Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part II-Cleopatra

by Peake, R. W.

  My words seemed to snap her out of the daze she was in, and her eyes were shining as she looked up at me.

  “Of course I say ‘yes,’ Titus Pullus. I said ‘yes’ in my heart the moment I met you.”

  Miriam and I were married two days later, in a small ceremony officiated by the army priests and witnessed by Scribonius, Gaius, Balbus, Diocles, and Iras. I felt badly that the ceremony had to be rushed, but we were marching two days later, and Miriam did not want to wait for whenever I returned, since that could be a year. She was dressed simply, yet to my eyes she never looked more beautiful, while Iras had made her face up with just the right amount of makeup to enhance her natural beauty. She also had garlands of flowers woven into her hair, and she held a small bouquet, which apparently was a custom of her people. I chose to wear a toga, and I am afraid that as I did not wear it often, Diocles and Agis had to work very hard to make it as sparkling white as a fresh coat of snow. Our ceremonies are very simple, and blessedly short. Afterwards, we had a dinner with our friends that was one of the most enjoyable nights of my life. I invited all the Pili Priores, which made Miriam a little nervous at the idea of so many hard-bitten Centurions making the usual bawdy jokes about our coming wedding night, but they had been warned and were on their best behavior. I spared no expense in either the quality or quantity of food and wine, so it was very late, or early, depending on how you looked at it, before the party broke up, the men staggering away to get a little rest.

  “Now you can write Naomi and Hashem and tell them you’re an honest woman,” I teased her.

  She made a face, and I dodged her kick, almost falling out of the bed in the process. “I have always been an honest woman, Titus Pullus.”

  “Yes, you have. Which is another reason I love you.” I gave her a mock frown as I thought of something. “So if you were already an honest woman, why did I marry you?”

  “Because I tricked you!” she shouted triumphantly, laughing as she said it. “I made you think what I wanted you to think, that I was so unhappy unless I was married. Now I have you, and I will never let you go!”

  “Promise?”

  “I swear it to Baal,” she said, not laughing now.

  The rest of the night passed as happily, which made leaving that much harder.

  “Titus Pullus, the married man,” Scribonius teased as we marched away from Nicopolis. Normally, I would not have minded the teasing, but I was not in a good mood this day. However, I knew it would not be right to take my ire out on my best friend.

  “How does it feel to be married?” he asked me curiously. I shrugged, since it had only been a matter of a couple of days.

  “Not much different, really,” I began. “It’s harder to leave her behind, though I don’t know if that’s due to being married.”

  “It’s because you’re old and married.” He laughed. “How many old, married men are there in the Legions?”

  “Not many,” I admitted, knowing full well that in the 10th alone there were at least a hundred men who had made their unions more official, in secret of course, because their women would not let them rest until they were married.

  So they risked the wrath of the army, keeping the unions a poorly kept secret, one that every Centurion turned a blind eye towards, as long as it did not interfere with their official duties. Scribonius was not the only one giving me a good ribbing about my marriage, but I did not care. For the first time in more years than I cared to remember, I was truly happy with the part of my life not connected to the army. I had been so intent on advancing my career for so many years that I had forgotten that there was more to life than what took place under the standard. The first few days, as usual, were the toughest, the men knocking off the rust of a winter in garrison, and I suffered along with them. After a week, however, the men were fit again, and since we stuck to the coastline, we made good time. While we marched towards Egypt, Antonius and Cleopatra were making their final attempts to stop the inevitable.

