‘Indeed, if everything you said at supper was conveyed directly to the troops they would think they served under a very eccentric commander.’
‘Gentlemen, if we quarrel Rome will be destroyed,’ Lepidus said urgently. He said it, sooner or later, at all these conferences. But at each meeting the outbreak of bad temper seemed to come earlier.
‘I apologize, Antonius,’ said Caesar with a gentle smile. ‘Blame my error on the impetuosity of youth. Agrippa is my friend, and in addition I have a very high opinion of his talents. I wanted to make sure he would have his chance.’
‘All right, young man,’ Antonius answered carelessly. ‘Your friend, your very dear friend, can have his command. What do ships matter, anyway? Rome is governed by soldiers in stout marching-boots.’
‘But Rome eats corn that can come only by sea, and pirates in Sicily can prevent it reaching us,’ said Lepidus. ‘However, this Sextus is after money, I understand. We can give him money until we have leisure to conquer him.’
It was stimulating to talk about conquest in this carefree way, knowing that Antonius would do the necessary fighting.
When Eunomus learned of the plan he took up his task with enthusiasm. He wrote a strictly unofficial letter to Menas, the freedman of Pompeius whom he had met in Spain, now commander of the Sicilian fleet. Menas’s answer arrived in a very few days, for hostile squadrons were hovering off the mouth of the Tiber. Menas professed himself delighted at the chance of a peace which would leave his master official ruler of Sicily, and suggested a personal interview to discuss details. After some hesitation, Eunomus went off in a fishing-boat. In three days he was back, with an exciting story to tell.
‘My lord, this is a very much bigger thing than anyone here supposes,’ said he, his eyes twinkling with eager cunning. ‘Brutus and Cassius haven’t a chance against our legions; even so, the Roman world has a fourth ruler. Sicily is a large island, and very fertile. If the Sicilians themselves can’t fight, they can support a numerous army. Sextus Pompeius has revived the great confederation of the pirates, and his navy is by far the strongest in the world. He is adding to the legions Bithynicus handed over to him. He has an army and a navy, ample revenues to support them, and a population of civilized and contented subjects. But the most significant fact is that all his principal officers are Greek.’
‘I don’t see what you are getting at. I’ve read, of course, that Syracuse was once a great power. So was Athens, long ago, and what does she matter now? I don’t want to insult your pride of race, but nowadays a Greek army is a second-rate army.’
‘Perhaps, my lord. But Greek sailors remain the best in the world. There has never been a Roman navy, manned by Romans. The fleet which young Caesar is collecting, to provide a salary for his boy-friend, draws its crews from the Greek cities of Campania. But Campanian Greeks, soft merchant traders, are no match for the Greek pirates of Cilicia, once the worthy antagonists of Pompeius Maximus. Even Greek soldiers are not to be despised. Most Greeks dislike Romans, though as a rule they are afraid to show it. A rising of all the Greek subject-cities, with a Greek hero to lead them, would test the strength even of the mighty Triumvirate.’
‘Sextus Pompeius is not a Greek hero. He is as Roman as I am.’
‘No, my lord. That’s what no one in Rome understands. He is the son of a famous Roman, but he himself was brought up by Greeks. Greek is his native tongue, and he speaks Latin like a foreigner. Menas plans to make him a figurehead for all the Greeks, in a rising against the sway of Rome.’
‘Do you mean to tell me this movement is led by a freedman?’
‘It is led by Menas, my lord. He was once the slave of Pompeius Maximus, but he is not what you think of as a freedman. He is a pirate chieftain.’
‘It all sounds very uncivilized and unpleasant. You don’t tempt me to join forces with Sextus, which I gather is what you advise.’
‘I don’t advise that you should join him now, my lord. I advise you not to throw away an advantage which is yours alone, not shared by your colleagues. Sextus fears Rome, and would like an ally who could bring him Roman legions. But he is very much stronger than is generally supposed. When Antonius breaks with Caesar, and that must happen before very long, you will be free to support either side. Then, if you have secretly made terms with Sextus Pompeius, you will yourself be stronger than you seem to be. The next civil war may leave you ruler of the world.’
