Winter Quarters, page 16
Berenice knew something about the Goddess, and spoke freely of what she knew. In Syria, indeed, it would be absurd to keep quiet about her, since she is openly worshipped on the hilltops. But I think Nicanor would have been surprised at his sister’s un-Greek enthusiasm. When Acco told her the story of Grane’s death and his own misfortune, she refused to see in it anything for regret.
‘Sometimes the Goddess demands blood, though not very often,’ I heard her explain solemnly to him, sitting at his feet as he rested on a marble bench before a temple. ‘But those whom she summons are not called to sorrow. Your Grane was chosen for a high honour, chosen out of all your people. Her spirit did not die with her body. You agree with me there, for you must know from the teaching of your Druids that the spirit persists. She is not in gloomy Hades, the ordinary fate of mortals; she is not even in the Fortunate Islands, with the spirits of great heroes. Her spirit is now one with the Goddess herself. That is the splendid reward of those whose life is spilled for the Lady.’
Acco nodded, seeming to agree. He was, in fact, shocked to hear this child speak so openly of divine secrets, which should be revealed only to chosen seekers; and he did not agree with her, for he had another theory of what had happened to the spirit of Grane. One night he told me he thought it must have entered the body of Berenice.
Our Druids teach that souls after death, or at least some souls, enter into new bodies. In theory the doctrine is secret, but every Gallic warrior has heard of it; and Acco, during his Ovate training, had been told many of the details. By rights the first body should be dead before the second body is born, and Berenice must have been nine or ten when Grane went for her last climb among the high hills. But I suppose an aspirant to the Druid order learns how to argue away difficulties of that kind. Anyway, though the doctrine may have been incorrect, Acco had managed to persuade himself.
I see now that Acco had been very lonely since he left the hills of Pyrene, and it was largely my fault. I tried to be a true comrade to him, and certainly we were very good friends. But Acco all his life needed some one person who would look to him for protection, and I can rub along anywhere. If I had found civilisation too much for me he would have protected me, but I have never felt the need for an elder brother. He also needed sympathy for his deep moral earnestness and somehow I could never take things so seriously as he did. Here was Berenice, earnest, solemn, pious, silly and very young. Naturally she appealed to him. She filled exactly the gap left by Grane.
Perhaps I should not have been so bored if Berenice on our excursions had been escorted by her nurse or maid. Any Syrian woman, even if plump and middle-aged, will flutter her eyelids and giggle, flirting just enough to pass away the time amusingly. But Damasippus jumped at the chance his sister gave him; he insisted on coming with us. Of course, he always tried to pair off with Acco; so did Berenice. I was used to that. Acco was always the favourite for he had something about him, perhaps his own mixture of honesty and kindliness, which made everyone love him. However, good manners compelled one of the children to stay with me, and since I dislike boys who wriggle their bottoms and gaze up appealingly through long eyelashes, I made it my business to thwart Damasippus; seeing to it that he was left with me while Acco and Berenice examined holy images and gossipped with temple servants.
At first Berenice was not interested in Acco as a man; but she was most anxious to win him to her own cult. She held that all good things come from the Goddess, and that Acco, who had already been singled out for her divine attention, was foolish to defy her. It was odd to hear this child, with no experience of the force she described, extolling the merit of allowing nature to control the will.
‘You must empty yourself to permit the Goddess to enter,’ she said earnestly one day, while we strolled round the biggest temple of Aphrodite. ‘I sometimes come here alone, with just my maid, and sit before the image to await a command. So far I have heard nothing, though I know of women who have been inspired. They slept in this holy place, after drinking a sacred potion. But the priests won’t let me taste it because they say I am too young.’
‘And so you are, silly,’ said Damasippus. ‘When you are older you will have more sense. Then you will leave this Syrian Goddess, and sacrifice to Athene like a true Greek. These noble warriors aren’t interested in she-gods. They follow Zeus and Ares. If you like, Acco, we can scramble straight down this hillside to the gymnasium, while Camillus takes my sister home by the paved road.’