  Chapter 6- The Fall of Antonius and Cleopatra

  Much of what transpired in those weeks and months while we made our way to confront Antonius and Cleopatra we only learned later, except that some of it was relayed through a variety of sources shortly after it happened; traveling merchants heading west from Egypt, ships’ captains in the port cities that we passed through, or from dispatches sent to Taurus, during the time before Octavian rejoined the army. We learned that Antonius, made desolate by his defeat, built a small house apart from the royal palace in Alexandria, living there for weeks like a hermit. From all accounts, he had given up all hope, despite Cleopatra still possessing enough ambition and drive for the both of them, and she continued to work desperately to salvage something from the situation. To that end, she secretly opened negotiations with Octavian on her own behalf, and if the rumor were true, had offered herself to Octavian while promising to have Antonius dispatched, in exchange for Cleopatra retaining her throne along with Egypt’s status as client state of Rome. In order to deceive her citizens, and keep them from rioting and causing her problems, she entered the harbor of Alexandria with the prow of her vessel decorated with garlands, the traditional method of announcing victory, taking her subjects in completely. She wasted no time in removing men of high rank who had returned with her to Alexandria who knew the truth, accusing them of a variety of crimes before putting them to death without benefit of trial. To prove to Octavian her sincerity in her desire to ally herself and Egypt with him, she lured Artavasdes the Armenian to Alexandria, then had him seized and executed, keeping his embalmed head as proof.

  Antonius, after a month-long drunk in his house, rejoined Cleopatra, whereupon he, not knowing that Cleopatra was secretly negotiating with Octavian on her own, sent a joint embassy to Octavian, with the offer of accepting exile as a private citizen in Egypt. He made the grave error of sending a man named Publius Turullus, one of the last of the assassins of Caesar, as his emissary, while for her part, Cleopatra sent her scepter and her golden throne as a token of her submission. In answer, Octavian immediately executed Turullus, yet made no other reply to the couple’s plea. These were not their only troubles; four of the Legions left behind by Antonius in Cyrene went over to Octavian, Octavian sending Gaius Cornelius Gallus, an equestrian whose only experience in military affairs to that point had been writing poems about battle, to lead these Legions. The last remaining Triumvir, the First Man in Rome was implacably squeezing Cleopatra and Antonius.

  Meanwhile, we continued to march, cutting overland through Bithynia and Galatia. Unlike our expeditions with Antonius, our baggage train carried the most basic essentials, with only each Legion’s complement of artillery, along with enough rations and other supplies to keep us marching, making our progress much faster than our invasions of Parthia. The weather cooperated as well, yet another sign to the men that the gods favored Octavian, who joined us in Nicomedia. He spent part of every day circulating among the men, doing his best impersonation of Caesar, despite the fact only a portion of the army had ever seen Divus Julius in the flesh. However, their comrades had regaled them with stories of Caesar’s greatness, most of them made up, and of his love for his men, which was not. There was a different air about this march, I suppose because many of the men knew that this was their last campaign. That is certainly what was foremost in my mind, and I took the opportunity to enjoy the moments that I had long taken for granted as just part of life in the army. I spent more time around the fires, particularly with the men like Vellusius, who would be retiring as well, though for him it was more of a necessity. He had lost so many teeth by this point that he had difficulty chewing the hard bread, preferring when the meal consisted of porridge or boiled chickpeas. He was still tougher than old boot leather, but the fatigue and wear of the past 31 years was plain to see in every line of his seamed, brown face. He still had the same irrepressible cheerfulness, as he, Scribonius, and I entertained the men with stories of all that we had seen and done together. Most of the stories were funny, while
some were sad, remembering friends lost. It was in those moments I realized how much I would miss all this.