It was a fascinating dream; but then Eunomus was always propounding these fascinating dreams. Lepidus sometimes wondered whether, since he had already risen so high, he might be destined to rise higher. But to defy his colleagues at present would be absurd. None the less, the plan might be kept in reserve. He answered firmly, to show that the conversation was at an end.
‘Keep in touch with Menas, but don’t commit me. At present Sextus Pompeius is our foe, though a foe so weak that he may be disregarded. If, later on, I should seek his alliance, he will be glad to help me. You may write again, in your name but not in mine. Tell no one, and of course do not use my signet.’
The lady Clodia gossiped with the maid who combed her hair.
‘This has been a terrible winter. Everyone in mourning, and the only parties given by drunken rankers who have stolen the property of dead Optimates. But the summer will be better. All those frightful soldiers will be leaving Rome, and funny old Lepidus will be in control. He may have the brains of a wax-work, but at least he has the manners of a gentleman. Think up a new way of doing my hair; in a few months we shall be gay and smart again.’
9. Perusia
41–40 BC
In early spring Caesar and Agrippa marched into southern Italy to demonstrate against Sextus Pompeius. Their amateur navy proved no match for experienced pirates, and after a few unlucky skirmishes they patched up a peace. In the meantime Pompeius had added Sardinia and Corsica to his island dominion, so that now he ruled all the western sea between Italy and Spain. But so long as corn-ships could sail freely to Ostia there was no reason why the rulers of Rome should quarrel with the ruler of Sicily.
Then Antonius and Caesar crossed the Adriatic, to begin the great campaign of vengeance. Supreme in Rome, Lepidus could devote himself to the internal affairs of the City.
That was a splendid summer. There was not an opponent to be found, not even a wit to compose satirical epigrams; proscription had silenced that carping malice for ever. A wise ruler, in the prime of life, could give all his time to the intricate ballet of the constitution, telling Consuls, praetors, aediles, quaestors when to enter, when to withdraw, when to exhibit Games to the populace. The City was worthily governed, as the ancestors would have governed it. Lepidus knew his rule gave satisfaction to his loyal subjects; for though he constantly mingled in society he never overheard a single complaint.
His wife’s fit of the sulks was the only shadow on his happiness. Junia would not help him in his arduous task, though he would have been glad of her advice. At home she was loyal and discreet, so that the idea of divorce never entered his mind; she was the mother of his sons, part of the furniture of his house. But she took no interest in public affairs, never expressed an opinion, never asked his plans. Of course, politics were to her a depressing subject. Brutus had recently thrown away his last chance of pardon by murdering his prisoner, Caius Antonius. Ostensibly this was a reprisal for the murder of Cicero, but it proved that at last hate had overcome even the honesty of Brutus; Caius had been as raffish as the other Antonius brothers, but he was himself innocent of murder.
Instead of Junia, there was Fulvia. As her husband’s representative, that great lady constantly busied herself with tangled questions of appointment and promotion. She knew as much about the management of the assembly as if she had been a man and a voter, and she had at her finger-ends all the details of family alliance and hereditary influence which governed the nomination of unproven young men to be quaestors and military tribunes. As befitted the widow of Clodius the gangster, she was forthright in her dishonest
y; a connexion with the gens Antonia was the only qualification that weighed with her. On the other hand, as she pointed out, even the most unsuitable magistrates could do no harm when the wise hand of a Triumvir was always ready to correct their mistakes. Lepidus might govern through her nominees as easily as through any other instruments.
He took to calling frequently at ‘The Keels’to talk things over with her. She was always ready to see him, listening to his troubles with an anxious sympathy very flattering to a middle-aged nobleman who had never, even in his youth, been a breaker of hearts. She seemed to be glad of his company; the gay young rakes who hung about the place were sent packing as soon as the Pontifex Maximus was announced.
Lepidus began to wonder whether he had made a conquest, even without trying. Everyone who mattered was to be found in Fulvia’s boudoir; but even great men like Pollio and Lucius Antonius tactfully made themselves scarce when Aemilius Lepidus dropped in for a private chat with the most influential lady in Rome.
