"Caesar has rented a house at harbour's edge from Dimonius, an elder cousin of ours whose sole interest in life is the procurement of foreign prostitutes. This is as it should be. Praetorian guards have been bivuoaced in a nearby warehouse, where treasures from the Indias and Ch'in were once stored. (Rome, like a recalcitrant slave, inches ever toward us!) These days the building is mostly unused, but I am told that during sandstorms it provides shelter for anyone caught unawares at marketplace ..."
"Maddeningly, the general refuses to acknowledge our official summons. I cannot allow his disrespect for Egypt's State Religion (and Our Self as Titular Goddess) to go unpunished. Options, however, are few. After all, what can I possibly do to redress his slight? How can I, a delicate woman, extract homage from the unmannerly barbarian? Were he a petty king or local satrap I could have him brought before me in chains, to beg for my forgiveness. But logistics aside, I fear that in this situation such a response might prove difficult. Not to mention dangerous."
"My spies tell me that Caesar is redecorating. It doesn't surprise me. Dimonius' taste was always just short of obscene. He once had a tapestry spun from the pubic hair of slaves. The Alexandrians were scandalized. Orators took to the streets. Six field hands died from incidental bleeding. But there was a notable decrease in the louse population that year. In any event, Caesar's sudden fascination with furniture and wall coverings indicates he plans to continue ignoring this Queen of Egypt. Which of course is unacceptable under any circumstances."