‘There is a great-nephew. Don’t you remember? He rode in the Triumph after the Spanish campaign. He’s very young, and not quite a gentleman. Caesar’s sister made an unfortunate marriage, and her daughter in turn married beneath her. What’s the boy’s name? Sextus, Septimus, something of the kind. He’s not in Rome just now.’
‘I remember him. Octavius is the name, not Septimus. A nice-looking youth, and he carried himself well in the Triumph. But I’ve heard he’s an invalid. Caesar will have to find another heir.’
‘Well, he has plenty of time to make up his mind.’
Lepidus rose early next morning, in spite of his late night. He wanted to attend the meeting of the Senate. It would be a purely ritual affair, and he could describe in advance everything that would be said and done; but he had a weakness for historic occasions, and this would be something to tell his grandchildren. Before he went to the Senate he must visit his troops; a good commander should inspect his forces every day.
Not long ago it would have been blasphemy and sacrilege to station troops in Rome. All that had been changed when Caesar crossed the Rubicon. Of course the City had no formal garrison; that would be a badge of slavery. But troops marching through Italy now lodged just outside the pomoerium. As proconsul-designate of Narbonese Gaul Lepidus had begun to gather the army he would take to his province; a full legion of recruits was now on the Island of Aesculapius, in the middle of the Tiber. They were quiet, well-behaved boys, and loyal Caesarians; tucked away on their island they were technically outside the City.
Lepidus himself was careful to visit the camp in his toga, with the ornaments that marked him as a Consular. It would have been a shocking breach of etiquette if he had worn armour in the City, even on the way to inspect his troops.
The soldiers, early risers, were already at exercise; throwing javelins at a mark or wheeling by cohorts under the command of their centurions. Lepidus inspected the latrines and kitchens. It was a real inspection, not a formal visit, and he did it every day. The men expected him, and everything was in order; though he was pleased to spot one sack of alleged ration-barley which was more than half chaff and husk. He was not wasting his time in doing so thoroughly the only part of a commander’s duty he was fitted to perform; for he had never commanded in battle.
When he had finished his quartermaster’s work he paused to watch the drill. In trying to sheathe his sword a young recruit missed the scabbard, so that his weapon fell to the ground. Immediately the centurion stood over him, raining down blows from his cudgel. The boy took it well, holding still with his eyes to the front until granted permission to bend down and retrieve the sword. In an unwonted flash of sympathy Lepidus tried to put himself in the other’s place. Even knowing that he had done wrong, could he stand upright to take a beating? No patrician could do that. Seven hundred years of nobility made it as automatic to return a blow as to flinch from a hot ember; if he had been attacked by a lion or an elephant he would have struck back with his bare hands. The recruit was right, of course; such discipline had won Rome’s battles. But these professional soldiers were a strange race of men, unlike the ordinary run of citizens.
Crastinus the orderly stood half a pace behind his master. With the freedom of a trusted comrade he now whispered his explanation unasked. ‘That boy would defend himself against old Felix the centurion. It isn’t the centurion who beats him. It’s Caesar, our Imperator. We will take anything from Caesar.’
‘But I would not,’ thought Lepidus to himself. ‘I would return a blow from Caesar’s cudgel as swiftly as if it had been struck by a slave. Any Senator would do the same, except for a few jumped-up careerists like Cicero. And Caesar is terribly insolent. One day he may go too far.’
He said a few words to the tribune in command of the parade, then went home to get ready for the meeting of the Senate.
In the vestibule of the Theatre of Pompeius he found a full house, though not a crowded one. More than two hundred Senators had turned up for this formal session, chiefly because it was rumoured that Caesar might make some important pronouncement before he left Rome for the East. The great man was late; it was whispered that he was ill and would not come at all. Then it became known that Decimus Brutus had gone to the Regia, his official residence, to fetch him. The crowded hall waited restlessly.
