When Lepidus replied that the head, the seat of intelligence, was the most important part of a corpse, and that the spirit could not rest until it was properly disposed of, they had all been delighted to learn that Brutus would still be miserable, even in the next world. It was not until he pointed out that the ghost of a corpse denied burial was especially malignant, and that it haunted in particular the remnants of the dishonoured body, that Lucius hastily agreed to burn the unlucky relic. To think that Roman magistrates were prepared to go into battle behind the head of another Roman magistrate as standard! These people were more barbarous than Scythians! A world ruled by them would be a nasty place.
An Imperator who had never seen a battlefield was at a disadvantage in the counsels of these bloodthirsty ruffians. But with every step nearer Rome their resolution failed and his influence increased. To give them their due, they were not planning to sack the City and carry back the plunder to Gaul; they wanted to reign in a peaceful world, if possible with the assent of the Optimates in the Senate. But they had no idea of how to go about persuading the Optimates to surrender. Since not one of them could draft a dispatch which might be read with propriety in the Senate, they must follow the advice of this dignified, conventional nobleman, who could talk as an equal with any other old-fashioned aristocrat.
There was another element in his growing self-assurance. He knew that these men trusted him, and that they did not trust one another. In this last they were right. How could Plancus, for example, trust Pollio or the Antonius brothers? They accepted him because he had an army at his back; but they did not like him or admire him, and if they caught him alone, without his bodyguard; they were quite capable of selling him for a slave. (It was odd to recall that Ventidius Bassus, commander of three legions and legate to Marcus Antonius, had been a slave in Rome. Of course the fellow was of decent Italian birth, and had been captured as a child during Sulla’s conquest of the Italian rebels. But whenever he dined with him Lepidus realized anew that politics had brought him into very queer company.) Aemilius Lepidus was known to be a man of his word, born to such greatness that he had never needed to intrigue, and to such wealth that he had never been tempted to steal.
For the tricky negotiation about to begin disinterested honesty was indispensable. Little Caesar Octavianus had at last been persuaded to meet Marcus Antonius face to face. Of course he feared assassination. The conditions laid down for the interview proved that both parties trusted Lepidus, and that they trusted no one else.
The place chosen for the conference was an island in the river Lavinius, and each party was to bring a bodyguard of not more than three hundred men; these could be counted as they defiled across the two temporary bridges, one leading from each bank. That was a customary method of arranging an interview between rival generals in time of truce, but it had one obvious weakness: what was to prevent one party or the other laying an ambush on the wooded islet the night before? The objection had been hard to overcome, and at one time it had seemed that the meeting would never take place. Now it had been agreed that Aemilius Lepidus should search the island before either general arrived. When he had signalled that he could find no ambush the two principals, the leader of the Caesarian army and the boy who claimed to be Caesar’s heir, would trust their lives to his honour.
As far as he could make out from the north bank, young Caesar seemed to be playing the game. His camp was in plain view, some distance back from the stream. Only the three hundred praetorians were ranged near the narrow footbridge. They stood in close order, easy to count.
In any case, why should Caesar meditate treachery? If he killed Marcus Antonius his brother Lucius, or Pollio, or Plancus, would take over command of the great army of the west. That great army, more than eighty thousand men, was the real rival of Octavianus and the Caesarian idlers of the Forum. Treason could not destroy such a powerful force, and in regular battle it must defeat the untried levies of Italy. Young Caesar had everything to gain by an agreement. In these degenerate days, when only the sword held power, Antonius had been generous in offering to treat with him. The boy had assets, of course. The assembly would ratify anything he suggested, and so far he had kept on good terms with the Optimates in the Senate; he could guarantee the Caesarians a peaceful accession to power. But Antonius might prefer victory after a brisk civil war. That would give him greater scope as a ruler.
