA, QUEEN OF THE NILE 6. FURY OF THE VIKINGS 7. THE FALL OF THE AZTECS (hardback) 8. HORATIO NELSON, HERO OF THE SEAS (forthcoming)

With illustrations by Edward Bettison

P EN GU I N B O O K S

PENGUIN BOOKS UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia India | New Zealand | South Africa Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

First published in Particular Books 2022 First published in Penguin Books 2023 001 Text copyright © Dominic Sandbrook 2022 Illustrations and maps © Edward Bettison 2022 The moral right of the author has been asserted Typeset by Jouve (UK), Milton Keynes Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A. The authorized representative in the EEA is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D02 YH68 A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978–0–141–99919–7

www.greenpenguin.co.uk Penguin Random House is committed to a sustainable future for our business, our readers and our planet. This book is made from Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.

For Iseult

Contents Prologue: A Meeting by Moonlight

1

PART ONE THE FAMILY OF BLOOD

7

1 The Girl in the Tomb 2 The Gods of Memphis 3 The Sons of the Wolf 4 The Fires of Egypt 5 The Lady of the Two Lands

9 25 41 57 73

PART TWO ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME

91

6 Blood in the Sand 7 Treachery at Midnight 8 Trapped!

9 The Face of Isis 10 The Ides of March

93 109 125 140 153

PART THREE A BATTLE OF WITS

169

11 Vengeance at Philippi 12 The Goddess of Love 13 A Game of Dice 14 The Gathering Storm

171 188 202 218

ix

CONTENTS

PART FOUR CHECKMATE

235

15 The Eve of Destruction 16 Actium 17 Last Stand in Alexandria 18 The Snake

237 254 270 287

Epilogue: Afterlife

302

Author’s Note

315

prologue

A Meeting by Moonlight

It was night in Alexandria. Darkness had fallen over the greatest city on earth, a black veil of baleful silence.

Soldiers patrolled the walls of the palace, spears in hand.

It was the late summer of 48 bc,* and Alexandria was a city on edge, a powder keg waiting for a spark.

In the inky waters of the harbour, a battered little fishing boat rounded the corner and eased towards the shore.

Keeping clear of the beam from the Great Lighthouse, the oarsman pulled into the quayside. Working swiftly, he made fast to the jetty, before clambering up the ladder, a bulky bundle on his back.

A carpet? A sack? In the darkness, it was impossible to be sure. To the sentries, though, he seemed nothing more than an ordinary fisherman, late home after a day at sea.

Silently, stealthily, the man moved along the quay. He * bc stands for ‘Before Christ’, i.e. before the birth of Jesus. In the bc era, slightly confusingly, dates are counted backwards. So Cleopatra was born in 69 bc, turned ten in 59 bc and turned twenty in 49 bc.

1

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crossed the harbour and turned south, heading through the gateway into the palace gardens.

Still he walked on, keeping to the shadows of the palm trees. A cat slunk across his path, its eyes glittering in the darkness. A monkey chattered in the undergrowth.

But no sentry told him to stop. No guard called out a challenge.

His large bundle hoisted over his shoulder, the boatman crossed a courtyard, his feet pattering on the mosaic pavement. Another garden, another courtyard – and here, outside one of the most splendid villas, he stopped.

For a moment, framed in the moonlight, he seemed to be murmuring to somebody, even though there was nobody to be seen.

Then, abruptly, he headed up the steps, pushed open the doors – and was gone.

Inside the villa, as the candles burned low in the shadows, another man sat in silent thought.

This second man was tall and lean, with thinning hair and strong, beaky features. In almost every corner of the Mediterranean world, people knew and feared his name.

2

A Meeting by Moonlight

Julius Caesar had landed in Egypt a few days earlier, commanding a small detachment of Roman troops. But no sooner had he stepped off his ship than everything had started to go wrong.

Although Caesar’s troops controlled the palace, they were surrounded. To the locals, the Romans were intruders, and all the time the tension was rising. And now, as he stared unseeing into the night, he could feel something prickling on the back of his neck.

