Augustus i-1

by Allan Massie

  He marched against Decimus Brutus, determined to dislodge him from Cisalpine Gaul. I sighed in relief; he had turned to his true work. Meanwhile the IVth legion followed the example of the Martian and crossed to my side. I had got myself the most formidable army in Italy: five legions, two of Campanian veterans and one recruited in Etruria by Agrippa, as well as the IVth and the Martian. Now, with deliberation, hoping to avoid battle, ready to make a show of it, I marched northward, in Antony's wake.

  It was blue-cold in the mountains, a biting north wind. For a few days I felt I had no control over this force which I had called into being, and which was growing every day. (Two more legions were on their way to join me from Macedonia.) I caught a chill, fell into fever, was carried two days in a litter over the mountains, lay sweating and shivering in a mountain hut, while my disordered mind replayed the events of the last half-year. Yet, even so deranged by wild fancies and feverish dreams, I never doubted my future. The star I had seen rise over the mountains of Illyria beckoned me on. No man can hope to triumph unless he is willing to be the instrument of the divine powers that shape this world. Julius appeared to me in delirium, in a bloody and torn toga. He urged me on, applauded what I had achieved, and commended my decision (which Agrippa had so fiercely opposed) to acquiesce in the election of his vilest assassin, Casca, to the tribunate. 'Revenge is a meal to be eaten cold.' Casca's hour would strike when he felt more secure.

  ***

  In Rome, as one year passed into another, Cicero addressed the Senate, unwearied. The body of his speech was devoted to my praise. The honey with which I had coated his vanity was well worth what it cost me.

  'I know intimately the young man's every feeling,' he said, lying. 'Nothing is dearer to him than the Free State, nothing has more weight with him than your influence, nothing is more desired by him than the good opinion of virtuous men, nothing more delightful to him than true glory… I will venture even to pledge my word that Gaius Caesar will always be as loyal a citizen as he is to-day, and as our most fervent wishes and prayers desire.'

  In the midst of his self-deception he spoke truth. I have always been a loyal citizen.

  Cicero had lost all the discretion with which he had guarded his person for the last fifty years. He upbraided Antony in language that only victory could justify. He spoke warmly of me, but his praise was as insincere as his invective was heart-felt. My own heart responded less than it would now – youth is more impervious to approbation, which it takes as its due, than old age is – and my mind stood detached. But what Cicero said worked. The Senate clamoured to be permitted to honour me. They babbled in echo of Cicero: 'What godlike youth has come to save the Republic!' Maecenas said to me: 'There's not a man there would not slit your throat with a smile on his face.' I played my hand on his. They voted me a senator. (It is therefore, my sons, now forty years that I have been a member of the Conscript Fathers, the most noble assembly in the history of the world, even if its conduct and collective wisdom sometimes fall short of what they should be; never neglect to honour the Senate.) They associated me with the consuls Hirtius and Pansa in command of the army against Antony; they granted me the imperium of a pro-praetor.

  'So far, so good,' Maecenas said. 'We are no longer adventurers, my dear.' He poured me a cup of wine – I added water. 'Let us drink to what we have been.' 'Let us drink rather to where we have arrived,' I said. Agrippa raised his goblet: 'The future'.

  ('Oh dear,' Maecenas sighed, 'crowsfeet, the failure of performance before the death of desire, yes, ducky, the future.')

  'To our glorious leader', said P. Salvidienus Rufus. Is it hindsight that lets me believe I cast him a look pregnant with scepticism and irony?

  ***

  Antony sent me a letter:

  Octavius: what fool's game are you playing? I don't know whether to be more amazed by your rash folly or by your ability to persuade these deluded half-witted soldiers to follow you. I don't ask for gratitude, but I must point out to you that you have chosen to associate yourself with those who murdered Julius (whom you now call your father) in the vilest way imaginable, against me, who served Julius loyally and serve his memory and his cause still. Don't you realize, you poor boy, that your new chums are as twisted as a dragon's tail? They approached Caesar pretending to be friends; I have held his blood-stained toga in my hand. Some of them owed everything, including their lives, to Caesar. Yet they did for him. They owe nothing to you. What sort of fate do you imagine they are cooking up? Haven't you heard what the old verbal balloon Cicero is crowing? The kid must be flattered, decorated… and bumped off? And I hear you address that old goat as Father too, you must be out of your mind. If you don't get yourself out of that galley bloody well straightaway, I'll think you a half-wit yourself and will offer thanks to Mars and Bacchus that I had sense enough to have nothing to do with you. But if you do get shot of them and bring your legions back to me, I'll see you're all right. As it is, laddie, you're in the minestrone, and it's beginning to bubble.

