by Peake, R. W.
“What about Cleopatra?” Someone shouted the question, which was clearly picked up by others, but Octavian ignored the cries and continued to exit.
It was the smart thing to do, since I did not think that the people would take too well to what Octavian had in store for the captive queen, but Octavian was not the only one with conjurer’s tricks.
The queen was allowed to stay inside her crypt, after the space was thoroughly searched for any tools that could be used to take her life. She was also under guard, of course, while she and her two maids prepared Antonius’ body for her version of the underworld. The process that Egyptians use to prepare a corpse, which they call embalming, is a gruesome and disgusting process, and in my opinion was no fit way for Marcus Antonius to end. My feeling was shared by a number of the Centurions, some going as far as to bring it up with Octavian. His explanation was that he wanted to keep Cleopatra calm, and giving in to her on this was simply the most expedient way to ensure her cooperation. On the surface, I could see this made sense, but I suspect that Octavian had a deeper motive than just soothing Cleopatra. I think that by allowing Marcus Antonius’ body to be defiled in such a manner, Octavian was reinforcing the belief that Antonius the Roman no longer existed, further securing his own status as First Man in Rome. Whatever his reasons, Cleopatra was secure in her crypt, while Octavian went on tying up loose ends. One of those ends was Antyllus, Antonius’ oldest son by Fulvia, who had just reached his majority in a ceremony conducted jointly for he and Caesarion, who at that point was missing. Antyllus’ tutor, Theodorus was his name, betrayed the youth for a paltry sum of money and the boy was seized by the provosts. He was immediately put to death, his head being chopped off, but during his execution, a fair-sized ruby that had hung on a chain around his neck disappeared. It was discovered on the person of none other than Theodorus, for which he was crucified, but that was a few days later.
Once Antonius’ body was prepared, Cleopatra was allowed to inter her husband and father of her children, which she did with all the pomp and ceremony that the Egyptian throne can produce. She went into mourning, in the Egyptian style, which calls for the beating of the breasts until the blood flows, along with the pulling of hair and tearing of garments, and from all reports, her grief appeared to be genuine. I was not convinced, however; I had seen too much with Cleopatra to believe that her tears were for anyone but herself. She played Antonius for a fool for more than ten years, and as far as I was concerned was using his corpse as a prop to try to soften Octavian’s heart. Finally, Octavian went to visit the queen herself, intent on soothing her fears and convincing her that her best interests lay in going along with what Octavian had planned for her and Egypt. All of which was a lie, of course. He was going to strip Egypt as clean as any vulture would strip a carcass in the desert, while she would end up being strangled in the Tullianum, though only after enduring the most public humiliation possible. I do not know what was said exactly, since Octavian went alone to see her. She had been allowed at this point to leave her crypt and had retired to her own personal chambers, attended only by her closest slaves and only after they were thoroughly searched. The men assigned to guard her all relayed how horrific she looked by this time, having lost even more weight, the wounds on her breasts suppurating and having to be bound, with patches of hair missing from where she pulled it out. This was what greeted Octavian when he went to visit her, and I have no doubt that she tried every trick she knew to pull Octavian under her spell. However, Octavian was made of a different metal than Antonius; of all the people she could have chosen to try and seduce, even at her best Octavian would have been the last one to succumb. Where Antonius was ruled by his passions, Octavian, from everything I had seen, was ruled by his head. Where Antonius was fire, Octavian was ice, and not even the queen of Egypt could melt that ice. Given all that transpired from that meeting, I believe that despite his best efforts to disguise his coldness, Cleopatra saw through his veneer of kindness and sympathy, only after that meeting realizing that she was truly doomed. However, while Cleopatra was not fooled by Octavian, the guileful queen succeeded in tricking Octavian into thinking that she had put all thoughts of suicide from her mind. He left the interview convinced that she accepted his fiction that he intended no harm to her, that she would be treated as an honored guest of Rome, and that her treasure and son were safe from harm. He was about to learn just how wrong he had been.
We received word that the bulk of the army, including the 10th, would be marching again, back through Syria to Greece, where we would go into winter quarters, the last for the men of the second dilectus. One of Octavian’s staff, Cornelius Dolabella, like many men, had a soft spot in his heart for the queen, so he warned her that a few days after Octavian and the army departed, she and her small children were to be transported to Rome. Knowing that the time was at hand, she somehow smuggled in an asp, a deadly snake whose venom is always fatal, although it can take some time to die. Reconstructing matters later, there was a rumor that a farmer who often brought supplies to the queen smuggled the serpent inside a basket of figs, but I saw the basket and there is no way that a snake the size of that asp could have fit inside. I believe that this version started because an overturned basket of figs was found next to the queen afterwards, but however it happened, she was successful. I happened to be in the Praetorium getting orders from Octavian and Statilius when a messenger arrived, bearing a scroll. Walking straight to Octavian, he announced that he bore a message from the queen.