Fear.

Suddenly he heard movement. He glanced up – and to his astonishment saw a stranger in the doorway, a bundle over his shoulder.

The boatman said nothing. But in the next instant, as Julius Caesar leapt to his feet, he knelt. Gently, almost lovingly, he stretched his bundle out on the ground and stepped back.

The Roman commander’s jaw dropped open.

In the glow of the candles, the bundle was unravelling before his eyes. Emerging from the folds, like a phoenix rising from the flames, was a young woman.

The star of a royal diadem blazed on her brow, tied by a pure white ribbon. And as she rose gracefully to her feet, a knowing smile played on her lips.

In his long years of adventure, Julius Caesar had seen many things. But this was something beyond even his experience.

The woman smiled. ‘Greetings, Commander,’ she said sweetly, ‘I am Cleopatra.’

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cleopatra, queen of the nile

Today, it is more than two thousand years since Cleopatra rolled out of her carpet to greet Julius Caesar. But it remains one of the most captivating moments in history.

On one side, the most battle-hardened general in the Roman world, a man of unmatched will and experience, who had reduced entire kingdoms to mere playthings.

And on the other, a slight young woman of just twentyone. Cleopatra VII, last Pharaoh to rule Egypt, the Lady of the Two Lands, the Father-Loving, Homeland-Loving Goddess . . . a woman of extraordinary cleverness and charm, whose name has become a byword for beauty and glamour, courage and ambition.

Cleopatra lived in a world utterly different from our own. But the drama of her story has never been equalled, inspiring everything from operas to video games.

Born in 69 bc in the metropolis of Alexandria – capital of Egypt, a city of pleasure and philosophy, where the streets ran with wine and blood – she was the last queen of a dazzling dynasty.

She came from a family of Macedonian adventurers, who had arrived in Egypt with Alexander the Great. They spoke Greek and followed Greek customs, and in their marble temples they prayed to the great Olympians – Zeus and Hera, Apollo and Athena.

Yet in the dusty fields and muddy villages along the Nile, the peasants followed the old ways. They offered their prayers to the gods of Egypt – Isis, Osiris, Horus and Set – as their forefathers had done for centuries.

This was a world of magic and mystery, with all the 4

Prologue: A Meeting by Moonlight

scents and spices of the East. But it was also a world that was dying.

Even as little Cleopatra learned to take her first steps, the wonders of Egypt and the glories of Greece were fading into history. Across the sea a new power was rising: the ruthless war machine of the Roman Republic.

Right from the start, Cleopatra’s destiny was entwined with the march of Rome. Becoming Pharaoh when she was still a teenager, she fought like a tigress to defend her native land. Yet all the time, the wolves were coming closer.

Among them were some of the most swashbuckling soldiers and cunning conspirators in history. Pompey the Great, Julius Caesar, Mark Antony, Octavian . . . their names echo down the centuries, symbols of the greed and ambition of Rome’s new world order.

Yet it is Cleopatra’s name that glitters most brightly.

The enchantress of the Nile, whose dream of empire came so close to becoming a reality, yet also a living, breathing human being – a daughter, mother, queen and goddess . . .

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s leave Cleopatra and Caesar in the palace gardens in the late summer of 48 bc, and return to the adventures of her childhood, in a city haunted by fear and hatred.

And let’s begin with a scene that may sound familiar to anybody who’s ever heard of Cleopatra’s story. A girl, a tomb and a snake . . .

5

part one

the family of blood

1

The Girl in the Tomb

In the darkness, the snake was resting. This was one of its favourite spots, curled up on the stone floor. A few yards away, the god slept beneath his alabaster canopy.

The snake cared nothing for gods and heroes. It cared only for the sunlight that sometimes broke through the cracks in the chamber walls, the mice and lizards that scurried across the floor of the shrine.

Beside these things, nothing else mattered. The rise and fall of great empires, the bloody fortunes of kings and captains, the soaring ambitions of queens and princesses – to the snake, such things were entirely meaningless.