‘I shall be charmed to come to the gymnasium, if you can find someone big enough to wrestle with me,’ Acco answered gravely. ‘I am sure Camillus would like to come too. Let us first drop your sister at home.’
‘Will you hang up a wreath before the image?’ asked Berenice. ‘It’s a little courtesy most visitors pay, in thanksgiving for the beauty of the temple. It commits you to nothing, and it will please me.’
‘My only desire is to please you, madam,’ answered Acco, as formally as if he were addressing a great lady. ‘But I will not pay tribute to an enemy. That has never been the custom of my house.’
I moved towards the stall where these wreaths were sold. But that sharp-eyed and venomous brat crushed my attempt to smooth things over. ‘No one has asked you to offer thanks, Camillus,’ he whispered. ‘It’s your comrade my sister wants to win to the service of her Lady. You and I may worship as we please.’
That was true enough, but there was no need to say it.
More than once Berenice strayed off alone with Acco after we had all left the house together. I did not worry, for I knew that my friend was too honourable to seduce his host’s daughter. The only one who suffered by it was that wretched boy, who languished at me because such conduct was second nature to him, but who could not keep his thoughts away from his adored Acco. He would have been the better for a thrashing, though it was not for me to educate him.
Acco enjoyed his cosy little chats about divine affairs. He began to forget Berenice’s youth, and to behave as though he were courting her.
My dear friend was much too ingenuous to conceal his feelings. Aristobulus soon noticed that he was growing fond of the child. To my surprise, he did not object. Nicanor explained the family attitude, one afternoon when he and I shared a couch in the hot room of the bath.
‘We want my sister to marry into a family who will protect us, a family with influence over the Roman rulers of Syria. We used to think that meant she must marry an Italian with generations of the citizenship behind him; but Acco the Gaul will do very well instead. Publius Crassus thinks well of him, and in due course Publius will inherit his father’s power. Oh, I know that’s unconstitutional; we new citizens are well up in the rules of the sacred Roman commonwealth. All our magistrates are elected by the people, to hold power for one year only. But the system has broken down; whatever they may think in the Forum, out here we see that clearly. We live under three rulers, of equal power: Caesar the conqueror of Gaul, Pompeius the conqueror of Mithradates, Crassus who could buy them both. But when Crassus has conquered Parthia he will be tyrant of Rome. Whether he calls himself Consul or King, his power will continue to his son. His son’s friend may never be a citizen; he will be more than a citizen. Then the business of his father-in-law will prosper, untouched by Roman tax-gatherers.’
That sounded exciting. At headquarters we always spoke of the Roman People as our sovereign, and when living in Rome I had observed that control of the Forum and its elections was the prize for which every leader contended. But now that it had been pointed out to me I agreed that power was passing to the soldiers; and after Crassus had conquered Parthia he would be the most powerful soldier in Rome. I also was an honoured friend of his son, and I also would be a great man.
As autumn deepened into winter even Acco, so slow at noticing his surroundings, became aware that his suit was favoured. One evening as we were going to bed he stood over me to tell me all about it.
‘I left Gaul resigned to the idea that I would be the last of my very noble line. But if I marry legally a freeborn lady of Roman family, her children will be recognised as my legitimate heirs. There may be sons to ride in my place in the war-band of the Elusates.’
‘If the Elusates have a war-band when your sons are grown. The Romans change everything. Our children will never see the world we saw in our childhood.’
‘Romans will always have a use for Gallic swords. They have brought us right across the world to fight for them. Our people may obey Rome, who is a good mistress to warriors; they will never sink to the level of these Syrians, who pay tribute so that others shall fight for them.’
‘Very well,’ I said, to tease him. ‘You have decided to seek the hand of a freeborn Roman lady. Who is she? For here in Antioch we meet none but those Syrians whom you so rightly despise.’
