The Judgment of Caesar

by Steven Saylor

  “While she held the body of Zoë, she called Merianis to her side. What did she say to Merianis? None of us could hear, for they kept their voices low, but did it not seem to you that Merianis balked at the queen’s commands? This was what Cleopatra told her to do: first, to fetch the alabaster vial from her room, and to empty the poison from it; then to find Apollodorus, and to convey the queen’s desire that he come at once and, when the occasion allowed, that he should plant the empty vial upon Meto. Merianis was appalled; she had no wish to harm Meto, but she had no will to resist the queen’s command. Thus the strange look she shot at Meto; thus the shame she exhibited afterward. As for Apollodorus, he obeyed the queen’s command without question, and for the very reason he gave today: ‘Because I love her,’ he said—but he didn’t mean Merianis. He meant Cleopatra!”

  Caesar rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And—supposing this version of events is true—this was why you wished the two servants to be called here without their mistress. You hoped they might reveal the truth—and incriminate the queen.”

  “Yes. But Cleopatra foresaw that possibility. She might simply have refused to cooperate—but she sensed that you must, at some level, be given an explanation, and that someone would have to be punished. Before they came here, the queen told Merianis and Apollodorus exactly what to say, if called upon; and to save her, they lied, knowing it would mean their own deaths.” I remembered the look of acquiescence on Merianis’s face when Apollodorus delivered the deathblow, and my voice quavered. “If Merianis hadn’t stolen the poison from my trunk, desiring only to save me from myself, she might yet be alive.”

  Caesar nodded. “Strange, how Cornelia’s alabaster vial and Pompey’s amphora of Falernian wine both seemed to take on a malevolent life of their own, even after their owners abandoned them. Dead men do bite, and so do their widows!”

  “You accept my version of events, Consul?”

  “It satisfies my curiosity, Gordianus. But it does not satisfy my needs.”

  “Your needs?”

  “I came to Egypt to settle affairs here to my own advantage, and to the advantage of Rome, which amounts to the same thing. Debts must be repaid; for that to happen, the harvests must be gathered and taxes collected; for that to happen, Egypt must have peace. Either the king and queen must be reconciled, or one must be eliminated and the other put upon the throne—and whoever occupies the throne must be a steadfast ally of Rome. Through all that’s happened, I’ve remained committed to carrying out the will of the Piper, namely that both siblings should rule jointly. What occurred on Antirrhodus was unfortunate; but as you yourself assert, the poisoning was accidental, and the queen’s response, though regrettable, was not premeditated. To press the queen for answers, to badger her with questions as if she had plotted in some criminal fashion against my person, does not serve the greater purpose—”

  “But she did plot against you, Consul! Not once, but twice! First, when she sought to falsely incriminate Meto—all the more terrible, if you ask me, precisely because it was spontaneous—and again, only moments ago, when she contrived, with complete premeditation, to have her subjects lie to you, even to die, in order to conceal the first deceit!”

  “Would you have me call the queen a liar to her face?”

  “I would have you call things what they are!”

  “Ah, but there we see where you fail to grasp the situation, Gordianus. You possess knowledge, but you lack understanding. Through these deceits, the queen sought to advance herself, not to endanger me. That is a crucial point, Gordianus, and one that you fail to apprehend. This is a political matter; it has to do with the appearance of things. When the queen was pressed to supply a response that would satisfy appearances, she did precisely that.”

  “At the expense of two lives! The queen is a monster. To force those two to lie to protect her, and then to stand by and watch as they killed themselves, so that she might save face—”

  “So that I might save face as well, Gordianus. Do you really believe she forced them to do anything? Quite the contrary, I should think; what they did, they did willingly, even eagerly. What extraordinary devotion! If only I could cultivate such depths of love and loyalty! Men have died for me, yes, but not in the way those two died for their queen. They truly believed her to be a goddess, with the power to grant them everlasting life. Amazing!” There was a note of envy in his wonderment. Would a Roman king ever be able to evoke such total devotion and blind self-sacrifice? I found the notion repellent, but Caesar seemed fascinated by the possibility.