Now, suddenly, the snake tensed. Something was wrong: a movement in the shadows, footsteps in the night.

A torch flared, and a figure stood outlined in the doorway.

It was a girl, short and slender, wearing a linen tunic and leather sandals. For a moment, she just stood there, uncertain. She stared at the snake, and the snake stared back.

Then – swiftly, decisively – the girl moved. She skipped 9

cleopatra, queen of the nile

past so quickly that the snake barely had time to rear its head and bare its fangs – and then she was gone.

A moment later, the girl stood before the tomb. She raised the torch above her head, and gazed in awe at the body of the god.

The girl’s name was Cleopatra – in her own alphabet, Kλεοπάτρα. Girls in her family had been given that name for generations. In Greek, it meant ‘Glory of her Father’.

Cleopatra was almost eleven years old, and short for her age. As the torchlight flickered on her face, it revealed a high forehead, a strong jaw, golden skin and sharp, clever features.

Her eyes were wide, heavy-lidded, deep and dark. She wore her thick black hair braided and tied back, a fringe of curls falling over her brow, like the fashionable ladies at her father’s court.

When she gazed into her bronze mirror, even Cleopatra had to admit she was no great beauty. Sometimes she wished the gods had given her a smaller chin, while her older sister always teased her about her nose.

But she never let it get her down. She knew other things were more important.

Cleopatra was the kind of girl you noticed, the kind you 10

The Girl in the Tomb

remembered. She knew how to charm people, how to make them laugh and win them over.

She had been born in the early months of 69 bc, in the city of Alexandria in the kingdom of Egypt. She was a princess of the house of Ptolemy, the richest and most famous family in the world.

Her father was the twelfth Ptolemy to rule as Pharaoh, or King, of Egypt. She knew all his titles and nicknames by heart: Ptolemy XII, the New Dionysus, King of the Two Lands, Horus the Youthful, Beloved of Ptah and Isis, Chosen by the Sun, the Heir of the Saviour, the Delight of the Heart of Amun . . .

To most ordinary Alexandrians, though, her father was simply ‘Auletes’, the Flute-Player – a nickname earned because of his enthusiasm for musical contests and parties at the royal palace. But nobody dared call him that to his face, of course.

Cleopatra was the second of his five children – his favourite, some people said. She certainly felt much closer to her father than to her mother, a shy, nervous woman who rarely left the royal apartments.* At the thought of her mother, sleeping back at the palace, Cleopatra couldn’t help smiling. Her mother would never have dared to do anything like this! * Because so many records are lost, historians are not quite sure who Cleopatra’s mother was. Some writers claim she was a native Egyptian, but this is extremely unlikely. Almost certainly she came from the same Macedonian dynasty.

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cleopatra, queen of the nile

Cleopatra had planned her midnight adventure to the last detail. She had been to the tomb before, but always with her parents, her sisters and a small army of royal bodyguards.

Ever since she was little she had dreamed of visiting the god on her own, so that she could gaze on him in peace, without the crowd of guards and servants. Just the two of them: the greatest hero who had ever lived and the girl who worshipped his memory.

Sneaking out of the palace had been the easy bit. Waiting until midnight, when her sisters were asleep, Cleopatra had lowered herself out of the window, crept past the guards and stolen outside, keeping to the shadows.

The royal tombs were close to the palace, so it hadn’t taken her long to get there. Alexandria at night wasn’t the kind of place where you wanted to be caught on your own, especially when there was a religious festival on and the streets were full of late-night revellers.

The trickiest part had been getting past the guards at the tomb complex. For what had seemed like an eternity, Cleopatra had lurked just around the corner, waiting in the darkness.

Then the Fates had smiled on her. Down the street tottered a couple of dancing girls, cackling with laughter over a bottle of wine. They called out to the guards, the men wandered across for a drink – and Cleopatra seized her chance.

Now, in the torchlight, her face glowed with excitement. She knew she might not have long, and her heart was thumping.

