An exotic bestiary followed, featuring the fabled creatures of the Nile and of regions even more remote. Muzzled crocodiles were paraded, fitted with harnesses attached to leashes held by teams of beastmasters: the creatures were so strong and unpredictable, it seemed to take all the keepers' strength to prevent them from lurching into the crowd. Images were displayed of the hippos potamios, the famous Nile river-horse, and of the rhinokeros, which looks like a leathery, overgrown boar brandishing a single monstrous tusk.

The beast show ended with a genuine crowd-pleaser: a troupe of Pygmies rode by, mounted on the gigantic, flightless birds the Greeks call strouthokamelos, "camel-sparrows," famed for their magnificent feathers and absurdly long necks. They are said to hide their heads in the sand when frightened.

There followed an exhibit celebrating the various crops grown along the Nile, the great granary of the Mediterranean, thanks to its yearly inundation. The pretty Egyptian maidens in pleated linen gowns carrying sheaves of grain were not as exciting as crocodiles on leashes, but they nonetheless garnered the crowd's applause, and cheers rang out for Caesar when a crier announced that a distribution of free grain to the citizenry would follow the triumph.

The tone of the procession grew more martial as placards were exhibited showing incidents of the war. (Caesar had promised to tell the full story in his continuing memoirs, but that volume had not yet been published.) There were scenes of the battles in the harbor of Alexandria, in which the skies were filled with flaming missiles hurled from shipboard ballistae. Other scenes illustrated the long siege of the royal palace by the Egyptians, who attempted for months to penetrate Caesar's defenses or else to cut off his water supply, and failed at every turn. There were several scenes of the final, decisive battle on the banks of the Nile, where young King Ptolemy's royal barge was capsized by fleeing Egyptian soldiers. The king's remains were never found; nonetheless, a number of his personal effects had been retrieved from the Nile, including some of his ceremonial weapons and armor, and these magnificent pieces were displayed as trophies.

Other scenes depicted the deaths of Caesar's chief enemies in Egypt. King Ptolemy's lord chamberlain, the eunuch Pothinus, had been forced by Caesar to drink poison for conspiring against him; the man had died before my eyes, cursing both Cleopatra and her brother. The placard illustrating his death portrayed him with exaggerated breasts and hips, which he had not possessed, and feminine makeup, which he had not worn; Pothinus was reduced to a Roman caricature of a eunuch. The crowd laughed and cheered as they were shown the picture of him writhing in agony at Caesar's feet, the death cup still clutched in his hand.

Another placard showed the death of Achillas, the Egyptian general who had mounted the siege against Caesar; it was Arsinoe who eventually executed him for treachery. Achillas was a name of infamy in Rome, for he had been among the murderers of Pompey, delivering the blow that struck the Great One's head from his shoulders even before he could step ashore in Egypt.

Curiously, there was no placard to illustrate Pompey's demise, or the subsequent presentation of Pompey's head as a gift from King Ptolemy to Caesar. Pompey's defeat at Pharsalus, his desperate flight to Egypt, and his ignominious death were not to figure in any of Caesar's triumphs. Whether for fear of hubris, or in deference to the lingering sentimental attachment many Romans felt for Pompey, Caesar did not seize the occasion to gloat over his rival's desecrated corpse.

Others besides me noticed this omission; and clearly not everyone felt sentimental about the Great One. A man called out, "Where is Pompey's head? Show us the head!"

Some joined in this call, but many others groaned, shushed their neighbors, and booed. A ripple of discord passed through the crowd, sparking restlessness and loosening tongues.

"And while you're at it, show us Cleopatra!" someone yelled.

"Yes, where's Cleopatra? Let's have a look at the little nymph who has Caesar so hot and bothered!"

"Show us the queen! Show us the queen!"

"There should at least be a picture of her…"

"Preferably naked!"

The wags in the crowd remained unaware that Cleopatra was among them, seated amid the dignitaries. I looked across the way, and saw that she had moved back from the parapet, as if to further conceal herself. Her face showed no expression.

The inevitable chants followed, speculating on the activities of Caesar and the Egyptian queen during their long boat trip up the Nile. Many in the crowd already knew these lewd ditties and joined in at once, clapping in unison as they recited one verse after another. Men share such bits of doggerel in the Forum; wives bring them home from the marketplace; soon, even children know them by heart. For all his earthly glory, Caesar was powerless to stop the spread of a rude joke or an awful pun at his expense.

I gazed at Cleopatra across the way. Her face remained impassive, but even at such a distance I could see that her cheeks had reddened a bit. The queen was not used to being mocked.

Then, abruptly, the ditties fell silent and the clapping stopped. As if conjured by the will of the crowd, Cleopatra suddenly loomed before them-or rather, her image loomed, for approaching on the path, mounted on a platform and pulled by a team of Nubian slaves, was a breathtaking statue of her.

It was larger than life and appeared to be made of solid gold, though it was probably gilded bronze. The gilt shimmered brightly beneath the sun; flashes of golden light dazzled my eyes. The queen was portrayed not in the outlandish garb of the pharaohs, which the Ptolemies had appropriated when they assumed the rule of Egypt, but in elegant Greek dress, wearing a simple diadem on her brow. The statue's face had a stern, almost mannish quality; perhaps the sculptor made his subject look older and plainer than she was, so as to emphasize her qualities as a ruler of men rather than an object of male desire. The face, with its sparkling lapis eyes and elusive smile, nonetheless projected a powerful feminine allure; one could see why a man like Caesar had been captivated by such a woman.

I drew a sharp breath. Caesar's inclusion of the statue-a gift from the queen herself?-was a considerable gamble. Who could predict the crowd's reaction? Or did he brazenly parade the statue for just that reason, as a means to gauge the temper of the Roman mob? If the statue had been a piece of captured booty, and Cleopatra a vanquished enemy, there would have been no controversy; but Caesar's war in Egypt had affirmed Cleopatra's claim to the throne, so the appearance of the statue seemed to be a celebration of the queen herself. Here, for all to see, in golden splendor, was the exotic creature who claimed to have borne Caesar's son and whom many thought was encouraging Caesar's royal ambitions. If the crowd found the statue offensive, they might break into a full-scale riot.

I looked around me, wondering if our high seats would prove to be our salvation or our doom. Would we remain above the rampaging mob or be driven up and over the top, to fall to our deaths? There was also the possibility that the crowd might realize that Cleopatra was present and vent their fury against her.

I gazed at the queen in her box across the way. Our eyes met. Cleopatra nodded slightly, to show that she recognized me. She saw the alarm on my face, and her own expression grew apprehensive. She raised her eyebrows slightly. She frowned.

But the reaction of the crowd was far from violent. A hush fell over the throng. There were no jeers, no cries of outrage, not even any ribald jests. The golden statue seemed to cast a spell. People gazed up in wonder as it passed before them.