  He strode to the window and gazed at the vista that stretched to the distant Nile. “And yet . . .” I heard a note of resignation in his voice. I saw his shoulders sag. “You say that she’s bewitched me, Gordianus, and I fear you may be right. I almost believe myself that she’s a goddess, if only because she makes me feel like a god. I’m a man of fifty-two, Gordianus. Cleopatra makes me feel like a boy. I’ve conquered the world, and I feel weary; she offers me a fresh world to conquer, and makes me young again. She offers more than the world; she offers everlasting life. I’m fifty-two, and I’ve never produced an heir. Cleopatra has promised to give me a son. Can you imagine? A son to rule over not only Egypt, but Rome as well! Together we might found a dynasty to rule the whole world, forever.”

  I shook my head. Caesar, looking out the window, did not see my reaction, but must have sensed it.

  “I suppose,” he said, “this is precisely the sort of talk that turned Meto so adamantly against the queen and her influence on me. Do I sound like some deluded Eastern despot? Have I crossed the world, eluding every trap and besting every enemy, only to lose my bearings here in Egypt, to a twenty-one-year-old girl?”

  “You say she promises you the world, Consul; yet she lies as easily as she breathes. You say she promises you a son; yet even if she were to announce that she was carrying your child, how could you be certain—”

  He raised a hand. “Enough! Some thoughts are better left unspoken.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and silently gazed out the window for such a long time that he seemed to have forgotten my presence, until finally he spoke again. The tenor of his voice had changed in some subtle way; in the silent interim, he had come to some decision regarding the queen.

  But first he would deal with another matter. He cleared his throat. “I want you to know, Gordianus, that I would never have executed Meto.”

  “But you told me—” “I told you what I deemed necessary to tell you, in order to gain the desired result.” He turned to face me. “Did the immediate threat to Meto not spur you to find the truth about the poisoned amphora?”

  “Perhaps. But still—”

  “I know men, Gordianus. If any skill has brought me to the place I occupy today, it’s my ability to judge the character and capacity of the men around me. Some men respond to encouragement, some to threats, some to questions about their honor. The trick lies in perceiving the best way to inspire each man to do his utmost. I think I know you, Gordianus, better than you realize. The proof, as always, lies in the result.”

  I shook my head. “Then you never believed Meto was guilty?”

  “Did I say that, Gordianus? I believe I said something slightly different. But the important thing is that Meto shall be freed at once and restored to my side.”

  “As if nothing had happened?”

  “I’ve learned to forgive my foes, Gordianus. Some of them have even learned to forgive me. Should it not be easier for two friends to forgive one another?”

  I gritted my teeth. “You posit a false syllogism, Consul.”

  “How so?”

  “You need to be forgiven; Meto has done nothing for which he needs forgiveness.”

  “Oh, really? How good finally to hear you say that, Gordianus! Your son is blameless after all.”

  “I meant—”

  “I know what you meant. But the choice of how to proceed beyond this . . . unfortunate breach of trust . . . lies with Meto, I thin
k, and not with you. Is your son free to make his own decisions, or will you continue to look over his shoulder and judge him at every turn, holding him hostage to your disapproval? Have my actions toward Meto been any more destructive than your own, when you disowned him? If that breach could be healed, then can this one not be healed as well?”

  How deftly Caesar had turned the tables on me, elevating his own decisions above argument while challenging my paternal authority and moral judgment! I chafed at his insinuation, but I could not summon a rebuttal. Either Meto was his own man, or he was not; and if he was, then I had to acknowledge once and for all that he had moved beyond my power to shape his opinions and desires. Would he rush back to Caesar’s side, his imperator’s “unfortunate breach of trust” forgiven and forgotten? Or had the worm of doubt insinuated itself permanently into Meto’s thoughts, and would he never again be able to render to Caesar the loving allegiance the man once had commanded of him? Caesar was right: The choice belonged to Meto, not to me.