12

The Girl in the Tomb

She moved the torch a little closer, and rested her hand on the tomb. Then, almost under her breath, she whispered his name.

Alexander.

Beneath the milky alabaster, Alexander stared up at her, his eyes cold and empty.

To Cleopatra, he was more than just a great Pharaoh.

He was a warrior, a hero, King of Kings and Son of Zeus.

It was Alexander who had brought her family to Egypt, and Alexander who had laid the foundations of their city.

Everything they had, they owed to him.

Cleopatra had heard the story a thousand times. Three hundred years ago, Alexander had been born in Macedonia, a hard, rugged country of woods and mountains. Becoming king at the age of twenty, he had led his men across the sea to fight the Great King of Persia, winning battle after battle.

Arriving in Egypt, he had been crowned as Lord of the Two Lands,* Heir of Horus and Beloved of Amun. He had crossed the desert to consult the mysterious Oracle of Siwa, which told him he was the son of the god Zeus Ammon. * Upper and Lower Egypt.

13

cleopatra, queen of the nile

Then he had resumed his journey, meeting the legendary Amazons, marrying the beautiful Roxana and leading his men into the mountains of Afghanistan and across the rivers of India.

When Alexander had died, struck down by the Fates at the age of just thirty-two, his friends had fallen out among themselves. His dream of a world empire had died with him, as his captains fought over the spoils.

But one of the Macedonian commanders had thought faster than his rivals. This was Alexander’s boyhood friend Ptolemy, who was Cleopatra’s greatgreat-great-great-great-great-grandfather.

Ptolemy had been at Alexander’s side for every step of his adventures. He had always been a shrewd, clever man, and after his friend’s death he wasted no time in racing back to Egypt.

Alone among Alexander’s captains, Ptolemy realized that Egypt was the richest prize of all. Crucially, it also was the easiest to defend, its vast deserts acting as a barrier to invading armies.

And so, in the ancient Egyptian capital of Memphis, Ptolemy had crowned himself King and Pharaoh. He had proclaimed himself the heir of Alexander – and the people believed him. For as Cleopatra knew, her ancestor had brought something with him as a sign of Alexander’s favour. He had brought the most precious thing imaginable – his old friend’s body.

After Alexander’s death, his body had been embalmed, turning it into a mummy before his last journey home. But 14

The Girl in the Tomb

during the long ride back to Macedonia, Ptolemy’s men had waylaid the funeral carriage and carried the body off to Egypt.

There Alexander rested, in this city that bore his name, in an incense-wreathed chamber at the heart of the royal tomb complex – no longer an ordinary man, but one of the immortals. Every year thousands of pilgrims came to pay their respects, while her father led the rituals in honour of the great god-king.

And now, in the silence of night, Cleopatra had him all to herself.

She had no idea how long she had been standing there, one hand resting on the tomb, her eyes fixed on the mummified figure beneath the canopy.

In her mind’s eye she saw a tousle-haired boy astride a giant black stallion. She saw a great fleet spread across the sparkling waters, a warrior hurling a shining spear, men stumbling through the desert sands.

The torch flickered. For a moment, as the firelight danced on the stone, Cleopatra fancied she saw an answering glow, as if Alexander were returning to life.

At the very thought, the blood throbbed in her head.

15

cleopatra, queen of the nile

If he could see her now, what would he make of her? And what would he make of the kingdom her family ruled?

As Ptolemy’s heirs, her family had ruled the Two Lands of Upper and Lower Egypt for the last three centuries.

Other empires had risen and fallen, but theirs had endured, the richest country on earth.

As Pharaoh, Ptolemy had made Egypt a power to be feared. He had built a new fleet and captured the island of Cyprus. He had pushed his borders north towards the coast of Syria, west into the sands of Libya and south into the deserts of Nubia, rich in gold and elephants.