  'In character,' I said, 'spluttering, bombastic and on edge.' 'What'll you say to him?' 'Oh, I shan't reply.'

  ***

  War engages the full faculties of man, but in memory only odd discordant moments emerge. Of that sharp scrambling campaign to which historians give the name Mutina, I remember very little. Decimus Brutus was shut up in the town. He sent us news, by carrier-pigeon, that his garrison was near exhaustion… it behoved us therefore to force the passes to relieve him. Hirtius and Pansa met me to dictate the strategy; I listened, impressed by neither. I had only one fear and generals could not alleviate it. I therefore called Maco to my tent. I gave him wine, to set him at ease and persuade him to speak the truth, not what he thought I might wish to hear.

  'We have come a long way,' I said, 'in a short time, and I don't suppose either of us thought it would come to this.' 'No sir, can't say as I did, sir.' 'This army, these allies, they must seem an odd mixture to a veteran like yourself. You can't have bargained for it.' 'Well, no, sir.'

  I drew my fur cloak about me. The candle sputtered in a gust of wind. A screech-owl cried out, hunting in the valley.

  'That cloak, sir,' Maco said, 'pardon my asking, was it his…?' 'Yes,' I said.

  He put out his hand and touched it. 'Do you mind, sir? I remember him wearing it, that dawn we crossed the river into Italy. You've heard tell of that morning, I'm sure, sir, how we were drawn down to the river bank by this figure that was piping. Some said it was the God Pan, sir. I wouldn't know. I just know we felt – well – obliged somehow. Sir.'

  His hand rested on the cloak. 'Sit down,' I said, 'and have some wine… tell me, Maco, how do the men feel about our friends… and enemy?'

  'Some of them trust you, sir. We're none of us that happy, but that's not exactly because of just who they each are. Fact is, sir, we none of us like fighting fellow-citizens. Well, you never know which old mates may be marking you in the other side's line-up. Mind you, if it was my brother-in-law I wouldn't mind taking a swing at him. Proper little bugger he is, sir, if you don't mind me saying so, excuse my language. But in general, sir, it's awkward and makes the men uneasy. Himself understood that, sir. He knew it wasn't like lining us up against Gauls. The more of those painted buggers you can bump off, the better, but fellow-citizens, that's a different kettle of fish.' 'And when my father's legions are on either side?'

  'Well, sir, we don't like it. But then you know, there's the other side of the coin. The obverse, they call it, don't they? Antony's boys are going to feel the same way. They're not going to be clapping their tiny hands with glee to be lined up against us. And don't forget, sir, they know who you are, they know you're Himself s son.'

  'I hadn't thought of that,' I said. 'So what would you recommend?'

  'Well, discretion, sir, but not despair, and be bloody sure to let the other chaps know who we are. Let them bump off your allies, right lot of treacherous and degenerate sods, if you don't mind my saying so. What we want, sir, is a cushy billet and the
fruits of victory.'

  And that is just what I contrived to get us. I was therefore able to bear with absolute equanimity the reports spread by many old Pompeians that I had shown the white feather during the battles. My men knew just what colour of feather we had sported. Maco told me they were saying they'd got a proper card running things now, chip off the old marble block, sir. Even Agrippa admitted I'd made a good impression on the troops. Antony was driven over the Alps. I was master of Italy, for the Gods willed that both Hirtius and Pansa should be killed. Neither had been of much account, but their departure certainly cleared the air and opened an avenue to power.

  ***

  1 wrote formally to the Senate requesting that they appoint me consul in the place of Hirtius or Pansa. I informed them of what I had achieved for the Republic. I scrupled to point out that I commanded the only army south of the Alps.