  But it seemed there was another, more immediate choice at hand, to be made by Caesar. He turned from me and summoned the guard at the door, to whom he issued an instruction in a voice too low for me to hear. He began to pace the room, staring at his reflection in the highly polished marble floor, apparently oblivious of me. Like many of the powerful men I had known, he possessed the ability to move from one preoccupation to another without transition, focusing his entire energies on the problem immediately before him. He had dealt with and was done with me, and though I might linger in his physical presence, for all practical purposes I had already vanished.

  I cleared my throat. “If the consul is done with me—”

  Caesar looked up, like a sleeper pulled from a dream. “Gordianus! No, stay. I’m about to make a decision too long deferred. Someone should be here to witness the moment. Why not you? Yes, I think Gordianus the Finder is precisely the man to be with me at this moment.”

  We waited; for what, I wasn’t sure. At last, the guard stationed at the door announced that Caesar’s visitor had arrived. A moment later, leaving his courtiers in the antechamber outside, the king stepped into the room.

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  I dropped to one knee. Caesar remained standing.

  Giving a vague wave of his hand to signal that I might rise, but otherwise showing no acknowledgment of my presence, Ptolemy strode directly to Caesar and stopped a few paces from him. He wore the uraeus crown with a rearing cobra; his bearing was erect. He seemed somehow different—no longer a boy with the attributes of a man, but a man who had left boyhood behind. The gaze he exchanged with Caesar was that of equals, despite the difference in their ages.

  “Your Majesty,” said Caesar, inclining his head slightly.

  “Consul,” said Ptolemy, his eyes flashing and a faint smile softening his lips. The resemblance to his sister was more striking than ever.

  Caesar sighed. “We’ve talked before, at great length, about what’s to be done. You remain adamant in your position?”

  “I shall never share the throne with my sister. Pothinus, whatever his true motives, eventually convinced me to compromise; but Pothinus is no longer here.”

  I realized the source of the change I saw in Ptolemy; it was due not to something added, but something subtracted. Except for his exhortations from the balcony of the Tomb of Alexander, I had never before seen the king outside the presence of Pothinus. Perhaps those who believed the lord chamberlain had cast an undue influence over the king were right. With Pothinus gone, Ptolemy seemed to have grown to full manhood overnight.

  “Your Majesty realizes the difficulties of the decision I face,” said Caesar.

  “I do.”

  “But ultimately, as events have unfolded, and as the character of each of the Piper’s children has become clearer to me . . .”

  Ptolemy regarded him quizzically. “The consul has made a choice between us?”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  “You know how fervently I desired to reconcile you with your sister. Even now, were it possible, it seems to me the judicious course. And yet it manifestly is not possible, and so another choice must be made. . . .”

  Ptolemy tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes. “Go on, Consul.”

  “I have decided, Your Majesty, to support your claim to be the sole ruler of Egypt.”

  I saw the flash of a boyish grin breaking through the constrained smile of the king. “And my sister?”

  “Cleopatra may not readily accept my judgment, but she will be made to see she has no choice; her position in Alexandria relies entirely upon my protection, after all.”

  The king’s smile faded. “What if she should slip out of Alexandria to rejoin her rebels, just as she slipped into the city?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “How can the consul be sure?”

  “For one thing, some of her closest confederates—those who assisted her entry to the city—are no longer with her.” Caesar glanced at me with a tacit command to say nothing about Apollodorus and Merianis. “For the time being, she’ll be returned to the palace on Antirrhodus and confined there. My soldiers will keep a close watch upon her.”

  “As Caesar’s soldiers have kept close watch on me in recent days?” said Ptolemy.

  “During the uncertain interim that has just ended, I found it necessary to prepare for all eventualities,” said Caesar. “Now that my decision is made, Your Majesty shall of course be free to come and go as he pleases. Cleopatra will not.”

  “She must be handed over to me for judgment.”

