Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part I-Antony, page 17
“Highness, you realize you're putting me in an extremely awkward position,” I said, causing her to lean back, her expression unreadable, but I had to continue. “Antonius is my general, and he's a Roman. You are queen, that's true, but you're foreign and I'm a loyal Roman. If word were to get out that we met, it could be very bad for me.”
“Pullus, why do you think you're my only guest tonight? I gave Quintus Dellius, who has been my shadow, a task this evening to carry a message to Antonius announcing my arrival, just before you arrived. I also requested that Dellius wait for Antonius’ answer, so I do not expect him back this evening, but even if he were to return, we would be warned in more than enough time for you to return to camp unobserved.”
I considered this, then slowly nodded my head.
“Very well,” I said. “I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability, for the sake of Caesar’s memory and your son.”
I was not prepared for the glint of tears in her eyes at the mention of her old lover and my general. For several moments, we sat there, sharing our own silent memories of the man who had such an impact on our lives. Finally, I decided to ask a question that had been rattling around in my head since I received her invitation.
“Why me?” I asked suddenly. “Surely there are higher-ranking men in the army whose acquaintance you made while you lived in Rome that know Antonius far better than I do.”
She considered the question, staring into her wine cup. When she finally answered, she spoke slowly, clearly choosing her words carefully.
“For several reasons, not all of which I'm willing to divulge to you, Pullus. First, because I don't trust any of Rome’s upper classes any farther than I can throw them, and you see how small I am.”
I laughed politely at her jest.
“Secondly, even if I did trust them, they would tell me what they thought I wanted to hear, and I know that a large number of them despise me. Cicero was the worst of the lot.” Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile as she spoke his name. “But he wasn't the only one. Finally,” now she looked directly into my eyes, her tone almost challenging, “because I trust you, though I don't exactly understand why I do, although I'm sure that much of it has to do with Caesar. You know that he thought very highly of you, don’t you?”
“I know that he respected my fighting ability,” I answered.
I was surprised when she shook her head.
“No,” she said. “It wasn't just that. He said that despite your lack of education, you're extremely bright, and of all things that Caesar respected most, it was a powerful mind. He said that he expected to make you a Senator at some point in the future, after all his reforms went through and you had elevated yourself to the equestrian class. That was something of a test, you see, to watch and see if you had the ambition and ability to do that yourself. Caesar told me that if you did that, he would find a way to make you a Senator in the future.”
I sat there, stunned and completely speechless. I have often wondered whether Cleopatra was telling me the truth, or if she was just doing exactly what she had accused the upper-class Romans of doing; telling me what she thought I wanted to hear.
Returning to the subject at hand, Cleopatra asked me, “What kind of general is Antonius?”
“He’s not Caesar’s bootlace,” I said quickly, and then wincing at myself for speaking too quickly, I hurried to expand on that. “Oh, he’s brave enough, I think to a fault,” I continued. “But he’s much too impulsive, and he tends to rush headlong into a situation when he would be better off taking his time and surveying the situation and the ground.”
She considered this for a moment, then asked, “But the men love him, don’t they?”
“Some do,” I admitted. “Although that number has shrunk considerably since he served with us in Gaul. This…situation with Octavian has exposed a side to him that I don’t think has endeared him to any of us. He can be extremely vindictive, and yet in almost the same breath he can do something extremely generous, though in truth I haven't seen much of that lately. But it makes him unpredictable, and if there's one thing a Legionary wants more than anything in his commander, besides competence, it’s predictability.”
“You mentioned Octavian,” Cleopatra’s tone was casual, but it sounded forced to me. A suspicion began blooming in me that perhaps he was her real reason for this dinner. “Tell me about him.”
This was a subject I was not willing to discuss, and I said as politely as I could that Octavian was off-limits. She clearly did not like it, but seeing that I was not budging, she was gracious enough about it, returning to Antonius. We talked of Antonius for another third of a watch, in between bites of food, which were brought in by relays of slaves. Finally, the talk turned to more pleasant things, like the trip up the Nile and the work she had done in rebuilding Alexandria in the seven years since we were there and almost destroyed the city. The talk then turned to her son, Caesarion. For me, this was the most difficult part of the dinner. Her love and pride in her son was plain to see, which made me think of Vibi and Gisela.
