Part 7
CLEOPATRA. Can one love a god? Besides, I love another Roman: one whom I saw long before Caesar--no god, but a man--one who can love and hate--one whom I can hurt and who would hurt me.
POTHINUS. Does Caesar know this?
CLEOPATRA. Yes
POTHINUS. And he is not angry.
CLEOPATRA. He promises to send him to Egypt to please me!
POTHINUS. I do not understand this man.
CLEOPATRA (_with superb contempt_). _You_ understand Caesar! How could you? (_Proudly_) I do--by instinct.
POTHINUS (_deferentially, after a moment's thought_). Your Majesty caused me to be admitted to-day. What message has the Queen for me?
CLEOPATRA. This. You think that by making my brother king, you will rule in Egypt, because you are his guardian and he is a little silly.
POTHINUS. The Queen is pleased to say so.
CLEOPATRA. The Queen is pleased to say this also. That Caesar will eat up you, and Achillas, and my brother, as a cat eats up mice; and that he will put on this land of Egypt as a shepherd puts on his garment. And when he has done that, he will return to Rome, and leave Cleopatra here as his viceroy.
POTHINUS (_breaking out wrathfully_). That he will never do. We have a thousand men to his ten; and we will drive him and his beggarly legions into the sea.
CLEOPATRA (_with scorn, getting up to go_). You rant like any common fellow. Go, then, and marshal your thousands; and make haste; for Mithridates of Pergamos is at hand with reinforcements for Caesar. Caesar has held you at bay with two legions: we shall see what he will do with twenty.
POTHINUS. Cleopatra----
CLEOPATRA. Enough, enough: Caesar has spoiled me for talking to weak things like you. (_She goes out. Pothinus, with a gesture of rage, is following, when Ftatateeta enters and stops him._)
POTHINUS. Let me go forth from this hateful place.
FTATATEETA. What angers you?
POTHINUS. The curse of all the gods of Egypt be upon her! She has sold her country to the Roman, that she may buy it back from him with her kisses.
FTATATEETA. Fool: did she not tell you that she would have Caesar gone?
POTHINUS. You listened?
FTATATEETA. I took care that some honest woman should be at hand whilst you were with her.
POTHINUS. Now by the gods----
FTATATEETA. Enough of your gods! Caesar's gods are all powerful here. It is no use _you_ coming to Cleopatra: you are only an Egyptian. She will not listen to any of her own race: she treats us all as children.
POTHINUS. May she perish for it!
FTATATEETA (_balefully_). May your tongue wither for that wish! Go! send for Lucius Septimius, the slayer of Pompey. He is a Roman: may be she will listen to him. Begone!
POTHINUS (_darkly_). I know to whom I must go now.
FTATATEETA (_suspiciously_). To whom, then?
POTHINUS. To a greater Roman than Lucius. And mark this, mistress. You thought, before Caesar came, that Egypt should presently be ruled by you and your crew in the name of Cleopatra. I set myself against it----
FTATATEETA (_interrupting him--wrangling_). Ay; that it might be ruled by you and _your_ crew in the name of Ptolemy.
POTHINUS. Better me, or even you, than a woman with a Roman heart; and that is what Cleopatra is now become. Whilst I live, she shall never rule. So guide yourself accordingly. (_He goes out._)
_It is by this time drawing on to dinner time. The table is laid on the roof of the palace; and thither Rufio is now climbing, ushered by a majestic palace official, wand of office in hand, and followed by a slave carrying an inlaid stool. After many stairs they emerge at last into a massive colonnade on the roof. Light curtains are drawn between the columns on the north and east to soften the westering sun. The official leads Rufio to one of these shaded sections. A cord for pulling the curtains apart hangs down between the pillars._
THE OFFICIAL (_bowing_). The Roman commander will await Caesar here.
_The slave sets down the stool near the southernmost column, and slips out through the curtains._
RUFIO (_sitting down, a little blown_). Pouf! That was a climb. How high have we come?