The Senate could not begin its session until called to order by a Consul. At last a stir in the Forum announced that both Consuls were approaching. As usual, Caesar was attended by a great crowd of petitioners and place-seekers, with Antonius walking humbly behind him as though Rome held only one Consul. Only Caesar entered the vestibule. As far as Lepidus could make out, from his place on the bench reserved for Consulars, someone was talking earnestly to Antonius in the portico outside.
In readiness for the Dictator’s speech, the Senators got out their notebooks and arranged the folds of their togas. Suddenly there was the noise of a scuffle. A knot of men had closed round Caesar, they seemed to be beating him with their fists as the centurion had beaten that unlucky recruit. Then Lepidus saw the daggers in their hands.
In less than a minute all was over. More than twenty men pressed against Caesar; there was one muffled war-cry, and a few grunts of angry desperation. The group scattered, leaving a flat bloody bundle of clothes at the base of the statue of Pompeius. The murderers blocked the main doorway, waving bloody daggers and shouting for liberty; but there was another narrow door at the far end of the chamber. Lepidus picked up the skirt of his toga and pushed head-downwards through the throng to get clear.
When he reached the Forum it was already deserted. There was not a litter to be seen, or he would have jumped into the nearest and drawn the curtains. Only one thought possessed his mind; the Dictator had been overthrown by armed revolution, and the assassins would turn next on his chief lieutenant, his Master of the Horse. At every stride, as he ran across the empty square, he expected to feel the knife in his spine.
He ran so fast that he outdistanced the terrible news. As he reached the Aemilian mansion the silversmith in the next block was just stirring to put up his shutters. The porter gaped in silent amazement at his dishevelled and frightened master, but his first shout of alarm brought Junia, excited but composed.
While he was pounding down the street he had repeated to himself: ‘I am Aemilius Lepidus, Consular, Imperator, Trium-phator. There is no shame in fleeing unarmed before armed murderers, but when I reach safety my plan must be ready.’ The incantation of his roll of titles had calmed his spirit, as always; and his plan was ready.
He called at once to Junia: ‘Caesar is dead, murdered. Rebels are slaughtering the Senate. Fetch Marcus and Quintus, and the box of money from under the bed. Then get over the Tiber at once. Take a few armed slaves as escort. When you are a mile beyond the barriers, and not before, hire a carriage. Then gallop as fast as you can to our villa in Picenum. When you reach it write to me at my camp on the Island of Aesculapius. Don’t obey any instructions from me unless they are sealed with this signet. Go now.’
Without a word Junia turned on her heel. She never lost her head, and he knew she would obey him. He called next to the frightened butler: ‘Fetch Eunomus. I must take him to headquarters. I shall take no one else. Collect all the valuables you can carry and lead the servants out of the City. Join my lady in Picenum as soon as you can. Leave this house empty, and be sure that no door is locked. The mob is certain to come pillaging, but if everything is open they may not burn as well. If you serve me faithfully I shall free you when I come home; if you try to escape I shall hunt you down and crucify you.’
Half an hour later he was trudging through empty streets towards the Tiber, the Greek secretary at his elbow.
Presently Eunomus spoke: ‘This is a queer kind of revolution, my lord. Listen. The whole City is quiet. Perhaps everyone is hiding at home, for fear of everybody else; perhaps Caesar’s murderers have already been put to death. Anyway, a government is not overthrown in complete silence.’
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p; ‘I saw Caesar murdered. There were no soldiers near to arrest the murderers. That is why we are hurrying to the camp. This is the first rising since troops have been stationed near the City. The conspirators will not find it so easy to seize power.’
When they reached the island there was still no noise. The whole City cowered behind barred doors.
The troops were already under arms. They were drawn up in battle order, their shields free of the leather covers which protected them in peacetime, light fighting-swords on their hips instead of the heavier implements used for drill. The tribune in command reported them ready to move off. It was evident that they expected to be led immediately to avenge their dead Imperator.
But no message came from the Forum. Lepidus hesitated to start a bloody battle within the consecrated pomoerium until he had been ordered to do so. He was still wearing his Senatorial toga; when he withdrew to his quarters to change into armour Eunomus slipped in after him.