There was plenty to talk about, for Fulvia suspected that her husband’s followers were being slighted in the new land-settlement. Her bugbear was Pollio, though she never was rude to him to his face. That made her complaints all the more forceful the moment he had left.
As the summer dragged on, and the campaign against the murderers remained at a standstill, Fulvia’s temper grew shorter. Her assumption that Lepidus must side with her husband against his rival, young Caesar, was even more trying.
The July day had been blazing hot, and Lepidus had spent the hottest part of it standing in the sun, seeing that the assembly of the people ratified some urgent decrees of the Senate. There had been no debate, because no one dared to speak against a Triumvir; and most of the formal speeches of commendation had been delivered by underlings. But he had spoken twice, all the same; because he was sufficiently old-fashioned to treat the sovereign people of Rome with a decent show of respect. When he reached the cool boudoir of the lady Fulvia he was longing to forget everything political.
Instead he found Pollio closeted with the lady, and evidently in the middle of an argument; though Caesar’s legate almost at once withdrew, from respect for his superior in the government.
Fulvia was lying on a day-bed, in the attitude of a man at the supper-table; because of the heat two maids fanned her, and she was very lightly dressed. Her well-turned legs were exposed above the knee, and though Lepidus tried to keep his eyes on her face he was aware of large breasts peeping over the edge of her tunic. At once she burst into angry speech.
‘That mealy-mouthed turncoat wants to steal all the towns of Italy, while better men risk their lives in deadly war. He’s so sure of himself he’s quite open about it. Guess what he proposes to do next? He wants to confiscate the whole territory of Mantua, to give it free to his jackals.’
‘My dear lady,’ answered Lepidus with a smile, ‘that’s what he was appointed to do. Our soldiers have been promised the usual farms that every veteran expects nowadays; and since we have no money to buy in the open market we must confiscate the land of our enemies. It’s not a pleasant job, nor a dignified one. I’m glad I’m not doing it myself, as was very nearly my fate. But since it’s got to be done it seems to me that our Pollio is the man to do it. His dignity won’t be hurt, because he hasn’t any; and if he makes a little money out of bribery and blackmail that is only what we expect from a creature such as him.’
‘He was told to confiscate the land of Sullan veterans, who had been illegally rewarded for oppressing the Populars. But those men don’t form whole communities, and if they do Mantua isn’t one of them. I happen to know that several Mantuans are serving in my husband’s legions. Most of the others were neutral in politics. Why should they be turned out to make room for the toy soldiers who follow that boy, the boy who is always sick when there is a battle to be fought?’
‘It isn’t as straightforward as that. You ladies see politics in black and white, when in fact both sides are a dingy grey. If there are Mantuans in our legions we shall have to save their farms; though it will mean breaking promises made to other faithful legionaries. The real trouble is that nowadays soldiering has become a hereditary trade; men no longer fight for a political cause. A lot of Sulla’s veterans were settled round Mantua, on land stolen from oppressed Populars. You will agree that they deserve to be dispossessed. That happened a generation ago. Their sons went into the army, because that was the family business. But they enlisted in any legion that happened to be nearest. Some fought for Pompeius; there’s no difficulty-in dealing with them. Others joined Caesar the Dictator, and then followed your Marcus, or young Caesar. That makes their farms a genuine problem. But if land was stolen from the Populars in the first place, it ought to go back to the Populars now we are victorious. You see that?’
‘Then why shouldn’t it go back to the original Popular owners, or their sons if they are dead? That’s another grievance. Thousands of dispossessed farmers look for justice now that their cause is triumphant. Pollio disregards their claims.’
‘My dear, those original farmers did not fight for it. Or if they did fight for it they got beaten. That’s how Sulla got it in the first place.’
‘But, Marcus, land isn’t held only by the sword. There are title-deeds.’