I suppose that something must have showed in my face, because Cleopatra said, clearly offended despite the lightness in her tone, “Is there something wrong, Pullus? I suppose hearing the prattling of a proud mother must be quite tedious.”
I do not know what prompted me to speak thus, but I imagine part of it was that I saw that she was not just offended; she was hurt. I shook my head.
“It’s not that at all, Highness. It’s just that hearing you speak of your son reminded me of mine.”
“You have a family?” she asked, clearly surprised.
“Had,” I said through the lump in my throat.
For a moment, she did not appear to understand, then her eyes softened and she reached across the table to put her hand on mine.
“I am sorry, Pullus. I didn't mean to bring up a painful memory.”
Again, I shook my head. “It’s quite all right, Highness. You had no way of knowing.”
She seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat, then asked, “How were they taken from you?”
Then I told her the whole story, of the furious ride to Brundisium with Diocles, and the moment of realization that the gods had taken my family from me. I talked of Gisela and her beauty, of Vibi and his ferocious temper that was so much like his mother’s, and his sturdy body and size that was so much like me. I talked of the daughter I had barely known; I talked with Cleopatra in a way that I had never done with anyone before or since about my loss and the almost unbearable pain that it had caused. When I was finished, I looked up and was surprised to see tears streaming down her face, which she made no attempt to hide, and I will admit that I fell a little in love with Cleopatra that night.
“I couldn't bear to lose Caesarion,” she whispered, then suddenly a tremor passed through her whole body as the very idea made her shudder with fear.
“I don't think that there's anything worse than outliving your children,” I replied.
We sat there for several moments, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
Then, it was time to leave, and as I was thanking her for a wonderful evening, I made my big mistake, one that has haunted me through the years. I had turned to leave when she called out to me. I turned to see standing before me no queen, no temptress; nothing but a concerned mother, wringing her hands, clearly tormented by the turn our conversation had taken.
“Pullus, do you think Caesarion has anything to worry about from Octavian?”
I should not have answered, but when I looked in her face, I saw the ghost of another mother who loved her child very much, a woman with flaming red hair. It felt like my heart was being squeezed by the hand of some god, and I could not leave her standing there looking this way.
Shaking my head, I assured her, “No, Highness. He’s just a boy, and he poses no threat to Octavian whatsoever. He may be many things, but he's no murderer of children.”
She looked obviously relieved, and when I left I felt good about myself, happy that I had eased her fears. Despite how things turned out between us, many nights my sleep has been disturbed by the sight of her face, smiling in relief and happiness at my lie.
I was present when Cleopatra made her appearance before Antonius in Tarsus, catching him by surprise, the Triumvir clearly not anticipating a woman, even a queen, to take the initiative. He was clearly expecting to see her in his own good time, but Cleopatra was not one to wait for anyone. Antonius was hearing cases from a number of litigants in the forum, and I suppose, because of my size, I had been delegated to stand slightly behind Antonius in full uniform, carrying my vitus, with strict instructions to look as imposing and nasty as possible. As Antonius was listening, with barely concealed impatience, to a complaint from some merchant, there was a stir at the back of the crowd, accompanied by a rolling murmur as the crowd parted. Looking over the heads of the people, I could see a little brown man, the same one who brought me to see Cleopatra the night before, garbed in the pleated linen vestment worn by members of the Egyptian court, gently pushing people aside.
Following him was another of her creatures, a eunuch named Philo, who announced in a loud but surprisingly deep voice, “All hail Pharaoh, Lord of the Two Ladies Upper and Lower Egypt, Mistress of Sedge and Bee, Child of Amun-Ra, Isis and Ptah!”
He stamped a golden staff on the floor three times, then stepped aside to allow Cleopatra entry, which she did while being carried on an enormous gold litter adorned with peacock feathers and borne by eight huge Nubians, all of them bedecked in gold and peacock feathers in the same manner as the litter. The Nubians set the litter down smoothly, then without waiting for assistance, Cleopatra alighted from it, wearing her traditional royal garb, minus the huge headdress, choosing a simple diadem instead. I was not sure, but I supposed that was to emphasize her Macedonian heritage and to make her seem a bit less foreign to the Roman contingent.
