Kaisaros: The Roman Pharaoh

Chapter One: Blood In The Sand

A majority of my troops and I had camped outside the city of Alexandria, near the Gate of the Sun. A part of me has gotten used to the gods awful heat, despite the fact that it feels like I'm choking on sand every time I exit my tent.

After a majority of Antony's men had come to my side, Antony himself had cursed me as he ran back to the walls of the city. That was three days ago and we haven't heard anything from my friend turned rival. Until now, at least. I gaze up from the letter in my hands to see one of Antony's soldiers rush into my tent.

A few of my men charge in as well, shouting at Antony's lone soldier. I raise a hand to silence them.
"What is it?" I ask.
Face pale, the soldier looks exhausted. He shakily removes a bloodied short sword from under his cape and places it on my table. The blood looks fresh.

"It's Antony, Caesar," the soldier gasps. "He's tried to commit suicide."
Furious, I lunge over the table and grab the soldier by the scruff of his collar. "Why? Is he still alive?" I demand.
Even my soldiers look alarmed at my change in attitude. "He might be!" Antony's soldier cries out, obviously terrified. "I-it was Cleopatra's fault! She tricked him with a suicide note of her own! I had nothing to do with this, I swear!"

"That eastern witch!" I curse, roughly letting the soldier go. "Go back to the palace, get Antony out of there. Drag him out if you have to, force him on a horse. I don't care, just make certain he is back alive and stop the bleeding!" I snap.
"But...Isn't Antony your enemy?" The lone soldier stammers.
"Never mind that!" One of my men barks. "Let's go!"
My soldiers and Antony's lone one rush out of my tent.

"Isn't he your enemy?" I question myself more now that I'm alone. I glance at the bloodied sword and pull out the letters Antony had sent me over the years.
I have painted him and I as enemies to any outside observer, but not to me.
No, Antony and I weren't enemies. Not at first.

I recall him and I used to play games during our long military marches. He always playfully accused me of cheating in games of skill and chance. I would always laugh at his teasing late into the night. Ever since my father Julius Caesar stated in his will that Antony would be my guardian, my opinion changed on the man.

Perhaps Antony always had feelings for me. I cannot say for certain. But to keep up appearances, I had Antony marry my sister Octavia. I couldn't marry Antony, more in fear of us both being put to death or exiled from Rome. Antony hated the marriage to my sister. That might even be why he ran off to Egypt, or he was seduced by Cleopatra. Gods only know.

I scan over the letters, various paragraphs begging to come back to Rome, or for me to live with him in Egypt, away from it all. 'I could build us a hut,' Antony had promised in one letter. 'We could finally live together. I just want this war to end, Octavian. But Cleopatra will not want to lose. I want to be happy with you, but leaving the queen's side isn't an easy task.'

I didn't even bother to respond to that last one, more out of anger than anything. Perhaps that is why Agrippa and I defeated them at Actium, Antony had given up fighting. But why resort to a suicide attempt? Has Antony been corrupted too far?
****
The sun is beginning to rise when the soldiers bring Antony into my camp. I briskly walk over, trying not to look too concerned over the older man laying in the wooden cart. "He's alive, just in a coma," one of my men states. "Make sure he is cared for. I want him alive to answer for his crimes," I state sternly, then gaze up at the walls of Alexandria.

"What about Cleopatra?" I ask.
"She locked herself in the palace, Caesar," another troop sighs, looking as exhausted as I feel.
"I'll write that I want to see her. Perhaps even have a long awaited meeting with her," I respond, glancing down at the unconscious man I have secretly loved for years.

The medical staff walk into my tent while I force myself to eat dinner. "Any news on Antony?" I rub my eyes, hoping they don't notice my bloodshot eyes in the candlelight. "He will live," one says. "He just needs rest and fluids. He did lose a bit of blood, luckily he didn't strike any of his organs, just muscle in between his ribs. He has been stitched up, floating in and out of sleep."

"Am I able to see him?"
"Of course, Caesar. But he is delirious. It may take some time for him to realize what occurred."
"That's good enough for me," I say, following them outside and into the large medical tent.