‘I was too sweeping. They are not all faint-hearted. Our host, for example, has honourably sent his son to serve with the Roman forces. Berenice is a freeborn Roman, sister of a warrior, though her blood may be Greek. I believe her father would approve an alliance with my noble house, she herself seems not unwilling to have me, and I am content to make her the mother of my children. Unless you consider the match grossly unfitting, I wish you to make the formal offer of my hand. Will you be good enough to seek a private interview with Aristobulus?’
‘Dear Acco, still clinging to the formal manners of Gaul, as though you were offering for the hand of an Arvernian princess. Here they will consider your wealth and your prospects, not your birth. Why not admit that you love Berenice as a person, not merely as a fitting mother for your children? Among Romans that is a respectable motive for marriage; though they would be less surprised if you confessed yourself hopelessly enchained by Damasippus. By the way, why do you love Berenice?’
‘Because she is all that Grane was, and more beside. She can read the old stories of the gods, she comprehends this frightening civilised world where I must live, and as a devout servant of the Goddess she may find a way to free me from the curse of divine displeasure.’
‘If it’s Berenice herself you want, you are right to offer for her. But if you seek an alliance with Aristobulus, remember that he is utterly lacking in honour. If you get his daughter it will be because he expects that one day you will prove useful to him. But if you yourself should need help he will do nothing. He is a merchant, and therefore a friend for fair weather only.’
That was what I felt about my host and all his family. They were pleasant companions, but undependable. They were not dishonest. If they contracted to sell leather they would keep their bargain. My savings, in a sealed bag, lay in their strongroom; whenever I asked I would get back the bag intact. But if the Parthians appeared outside Antioch they would negotiate a peaceful surrender; they would never risk their lives for Rome, or Syria, or Liberty, or anything else. Nicanor had spoken of a wise man of old who taught that all barbarians, including even the Gauls, are slaves by nature. The Greeks of Antioch may not be natural slaves, but they are born taxpayers.
However, Acco was not intending to marry the family. He had fallen in love with the brown eyes and solemn vivacity of little Berenice; and if he wanted her so badly I thought the better of him for offering honourable marriage when he might easily have seduced her.
Two days later I made an opportunity to speak privately with Aristobulus. He agreed to a betrothal; though the marriage must wait until the campaign was finished and the bridegroom rich with Parthian spoil. I did not tell Acco the reason for the delay, but let him think that Berenice must wait until she was fourteen before she could be considered marriageable.
Then Acco developed scruples about the fitness of living under the same roof with his affianced bride. In Gaul it would have been shocking, but then in Gaul there are no houses like the great mansions of Syrian merchants. I pointed out that there were walls and doors and many slaves between the women’s quarters and the guest-rooms. But Acco insisted, and Aristobulus was charmed to learn of such an amusing barbarian punctilio. We both moved to a tavern in the lower town, where there was always a noisy party in the next room, cheering the dancing girls; and in the evening we had to get drunk or appear eccentric. I was already so accustomed to civilised life that I found the coarse dissipation of this tavern most boring.
About midwinter the Gallic horse were called out on duty, and we were glad to ride with them; though after two years in the Roman army I knew enough of the arts of a veteran to have remained unnoticed in our lodging had I preferred it. The expedition was a peaceful march, with no prospect of fighting; but the Gauls had been specially chosen for it, as dependable disciplined troops. So in a way it was an honour to march with them.
We were to ride south, through country so hot that midwinter is the best season for travelling. We would call at several walled cities, the capitals of local chieftains who ruled under Roman protection. At each city we would pick up the sum of money the prince had been induced to offer as a voluntary contribution to the cost of the campaign. Then we were to bring the whole sum back to Antioch, guarding it from Parthian raiders and from casual brigandage by the local Arabs.
At a private meeting of Gallic officers Publius Crassus explained our duties.