  Another interesting thing that I noticed was that when we talked of the past, how rarely it was of the battles and fighting, but of the moments in between, on the march, or in camp. When we did talk of battles, it was almost always about humorous moments that occurred. Between Scribonius and Vellusius, I took my share of ribbing, and perhaps even more, each of them recounting the prideful raw youth who bragged to all who would listen about how he would be the Primus Pilus of the 10th Legion one day. While normally I did not like being made fun of, particularly by a ranker like Vellusius, for some reason this time it did not bother me at all, and in fact I enjoyed it immensely. During the day, with the army marching along singing songs and swapping stories, I found myself thinking of similar moments, remembering the very first campaign of the 10th Legion, in Hispania, when we followed Caesar for the first time. I could still recall, and can to this day, the first man I killed in battle, and how my career almost ended before it ever really got started because I forgot to draw my sword when leaping over a parapet. The fight on the hilltop, where Scribonius, Vibius, and I fought side by side after being surrounded by Gallaeci, where we saw Spurius Didius, who had earned the nickname Achilles, faking an injury to get out of the fight. Calienus, our first Sergeant, a veteran of Pompey’s 1st, and the first to act as my guide and mentor in understanding the intricacies of leading other men. His death at Gergovia was one of the most painful memories of my life, despite the fact that it led me to Gisela, and I suppose that part of the pain I felt when I thought of Calienus was the guilt I felt at ending up with his woman. Thoughts of Calienus naturally took me to Gisela, yet behind that door was a world of hurting and loss that I rarely ever opened. I found it easier just not to think of Gisela, Vibi, and little Livia, now long dead but never really forgotten. The one thing I will say is that all of these memories helped the days of marching pass quickly, and there were many, many days, because we were going all the way to Egypt.

  Gallus the poet took the four Legions to Paraetonium, which is roughly halfway between Cyrene and Alexandria. Meanwhile, we reached Syria in mid-summer, our two armies forming a set of jaws about to snap shut on Alexandria. Antonius finally roused himself enough to make an attempt to win back the Cyrene Legions, now commanded by Gallus, and he headed west to confront them. Meanwhile, Cleopatra built another fleet, except this one was to head for Arabia; some said it was to open up an escape route to India. Whatever her motive, Octavian’s governor of Syria, Quintus Didius, sent a force to burn the fleet before it could sail. A small army of gladiators had formed in Syria as well, and were marching to join Antonius, but Didius intercepted these men as well and they were massacred. Herod, so firmly in the purse of Antonius in the past, despite his hatred of Cleopatra, now presented himself to Octavian, and once again, the oily toad managed to wriggle out of his predicament by switching sides. He did not come empty-handed, presenting Octavian with, among other things, a Legion of men trained in the Roman fashion, by Centurions he had bribed away from Antonius, which from all accounts was not hard to do at this point. The men of Antonius’ army, those who remained with him and were on the ships that had escaped, along with those Legions left behind when we went to Actium, now knew their cause was doomed, meaning that desertions and defections were occurring daily. Canidius had managed to make his way back to Antonius, informing him of the wholesale defection of the portion of the army that had escaped, while I imagined that Balbinus and I came up for special mention. I knew that if somehow the gods turned their back on Octavian, or on me, and I fell into the hands of Antonius and Cleopatra, the last moments of my life would be my most painful. I cannot say that I was particularly worried about that; it was just something that I was aware of nonetheless, mainly because Scribonius and Balbus never let me forget.

  “What they would do to us is nothing compared to what they would do to you,” was how Balbus put it, clearly enjoying bringing it up.

  “Then we both better make sure that we don’t lose,” I countered.

  Scribonius and I spent time on the march together as well, both of us talking about our futures. “Has Caesar given you any idea about where you'll be stationed?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t think he's thought that far ahead.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Scribonius warned. “I get the feeling that he has the next 30 years planned down to the last detail.”

  All I could do was shrug at that, knowing he was probably right. “There’s nothing I can do about it. He has me in a corner and he knows it.”

  “I must say that you’ve been taking it extremely well,” was his comment, prompting another shrug.

  “I guess I figured out pretty quickly that there wasn't much I could do about it, so there's not much point in getting angry.”

  “Why, Titus Pullus, that sounds very much like you've finally grown up,” Scribonius teased.

  “It was bound to happen sometime.”

  “It must be married life.”

  That was probably more true than I wanted to admit, but I was not about to tell him that, so for once I remained silent.