Still, I could see the other Romans present who had never seen Cleopatra or anything Egyptian gaping at her strangeness, yet she was seemingly oblivious as she said in her clear, carrying voice, “Marcus Antonius, you summoned me and I am here.”
All eyes turned to Antonius, whose face was a mask, yet his tone was courteous as he replied, “Your Highness, I am sorry to say that your name is not on the list to be seen today, and my schedule is full. You must see my secretary, but I promise that your name will be first on my list to be seen in the morning.”
There was a sudden stillness in the air, and I could see two spots of color rise on Cleopatra’s cheeks. Meanwhile, the crowd, who had removed themselves to the edges of the forum in order to give her the deference and respect due to a monarch, seemed as shocked as she was. She was not so easily outmaneuvered though; recovering quickly, she favored Antonius with a brilliant smile.
“Of course, Imperator,” I had to suppress a smile at her use of the term, knowing that Antonius would preen at being hailed as such. “I will send Philo to see your secretary. In the meantime, I was wondering if you would care to join me for dinner aboard my barge this evening, say, just after sunset?”
Antonius had been outflanked, at least in the eyes of the crowd and he knew it, though I could see he was puzzling out exactly how it had happened. I knew enough about people of the East to understand that they placed much more emphasis on the rights and prerogatives of kingship than we Romans did, according monarchs a deference that we found repugnant. Antonius had come across to them as a boorish oaf whose heavy-handed attempt to establish his dominance looked like little more than bullying. Cleopatra was appearing as the magnanimous one, forbearing Antonius’ rudeness with grace and aplomb, and I found myself applauding her performance. Silently, of course.
Antonius gave a curt nod, saying, “I have no other plans. I will be there.”
“Wonderful.” Cleopatra smiled, then turned back to her litter. Before alighting, she turned back as if something had just occurred to her. “If you wish, please feel free to invite Quintus Dellius, Lucius Poplicola, and say, fifty of your friends?”
As she said this, I saw her look over Antonius’ shoulder, our eyes locking for a moment. My heart began beating wildly as she seemed about to say something more. Please don’t invite me Cleopatra, I kept thinking over and over. Finally, the moment passed as she closed her mouth, then slid back into the litter. I was thanking the gods that she had not included me in her invitation when Antonius turned to look at me, suspicion written all over his face. Cleopatra’s litter exited the forum, with Philo taking up the rear of the small procession, before Antonius turned back to the litigant, who was standing helplessly throughout the exchange between Triumvir and queen.
Once the business with all the cases was finished, Antonius ordered me to dismiss the people. I stepped forward, waving my vitus, shooing people out of the forum. A couple people were a bit reluctant, so I gave them a good shove to get them going. Once the forum was deserted, I turned to leave, but Antonius called out to me, telling me to attend to him. His face was cold, his tone matching it when he jerked his chin in the general direction of where Cleopatra had gone.
“What was that all about?”
“What was what about?” I asked, determining that answering too quickly would only arouse Antonius’ suspicions, so accustomed was he to men in my position acting stupid in front of their superiors.
“You know exactly what,” he snapped. “That cozy little look she gave you? She was about to say something to you; I saw it.”
I furrowed my brow, the picture of confusion. “I’m not sure what you're referring to, sir. I wasn’t watching her; I was watching the crowd to make sure that there wasn’t any trouble.” I paused as if thinking about it, then said, “But if she were looking at me, I’m sure it’s because she recognized me. Remember, I was with Caesar in Alexandria with the 6th.”
Either Antonius had forgotten or had not been aware of this, because his demeanor changed immediately, but his tone was still doubtful.
“That makes sense, I suppose,” he said slowly, rubbing his chin. He looked at me sharply then asked, “So you’ve been around her a lot, then? You know something about her?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t around her that much,” I replied, lying through my teeth. “I only know what I saw, which was pretty much what you just saw. Acting like a queen, putting on airs. Typical royalty, I suppose.”
He grunted, and I could tell that I had satisfied his suspicions, because his mind was clearly elsewhere. I waited for several moments, but he was clearly lost in thought.