THE OFFICIAL. We are on the palace roof, O Beloved of Victory!
RUFIO. Good! the Beloved of Victory has no more stairs to get up.
_A second official enters from the opposite end, walking backwards._
THE SECOND OFFICIAL. Caesar approaches.
_Caesar, fresh from the bath, clad in a new tunic of purple silk, comes in, beaming and festive, followed by two slaves carrying a light couch, which is hardly more than an elaborately designed bench. They place it near the northmost of the two curtained columns. When this is done they slip out through the curtains; and the two officials, formally bowing, follow them. Rufio rises to receive Caesar._
CAESAR (_coming over to him_). Why, Rufio! (_Surveying his dress with an air of admiring astonishment_) A new baldrick! A new golden pommel to your sword! And you have had your hair cut! But not your beard--? impossible! (_He sniffs at Rufio's beard._) Yes, perfumed, by Jupiter Olympus!
RUFIO (_growling_). Well: is it to please myself?
CAESAR (_affectionately_). No, my son Rufio, but to please me--to celebrate my birthday.
RUFIO (_contemptuously_). Your birthday! You always have a birthday when there is a pretty girl to be flattered or an ambassador to be conciliated. We had seven of them in ten months last year.
CAESAR (_contritely_). It is true, Rufio! I shall never break myself of these petty deceits.
RUFIO. Who is to dine with us--besides Cleopatra?
CAESAR. Apollodorus the Sicilian.
RUFIO. That popinjay!
CAESAR. Come! the popinjay is an amusing dog--tells a story; sings a song; and saves us the trouble of flattering the Queen. What does she care for old politicians and campfed bears like us? No: Apollodorus is good company, Rufio, good company.
RUFIO. Well, he can swim a bit and fence a bit: he might be worse, if he only knew how to hold his tongue.
CAESAR. The gods forbid he should ever learn! Oh, this military life! this tedious, brutal life of action! That is the worst of us Romans: we are mere doers and drudgers: a swarm of bees turned into men. Give me a good talker--one with wit and imagination enough to live without continually doing something!
RUFIO. Ay! a nice time he would have of it with you when dinner was over! Have you noticed that I am before my time?
CAESAR. Aha! I thought that meant something. What is it?
RUFIO. Can we be overheard here?
CAESAR. Our privacy invites eavesdropping. I can remedy that. (_He claps his hands twice. The curtains are drawn, revealing the roof garden with a banqueting table set across in the middle for four persons, one at each end, and two side by side. The side next Caesar and Rufio is blocked with golden wine vessels and basins. A gorgeous major-domo is superintending the laying of the table by a staff of slaves. The colonnade goes round the garden at both sides to the further end, where a gap in it, like a great gateway, leaves the view open to the sky beyond the western edge of the roof, except in the middle, where a life size image of Ra, seated on a huge plinth, towers up, with hawk head and crown of asp and disk. His altar, which stands at his feet, is a single white stone._) Now everybody can see us, nobody will think of listening to us. (_He sits down on the bench left by the two slaves._)
RUFIO (_sitting down on his stool_). Pothinus wants to speak to you. I advise you to see him: there is some plotting going on here among the women.
CAESAR. Who is Pothinus?
RUFIO. The fellow with hair like squirrel's fur--the little King's bear leader, whom you kept prisoner.
CAESAR (_annoyed_). And has he not escaped?
RUFIO. No.
CAESAR (_rising imperiously_). Why not? You have been guarding this man instead of watching the enemy. Have I not told you always to let prisoners escape unless there are special orders to the contrary? Are there not enough mouths to be fed without him?
RUFIO. Yes; and if you would have a little sense and let me cut his throat, you would save his rations. Anyhow, he _won't_ escape. Three sentries have told him they would put a pilum through him if they saw him again. What more can they do? He prefers to stay and spy on us. So would I if I had to do with generals subject to fits of clemency.
