by Peake, R. W.
“You haven’t said a word about any of this,” I began. He turned to look at me, his face as flat and expressionless as it usually was, but I could see that he was troubled by the look in his eyes.
“Go on,” I said. “You have every right to speak your mind. If you don’t want to be involved in this, I won’t hold it against you in any way.”
A look of alarm flashed across his scarred visage. “It’s not that. I have no desire to be anywhere else but where I am. I was just thinking.”
“Of what?”
He did not answer for a moment, then finally he asked, “Does it bother you that we’re on the defensive?”
“Of course it does,” I replied. “It’s not in my nature, and I know it’s not in yours.”
“Then why are we?”
I did not take his meaning, but I saw Scribonius step forward, the corners of his mouth turned down almost to his chin. “You’re not suggesting that we try and kill Cleopatra, are you?”
My heart started hammering, and I took a look around to make sure that nobody was close enough to hear our conversation.
Balbus shrugged, but his tone was defensive, replying, “Why not?”
“Because we'd bring the wrath of Marcus Antonius down on our heads, that’s why,” Scribonius retorted.
“And who else?” Balbus asked quietly. “Who in this army would Antonius use to seek retribution?”
For once, and perhaps the only time, I saw Scribonius was completely flummoxed, for Balbus was right. As hated as Cleopatra was, it was highly unlikely that we would be considered anything other than heroes by the army and Antonius’ own generals. Most importantly, it would put us in the good graces of Octavian, not to mention erase whatever debt I owed him, although I know that was not part of Balbus’ thinking.
“In that you're certainly right.” Scribonius sounded grudgingly admiring of Balbus’ turn of thinking. “But that doesn't answer the question of how we'd get to someone as closely guarded as Cleopatra is. How many in her Nubian bodyguard?”
He turned to me for the answer. “About a thousand. They lost a few when one of their ships went down on the voyage here, but only about 50, I think.”
Scribonius turned back to Balbus, regarding him with a raised eyebrow. “So how would you propose we penetrate that screen to get to her?”
Balbus shrugged again, but I could see the beginning of doubt in his eyes. “I haven’t thought that through yet. But what I do know is that we won’t have to go through a thousand, because they won’t all be guarding her at the same time. They work just like we do, in shifts. We could go in fast, with maybe three Centuries, and cut through them before they knew what hit them.”
Balbus’ plan, such as it was, certainly had an appeal to it, as I am sure he knew it would. I looked at Scribonius, who did not seem nearly as tempted as I was, and I sighed, knowing he was about to tear Balbus’ idea to shreds.
“That might work,” Scribonius began, much to my surprise, but he was not through, “getting us in. And it might be enough of a surprise that we could actually get to Cleopatra. But what exactly were you planning on doing to Antonius, who will undoubtedly be sleeping at her side? I mean, that's when you were planning on going in, sometime during the night, correct?” Without waiting for an answer, Scribonius continued. “So let’s say we get in, and we get to where Cleopatra and Antonius are sleeping. And let’s say that we decide to restrain Antonius in some way, though I can’t imagine that he'll take it well, no matter what we do or how we do it. If Antonius raised the alarm, do we go ahead and kill him too? Or knock him over the head? How long do you think it takes for the Nubians who aren't on guard to get roused and get in position to stop us from getting out?”
Balbus was seeing where things were going, and he was turning sullen. I cannot say that I blamed him all that much, his heart clearly being in the right place.
Scribonius turned to me and asked, seemingly in all seriousness, “Titus, how well do these Nubians fight? You worked with them in Alexandria.”
“Well, enough that three Centuries wouldn't be enough if the whole guard were roused,” I admitted, not particularly wanting to help Scribonius destroy Balbus’ plan.
Scribonius turned back to Balbus, eyebrow raised, which Balbus did not take well. “Fine,” he fumed. “Then we’ll just let Titus fend for himself.”
“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it,” Scribonius snapped, clearly as irritated now as Balbus. “What I’m saying is that while I would love to strike Cleopatra down as much as you would, it has a very small chance of success, if you want to bring men out alive. I don’t know that Titus would be willing to sacrifice three Centuries of men on such a risky proposition.”
“No,” I said instantly, despite this being more of an emotional reaction than anything logical.
If killing Cleopatra ended the chances of a larger fight that would see many, many more men killed in what we all felt was a doomed cause, then it was probably a small price to pay. But when it is your men, men that you have trained, led, and seen suffer through so much already because of the mistakes made by your generals, then it is not quite so easy.
With that question settled, I thanked Scribonius and Balbus, reminding the former to alert Gaius that he would be needed, then I entered the apartment to find a petrified Miriam waiting for me.
“Titus, what is going on? Your man Vellusius brought me the tablet with your name on it, which you misspelled again, by the way.” She was babbling the way she did when she was nervous or scared.
The other sign of how frightened she was showed in her use of only my first name, and I tried to comfort her by taking her in my arms, making the same soothing sounds one makes for a skittish horse, but she continued as if I had done nothing.
“He would not tell me what was happening; just that he and three other men, who are very fierce looking,! He said they would be guarding the apartment and that nothing would happen to me. What is going on?”