  The hardest part of the march was crossing the desert of the Sinai, at the end of which we assumed that we would have to fight to take Pelusium. However, Octavian had beguiled Cleopatra through his freedman Thrysus, who convinced the queen that her overtures of love were favorably received, and on her orders, the city’s gates were thrown open to us. It was an astonishing development, and I am still not sure how a woman as cunning and intelligent as Cleopatra could have been so easily fooled into believing that Octavian would ever have any congress with her, sexual or otherwise. After all, it was he who had constantly whipped the mob into a frenzy of hatred with his Queen of Beasts rhetoric, and it was only Cleopatra that he had declared war on, not Antonius. Somehow, that did not stop her from accepting the fiction that Octavian was just the latest in the line of Romans seduced by the queen of Egypt, with the result that the gates of Pelusium were open to receive us the moment we marched within view.

  “Symbolic, don’t you think?” Scribonius asked, and I did not immediately understand his meaning.

  “Cleopatra ordered the gates opened, in much the same way she wants to open her gates to Caesar.”

  I laughed, but there was certainly truth in what he was saying. “All I can say is that she must know some tricks that a Suburan whore would give a year’s pay to know,” I replied. “Because she's certainly turned the heads and captured the hearts of Rome’s most powerful men.”

  “It’s not their hearts that she captured, and I seem to remember someone not quite as well-born as Caesar and Antonius who panted after her as well.” He gave me a poke in the shoulder, just to make sure I knew who he was talking about. I was sorely tempted to punch him right in his grinning face.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I grumbled. “She was nice to me, that’s all. And trust me, I don’t feel that way anymore.”

  Scribonius shook his head in mock sadness, infuriating me even more. “Just because a woman tries to kill you, that doesn’t mean you should hold it against her.”

  “For some reason, I tend to hold a grudge against people who try to kill me. I know it’s a flaw in my character, but I can’t help it.”

  “Well,” he replied, turning serious. “I’m just glad that she didn’t succeed.”

  “So am I,” I said fervently, though I was thinking more of Miriam than myself.

  We settled in at Pelusium for just a few days, more to recover from the rigors of the desert crossing than for any other reason, while Octavian was still working behind the scenes to further erode the will of the remaining Antonian troops to continue fighting. There was a brief flurry of excitement and activity when our cavalry contingent, ranging a few miles east of Pelusium, ran into Antonius, who was heading west, trying to reach Pelusium before we did. There was a battle in which our forces were routed, but Antonius broke off h
is pursuit when he came within sight of Pelusium, only to spy us ranged on the city walls. Turning about, he scampered back to Alexandria to prepare himself for our coming assault on the Egyptian capital.

  From Pelusium, we crossed the desert between there and Alexandria, except it was not nearly as barren as the Sinai, making the march easier. We arrived at the outskirts of Alexandria to find the outlying neighborhoods deserted of people, with no sign of Antonian troops in the vicinity. Advancing through the Canopus, we stopped at the hippodrome just outside the city, the outer walls of which provided protection from attack, since it was made of stone. Facing outward from the highest row of stone benches, the retaining wall served as a parapet, and it did not take long to get our defenses situated. We built wooden platforms on which we could place our artillery, giving the pieces a clear field of fire. The floor of the hippodrome was not large enough to hold all of the tents of the army, so we built a camp on the far side with one side against the hippodrome, and a trench was dug that allowed men to move under cover into the hippodrome in case of attack. Our remaining cavalry began patrolling through the streets of Canopus and the surrounding neighborhoods, the rest of the army settling in to wait for what happened next.

  Once more, Antonius sallied forth with his own personal bodyguard, surprising our cavalry commander in the streets outside the walls. There was a sharp fight, with Antonius’ men routing ours, inflicting heavy losses. We learned the next day that Antonius returned to Cleopatra, rushing into the palace in full armor to declare that he had won a great victory. Bringing with him one of his cavalrymen who had shown great valor in the engagement, he introduced the man to Cleopatra, who rewarded him with her golden breastplate and helmet. The way we learned of this was from the man himself, who turned up outside the walls of the hippodrome the very next morning to desert to Octavian, still carrying his trophies.