Lepidus wondered what he ought to do if he discovered an Antonian ambush waiting for Octavianus. It was just possible that a plot had been concocted to rob him of his honour, and at the same time make away with Caesar’s inconvenient heir. If he found such an ambush, he decided, he would unmask it; though both Marcus and Lucius had treated him very fairly. But it was most unlikely. The Antonius brothers were too forthright in their wickedness to stoop to secret murder, and in any case if they wished to eliminate Octavianus they could do it in open battle. Any assassins who might lurk on the island would be Optimate allies of young Caesar.
Squaring his shoulders, Lepidus turned to his orderly. ‘Come on, Crastinus. Let’s cross the bridge and get it over. Remember that if we meet treachery our first duty is to give the alarm. The assassins will leap on me, but they may not attack you. In that case don’t try to rescue me. I shall face death like a patrician. Instead you must run away to warn the army.’
Crastinus saluted. Odd, he thought, how these gentlemen can’t get a noble death-scene out of their minds. If a man has his throat cut in a scuffle, his neighbours are always too busy to notice whether he screams for mercy or fights back; afterwards you tell his widow that he died like a hero, while his drinking companions take it for granted that his last act was to wet himself. It doesn’t matter. Inside the head of every real soldier is a little genius who tells him unmistakably when the time has come to prefer death to dishonour. Until then death is the supreme evil, to be postponed as long as possible. If an ambush is hidden on the island they won’t be seeking my blood in particular; with luck, I may get away.
The muddy little island was deserted. As Lepidus poked his sword into the reeds he wondered whether the watching legions saw him as a dutiful commander or as a fussy little man. But it was important, at this crisis in the affairs of the republic, to keep on good terms with the Antonius brothers. He did exactly what he had been told to do.
In less than an hour he could signal that all was safe. As he splashed through the mud towards the northern bridge Marcus Antonius dismounted and prepared to pick his way across the narrow planks. On the bridge itself there was barely room to pass. Antonius motioned him to halt.
‘My dear Lepidus, surely you won’t desert me now, after all the care you have taken to safeguard my life? Come on, my dear fellow. You won’t leave me to talk to young Octavianus by myself? I am only a licentious soldier, one of the most licentious soldiers Rome has ever seen. I don’t know how to address a student straight from finishing-school, a well-brought-up young man who has heard all the right lectures and read all the right books. Besides, I shan’t feel safe, alone with the scoundrel who led his troops to help Decimus Brutus, the murderer of his adoptive father. He might stab me in the back, and then tell the world that the divine genius of old Caesar supernaturally impelled the dagger.’
Lepidus stared in surprise. He had taken it for granted that Antonius alone would speak for the Caesarian army, as young Caesar would speak for the politicians of the City. Then he saw that the invitation was natural enough. Twice he had been formally thanked by the Senate for his conduct of delicate negotiations. He was Pontifex Maximus, strong to bind with solemn oaths. Most of all, he was an honest Roman nobleman, who could arbitrate fairly between hot-headed young warriors who might forget their manners in the stress of bargaining.
‘If you need a third to see fair play, Antonius, of course I shall be glad to come with you. I’m not an experienced general, you know. Don’t expect me to see the strategic implications of an armistice until you explain it to me.’
‘I don’t need a general. I’m p
retty good at that sort of thing myself. I need a Senator with legal and administrative experience, someone who knows the finances of the state and will see that in any division of provinces I am not left penniless, someone who can put a decent face on an ugly bargain. In fact I need you, and I will accept no substitute.’
As they entered the narrow path through the reeds Antonius stood aside to make way for the Pontifex Maximus. Without a thought Lepidus went first; it would have seemed odd and discourteous if the younger man had preceded him. Then realization of his position struck him with its full force.
On this little island two men were meeting to divide the civilized world; and one of them had invited, nay, pressed him to make a third. Of course he was worthy of the responsibility; if the world needed a ruler then Marcus Aemilius Lepidus was the man for the task. But it was remarkable that his talents should be so generally recognized, without any special exertion on his part. If he betrayed surprise his dignity would be lessened; he must appear to take for granted any honour bestowed on him. Above all, he must not seem shocked at the cynical expedients of these realist politicians. They might expect him to be shocked; his toughness would surprise them.
