As in Spartacus (2013) and Pontius Pilate (2017), Schiavone concisely depicts a figure “hidden in shadow” but “connected to crucial events in Roman history.” Challenging some modern historians and ancient sources poisoned by prejudice against an ambitious non-Roman woman, he insists on Cleopatra’s substantial intellectual and strategic impact, on Antony especially. He takes as keys to understanding this complex personality her relations with Julius Caesar and her vision of an Alexander-inspired empire to rule. The queen’s story is inextricably intertwined with Rome’s history, and much of the book is devoted to Caesar and Antony’s complicated military and political maneuvers. Inevitably, despite Schiavone’s efforts to make the most of few sources, the men take center stage. Although he provides extensive source notes, he still must conjecture and speculate on much, but he does so persuasively. For instance, writing of Cleopatra, that she “sensed” a situation, he makes a good case for the thoughts and motives he projects onto her. Schiavone blames Antony’s military failures entirely on his “ineptitude as a strategist,” detailing the Roman’s indecision, poor planning, and military and political blunders while exonerating Cleopatra from the Actium debacle. The author’s style retains its formal flair: He observes of Caesar and Cleopatra that “The hummings of the heart were always subordinated, in both of them, to the logic of ambition and power—or rather, to the projection of the self into the space and time of the immortal.” The multiple power-hungry Ptolemies, the many figures of the republic-to-imperium transition, and the intricate military maneuvers risk occasionally losing lay readers, though, overall, the picture is clear. Schiavone’s stated aim, “combining powerful interpretation with the joy of storytelling,” largely succeeds.