  They did not reply directly. But their measures indicated their changing yet ever-treacherous temper. They voted Decimus Brutus a Triumph. 'Ye Gods,' said Agrippa, 'he's done nothing but sit on his arse and pray we'd arrive in time to save his bacon…' They summoned the sea-thief Sextus Pompeius to command the navy of the Republic. They confirmed the Caesaricides, vain Brutus and false Cassius, in command of the provinces which they had illegally seized. With insolence bred of folly and prejudice, they commanded me to hand over to Decimus Brutus Pansa's legions which had flocked enthusiastically to my standard; and they even had the audacity to demand that I surrender the IVth and the Martian to him also. I was not mentioned in the vote of thanks to the army. I was not placed on the commission appointed to revise Antony's decrees. I was refused a triumph and an ovation.

  It was clear that Cicero's epigram was being enacted; they had concluded it was now safe to discard me.

  ***

  I summoned a council: Maecenas and Agrippa of course; my brother-in-law Marcellus; P. Salvidienus Rufus, quick-tempered, vain, touchy and acute; my stepfather Philippus. As is my wont on such occasions I said little myself. I asked each of them for his assessment of the situation.

  Philippus moaned that we were lost and wrung his hands: 'You have overplayed it,' he sobbed, 'Fortuna is offended and the Gods are drawing their skirts away from you.'

  'What would you advise, stepfather?' My voice had all the honey of the Alban Hills.

  'You must do as they wish. You must show yourself humble and respectful. You must inform them that you have no other purpose, no other desire, but to do the will of the Senate. You must appear there and speak politely and submissively. All may not yet be lost. You have still the rank of propraetor, and you must confess yourself sensible of the extraordinary honours the Senate has been gracious to confer on one so young. In this way you may yet salvage something.'

  'In other words,' Maecenas said, 'you must eat dirt, and say you like it, while throwing up the game which is hardly half-played.'

  'Marcellus,' I said, 'you know how I respect your experience and capacity.'

  'What Philippus advises is absurd. The Senate would receive you with contempt. Worse, the soldiers who have trusted you would never do so again. Certainly, you would be in no danger. You would be in no danger because you would be of no account. You would have surrendered your position as Caesar's heir and you would take your place in the Senate as Philippus' stepson.'

  He had risen as he spoke, and, when he talked of the soldiers, he threw open the flap of the tent. We could see tents stretching into the evening distance, smoke rising from the camp-fires to lose itself in the river mist. We could see the obscure night closing around us.

  P. Salvidienus Rufus rose also and placed his hand on Marcellus' shoulder.

  'What Marcellus says is absolutely correct. I associate myself with him all the way. You won't be surprised to know that we have discussed the state of affairs. And we are agreed. You hold the line here, and meanwhile send an embassy to Antony – I am ready to go myself as your ambassador. Propose an alliance which he will now be willing to accept on your terms, or as near your terms as dammit. Then the pair of you march on Rome. That's what you must do. You've got yourself mounted on the wrong horse. I've always said so. It's time to change horses.'

  'Thank you, my friend,' I said. 'As ever your advice is to the point – and all but cogent. However, let us hear our other friends. Maecenas?' I said, though I could see that Agrippa was fretting to give his opinion.