Taking the message, Octavian, looking very pleased with himself, heaved a sigh. “I wonder what she wants this time? To make sure that she has the same house she occupied the last time she was in Rome, I'll bet.”
“Fat chance of that,” Statilius laughed, while Octavian began to read the contents of the scroll.
I was watching his face as his eyes scanned the words, the smile melting off of his face, followed by all the blood draining away, looking as if some invisible creature had just sucked every drop out of his body. His fingers went nerveless, dropping the scroll on the ground, causing Statilius to start in surprise.
“Caesar, you’re getting clumsy,” he began as he reached down to pick up the scroll.
It was only when he had straightened that he looked into Octavian’s face, and a look of alarm passed over his own.
“What is it?”
Ignoring Statilius, Octavian shook his head as if trying to waken from a dream, then snapped at the messenger, “How long ago did you receive this message?”
“Just a few moments ago, Caesar.”
Without saying another word, he whirled, then ran out the door, leaving everyone standing gaping in astonishment. Statilius, having retrieved the scroll, opened it and read it.
“Pluto’s cock,” he gasped. “No wonder he bolted out of here. This,” he waved the scroll, “is a suicide note.”
And so it was; Cleopatra was still alive when Octavian came rushing to her, but was too far gone for anything to be done except watch her die. For perhaps the first and only time in his life, Octavian had been outfoxed, by a woman at that. Not surprisingly, he was furious at being thwarted. He took his anger out on Caesarion, whose whereabouts were betrayed by his tutor, much in the same manner as Antyllus. The poor boy was secretly executed, far away from the eyes of the army, who might have revolted if they had seen the spitting image of Caesar treated in such a manner. I was told of this development by Octavian himself, which I suspect was a test of loyalty as much as anything else. It also turned out that Caesar had been extremely accurate in his description of the location of the treasury of Egypt, as in a stroke, all of the money problems, not just of the army, but of the Republic itself were solved. We went from a cash-strapped Republic to being awash in funds, and before we left on our return march, Octavian announced to the army that all bonuses would be paid in the amounts previously promised, to both current and former Legionaries who had yet to receive their payments. Not surprisingly, this cheered the men immensely, maki
ng up for their disgruntlement at not having an opportunity to plunder Alexandria. The paroled Antonian men were allowed to go home, and were even allowed to take their swords with them, along with a sum of 250 sesterces, in exchange for their oath to cause no further trouble. I did not ransom Spurius; I had never intended to, but I did have some fun at his expense for a few days. Other men of the upper classes were not so lucky, many of their captors taking the opportunity to squeeze the hapless men for every sesterce possible.
In the few days that we had before we returned, I took Scribonius, Balbus, and Gaius about the city, pointing out the places where we had fought, despite it being hard sometimes to find the spots, since the Alexandrians had completely rebuilt the area, except for the great library, one wing of which was still a blackened ruin. We walked the Heptastadion, while I recounted the bitter fighting that had taken place, and how Caesar had been forced to swim for his life, with his paludamentum clenched between his teeth as he did so. These were all tales they had heard before, but I like to think that hearing it from someone who was there, who could describe the day, how the weather had been, the things men had said, made it come alive to them. I described the wells that we had dug, when the men of the 28th Legion had almost mutinied, and how Gaius Tetarfenus and his brother took matters into their own hands to help quell the mutiny by removing one of the ringleaders. I was reminded by Scribonius that Tetarfenus, who I had brought into the 10th during the second dilectus, had done the same on the Campus Martius, which had cost him his life, and Nasica’s honor.
“He always was hard-headed,” I agreed. “But he was a good man nonetheless.”
The royal palace and enclosure was off-limits to most of the men, but I had received special dispensation from Octavian, so I took my friends about, showing them where we spent nine months before taking them to the throne room, taking pleasure in seeing their jaws drop at the opulence. Despite being stripped of many of the more valuable items, it was still a stunning sight.
“No wonder we don’t have money troubles anymore,” Scribonius said, while Gaius whistled.
“If this is just one room, I can’t imagine how much there all is.”
“And we couldn’t get our hands on any of it,” Balbus said, his tone resentful as he fingered a chair inlaid with gold and ivory.
“What do you call the bonuses we’re going to be paid?”
I wanted to steer this conversation away from dangerous waters.
“That’s just what we’re owed,” Balbus grunted. “I’m talking about the extra gravy.”
I rapped his knuckles hard with my vitus when he tried to filch what looked like a small gem-encrusted thimble, causing him to yelp in pain.
“What did you do that for?” He rubbed his knuckles as he glared at me.