CAESAR (_resuming his seat, argued down_). Hm! And so he wants to see me.
RUFIO. Ay. I have brought him with me. He is waiting there (_jerking his thumb over his shoulder_) under guard.
CAESAR. And you want me to see him?
RUFIO (_obstinately_). I don't want anything. I daresay you will do what you like. Don't put it on to me.
CAESAR (_with an air of doing it expressly to indulge Rufio_). Well, well: let us have him.
RUFIO (_calling_). Ho there, guard! Release your man and send him up. (_Beckoning_) Come along!
_Pothinus enters and stops mistrustfully between the two, looking from one to the other._
CAESAR (_graciously_). Ah, Pothinus! You are welcome. And what is the news this afternoon?
POTHINUS. Caesar: I come to warn you of a danger, and to make you an offer.
CAESAR. Never mind the danger. Make the offer.
RUFIO. Never mind the offer. What's the danger?
POTHINUS. Caesar: you think that Cleopatra is devoted to you.
CAESAR (_gravely_). My friend: I already know what I think. Come to your offer.
POTHINUS. I will deal plainly. I know not by what strange gods you have been enabled to defend a palace and a few yards of beach against a city and an army. Since we cut you off from Lake Mareotis, and you dug wells in the salt sea sand and brought up buckets of fresh water from them, we have known that your gods are irresistible, and that you are a worker of miracles. I no longer threaten you----
RUFIO (_sarcastically_). Very handsome of you, indeed.
POTHINUS. So be it: you are the master. Our gods sent the north west winds to keep you in our hands; but you have been too strong for them.
CAESAR (_gently urging him to come to the point_). Yes, yes, my friend. But what then?
RUFIO. Spit it out, man. What have you to say?
POTHINUS. I have to say that you have a traitress in your camp. Cleopatra----
THE MAJOR-DOMO (_at the table, announcing_). The Queen! (_Caesar and Rufio rise._)
RUFIO (_aside to Pothinus_). You should have spat it out sooner, you fool. Now it is too late.
_Cleopatra, in gorgeous raiment, enters in state through the gap in the colonnade, and comes down past the image of Ra and past the table to Caesar. Her retinue, headed by Ftatateeta, joins the staff at the table. Caesar gives Cleopatra his seat, which she takes._
CLEOPATRA (_quickly, seeing Pothinus_). What is _he_ doing here?
CAESAR (_seating himself beside her, in the most amiable of tempers_). Just going to tell me something about you. You shall hear it. Proceed, Pothinus.
POTHINUS (_disconcerted_). Caesar-- (_He stammers._)
CAESAR. Well, out with it.
POTHINUS. What I have to say is for your ear, not for the Queen's.
CLEOPATRA (_with subdued ferocity_). There are means of making you speak. Take care.
POTHINUS (_defiantly_). Caesar does not employ those means.
CAESAR. My friend: when a man has anything to tell in this world, the difficulty is not to make him tell it, but to prevent him from telling it too often. Let me celebrate my birthday by setting you free. Farewell: we'll not meet again.
CLEOPATRA (_angrily_). Caesar: this mercy is foolish.
POTHINUS (_to Caesar_). Will you not give me a private audience? Your life may depend on it. (_Caesar rises loftily._)
RUFIO (_aside to Pothinus_). Ass! Now we shall have some heroics.
CAESAR (_oratorically_). Pothinus----
RUFIO (_interrupting him_). Caesar: the dinner will spoil if you begin preaching your favourite sermon about life and death.
CLEOPATRA (_priggishly_). Peace, Rufio. I desire to hear Caesar.
RUFIO (_bluntly_). Your Majesty has heard it before. You repeated it to Apollodorus last week; and he thought it was all your own. (_Caesar's dignity collapses. Much tickled, he sits down again and looks roguishly at Cleopatra, who is furious. Rufio calls as before_) Ho there, guard! Pass the prisoner out. He is released. (_To Pothinus_) Now off with you. You have lost your chance.