When he died peacefully in his bed in his mid-eighties, the crown passed to his son. This second Ptolemy built on his father’s foundations, turning Alexandria into the greatest city in the world, famed for its bustling harbour, its Museum, its book-lined Library and towering Lighthouse.

He was followed by another Ptolemy, then another, then another; and so on, all the way down to Cleopatra’s father, the twelfth in line. Nobody thought it odd that they were all called Ptolemy. The point was to remind people that they traced their line back to the original Macedonian captain, who had fought his way across the world with his friend Alexander.

But there was one very odd thing about the Ptolemies.

They never married outside the family. Instead, they married their sisters. It was Ptolemy II who had started it, marrying his older sister Arsinoë.

At the time many people were horrified, arguing that this broke all the laws of nature. But others said the 16

The Girl in the Tomb

Ptolemies, like Alexander, were gods, so they could do whatever they liked. Hadn’t Zeus, king of the gods, married his sister Hera? So why couldn’t Ptolemy II, king of Egypt, marry his sister too?

In some ways these brother–sister marriages did make some kind of sense. The Ptolemies were Macedonians, ruling a strange country where they didn’t speak the native language. By marrying each other, they kept their bloodline pure. Their Macedonian clan remained as tight as ever, and there was no chance of an outsider claiming the throne.

Of course, all these brother–sister marriages made the family tree incredibly confusing. And they also gave rise to feverish jealousies and bitter rivalries. As the centuries passed, the Ptolemies became notorious for their vicious family feuds. Sons turned against their mothers, sisters against their brothers, in an endless cycle of plotting and betrayal.

The most infamous example was Ptolemy VIII, whose subjects nicknamed him Physcon, ‘Fatty’. In a reign awash with blood, Fatty married his sister, who had previously been married to their brother. Then he also married her daughter, who was now his niece, his daughter-in-law and his wife all at the same time.

This was pretty bad form, but the story got worse. When his first wife complained, Fatty punished her by chopping up their fourteen-year-old son and sending her the pieces as a birthday present. She took revenge by displaying their son’s blood-soaked remains to the Alexandrian crowds, who went berserk with rage.

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cleopatra, queen of the nile

Fatty and his wives were long dead now, of course. But for Cleopatra, all this was a warning.

For the last ten years she had grown up amid unmatched splendour, in a world of marble and mosaics, emeralds and pearls, ivory and gold. But as Cleopatra knew, the court of the Ptolemies was a dangerous world, where just one mistake could mean a horrible end.

Sometimes she had heard voices, whispering in the palace corners. She had noticed men exchanging glances when her father was not looking. And only recently Cleopatra had seen something that had sent a shiver down her spine.

Her older sister Berenike was eighteen, a proud young woman. Berenike had never hidden her frustration with their father, often sighing and rolling her eyes behind his back.

A few days ago, at dinner in the marble banqueting hall, Cleopatra had looked up to see her sister watching her father.

But on Berenike’s face was not the usual teenage irritation.

It was hatred, as cold as death.

The torch flared, guttered – and went out.

For a moment, Cleopatra froze. She was alone in the dark, with the snake for company.

18

The Girl in the Tomb

A moment later, she heard a noise. Boots, coming steadily closer . . .

She moved quickly. With the grace of a gazelle, she skipped back past the snake and flattened herself against the wall.

Two guards came through the doorway, torches held aloft, their sword-hilts gleaming in the half-light. They had eyes only for Alexander.

Cleopatra remained utterly still, scarcely daring to breathe. The men moved closer to the tomb. Almost casually, one of them drew his sword and pushed the snake aside.

And it was then, with the force of an explosion, that Cleopatra moved. Pushing herself off from the wall, she threw herself through the doorway and tore down the stone corridor, not daring to look back.

Along the corridor. Through the outer chamber. Past more guards, and pell-mell through the gateway. Down the steps. Left down the street. Round the corner. Down a second street. Round the next corner . . .

And breathe . . .

Cleopatra sank to the pavement, laughing with relief.

There was surely no way the guards could catch her now.

All she had to do was to get back to the palace, and she would be safe.