‘Nevertheless, dear lady, all land is held by the sword.’ Lepidus was mounted on a favourite hobby. ‘We Romans conquered Mantua from the Gauls, after they had conquered it from someone else, the Etruscans most probably. If you look far enough, there are descendents of dozens of previous owners of every piece of land knocking about Italy. Which do you think we should restore?’
‘Nonsense,’ she said sharply, addressing the Triumvir with a curtness he seldom heard nowadays. ‘There is a rightful owner for every square foot of land in the world. It’s your duty to find him, and safeguard his title.’
‘I didn’t know you were a philosopher, my dear. Plato taught that the Ideal is laid up in heaven, so that all we have to do is look for it. In your opinion, I suppose, the Ideal includes an Ideal land-register.’
‘Now you are making fun of a mere woman, who had nothing but a miserable feminine education. I don’t know about Plato and his Ideals. All I know is that soldiers who follow my Marcus ought to keep their land. They should get that of others into the bargain.’
‘That’s not the talk of a mere woman. That’s the argument of every male politician. “My followers should keep their land and get the land of your followers as well.” It’s not often put so laconically, but that’s all we really talk about in the Senate.’
‘Oh dear, I was forgetting. You have come straight from that boring assembly, in all the glare of the Forum. You must be longing for rest, and for a little frivolous chatter. Instead I go on about politics. Forgive me.’
‘Well, I did come here to relax; though do you know, my dear, that they call “The Keels” the new Senate House, because every appointment is settled here? In a way, it’s even more true now that your Marcus is fighting overseas. He finds it hard to fix his mind on politics. Yours is the more forceful character.’
Fulvia looked at him appraisingly. ‘I haven’t seen dear Junia for ages,’ she said abruptly. ‘I hope she is well?’
‘She is well enough, I believe. As a matter of fact, I don’t see very much of her. There were old friends of hers among the proscribed, and now she regards me as a kind of public executioner.’
‘That proscription was a terrible bloodletting. I also lost old friends; but then there was a time when I knew everyone. Yet, like any other bloodletting, it was done because it was necessary. Never reproach yourself because once you put the needs of the City before private affection.’
‘That’s what I tell Junia. But she doesn’t understand me.’
Lepidus was thinking how much more pleasant life would be if he could talk every evening to some lady as understanding as this, a lady who had grasped that a great and turbulent City could not be ruled by kindness alone, and that in civil war it is l
egitimate to kill your enemies. For a moment he recalled with distaste her treatment of Cicero’s head, and then remembered that he had only her husband’s word as evidence that she had done anything to it at all. No one would convict a cat of killing a mouse on the unsupported evidence of Marcus Antonius.
Now she spoke gently, with a winning smile. ‘Don’t think harshly of poor Junia, my dear. And don’t despise women in general; some of us can think for ourselves. You are different. You are one of the three rulers of the world. You came to the top in open competition with your equals. There are few in the City, whether male or female, who can enter into your thoughts.’
‘Few, my dear Fulvia? There is only one, yourself. We live in an age of iron, and I thought that I alone had strength of character to accomplish the unpleasant things that must be done. In you I have met a worthy helper.’
‘Flatterer! But poor dear Clodius used to say the same; so does my darling Marcus when he happens to be at home. I must have some trifling aptitude for politics. All the same, you must be kind to Junia. She is a faithful wife, and a devoted mother. It’s just that you have risen beyond the reach of her intellect.’
‘I expect that’s it. We were married as children, when I was no more than the head of my family. She could not foresee that I would rise to be supreme in the City. If anyone had prophesied it then I wouldn’t have believed it myself. Now about this Mantuan business. Of course we shall make an exception for any loyal Antonian, but I hope to persuade you, dear lady, that Pollio is following the sensible course.’
‘Don’t persuade me, I beg. It’s not fitting. You are Triumvir, and your commands must be obeyed without argument. All the same, I made a note of one or two Antonians who are menaced with confiscation. If you move your chair closer we can talk it over in comfort.’
The discussion followed the usual course. Lepidus announced general decisions; Fulvia applauded them, and then asked for exceptions in favour of her own dependants, which were granted without argument.
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