POTHINUS (_his temper overcoming his prudence_). I _will_ speak.
CAESAR (_to Cleopatra_). You see. Torture would not have wrung a word from him.
POTHINUS. Caesar: you have taught Cleopatra the arts by which the Romans govern the world.
CAESAR. Alas! they cannot even govern themselves. What then?
POTHINUS. What then? Are you so besotted with her beauty that you do not see that she is impatient to reign in Egypt alone, and that her heart is set on your departure?
CLEOPATRA (_rising_). Liar!
CAESAR (_shocked_). What! Protestations! Contradictions!
CLEOPATRA (_ashamed, but trembling with suppressed rage_). No. I do not deign to contradict. Let him talk. (_She sits down again._)
POTHINUS. From her own lips I have heard it. You are to be her catspaw: you are to tear the crown from her brother's head and set it on her own, delivering us all into her hand--delivering yourself also. And then Caesar can return to Rome, or depart through the gate of death, which is nearer and surer.
CAESAR (_calmly_). Well, my friend; and is not this very natural?
POTHINUS (_astonished_). Natural! Then you do not resent treachery?
CAESAR. Resent! O thou foolish Egyptian, what have I to do with resentment? Do I resent the wind when it chills me, or the night when it makes me stumble in the darkness? Shall I resent youth when it turns from age, and ambition when it turns from servitude? To tell me such a story as this is but to tell me that the sun will rise to-morrow.
CLEOPATRA (_unable to contain herself_). But it is false--false. I swear it.
CAESAR. It is true, though you swore it a thousand times, and believed all you swore. (_She is convulsed with emotion. To screen her, he rises and takes Pothinus to Rufio, saying_) Come, Rufio: let us see Pothinus past the guard. I have a word to say to him. (_Aside to them_) We must give the Queen a moment to recover herself. (_Aloud_) Come. (_He takes Pothinus and Rufio out with him, conversing with them meanwhile._) Tell your friends, Pothinus, that they must not think I am opposed to a reasonable settlement of the country's affairs-- (_They pass out of hearing._)
CLEOPATRA (_in a stifled whisper_). Ftatateeta, Ftatateeta.
FTATATEETA (_hurrying to her from the table and petting her_). Peace, child: be comforted----
CLEOPATRA (_interrupting her_). Can they hear us?
FTATATEETA. No, dear heart, no.
CLEOPATRA. Listen to me. If he leaves the Palace alive, never see my face again.
FTATATEETA. He? Poth----
CLEOPATRA (_striking her on the mouth_). Strike his life out as I strike his name from your lips. Dash him down from the wall. Break him on the stones. Kill, kill, _kill_ him.
FTATATEETA (_shewing all her teeth_). The dog shall perish.
CLEOPATRA. Fail in this, and you go out from before me forever.
FTATATEETA (_resolutely_). So be it. You shall not see my face until his eyes are darkened.
_Caesar comes back, with Apollodorus, exquisitely dressed, and Rufio._
CLEOPATRA (_to Ftatateeta_). Come soon--soon. (_Ftatateeta turns her meaning eyes for a moment on her mistress; then goes grimly away past Ra and out. Cleopatra runs like a gazelle to Caesar._) So you have come back to me, Caesar. (_Caressingly_) I thought you were angry. Welcome, Apollodorus. (_She gives him her hand to kiss, with her other arm about Caesar._)
APOLLODORUS. Cleopatra grows more womanly beautiful from week to week.
CLEOPATRA. Truth, Apollodorus?
APOLLODORUS. Far, far short of the truth! Friend Rufio threw a pearl into the sea: Caesar fished up a diamond.
CAESAR. Caesar fished up a touch of rheumatism, my friend. Come: to dinner! to dinner! (_They move towards the table._)
CLEOPATRA (_skipping like a young fawn_). Yes, to dinner. I have ordered _such_ a dinner for you, Caesar!