Finally, I cleared my throat, then asked, “Will that be all, sir?”
“What? Oh, yes.”
He waved a hand, dismissing me, and I walked out of the forum, trying to ignore my tunic soaked completely through with sweat.
Thus began what has quickly passed into legend as one of the great tempestuous love affairs of all time. From that first party on her barge there began a series of revels, alternating between her barge and his palace, to which I was invited on one occasion, towards the end of the time before Cleopatra returned to Egypt. I still thank the gods that it was not one of those accursed costume parties that the upper classes seem to love, because I do not even want to think what kind of frippery Antonius would have made me wear, probably nothing more than a loincloth, if that. I do not know if they had become lovers by this point, but if not, it was not for a lack of trying on the part of Antonius, who was panting after Cleopatra like a man who had been chained as a galley slave and had not seen a woman in years. Even during my one relatively short exposure to their particular song, it was clear that Cleopatra was playing Antonius like a harp and frankly, it was a little disgusting to see one of the most powerful men on the planet behave so shamefully over a woman, though I could somewhat understand in her case. The rumor was that Cleopatra had demanded that if Antonius wanted her favors he had to prove himself worthy by killing Arsinoe, the sister that caused so many problems along with her tutor Ganymede seven years before. I dismissed it as rumor; until, that is, after Cleopatra’s return to Egypt, Antonius went to Ephesus, where Arsinoe was living as a priestess in the temple to Artemis, had her dragged out, then run through with a sword. From Ephesus, Antonius went on to Antioch, Tyre and Sidon, doing his job as governor of the East in the same manner as he had at Tarsus, hearing cases and dispensing justice. It was about this time that two things happened, both of which would have enormous ramifications to further events, rippling outward through time like a stone thrown into water makes waves that reach farther and farther.
Nobody had ever accused Lucius Antonius, the Triumvir’s brother, of being the brains of the Antonius family. While Marcus was no Caesar, when compared to his younger brother he was an absolute Colossus of intellect. So perhaps it was not surprising that Lucius, along with Marcus’ wife Fulvia, took it upon themselves to start a war in Italia. Lucius was Consul for the year, which I suppose helped to nudge him in the direction of declaring war. Fulvia contributed to the cause by convincing Munatius Plancus, who had managed to that point to stay neutral, into donating the services of the veterans he was charged with settling around Beneventum, about two Legions’ worth of men. Lucius, using his status as Consul, recruited two fresh Legions of his own down in the boot of the peninsula, then began marching north towards Rome. To make matters even more confusing and difficult for Octavian, Fulvia also convinced that idiot Tiberius Claudius Nero, who had served briefly with Caesar and the two Cohorts of the 6th in Alexandria before being dismissed by Caesar, into raising a slave revolt in Campania. I should say, that was what he was charged with doing, but as usual he bungled the job so badly that not one slave rose up.
Octavian was caught out, because he had no official status other than being Triumvir, meaning he could not afford to engage Lucius, choosing instead to try beating Lucius’ army to cities and towns containing supplies in an attempt to starve him out. The third Triumvir, my old enemy Lepidus, marched two Legions to Rome, where he supposedly made speeches about how he would wade in Lucius’ guts should the Triumvir’s brother dare to show his face. In reality, Lepidus immediately disappeared when the standards of Lucius’ army were in view from the Capitoline Hill, taking his two Legions with him. Surrounding Italia on all sides were men loyal to Antonius, each of them with a substantial army of their own; Pollio was in Cisalpine Gaul with seven Legions, Quintus Calenus was in Transalpine Gaul with eleven, and Ventidius the mule driver was in Liguria with another seven. All Marcus Antonius had to do was send word to each or all of these men, and they would have been more than happy to crush Octavian, yet he sent no such word. Further compounding Octavian’s woes was the presence of Sextus and his fleets, squeezing off the mainland from Sicily, Sardinia and Africa, thereby starving the peninsula to death. Lucius marched, now with six Legions, to the city of Perusia. He was obviously counting on Antonius’ generals in the provinces to come to his aid, because he basically penned himself up in the city, then settled down to wait for Octavian to come, expecting that the young Triumvir would be trapped between his own force and that of whichever general came to his rescue.