Crastinus was there also, to fasten his lord’s cuirass. As he fumbled with the buckles the old soldier muttered under his breath.
‘Caesar murdered, and by a bunch of stuck-up Optimates. We licked them in three continents, one after the other, and spared their lives time and again. This is what you get for showing mercy to an Optimate. Now we must finish them. No quarter. And when we’ve sacked their houses we shall be rich for life.’
‘But, Crastinus,’ said Lepidus sadly, ‘it wasn’t the Optimates who murdered Caesar. I was there, and I saw it. I saw Cassius among the murderers, and Decimus Brutus. This morning I would have sworn they were loyal Caesarians.’
‘Never mind who actually struck the blow,’ Eunomus put in. ‘The crime must have been planned by Optimates. We can kill them all, and sack their houses, before we hunt down the murderers. Don’t you understand, my lord? Fortune offers you the greatest prize in the world. There is anarchy in Rome, and you command the only troops near the City. They will obey your orders, but first you must permit them to take vengeance on the Optimates.’
‘In Rome there can never be anarchy,’ Lepidus answered stoutly. ‘The sacred constitution bequeathed to us by our ancestors provides for all contingencies. Caesar is dead, who was both Consul and Dictator. That leaves the other Consul, Antonius. He never entered the Senate House, so I suppose he escaped alive. If not, there are eight praetors. Some of them must be alive and at liberty. It is my duty as proconsul and Imperator to put my troops at the disposal of the senior surviving magistrate. If no magistrate survives the auspices revert to the Senate, and I must await the commands of the fathers.’
‘My lord, don’t quibble, I beg,’ Eunomus continued in great excitement. ‘These soldiers will follow you, and there are no other soldiers near. You can be King of the World – today. If there are any magistrates alive I shall see they get killed in the rioting. March straight on the Forum and summon the assembly. Order them to make you Dictator, while your soldiers stand by. But hurry, before some other army marches on the City.’
‘I am not a pirate, to make war on my own City. Be quiet, freedman,’ Lepidus said sternly. ‘Crastinus, ask the senior tribune to come here as soon as convenient.’
Once he was buckled into his armour he gave his orders without hesitation. ‘Tribune, there has been a terrible murder, and sacrilege also; for the hero they killed was among other things Pontifex Maximus. That does not mean that we must wage war on the City. We are Caesarians, and we grieve. But as loyal Romans we await the orders of our lawful superiors. Post guards on the bridges, and hold this island against all corners. If the streets remain empty send out patrols of steady veterans to find out what is happening in the Forum. I shall wait here, in my headquarters. Let in any messengers, if they come in peace; and send them to me without delay. You may tell the soldiers that the laws of Rome remain in force, and that any plundering or mishandling of citizens will be punished with the utmost rigour.’
After five years in authority he had the habit of issuing orders; they came out with a snap and decision that ensured obedience.
He settled down to wait in his headquarters, reminding himself that sitting still waiting for orders is notoriously ninetenths of soldiering. Presently, since the City remained silent, he allowed the impatient Eunomus to slip across to the south bank to learn the news. The authorities seemed to have forgotten that there were soldiers just outside the City (which was not surprising; this new departure was not often mentioned). No lictor arrived with orders from a magistrate.
By evening he had dined on ration porridge and bacon, and borrowed some bedding. He would stay with his troops until they received orders of some kind. At sunset his secretary returned, brimming with news and excitement. In the privacy of headquarters he poured out his story.
‘For the moment there is no fighting in the City, but neither is there peace. Your soldiers patrol a deserted Forum. Escaped gladiators have plundered the Senate House, otherwise no damage has been done. Caesar is certainly dead; his corpse was carried to the Regia on an open litter. The Senators who murdered him, more than a score of them, have seized the Capitol. But they hold no other ground, and they are surrounded by a mob of armed Populars. Antonius the Consul got away unharmed, but he is afraid to leave his house. Many Senators have fled from the City, but known Optimates dare not appear in the streets. In fact, my lord, there has been a revolution – and it has failed. Though Caesar has been killed, his followers still rule the City.’
