Chapter Five: The Lion of Rome (Part III)
1290 Words
The palace gardens were at their most beautiful in the late afternoon.
As the fierce Egyptian sun began its slow descent toward the western horizon, the white marble pathways no longer shimmered with unbearable heat. Gentle breezes drifted in from the Mediterranean, carrying with them the scent of saltwater and blooming jasmine. Palm fronds whispered overhead while fountains poured crystal-clear water into long reflecting pools where blue lotus flowers floated lazily upon the surface.
Selene walked several paces behind Antony, her small sandals barely making a sound against the smooth stone.
She was still trying to reconcile the man before her with the one she had spent months reading about.
History had described Marcus Antonius as many things.
A reckless soldier.
A drunken fool.
A hopeless romantic blinded by Cleopatra's beauty.
A man who sacrificed Rome for passion.
Yet none of those descriptions fit the father strolling casually through the gardens, greeting servants by name and stopping every few moments to admire flowers because Ptolemy insisted each blossom deserved a proper greeting.
"Good afternoon," the little prince said solemnly to a crimson hibiscus.
Antony nodded in approval.
"Very polite."
Ptolemy beamed.
Selene bit back a laugh.
Alexander, on the other hand, rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Father."
"What?"
"You know flowers can't hear him."
Antony looked thoughtfully at the blossom.
"Are you certain?"
Alexander hesitated.
"...Yes?"
"I've met senators who listened less carefully."
Even the guards chuckled.
Alexander groaned.
"You always make jokes."
"My son," Antony replied with exaggerated gravity, "one day you'll discover that laughter wins more battles than shouting."
Cleopatra's voice drifted toward them from behind.
"Only because you dislike shouting after lunch."
The children turned together.
The Queen had exchanged her ceremonial robes for a lighter gown suitable for the evening breeze. Without the heavy collar of state resting upon her shoulders, she appeared almost... ordinary.
Not ordinary in beauty.
Ordinary in comfort.
Like a woman finally allowed to breathe after hours of carrying a kingdom.
She slipped her hand naturally into Antony's.
No fanfare.
No ceremony.
Simply habit.
Selene found herself smiling.
No ancient historian had ever recorded moments like these.
They had written about alliances and politics.
Treaties and wars.
Not the quiet affection between two exhausted rulers stealing an hour with their children before returning to affairs of state.
Perhaps those moments mattered most.
---
"Alexander."
Antony suddenly stopped walking.
The boy looked up eagerly.
"Yes?"
"You've been asking to continue your sword lessons."
Alexander straightened immediately.
"I have."
"Good."
Antony pointed toward an open courtyard surrounded by olive trees.
"Today we begin."
Alexander's eyes widened.
"Really?"
"You've grown enough to hold a proper wooden sword."
The prince sprinted toward the practice yard before anyone could finish speaking.
Selene followed more slowly.
Several palace guards were already waiting there, arranging practice shields and blunted wooden weapons.
One of them bowed.
"My lord."
Antony accepted two wooden swords before tossing one lightly into the air.
Alexander caught it with both hands.
His grin stretched from ear to ear.
"It feels heavier."
"It is."
Antony picked up the second sword.
"Because someday your enemies won't carry toys."
Selene stood quietly beside Cleopatra.
She knew enough about ancient military training to recognize the stance Antony demonstrated.
Feet apart.
Weight balanced.
Sword held neither too high nor too low.
Efficient.
Practical.
Not flashy.
Alexander copied him enthusiastically.
Badly.
His feet crossed.
His shoulders tensed.
He gripped the sword as though trying to strangle it.
Antony chuckled.
"Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"You look as though you're wrestling a crocodile."
"I'm imagining one."
"I noticed."
Even Cleopatra laughed.
For nearly an hour Antony patiently corrected every mistake.
Never raising his voice.
Never mocking failure.
Each correction came with encouragement.
Again.
Better.
Excellent.
Try once more.
Selene watched in fascination.
This wasn't simply swordsmanship.
It was fatherhood.
