The Passion of Cleopatra (Ramses the Damned 2)

"This is my hope as well," Julie whispered, "my queen."

"Mine as well," she answered with a nod.

There was a sudden commotion from the castle's great hall. But as Julie jumped and grabbed Ramses' arm, Bektaten only smiled.

"It seems Aktamu has returned," she said.

They heard barking just before they reached the great hall.

Julie hesitated until she felt Ramses' arm encircle her waist, urging her forward.

Bektaten continued past them, unafraid. The sight that greeted them once they rounded the corner seemed menacing at first. But after a minute or two, Ramses realized the great hounds circling the room weren't stalking Aktamu. They orbited him as if he were the sun to their universe. And when he occasionally crouched down to show one of them affection, the others moved in, hoping he would scratch them behind their ears or under their jaws as well.

A remarkable sight! So many great and powerful hounds under the apparent thrall of a single man. But these animals weren't under the spell of the angel blossom; not in this moment. Rather, it was as Julie had suspected. Just like Bastet, the attentive cat who had sat guard over Sibyl for her entire stay, these great and powerful hounds had been forever changed by their exposure to the angel blossom. By their brief dance with a human mind.

And now Bektaten moved among them, her palms open on either side of her. Like loyal subjects, several of the dogs approached and offered her their great heads for scratching, and she complied. He wasn't sure if it was the first time he'd seen her laugh. Perhaps it was just the first time she had released laughter that sounded quite this contented and rich.

"These are good animals," the queen said. "I like these animals."

It occurred to him then, as he watched her moving among these now-docile creatures so radically changed by the secrets of her garden, what she had truly done for him by making herself known, by sharing her story. By connecting him to an intricate and undiscovered history, she had brought his years of wandering to an end. For even in his joyous travels with Julie, there had been an element of restlessness and searching, a sense that if he did not soon seek to connect himself to some modern institution or some semblance of an ordinary, modern life, his existence would once again be defined by immortal solitude. Such solitude would have soon claimed Julie as well, even as they traveled together, loved together, partook in life's great sensual pleasures together. But she was too new to immortality to know what a crushing weight this loneliness could become over time. He knew. He knew it all too well.

He had known it for centuries.

And so he now knew as well what Bektaten's arrival truly meant.

Her history, the elixir's history, was also his own. And in her garden, and the potions, tonics, and cures she drew from it, unending magic yet to be discovered. He was confident now that this would be his salvation from the great failure of imagination she'd warned him about.

She would save him from so many things.

She had gained witnesses, and they had gained a true queen.

*

Early evening brought a certain measure of quiet, and an excuse to light the torches in those areas of the castle where the wires couldn't reach.

The song of wind and sea was interrupted now and then by debates between Bektaten and Aktamu as to how their fifteen new residents should be cared for and housed.

Would they be dispersed to Bektaten's various estates and castles?

It was agreed that too little was known about their changed natures to begin planning trips for these dogs around the world. And so for now, they would remain here in Cornwall, as would Bektaten and her men.

Or at least this was how the matter would be briefly settled before one of the dogs knocked over some priceless piece of furniture and Bektaten voiced her concerns anew.

In the morning, Julie would return to London to calm the frayed nerves of the staff at the Mayfair house. To assure them that Julie and Mr. Ramsey were, in fact, quite all right, and no, they had not decided to abandon Mayfair altogether. But for now there was peace and quiet, and a respite from poisonings, suicides, and funerals for those who had once been immortal, and so Ramses took the opportunity to withdraw quietly from the great hall and walk to Bektaten's library in the tower.

There, waiting for him where he had left it, was a key to Bektaten's ancient tongue she had drawn for him on a scrap of paper, a paper he was to burn as soon as he mastered it. For she kept the language in which she'd written her journals as closely guarded a secret as the elixir itself.

She had already tutored him extensively. And his immortal mind had absorbed portions of her language quickly, as quickly as he'd memorized passages from the history books he'd devoured upon his awakening in this century. But before he took a single step on the path ahead he had to be confident of his footing. So he sat once more with the key and studied once more how the symbols of Bektaten's ancient tongue connected to the sounds of the English language he had so recently mastered.

Earlier that day, he'd translated a page of pedestrian English sentences into the ancient tongue, and his work had met with Bektaten's approval. What other sign could there be that he was ready to begin?

And so Ramses the Great, once Ramses the Damned, rose to his feet, walked to the shelves, and removed the first volume of the Shaktanis.

Once he had lit all the candles in the room and settled into the most comfortable chair, he opened the volume's leather-bound cover and embarked upon what was sure to be one of the greatest adventures he'd ever known.

46

Isle of Skye