In a little clearing of the dank scrub they found Caesar Octavianus, seated in a curule chair. Lepidus had been told that the boy was as handsome as his famous great-uncle, and he was disappointed in his appearance. Young Caesar was not ugly, but he looked mean – in this military environment the word would be ‘scruffy’. His features were regular. But his grey eyes, set deep, darted suspicion in every direction; his cheeks were pallidly unhealthy, and his chin veiled by an untidy reddish growth, too straggling to be called a beard; he was short and awkwardly built, and there seemed to be no muscle under his skin; he needed a haircut as badly as he needed a shave.
It would not be pleasant to talk business with such an uncouth young man; and the curule chair was vaguely another annoyance. These ivory seats were proper to grave middle-aged magistrates, not to sly young men. Then Lepidus recalled that the boy, still in his twentieth year, had appointed himself Consul-designate, threatening the Senators with the drawn swords of his soldiers until they complied with his unconstitutional command. Certainly the republic was in need of saving when children scarcely of age to vote, children who had never held junior office, were elevated to the highest rank.
Antonius greeted his rival with a careless wave of the hand; and seemed prepared to talk standing with a seated adversary. Lepidus put that right, clapping his hands to summon a guardsman. Soon two leather chairs were ranged beside the ivory throne. Though weather-beaten and shabby, they were something greater than curule thrones; each bore stamped on its worn leather the laurelled eagle of an Imperator. That distinction, the gift of faithful soldiers, was something to which the sickly youth could not lay claim. That was as it should be; Lepidus and Antonius, Consulars, took precedence of a Consul-designate who had not yet been granted the auspices.
Octavianus politely smiled a greeting. Until all were seated he did not speak, but it was evident that his quick little eyes had noticed the indifference of Antonius to matters of etiquette, and Lepidus’s insistence that they should not be neglected. When at last he spoke his language was cultured, and his voice that of the trained orator.
‘It is good of you to come, Pontifex Maximus. I had expected the Imperator Antonius to visit me alone; but three heads are better than two, when grave matters are to be discussed.’
‘Don’t bother with titles, Octavianus,’ Antonius interrupted brusquely. ‘We bestow them on ourselves, and they don’t mean a thing. You are Caius and I am Marcus. Now let’s get to business.’
‘My dear Marcus, that may be good enough for young fellows like us,’ the boy replied with a grave smile. ‘But in deference to his years and authority the Pontifex should be at least Aemilius Lepidus throughout our discussions. And, pardon me, titles are important. That my name is Caesar is perhaps the most important thing about me. In fact I seldom answer to any other name. You may, if you wish, call me Caius in private; but when anyone speaks of me as Octavianus I know him to be an enemy.’
‘Very well, Caesar, since that is how you like it. Then I am Antonius, and he is Lepidus. Those are tolerably famous names, in the City and the world.… Now I take it you don’t intend to fight me, or you wouldn’t be here. So I suppose your band will join my army.’
‘My army will co-operate with yours, certainly. I don’t think it would be accurate to describe me as an Antonian recruit. I am willing to be your ally.’
‘Ah, now we are getting down to it. You propose an equal alliance between Antonius, leader of eighty thousand men and the most famous general now alive; and Caesar, a Consul-designate who has held no office, twenty years of age, leader of a group of Italian ploughboys?’
‘I propose that Caesar the younger, heir to Caesar the Dictator, should join forces with Antonius, his only rival for the leadership of the Caesarian party. Together we can rule the world. If we fight, we may destroy one another, and the Optimates will reap the benefit. Now don’t fly into a passion. If your men will fight mine they are bound to win; but are you certain they will fight for you against me? It’s only a year since your best legions came over to me at Brundisium. I was called Caesar then; it is still my name.’
‘Tchah, why didn’t my father name me Alexander? By your argument I would now have conquered the world.’