---
Eventually Alexander landed one clumsy strike against Antony's shoulder.
The prince froze.
"...Did I?"
"You did."
"I hit you!"
"You did."
Alexander erupted in triumphant laughter.
"I wounded the greatest general in Rome!"
"The greatest general in Rome," Antony replied gravely, rubbing the untouched shoulder, "may never recover."
The guards applauded politely.
Alexander bowed dramatically to his imaginary audience.
Cleopatra shook her head.
"He inherited your love of theatrics."
"My dear Queen..."
Antony smiled.
"He inherited yours."
---
Without warning Antony turned toward Selene.
"And what about you?"
She blinked.
"...Me?"
"You've watched every lesson."
"I like watching."
"I asked whether you wished to try."
Selene instinctively glanced at Cleopatra.
The queen raised one elegant eyebrow.
"Only if you wish."
Wish?
Every sensible part of her mind said no.
She was six.
Tiny.
Hardly capable of lifting the wooden sword.
But another thought quickly followed.
If history truly could change...
Wouldn't she eventually need to defend herself?
Slowly...
She nodded.
"I'd like to try."
One of the guards hurried forward carrying a much smaller practice sword.
Antony knelt before her.
"The sword isn't your strength."
She frowned.
"How do you know?"
He smiled warmly.
"Because I've watched you."
He gently adjusted her grip.
"You observe first."
"Then think."
"Only then do you act."
His expression softened.
"Never let anyone convince you that's a weakness."
Selene swallowed.
No one had ever told her that before.
At school she had often been teased for thinking too much.
For analyzing every problem before answering.
Now...
One of history's greatest generals was calling it a strength.
"Again," Antony said.
She raised the sword.
He showed her how to step.
How to balance.
How not to overreach.
Within minutes she understood the movements.
Not because she possessed natural talent.
Because she listened carefully.
Antony noticed.
"You learn quickly."
Selene smiled shyly.
"I like learning."
"So your mother keeps reminding me."
Cleopatra folded her arms.
"I've never once had to tell her to finish her lessons."
Alexander sighed dramatically.
"You tell me every day."
"Because every day you discover new ways to avoid them."
"I have many talents."
"You certainly do."
---
As the lesson ended, servants arrived carrying chilled fruit, watered wine for the adults, and sweet date juice for the children.
Everyone settled beneath the shade of a broad sycamore tree.
Ptolemy climbed directly into Antony's lap, proudly presenting a tiny beetle he had discovered beside the fountain.
"Friend."
Antony inspected the insect with exaggerated seriousness.
"A distinguished gentleman."
"He likes me."
"I believe he does."
Alexander leaned closer.
"I think he's ugly."
Ptolemy immediately hugged the beetle protectively.
"No!"
"He's handsome."
Cleopatra laughed so suddenly that she nearly spilled her drink.
The beetle was eventually named Menes.
Selene never discovered why.
One moment Ptolemy had been solemnly introducing his newest companion to everyone beneath the sycamore tree, and the next Antony had declared that the tiny creature looked dignified enough to deserve the name of an ancient king.
Ptolemy accepted the verdict immediately.
Alexander did not.
"That's a ridiculous name."
"It is an excellent name," Antony replied.
"It's a beetle."
"It has ambitions."
"As do many important men."
Even Cleopatra laughed.
The servants standing nearby quickly lowered their eyes, though Selene noticed more than one struggling to hide a smile.
The palace suddenly felt... ordinary.
Not ordinary in wealth or grandeur, but in the small rhythms of family life.
Arguments over names.
Children interrupting one another.
Parents exchanging amused glances.
No ancient historian had ever written about moments like these.
Yet Selene found herself thinking they revealed more about the royal family than any account of battles or treaties ever could.
Selene stared.
For a fleeting moment...
There was no Queen of Egypt.
No Roman triumvir.
Only two parents laughing while their children argued over the appearance of a beetle.
She burned the image into her memory.
Because deep inside...
She already feared it wouldn't last forever.
- Writer