For a moment she rested, her back against a statue plinth, drinking in the air, recovering her strength. Then she climbed to her feet and looked around to get her bearings.

19

cleopatra, queen of the nile

Dawn was breaking. Far to the east, over the sweltering Nile Delta, the pinks and yellows of morning were seeping into the velvet blackness of night.

Even at this early hour, Alexandria was coming to life.

Cleopatra’s tutors had told her that the city never slept, and as she looked around, she realized what they meant.

The first carts clattered down the street. A group of sailors staggered drunkenly around the corner, on their way back to the harbour. After them marched a platoon of mercenaries, their faces etched with purple scars – some of her father’s men, no doubt.

Across the road, on the other side of the great Canopic Way, the old chickpea sellers were setting up their stalls. A few yards away, the black-and-white ibis birds were scavenging for crumbs.* Already, in the morning half-light, the heat was building. Cleopatra could taste the reek of the city: the salt breeze from the sea, the spices from the markets, the sweat of half a million men, women and children.

This was the smell of Alexandria: a pungent mixture of creeds and colours – Greeks and Egyptians, Jews and Syrians, Nubians and Indians and people from every corner of the known world.

As Cleopatra’s tutors never tired of telling her, this was Alexander’s city. It was he who had picked this spot on the * An ibis is a bit like a stork, with enormously long legs. The Greek writer Strabo reported that Alexandria was full of them, foraging for scraps.

20

The Girl in the Tomb

Mediterranean coast, with Lake Mareotis to the south and a branch of the River Nile a few miles to the east.

Legend held that the god-king had sketched out the plans himself, marking the lines in the sand. And in the years that followed, the Ptolemies had spent a fortune to turn his vision into a reality.

From all over Greece they brought architects and sailors, merchants and inventors. Herdsmen flooded in from the Egyptian scrublands, hoping for work as porters and dockhands. And all the time the construction crews were chiselling out a network of avenues and colonnades, a gleaming limestone grid of bathhouses, theatres, temples and shops.

To most people Alexandria seemed a miracle. ‘Many reckoned it to be the first city of the civilized world,’ wrote one Greek visitor, ‘and it is certainly far ahead of all the rest in elegance and extent and riches and luxury.’

But it was not just a city of beauty and learning, politics and pleasure. It was also a city of violence and magic; a city of poisoners and fortune-tellers, hardened thieves and hired killers.

Alexandria was where you came to seek your fortune and see the world. You might leave with enough gold to last you for life – or on the back of a cart with a knife between your ribs.

For a while Cleopatra sat there at the crossroads, unnoticed amid the bustle, absorbed by the spectacle of the city coming to life.

Her keen dark eyes took in everything. She saw the 21

cleopatra, queen of the nile

Jewish merchants strolling into town from the eastern suburbs, chatting eagerly in their native language; and the Egyptian builders coming from the other direction, tough, brown-skinned men, laughing heartily at some bawdy joke.

She saw the cats strolling along the top of the colonnades, the monkeys jabbering and fighting for food. She saw the towering pink stone sphinxes, the marble columns topped with hawks and falcons, the colossal crocodile gods and cold, glaring Pharaohs.

She saw the scholars on their way to the Library, the ambassadors discussing the news from the harbour, the porters hunched under their heavy loads, the slave-girls scurrying to the city’s markets . . .

And as she sat there, the sunlight on her face, Cleopatra felt her eyes begin to close. After her midnight adventure, she was suddenly quite extraordinarily tired . . .

Abruptly she forced herself awake. What on earth had she been thinking? The sun was up, the palace would be stirring and she had to get back before anybody noticed.

If her father discovered she had sneaked out on her own, with neither attendants nor bodyguards, he would be furious.

As she climbed to her feet, she caught the eye of a man across the street, and saw stunned recognition flash across his face. Frightened, she began to run. Now, other people were turning to stare, startled to see a little girl haring down the streets so early in the morning.

Down the street Cleopatra sprinted, towards the palace, 22