‘It’s true, all the same,’ put in Lepidus, venturing to speak for the first time. ‘My Tenth Legion won’t fight against Caesar. Unless of course Caesar continues his unnatural alliance with the Optimates who murdered his father. But that is out of the question. No gentleman would behave so.’
‘Do you hear, Antonius? That is the voice of the ancestors, calling us to the sacred duty of revenge. Come now. While we stick together no one can oppose us. But you and I alone are sure to quarrel. Why not bring in Lepidus to make a third? He knows how we ought to behave, and he is not afraid to tell us.’
The shaggy young man could produce an attractive smile, and his manner to the Pontifex Maximus was a masterly blend of respect for religion and deference to age. Lepidus felt his soul expand.
‘My men will follow wherever I lead,’ Antonius said crossly. ‘If you doubt it, young Caesar, just meddle with my outposts. All the same, I should be a fool to quarrel with you, while Cassius and Brutus wait in Smyrna to give us both a good stand-up fight. But before we march east together there are enemies in Rome to be cleared out of the way.’
‘I concur,’ the young man answered. ‘We must set Rome to rights and we must vanquish the murderers of my father. But you have not answered my other suggestion. You and I alone cannot rule the world. If we did not quarrel of our own accord our followers would egg us on to civil war; and when two men disagree they must fight or call in an arbiter. But in a college of three equal rulers two could outvote the third, and disagreements could be resolved peacefully. We need a third opinion to keep the balance. Since I am going out of my way to meet you in everything, I suggest that the third ruler shall be your old friend and colleague, Marcus Aemilius. Lepidus. He is personally unknown to me. There is no tie between us. But his son is betrothed to your daughter. There, can I make a fairer offer than that?’
‘Well, why not?’ said Antonius with a cheerful grin. ‘I had rather looked forward to fighting you, Caesar. I like fighting, I suppose because it’s the only thing I’m any good at. But if we are to stay friends we need a third to keep the peace, and there is no one more worthy than my gallant Lepidus. What do you say, Marcus? Are you willing to take on the job?’
A little nettled at this familiarity, Lepidus answered as formally as though addressing the Senate. ‘I am ever willing to serve the republic, as is fitting in a son of my ancestors. You offer a heavy burden, but I have supported burdens as heavy. While I was Consul the City took no harm. I have ruled all Italy single-handed, as Master of the Horse to a Dictator on campaign. Having survived such tasks I feel myself capable of ruling,
and all the more easily with two equal colleagues to help me.’
‘There, Caesar, you see? Our friend was ruling the world while you were learning your rhetoric. As he implies so delicately, his career has been more distinguished than mine; and of course very much more distinguished than yours.’ Antonius spoke with a smile that was almost a leer.
Lepidus felt obscurely that his companions might in some way be making fun of him. But he knew by experience that he could not answer irony in kind; dignity was his best defence.
‘We three are Consulars,’ he said stoutly. ‘That should make us equal in rank; save that as Pontifex Maximus I am supreme in all matters of religion. Antonius has greater experience in war, and I admit it; as Caesar has greater influence with the voters in the assembly. Yet I know myself worthy to be one of the three rulers of Rome, if three are needed.’
‘Then that is decided,’ young Caesar struck in quickly. ‘I think it is enough to decide in one day. We three will fill the position once held by my father and Pompeius and the unfortunate Licinius Crassus. But we shall not rule as an unofficial caucus of party-leaders. We must get our position regularized by law, a proper law passed in due form by Senate and assembly. Tomorrow we can settle the terms of this law, and discuss how we shall divide our responsibilities. I suggest that we now go back to our armies, and tell the soldiers that peace is assured. Let us meet here again tomorrow, with clerks to record our decisions. And I suggest that we remain encamped by this river, meeting every day, until we have agreed on a complete programme for the better government of the world. Thus we shall present waverers with an accomplished fact, and there will be no opposition when we march on the City.’
Three's Company Page 15