‘Among other places,’ he said, ‘you will be calling at Jerusalem; and we try to avoid sending Roman troops there. It is a holy city, the home of the god of the Jews, who lives there all the year round in the only temple that belongs to him. A poverty-stricken god, without even a summer villa of his own in the hills. But though he’s poor, he’s proud. He will not recognise any other gods whatsoever, and he is very angry if strangers bring into his holy city the emblems of some other worship. He hates Romans especially, because they all have images of Mars or the She-wolf embossed somewhere on their armour. His followers, the Jews, hate Romans as he does. If my father sends legionaries to collect the contribution there will almost certainly be a riot. You Gauls have been chosen for the responsible task, because you are reliable troopers who can behave peacefully in a strange city.’
‘It is dishonourable to insult the gods of foreigners, unless you are at war with them,’ said Acco at once; and we all nodded agreement. Every Gaul accepted Acco’s verdict on questions of honour. We others did not always want to be completely honourable all the time, since we were so far from home that our kin would never know of our behaviour, yet when he spoke we must bow to his ruling.
Publius went on to explain what we must do. A few years ago the little country of Judaea had submitted to Pompeius; but the Jews are a warlike race, and Jerusalem is a strong fortress. It would be most inconvenient if they were provoked to rebellion just when we were about to march against the Parthians; and they would rebel without thought of consequences if we insulted their hermit-god.
So we would not enter their holy city. We were to camp outside the gates, quite peacefully; and we would pay for forage and anything else we took. On an appointed day the priests would hand over the money we had come to fetch. If they did not we might ravage neighbouring villages, plundering gently without killing the peasants. Our presence would remind the Jews that Rome had the force to take whatever she demanded; but we were not to provoke resistance if it could be avoided.
‘I need not tell you in so many words, gentlemen,’ Publius ended, ‘what a compliment this is to your discipline and tact. You are sent to carry out a mission thought too delicate for Roman troops. That is because I have assured my father that you are all gentlemen of honour. If you feel tempted to rob defenceless peasants, remember that the reputation of Gaul is in your hands. I am confident you will enhance it.’
Publius Crassus was more than a dashing leader of horse; he knew how to get the best out of every man in his command. As we left headquarters Acco whispered in my ear: ‘Do you remember the first Romans we met, at that camp in the Province? They were always telling us to beware of the lash if we were lazy, and of the cross if we tried to mutiny. If there were more leaders like young Publius we would be as loyal to Rome as our fathers were to their own war-chiefs.’
The column rode proudly south, in excellent order, asking leave with all formality before we took even water for our horses.
As he rode beside me Acco sang, and waved his hand gaily but patronisingly at a garland-hung pillar which topped a hillock beside the road.
‘That’s another shrine of the Goddess,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We all know what that pillar signifies, and we all make smutty jokes about it. But here it’s open and above-board, as frank and prosaic as the latrine outside a tavern door. Here nobody fears the Goddess, though all acknowledge her power. It seems to me that in Syria they know how to worship her, and that in return she is kind to her servants. One day I shall go into one of those shrines and make my peace with her. Berenice has explained to me that the Lady of Wild Beasts is also the kindly Mother, and that I, like everyone else, was born only through her gracious intervention. She took my Grane, by means of her bear, but then she took her bear, using me as her instrument. Now Grane and the bear are both happy in the world of shadows, unless indeed Grane is already returned to earth. When grey Poplar is loaded with Parthian gold I shall return to our cool valley, where the sun shines from a blue sky and pure air brings sleep at nightfall. In Antioch I may grow rich, but only in dust and heat; and after next year I shall be rich anyway, like the rest of the army.’
‘That sounds reasonable,’ I answered. ‘I hope there is really enough plunder to go round. Those legionaries may take all the gold before the cavalry can dismount. But as regards the Goddess I am sure you are right. The gods rule mankind, but there are ways of dealing with them. Every warrior in our squadron knows how to appease Skyfather, and it is not at all surprising that the Syrians should have learned how to appease the Goddess.’
I was not sure of this. If the Syrians can manage the gods it is odd that they are condemned to pay tribute to foreigners; for surely Freedom is the greatest gift that Heaven can bestow. But if the Goddess were really hunting my comrade there was nothing to be done. I was glad to see him cheerful, for all that he might be in great danger.