CAESAR. Ay? What are we to have?
CLEOPATRA. Peacocks' brains.
CAESAR (_as if his mouth watered_). Peacocks' brains, Apollodorus!
APOLLODORUS. Not for me. I prefer nightingales' tongues. (_He goes to one of the two covers set side by side._)
CLEOPATRA. Roast boar, Rufio!
RUFIO (_gluttonously_). Good! (_He goes to the seat next Apollodorus, on his left._)
CAESAR (_looking at his seat, which is at the end of the table, to Ra's left hand_). What has become of my leathern cushion?
CLEOPATRA (_at the opposite end_). I have got new ones for you.
THE MAJOR-DOMO. These cushions, Caesar, are of Maltese gauze, stuffed with rose leaves.
CAESAR. Rose leaves! Am I a caterpillar? (_He throws the cushions away and seats himself on the leather mattress underneath._)
CLEOPATRA. What a shame! My new cushions!
THE MAJOR-DOMO (_at Caesar's elbow_). What shall we serve to whet Caesar's appetite?
CAESAR. What have you got?
THE MAJOR-DOMO. Sea hedgehogs, black and white sea acorns, sea nettles, beccaficoes, purple shellfish----
CAESAR. Any oysters?
THE MAJOR-DOMO. Assuredly.
CAESAR. _British_ oysters?
THE MAJOR-DOMO (_assenting_). British oysters, Caesar.
CAESAR. Oysters, then. (_The Major-Domo signs to a slave at each order; and the slave goes out to execute it._) I have been in Britain--that western land of romance--the last piece of earth on the edge of the ocean that surrounds the world. I went there in search of its famous pearls. The British pearl was a fable; but in searching for it I found the British oyster.
APOLLODORUS. All posterity will bless you for it. (_To the Major-Domo_) Sea hedgehogs for me.
RUFIO. Is there nothing solid to begin with?
THE MAJOR-DOMO. Fieldfares with asparagus----
CLEOPATRA (_interrupting_). Fattened fowls! have some fattened fowls, Rufio.
RUFIO. Ay, that will do.
CLEOPATRA (_greedily_). Fieldfares for me.
THE MAJOR-DOMO. Caesar will deign to choose his wine? Sicilian, Lesbian, Chian----
RUFIO (_contemptuously_). All Greek.
APOLLODORUS. Who would drink Roman wine when he could get Greek? Try the Lesbian, Caesar.
CAESAR. Bring me my barley water.
RUFIO (_with intense disgust_). Ugh! Bring _me_ my Falernian. (_The Falernian is presently brought to him._)
CLEOPATRA (_pouting_). It is waste of time giving you dinners, Caesar. My scullions would not condescend to your diet.
CAESAR (_relenting_). Well, well: let us try the Lesbian. (_The Major-Domo fills Caesar's goblet; then Cleopatra's and Apollodorus's._) But when I return to Rome, I will make laws against these extravagances. I will even get the laws carried out.
CLEOPATRA (_coaxingly_). Never mind. To-day you are to be like other people: idle, luxurious, and kind. (_She stretches her hand to him along the table._)
CAESAR. Well, for once I will sacrifice my comfort--(_kissing her hand_) there! (_He takes a draught of wine._) Now are you satisfied?
CLEOPATRA. And you no longer believe that I long for your departure for Rome?
CAESAR. I no longer believe anything. My brains are asleep. Besides, who knows whether I shall return to Rome?
RUFIO (_alarmed_). How? Eh? What?
CAESAR. What has Rome to shew me that I have not seen already? One year of Rome is like another, except that I grow older, whilst the crowd in the Appian Way is always the same age.
APOLLODORUS. It is no better here in Egypt. The old men, when they are tired of life, say "We have seen everything except the source of the Nile."