  'What can I say? Marcellus and Rufus have analysed the situation with their customary acuity, and they are adept in Roman politics as I shall never be. I cannot, I regret' – he bowed to Philippus – 'find myself in accord with you, sir. Your counsel is, in my humble opinion, the delicious and tender fruit of your paternal care and affection for Octavius, but, it seems to me, that you are attempting to separate the private person who is your cherished stepson from the political force he has become. And such surgery appears, in my humble opinion, to be impossible. It is what he is – Caesar's heir – which makes him of consequence; and it is the political skill he has displayed in this last year, guided of course by the wisdom of his friends and fructified by his own willingness to hearken to their advice, which have made him… formidable. Such qualities, such achievement cannot be resigned; if I know that, half-foreign aesthete that I am, mere dabbler in the murky waters of politics, how much more certainly do our friendly foes! So, I must bow rather to the judicious advice tendered by Marcellus and Rufus. Yet may I suggest – tentatively of course – that their masterly analysis leaves two factors out of account. In the first place, Octavius now has power, but no real authority. He requires that if he is to treat with Antony. Second, there are armies in Narbonnese Gaul and Celtic Gaul and Spain commanded – pray correct me if I am mistaken – by Lepidus, Plancus and Pollio respectively. I don't know how many legions they have of course – I'm sure Agrippa can enlighten us – but I do know the real question: whose side are they on? Don't you think we should discover how they stand? My own uninformed guess is that they will drift, willy-nilly, to Antony… and, if they do, he will surely outnumber us. Moreover while we should make conditions, they won't. Can you imagine poor Lepidus making conditions stick? Now if I can guess this – so can Antony. Therefore the fruit that represents the alliance with Antony, which must – I agree of course – eventually come, is not ripe for plucking. We must have more to offer than we do now.'

  I nodded gravely. Maecenas had delivered with persuasive perfection the speech we had rehearsed in the small hours of the previous night.

  Agrippa stood up. 'Too many bloody words,' he said. 'Too much damned subtlety from the lot of you. Look at the boys out there. I may not know much about fine bloody politics, but I know them. They'll have your guts for garters if you follow Philippus' course. That's sure to begin with. And it'll bloody well serve you right. As for Antony, let's twist his tail a bit tighter first…'

  ***

  We marched on Rome. I stayed with the army, though I sent Maecenas and Marcellus posting ahead. Naturally I was tempted to go with them, for there was work to be done, there were arms to be twisted and ears to be soothed with honey; but I had listened to the undercurrent of Agrippa's words. I stayed therefore with the legions as we swung down the great road to Rome, through olive groves and vineyards, past grazing cattle and flocks of sheep, by heavy-flanked oxen bearing sweet-smelling hay on lumbering wains. There was a surge and exhilaration to that march. Italy's maidens emerged from doorways to deck us with roses. The elders of each community presented me with an address. It held us up dreadfully, to Agrippa's irritation, but I told him to open his eyes: Italy, I said, was acclaiming us, pledging her loyalty, acknowledging that we alone could restore peace and fruitfulness to the land. The moral effect of the reports of our reception which the Senate will receive compensates for any delay; besides,' I said, 'it boosts the morale of our troops. Soldiers, good ones anyway, like to be loved; it's only the degenerates who are pleased to inspire fear.'

  Then I sent Agrippa on ahead. 'There are three legions,' I said, 'two f
rom Africa blocking the Flaminian Way. We do not want a battle. To fight within earshot of the walls of Rome would change everything. I would arrive as a conqueror to a scene of terror.'

  Agrippa galloped into the dawn. Two days later a messenger returned. Agrippa would meet me at the cross-roads ten miles north of Tivoli. I was to bring only a handful as escort. Philippus, twittering into my tent with another letter in his hand, picked up Agrippa's. I suppose he turned pale. At any rate when he spoke he twittered worse. I was being tricked, he said; Agrippa had defected; he had been bribed; how could I have thought it safe to trust a man of neither birth nor breeding; I was going to walk into a trap; much more in the same womanish vein. (No, that is unjust, my sons; one should not talk so of women; Livia has never given me weak advice in our many years of marriage.)

  I said to Philippus: 'Stepfather, I understand of course that you are afraid of my mother, and that you have promised her to see that no harm will come to me, and I realize also that as an old Pompeian you are a snob who doesn't understand democratic politics; but have you no nose that functions? Can't you feel the direction of the wind? I don't ask you to share my opinion of Agrippa, which is (by the way) that he is the most trustworthy man I know, but I do ask you to realize that he is a chap of some intelligence, even if his vowel-sounds are long and provincial. So, even if I agreed with you concerning his character, I would still tell you your fears were groundless. I mean, have you ever heard of a rat leaving a ship in full sail? What's that you have in your hand now?'

  'This? Oh this is another worry, which may destroy that complacency you now show. Listen to what my correspondent tells me. Cicero has been in touch with Lepidus. He has offered him the dictatorship. What do you say to that?'