  “No, Your Majesty. That I cannot do. No harm must come to her.”

  “If my sister is allowed to live, sooner or later she will escape and raise a revolt. Even in custody, she’ll find some way to make mischief. As long as she breathes, she’ll never stop plotting my death.”

  Caesar nodded. “Clearly, Cleopatra cannot be allowed to remain in Egypt. I think it may be best for her to take up residence in Rome—under my watchful protection, of course.”

  “In Rome? Where she can continue to plot against me?”

  “A watch will be kept upon her house. Her movements will be restricted, as will the list of those allowed to visit her.”

  “Will Caesar be among the visitors who call upon her, in Rome?”

  “Perhaps, from time to time.”

  Ptolemy shook his head. “Alexandria is far from Rome. Caesar will forget his ties to the king of Egypt. The viper will pour poison in your ears and turn you against me!” In the suddenly strident tone of his voice, the boy within the man made a fitful reappearance.

  Caesar was adamant. “Your Majesty must trust me on this matter. I will not allow Cleopatra to be harmed. Is it not enough that I recognize your sole claim to the throne of Egypt?”

  Ptolemy drew a deep breath. He squared his shoulders. The boy was suppressed; the man reasserted his primacy, and his decision was reached. “Caesar judges wisely. The people of Egypt and their king are lucky to have found such a friend in the consul of the Roman people. But now there is much work to be done. If I’m truly free to come and go . . .”

  “You are, Your Majesty.”

  “Then I shall leave the palace now, to join with Achillas and take charge of my army in the city. I shall inform Achillas of your decision in my favor and order him to call back my troops, so that no more blood will be shed, Roman or Egyptian. Once order is established in the city as well as in the palace, and once my sister and those who wish to stay in her service have departed from Egypt under Caesar’s protection, there shall be a ceremony to mark the cessation of hostilities and the affirmation of my rule.” His voice softened. “If the consul has time, I should like him to accompany me on a journey up the Nile, so that he may observe the life of the river and witness the many splendors along her shore.”

  Caesar stepped forward and took the king’s hand. “I should like nothing better, Your Majesty. Sooner or later I must leave Egypt; there must be a reckonin
g with the scattered remnants of Pompey’s forces, who are said to be regrouping in Libya under the command of Cato. But I have little to fear from that quarter, and a full and final settlement of affairs in Egypt takes precedence over all other matters of state. To accompany the king on a tour of the Nile—to cement our friendship with such a journey—would please me greatly.”

  The two exchanged a look of such intimate affection that I felt like an intruder. I cleared my throat.

  “In the meantime,” said Caesar, resuming a more formal tone, “I shall watch for the cessation of hostilities from Achillas’s men, and I shall eagerly await Your Majesty’s return.”

  The king stepped back, pulling his hand from Caesar’s grasp. As he turned to go, the look of manly determination on his face wavered; when he turned back, spinning on his heel, it was the boy-king I saw, timorous and uncertain, with tears in his eyes. He rushed back to Caesar and gripped his arm. “Come with me, Caesar! I don’t want to leave your side!”

  Caesar smiled indulgently at this sudden outburst of emotion. His gently laid his hand over the hand that gripped his arm, and he squeezed it affectionately. “The king has no need of me when it comes to dealing with Achillas. The order to cease hostilities must come from you alone. I would only get in the way.”

  Ptolemy nodded, but his eyes brimmed with tears. “You’re right, of course. What I do now, I must do alone. ‘It’s a lonely business,’ my father used to say, ‘being a king.’ But never forget one thing, Caesar: The whole of my kingdom is no dearer to me at this moment than the mere sight of you!”

  With astonishment, I saw that Caesar, too, had tears in his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was husky. “If that’s true, Your Majesty, then go quickly, that you may return all the more quickly to my side!”

  Without another word, his eyes locked with Caesar’s until the last possible moment, Ptolemy stepped back, turned away, and withdrew from the room, his linen robes of state rustling in the faint breeze stirred by his passing.