CAESAR (_his imagination catching fire_). And why not see that? Cleopatra: will you come with me and track the flood to its cradle in the heart of the regions of mystery? Shall we leave Rome behind us--Rome, that has achieved greatness only to learn how greatness destroys nations of men who are not great! Shall I make you a new kingdom, and build you a holy city there in the great unknown?
CLEOPATRA (_rapturously_). Yes, yes. You shall.
RUFIO. Ay: now he will conquer Africa with two legions before we come to the roast boar.
APOLLODORUS. Come: no scoffing, this is a noble scheme: in it Caesar is no longer merely the conquering soldier, but the creative poet-artist. Let us name the holy city, and consecrate it with Lesbian Wine.
CAESAR. Cleopatra shall name it herself.
CLEOPATRA. It shall be called Caesar's Gift to his Beloved.
APOLLODORUS. No, no. Something vaster than that--something universal, like the starry firmament.
CAESAR (_prosaically_). Why not simply The Cradle of the Nile?
CLEOPATRA. No: the Nile is my ancestor; and he is a god. Oh! I have thought of something. The Nile shall name it himself. Let us call upon him. (_To the Major-Domo_) Send for him. (_The three men stare at one another; but the Major-Domo goes out as if he had received the most matter-of-fact order._) And (_to the retinue_) away with you all.
_The retinue withdraws, making obeisance._
_A priest enters, carrying a miniature sphinx with a tiny tripod before it. A morsel of incense is smoking in the tripod. The priest comes to the table and places the image in the middle of it. The light begins to change to the magenta purple of the Egyptian sunset, as if the god had brought a strange colored shadow with him. The three men are determined not to be impressed; but they feel curious in spite of themselves._
CAESAR. What hocus-pocus is this?
CLEOPATRA. You shall see. And it is _not_ hocus-pocus. To do it properly, we should kill something to please him; but perhaps he will answer Caesar without that if we spill some wine to him.
APOLLODORUS (_turning his head to look up over his shoulder at Ra_). Why not appeal to our hawkheaded friend here?
CLEOPATRA (_nervously_). Sh! He will hear you and be angry.
RUFIO (_phlegmatically_). The source of the Nile is out of his district, I expect.
CLEOPATRA. No: I will have my city named by nobody but my dear little sphinx, because it was in its arms that Caesar found me asleep. (_She languishes at Caesar; then turns curtly to the priest._) Go. I am a priestess, and have power to take your charge from you. (_The priest makes a reverence and goes out._) Now let us call on the Nile all together. Perhaps he will rap on the table.
CAESAR. What! Table rapping! Are such superstitions still believed in this year 707 of the Republic?
CLEOPATRA. It is no superstition: our priests learn lots of things from the tables. Is it not so, Apollodorus?
APOLLODORUS. Yes: I profess myself a converted man. When Cleopatra is priestess, Apollodorus is devotee. Propose the conjuration.
CLEOPATRA. You must say with me "Send us thy voice, Father Nile."
ALL FOUR (_holding their glasses together before the idol_). Send us thy voice, Father Nile.
_The death cry of a man in mortal terror and agony answers them. Appalled, the men set down their glasses, and listen. Silence. The purple deepens in the sky. Caesar, glancing at Cleopatra, catches her pouring out her wine before the god, with gleaming eyes, and mute assurances of gratitude and worship. Apollodorus springs up and runs to the edge of the roof to peer down and listen._
CAESAR (_looking piercingly at Cleopatra_). What was that?
CLEOPATRA (_petulantly_). Nothing. They are beating some slave.
CAESAR. Nothing!
RUFIO. A man with a knife in him, I'll swear.
CAESAR (_rising_). A murder!
APOLLODORUS (_at the back, waving his hand for silence_). S-sh! Silence. Did you hear that?
CAESAR. Another cry?
APOLLODORUS (_returning to the table_). No, a thud. Something fell on the beach, I think.