‘You see, Crastinus?’ said Lepidus. ‘We are still in control. There is nothing to fight for. I was right to keep my soldiers in camp.’
That night the lady Clodia whispered to the young man who held her in his arms: ‘Is that a swordsman outside the window? For the first time in my life I am afraid. I’m safe with gangsters, but when Senators run amok anyone can get killed. Thank the gods, that man’s a legionary. One of Lepidus’s men, I suppose. I never thought I would one day feel grateful to the old weathercock. But, to give him his due, he has kept order in Rome.’
5. Peace-Making
44 BC
By morning on the 16th of March Lepidus had been in command of his legion, without orders from any superior, for nearly a full day. The habit of responsibility was beginning to govern his mind, and he gave sensible instructions without nervous hesitation.
All round him Rome lay quiet, filled with desperate politicians each afraid to make the first move. The murderers were shut up in the Capitol, whose antique walls might protect them from a Popular mob, but would be no obstacle to trained soldiers. The City held a Consul, who, ought to govern it. But Marcus Antonius still cowered behind the barred doors of his mansion, while his slaves, armed with bows and javelins, threatened the street from the upper windows. No proper orders came from the Antonian mansion, though it was reported that the Consul had shouted through a locked door that any soldiers available should patrol the City to prevent pillage.
Lepidus did much more than that. It seemed that he was the only senior official not afraid to take action, and that the life of Rome depended on his common sense. He sent three full cohorts to hold the Forum in force; smaller detachments marched to the octroi-gates on the main roads, which had been barred by their frightened watchmen. The barriers were lowered, and the peasants invited to bring in their produce; there was no point in creating an unnecessary famine because timid watchmen were afraid of Optimate bandits. It would have been much easier if the City had been surrounded by proper walls; troops could have manned them and reassured the citizens. But the wall built by King Servius long ago was rather an ancient monument than a fortification; and anyway it enclosed only half the City. It was the pride of Rome, as of Sparta, that her shrines were defended by swords, not by masonry. However, troops patrolled the octroi-barriers, and small detachments showed themselves in every populous quarter.
After furnishing patrols and sentries, and occupying the Forum, Lepidus had in hand only three cohorts, out of the ten which made up a legion. He kept two, of recruits, as a reserve on the isla
nd; and sent the last to picket the approaches to the Capitol. Tribunes and senior centurions kept on begging him to order an assault on that nest of assassins; but even now, when undisputed command had filled his breast with sensations of glory, he shrank from leading his troops to the sack of the most sacred shrine in the City. The murderers were cornered; if all else failed they could be starved into surrender. He explained this to his men, and reminded them that it was the duty of a soldier to defend the citadel of his forefathers, not to destroy it. When the soldiers were quite certain that the investment was complete, and that their Optimate enemies could not steal away in the night, they obediently continued their patrols.
By midday the mob of angry Populars who had been hanging round the approaches to the Capitol had gone home to their dinners, and all Rome lay quiet. As Lepidus inspected his stores (there was flour for three days, and he controlled the barriers; his men would not go hungry) he was told that his presence was requested on both bridges at once.
At the northern bridge he found Junia and the children, in three flashy smart litters. Junia greeted him calmly: ‘Here we are, safe and sound. Yesterday we travelled ten miles from the City, and then I heard that all was peaceful. We spent the night at one of the Antonius villas, and when I decided to come back the steward showed me an amazing collection of carriages. I’m afraid it’s the place where Marcus keeps his playmates; there were odd-looking boys and girls hanging about, but I kept our Marcus under my eye all the time. I chose the three most sober litters I could find; I wonder who rode in them last summer? Anyway, the steward was most helpful. I gave him a good tip. You ought to pay Antonius for the use of these litter-bearers. Now I shall go home. Let’s hope I find some servants. If not, I can borrow a few maids from the neighbours. By the way, have you caught the murderers? I suppose so, or you wouldn’t be sitting still, doing nothing.’
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