She was repeating herself, and I finally could only get her to stop by kissing her. Then, taking her by the shoulders as she caught her breath, I looked at her with what I hoped was a soothing and calming demeanor.
“It's just a precaution. I had a disagreement with Cleopatra . . .”
“Her! I knew this had something to do with her! She is evil! She cannot be trusted! Have I not told you that those Macedonian Egyptians are serpents? They came as conquerors, and they will not leave! And that one! She will do anything to make her son king of the whole world, and her the queen! From what I’ve heard, she has relations with her own son!”
In an instant her demeanor had gone from frightened to spitting angry, and I wondered how much this had to do with her belief that I had some sort of unrequited love for the queen of Egypt. That may have been true in the past, but I would gladly have wrapped my hands around the queen’s scrawny neck to squeeze the life out of her and enjoyed doing it. I must admit that I had been seduced by Balbus’ idea, enjoying the thought of standing over Cleopatra with a sword in my hand, seeing the fear in her eyes as she knew that her life was over, and the bitterness in her mouth that it would be at the hands of an insolent, low-born brute like me. I suppressed a smile at Miriam’s show of defiance and anger, oddly proud that my normally shy and retiring woman should display a surprisingly fierce side. I let her go on for a few moments as she lapsed into her native tongue, something she often did when she was upset, and despite finding it a difficult language to master, I knew enough to understand that Cleopatra’s mother was not well thought of by my woman.
Finally spent, she looked up at me, her brown eyes wide and searching as she gave a shy smile. “I am sorry, Titus Pullus, for my show of temper. I beg your forgiveness.”
I laughed, hugging her tightly. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm happy to see that you have some fire in you.”
“Anyone who tries to hurt the man I love will find out just how much fire I have,” she said with such a fierce scowl that I stepped
back in mock fear, throwing my hands up.
“Pax, Miriam, my love. You've nothing to worry about, either for me or for yourself.”
Turning serious, I decided to be as honest and forthcoming with her as I thought it prudent to be. She had already guessed that Cleopatra was behind this new development so I saw no point in denying it, knowing myself well enough that she saw in my face that it was true when she said it.
I described our confrontation, enjoying the look of anger when I detailed her slur against my honor, appreciating her obvious delight in my witty retort, wagging a finger at me to scold. “You outsmart yourself sometimes, Titus Pullus. I know that you have to defend yourself against the lies she is speaking against you. The nerve of her to insinuate that you are a coward! But you pushed her when perhaps it was better that you just let it lie.”
“I know,” I admitted, for she was right.
None of this would have been happening if I had just kept my mouth shut, said what was expected of me, and gotten out of there. But I am a warrior; fighting is what I do better than anything, except I was not nearly as skilled in the war of the court as I was the battlefield. I also decided not to tell her what happened to the slaves in the Praetorium, knowing it would upset her needlessly. Her business of putting me in my place finished, she turned back to the kitchen, where a pot was simmering, and before I could stop her, she picked up the ladle to taste what she was preparing. I was about to shout a warning before I shook my head at my alarm.
Get hold of yourself Titus, I chided, but just to make sure, I asked her, “Did you go to the market today?”
She gave me an apologetic look, shaking her head. “No, I am sorry. I am using some vegetables and pork I had left from yesterday. I will go in the morning.”
Despite knowing the extremely small chance that Cleopatra had been able to work so quickly, I felt my body go limp with relief.
“No,” I said quickly, causing her to turn back around with a questioning look.
“From now on, you’re going to have help with that. You won’t go to the market, and we’re going to let Diocles, Eumenis, and Agis help with the cooking. And tasting the food,” I finished weakly, looking away.
“Oh.”
Her voice was very small as the import of why this was necessary hit her.
She stood completely motionless for a moment before she seemed to gather herself. “That is probably a wise choice, but I do not know how I feel about those three putting their lives at risk for us.”
“It was their idea,” I protested, suddenly not liking the sound of it any more than she did, which was not exactly true anyway.
It was Diocles’ idea, and he had been with me the longest and was the one of the three I was closest to. I wondered how enthusiastic Eumenis and Agis would be at the prospect, although as slaves they had no choice in the matter. This suddenly moved my thoughts in a new direction, since in the past when poison was used the most likely suspects were the slaves of the victim’s household, making me think of all the unkind things I had done to Eumenis and Agis, wondering if these slights were enough to entice either of them to be willing to listen to the blandishments of one of Cleopatra’s agents. I had never flogged either of them; in fact, I had never done that to any slave I owned, the image of Phocas and Gaia always springing up in my mind. That did not mean I did not cuff them about the head every once in a while, especially Eumenis, who was exceedingly clumsy, but I thought that I also showed them small kindnesses that I hoped would be enough to keep them loyal. Nonetheless, I resolved to talk to Diocles about it at the first opportunity to get his thoughts on the matter, then I sat down to eat the last meal that others would not taste first for some time to come.
