What Roman Soldiers Forced Cleopatra to Do Every Night Before Her Death Was Unspeakable

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The Last Days of Cleopatra: A Story of Defiance

The silk is gone. The gold is gone. The once fragrant incense that filled her chambers has been replaced by the smell of her own unwashed body and the leather armor of the Roman soldiers who now occupy her home. Cleopatra VII Philopator, the last Pharaoh of Egypt, sits on a wooden chair that once belonged to a servant. At 39 years old, she feels the rough grain of the chair through the thin linen shift they have left her to wear.

Inside her chamber, Roman soldiers watch her every movement, every breath. They speak in Latin, a language they assume she does not understand, but she hears their discussions. She can taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth, a reminder of the pain she inflicted upon herself three days ago when she learned of Octavian’s plans for her in Rome.

Just 23 days prior, Cleopatra had ruled the wealthiest kingdom in the Mediterranean. She had commanded fleets, negotiated with emperors, and was the lover of Julius Caesar and the wife of Mark Antony. She was a queen, a goddess, the embodiment of Isis. But now, she is a prisoner, stripped of her power and dignity, surrounded by men who have been given explicit instructions on how to keep her alive while simultaneously degrading her.

As she sits in her chamber, Cleopatra knows that her death is the only thing she still controls. The guards have changed shifts, and she is aware that the night shift is different from the day shift. The night shift commander, a centurion named Gaius Cornelius Gallus, has made it clear what he expects from her in exchange for small mercies like water and moments of privacy.

What she does not know is that her son, Caesarion, the child she bore with Julius Caesar, has been captured while trying to flee to India. She does not know that he will be brought back to Alexandria for Octavian to decide his fate—whether to execute him in front of her or after she is gone. Her three younger children, the twins Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene, aged ten, and little Ptolemy Philadelphus, aged six, have already been designated as property of the Roman state, to be raised in Octavian’s household as living trophies of his conquest.

What she knows is that the guards have come to expect her compliance, and she is determined to resist their plans. The thought of being paraded through the streets of Rome, humiliated and degraded, fills her with dread. The romantic myths surrounding her death—a beautiful queen choosing to die by snakebite—are far from the truth of her situation.

In those final days of captivity, Cleopatra’s mind races with thoughts of escape. She knows that Octavian plans to display her as a trophy, to parade her through the streets of Rome, stripped of her dignity and reduced to a mere spectacle. The thought of her children witnessing her humiliation is unbearable. She begins to seek any means of death that her captors might have overlooked.

The battle of Actium, fought just weeks before her capture, had sealed her fate. Cleopatra had commanded a fleet of 60 Egyptian warships, but the battle was a disaster. As the Roman formation closed in, she made the decision to flee, abandoning Mark Antony and their forces. This act of retreat was viewed as cowardice by Roman historians, but Cleopatra knew that preserving her ships and crews was more valuable than adding to the disaster.

After the battle, she and Antony reunited at sea, but their time together was fraught with despair. Cleopatra spent days in her cabin, refusing food and writing letters she would burn. Her kingdom was crumbling, and the pressure of impending doom weighed heavily on her.

As Octavian’s forces advanced, Cleopatra frantically attempted to salvage something from the wreckage of her kingdom. She sent treasure fleets toward the Red Sea, negotiated with Rome through intermediaries, and fortified Alexandria’s defenses. But her efforts were in vain; her treasure was captured, her allies were turning against her, and her beloved city was on the brink of collapse.

When Octavian’s armies finally reached Egypt, Cleopatra was effectively ruling alone. Antony had retreated into a drunken stupor, leaving her to make decisions in the face of overwhelming odds. The final battle for Alexandria was not a battle at all; it was a surrender. Cleopatra, realizing the futility of resistance, retreated to her mausoleum, a massive stone structure she had built beside the temple of Isis.

In her final moments, Cleopatra sent a message to Antony, telling him she was dead—a test to see if he would follow her into death. When he learned she was alive, he attempted to take his own life but failed. Severely wounded, he was carried to her mausoleum, where he died in her arms, leaving her covered in his blood.

After Antony’s death, Cleopatra barricaded herself inside the mausoleum, refusing to let the Romans in. She had prepared a vial of poison, but when the Romans broke through, they found her still alive. Gaius Proculus, a member of Octavian’s staff, prevented her from taking the poison, and Cleopatra was taken captive.

Her first meeting with Octavian was a desperate plea for her children’s lives. She offered everything she had—her kingdom, her knowledge, her cooperation—but Octavian was unmoved. The interrogations began, not through physical torture but through psychological manipulation. Cleopatra was subjected to humiliation and degradation, her dignity stripped away. The guards watched her constantly, denying her privacy and sleep, forcing her into a state of despair.

As the days passed, Cleopatra realized the true horror of her situation. Octavian planned to parade her through Rome, to humiliate her in front of the crowds, to execute her as a final act of domination. The thought of her children witnessing her degradation was unbearable. She learned that Cesarion had been captured and would be executed quietly, his bloodline erased.

In that moment, Cleopatra understood that death was her only option. She began to devise a plan, knowing that she had to escape the fate Octavian had planned for her. She requested permission to visit Antony’s tomb, which was granted. During the visit, she wept and said her goodbyes, knowing that she would never return.

Upon her return, Cleopatra bathed and dressed in her finest garments, preparing for her final act. She requested a meal, and hidden within the basket of food was a cobra. The guards, not suspecting a snake, allowed her to keep it.

When they finally entered her chamber, they found her on a golden couch, dressed as if for ceremony, surrounded by the remains of her loyal servants. Cleopatra had chosen her own end, controlling the narrative of her death. She had denied Octavian the triumph he sought.

Cleopatra’s death was not a tragic love story; it was a calculated decision made in the face of overwhelming oppression. She transformed her demise from humiliation into defiance, a final act of agency against the empire that sought to erase her legacy.

In her last moments, Cleopatra became a symbol of resistance, a queen who refused to be conquered. Her story, obscured by myths and romanticized narratives, reveals the brutal reality of power and the lengths to which one will go to maintain dignity in the face of despair.

Remember Cleopatra not as a tragic figure but as a powerful woman who controlled her own fate until the very end. She remains a testament to the strength of the human spirit, a legacy that transcends time.