“You know damn well why,” I countered. “And you’re going to keep your hands to yourself. I don’t want to explain to Caesar how one of my Centurions ended up with a bauble that was last seen in Cleopatra’s palace.”
“Who would miss it?” he grumbled. “She’s dead. She’s not going to complain.”
“Do you have any doubt that Caesar has counted every bauble in this palace?” Scribonius asked Balbus. “He leaves this stuff out and about precisely because he knows it will be tempting and he wants to know if he can trust his men.”
He looked directly at me as he finished, “Particularly those who he plans on giving more responsibility to.”
Balbus’ mouth tightened, and he did not reply, but he kept his hands to himself the rest of the tour. Deciding that it would not be smart to linger and continue putting his willpower to the test, we returned to the camp at the hippodrome.
Leaving Alexandria behind with a garrison of two Legions, we retraced our steps back to the east, following the coast as it turned north through Syria. Crossing the barren Sinai, even in early autumn, was still a trying ordeal, but we managed to make it through with just a few mules lost. Every step brought me closer to Miriam, the thought giving me an energy that I thought was lost to me forever. The men were in high spirits as well, buoyed by their own thoughts of the bonuses that were now less than a year away. We would arrive back at Nicopolis in early November, if all went well, then we would have the routine of winter quarters, our final lustration ceremony, followed by our mustering out in April of the next year. The days passed, blurring one into the other, the gods once more blessing our march with perfect weather and no obstacles over and above those that normally occur in such an endeavor. Sometimes a wheel would crack, or a mule would go lame. Occasionally, a man would suddenly be stricken with some illness, and we even had two men come down with a fever that proved fatal, but none of that was out of the ordinary. There were only two days of storms bad enough to halt our progress, forcing us to make camp early.
Rolling down the Via Egnatia, we cut across the Peloponnese, to arrive in Nicopolis on the Kalends of November, a bit earlier than expected. Our winter quarters were in good repair, other than needing to be swept out and the mice chased away. I hurried the men through the process of unpacking the mules and transferring their baggage to their huts, while sending Diocles to let Miriam know that I had arrived. My reunion with Miriam was as pleasant as I had dreamed, and I was happy to see that she seemed to have finally accepted the idea that we would be with the army for the next five years, albeit in a different capacity. Iras was extremely happy as well, which I found puzzling, since I could not imagine that she was as happy to see me as Miriam had been. It was not until the next morning that I discovered the cause, when I was awakened by a whispered conversation just outside the door to our bedroom. Rising carefully in order to avoid disturbing Miriam, I tiptoed to the door, freezing when I heard the sound of a man’s voice. It was not the high-pitched whisper of Agis, but a lower tone that caused me to grab my sword hanging from the end of the bed. Crossing to the door, I took a breath before I whipped the door open, catching a flurry of movement in the dim pre-dawn light. I saw two figures moving quickly apart, recognizing by the shape and size that one of them was Iras, while the other was much taller and broader through the shoulders than Agis. As I stepped into the outer room, the larger figure moved towards the front door, clearly trying to escape.
“Stop!” I roared, though I am not sure why, since letting him go would have been the smart thing to do.
Much to my surprise, the figure froze in place, and I stood there for a moment, unsure what to do next. Glancing over at Iras, who was standing a few feet away, I ordered her to light a lamp.
“Master, it’s not what you think,” she whispered, as I heard a commotion behind me in the bedroom. Miriam had obviously been awakened by my shout, which did not help my mood.
“I don’t know what I think right now,” I snapped. “But I will, as soon as you light that lamp.”
The figure made a move, so I pointed my sword at him, but I kept my voice low. “You'd be much safer if you don’t shift about like that. It’s liable to make me nervous, and I'm pretty handy with this thing.”
“I know; you’ve taught me everything I know about how to use one.” I froze at the sound of the voice, scarcely believing my ears, and my confusion could not have been any greater.
“Gaius?” I gasped. “What by the balls of Cerberus are you doing in my house before dawn?”
“What do you think he is doing?”
Whirling about, I saw Miriam with a shawl wrapped about her shoulders, just as the flame on the lamp flickered to life.
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked,” I replied, more bewildered than angry now.
“I was . . . visiting,” Gaius said lamely.
“Visiting?” I echoed, still not understanding. “Then why did you come so early? And why didn’t you wait until we were awake at least instead of trying to sneak out?”
There was a long silence as Gaius suddenly became interested in the floor, while Iras studied the lamp, neither looking in a direction that could be construed as anywhere near each other. That is when it all f
ell into place.
“Because you weren’t coming to visit us,” I said slowly.
In answer, Gaius slowly shook his head, giving a shrug that seemed to say more than any words he could have uttered. I whirled about to glare at Miriam, who was giving me an innocent look.
“You knew about this?”
To her credit, she did not shrink, just gave a slight nod. “Yes, I knew,” was all she said.