The days passed, slowly becoming weeks, the members of my household and those closest to me establishing a new routine during that time. After the first few days of being guarded through every watch by four men, I made the decision to reduce the guard shift to three men, adding one more man to the detail so that the men would not have to spend half a day on watch, instead splitting the day into thirds. Gaius was as angry as Miriam at what had happened, and insisted that he be part of the escort whenever I left camp to go to the apartment the first several days. It was hardest on Miriam though, since Scribonius and I deemed it best that she not leave the apartment for any length of time, and when she did go for a short walk that she do it at random intervals that made her movements impossible to predict. Those times when she did leave, one of the men would go with her, and I believe this upset her more than anything, because a woman seen in the company of different Legionaries is usually thought to be working in a professional capacity. For the neighbors who knew that she was my woman, it had to be extremely puzzling, and it was unfortunate because she had become friends with another woman about her age who was the woman of a Centurion in the 19th, and suddenly Miriam was refusing her invitations, with no explanation.
Talking with Diocles, he assured me that neither Eumenis nor Agis were worthy of suspicion, insisting that compared to the other slaves in a similar position, they were the envy of their lot. I did give them an exceptional amount of freedom, and I was aware of some of the friction this caused among other slaves, knowing that there were other Centurions who did not appreciate my policy either. Still, it appeared that all involved had become settled into this new reality, and Antonius was good to his word in keeping Cleopatra and me from being together in settings where there were not many others around, although there was no way he could completely avoid having us in the same room. The only time this occurred was with meetings of all Primi Pili and senior officers, so there would be more than 40 men and Cleopatra. It did not keep the queen from glaring daggers at me, which did not go unnoticed among the other Primi Pili, though as far as I could tell Antonius was successful in squashing word leaking out of what happened. It made me wonder how much it had cost him to buy the more than half-dozen Tribunes that were present.
Even Ahenobarbus seemed to be in the dark, pulling me aside after one meeting to try to find out what was going on. “It seems that your romance with the queen has gone sour,” he said with a sly smile.
I felt my face redden, but I kept my tone as neutral as I could make it. “Seeing that we never had one, it’s hardly surprising, General.”
“Still, the last time I saw you two together, she was waving at you like you two were old friends. Now, she gives you Medusa’s frown. You’re just lucky she's not Medusa or you'd be stone.”
I shrugged, saying casually, “Who knows what makes her run hot and cold? I'm not going to lose any sleep about it.”
“Interesting you say that.” His voice dropped as he glanced around. “Because from what I hear, you should be sleeping with one eye open.”
I had been walking out of the Praetorium, but that made me freeze in my tracks and I took my own quick look about.
Still, nobody appeared to be listening, but I knew that could be deceiving. “What exactly do you mean, General?”
“I think you know exactly what I mean,” he said quietly. “Gods know that in some ways Cleopatra having you murdered would be a good thing, since it would expose her to the wrath of the army, though I have no idea why she hates you so. But I can’t say that it would sit well with me to know that that Macedonian bitch can have a Primus Pilus murdered.”
“Thank you for that, I suppose.” Looking around again, I asked him, “Have you heard anything specific? I mean, about how she'll attempt something?”
He shook his head. “Nothing more substantial than a whiff of smoke,” he admitted. “But those Eastern types favor more subtle means like poison, and I hear that one of the members of her court has been seen in the market shopping among the herb sellers.”
Thanking him again, I returned to the Legion office, immediately calling Scribonius to pass along what I had just been told.
“It appears that our hopes that Cleopatra would let this lie are in vain,” was his only comment, both of us sitting glumly sipping wine,
wine that had already been tasted by Agis.
Despite it only confirming our suspicions that if she would attack, this would be her most likely method, it was good to have this information, though I could not say with any certainty that Ahenobarbus’ information was accurate. Where it helped was in giving us an area in which to be extra vigilant, since it was left to Diocles, Eumenis, and Agis to go to the market every day, but make their purchases from different merchants. This would keep a would-be assassin from being able to bribe a merchant to slip one of my men a bag of tainted vegetables or poisoned pork. This was the world in which I walked in those days in Ephesus, waiting for the fleet to be finished to ship for Greece.
There are always delays when undertaking a task as massive as the building of a fleet that would protect and carry 19 Legions, along with the attendant cavalry and auxiliaries, and that is not even taking into account the creation of the artillery that would be fitted on the decks of the warships, or the sea trials each craft must undergo. Entire forests in Judaea and the Levant were denuded of trees, which had to be hauled to the shipyards along the coast where the craft were being built. The huge logs had to be hauled down slippery mountain slopes, made more difficult by the snows that were especially heavy in the mountains that year, which of course thawed, turning the tracks traveled by the carts into ribbons of mud. Journeys that were supposed to take a single week were taking three, causing delays as inevitable as the change of seasons. So when Cleopatra had announced that the transports would be ready by the end of the summer, none of the Primi Pili paid much attention, knowing that just because the queen wished it to be so did not make it that way. The problem, at least for me, was that it gave her more opportunities to remove me as a possible threat, although as time passed and no word of her indiscreet remarks leaked out, I began to wonder why I was so worried. I reasoned that it must have become clear to her that I was not going to say anything, or I would have already done so by that point, meaning that I did not see why she would risk Antonius’ and the army’s wrath by trying to kill me.
