by Allan Massie
What could I do with Septimus? I could not keep him by me, for he was a perpetual reminder of my weakness, and I feared lest I should grow to hate him. I sent him first to Livia bearing a letter in which I said simply that he had saved my life -1 could not bring myself to reveal to Livia to what straits I had been reduced - and should be suitably rewarded. Eventually we granted him farmlands and olive groves near the spring of Clitumnus. For some years he sent us a gift of oil every winter. Then the gifts ceased. I made enquiries, discovered he had got into debt, had been too proud or too ashamed to seek the help which I should certainly have given. The first reports said he had drifted into the city; but when I gave orders that search should be made for him there, I had no success. Later reports contradicted the first: he had hanged himself from his own lintel rather than see his land pass to his creditors. Strange and disturbing symmetry of life.
* * *
The war with Pompey was a bore and a distraction. Gradually, thanks to Agrippa's genius for innovation and the invention of a new device called a harapax - a grapnel shot from a catapult that enabled him to lock Pompey's ships to ours and deny him the advantages of mobility which his pirates' superior seamanship had hitherto given him - we wore him down. Pompey's heart gave way; he fled to the East and threw himself on Antony's mercy: a letter from Antony tells the rest:
Caesar: Pompey arrived here spluttering with fear and foaming at the mouth with indignation at what he called 'the barbarity of your methods'. I am sorry to say - you'll be heart-broken to hear it yourself, dear boy - that he regards you as a twister. I say 'regards' but I should really use the past tense. I've had enough of Pompey. We've tried everything in the way of co-operation, and it hasn't worked. Now you've beaten him and it really seemed to me that he had cumbered the earth long enough. So I had him dealt with, in the most gentlemanly way, you'll understand. The fact is, though, all Pompeys are losers. And what news of our colleague, the surely now truly superfluous man?
Look after Octavia, and see that the child is safely born. I can trust you for that, brother.
I shall deal with the reference to Octavia in due course. Meanwhile I may as well wrap up this episode.
I could feel no grief at Pompey's execution. We had really indulged him absurdly.
It happened however that, by one of those quirks of military fortune, many of Pompey's legions surrendered to Lepidus who had played a minor part in the last weeks of the campaign. This might have been awkward, if Lepidus had been another man, for he now found himself as he thought in command of twenty two legions - say a hundred thousand men, an enormous force.
Now over the years of the triumvirate Lepidus had grown resentful; he felt his inferiority and declined to admit its cause. I was breakfasting in Syracuse, after doing sacrifice to the Gods in that city of a thousand cults, when Agrippa stormed into the room, his face the colour of a winter sunset. At first I could make no sense of what he said, for in his fury he gobbled his words. At last however, I compelled him to sit down and relax.
'Now,' I said, 'let's start again.'
'That's just what the bloody hell we'll have to,' he cried. 'That bugger Lepidus.' 'Oh Lepidus,' I said, 'Lepidus is nothing.' 'Nothing is he? He's only setting up to be bloody Pompey.' 'What do you mean?'
'Ah, I've got your interest, have I? Well, that's something. I thought you were so taken up with these Greek cults - or Greek cunts for all I know - that you'd no time left for simple things like war and politics . . .'
'Come on then,' I said, 'I'm all ears, like a donkey.'
My little joke fell flat. Agrippa looked even blacker than ever. Your father never understood the frivolity of serious moments, I'm afraid. But at last he came to the point: Lepidus had suffered an attack of the delusion of greatness.
'Here's the bugger's letter,' Agrippa shouted. 'He announces, with no end of flowery whatsits, that, Pompey's legions having surrendered to him, he must now regard Sicily as his Province and he therefore commands you to get yourself and your legions out of the island. How's that for brass neck?'
'Whom the Gods wish to destroy, they first make mad,' I said.
'What the hell do you mean? What do we do?' 'Nothing'
'Nothing? Are you going to take this lying down? Let me, for Jupiter's sake, march on his camp. I'll string him high as the Colossus at Rhodes . . .'
'Nothing,' I said again. 'We shall sit where we are. However, let Lepidus' communication be generally known. Then let us see its effect'
Agrippa drew his brows together. I took hold of his arm, and felt it tense beneath my grip.
'There will be no need of war,' I said. 'Wait and see.'
It was fine weather, I remember, though I was little able to enjoy it, for there was a mass of administrative work to see to. We were engaged throughout the civil war, you must remember, in the task of re-animating Rome's government throughout the Empire. True, at this time, I was nominally responsible only for the Western half of that Empire; but that itself entailed a deal of work. Gaul, for example, though conquered by my father, had hardly yet been brought within our administrative sphere. In Rome itself, I had already embarked on my great building programme, restoring damaged temples and public buildings, erecting new ones, and bringing some order to the irregular and haphazard provision of housing for the poor. Much of my work throughout my life has been of this nature. I do not grumble. Indeed, I have always found pleasure in the establishment of order and orderly procedure. My greatest pride has been to serve my fellow-citizens.
But I became aware of an unusual gaiety in our camp, a feeling of irresponsible high humour. Lepidus' command had become known; and all took it as the best of jokes that 'the distinguished donkey' should take it on himself to speak with authority. Then, day by day, the drift from his camp to ours quickened. The army itself was sick of war. It was now eight years since my father's murder, and in that time, none of us had known peace. Now Lepidus would stir us up again, break the fragile balance we had achieved; and he found no takers. He was indeed laughed out of his armour. Within a week of his 'command' his army had begun to desert. I called one distinguished deserter to me. This was Lepidus'own nephew, Paullus. I questioned him closely anent his uncle's state of mind. He was loud in contempt. I resolved the time had come to act and invited him to accompany me.
The next morning, taking with me only a personal guard of a dozen men, I rode out of our camp, flanked by Agrippa and Paullus. We crossed the plain in the cool before the sun rose high. Dew sparkled on the young corn, and the breeze from the south-west gently caressed our faces.
We traversed the five miles that separated the two camps without incident, and were not challenged till we reached Lepidus' outposts. Even then the challenge was half-hearted. The guard was ill turned out, the centurion a little drunk and unsteady.
'Have you come to see the General?' he called out, and then, recognizing who we were, made a visible effort to assemble his wits.
'Stand easy, man,' I said. 'Your discipline seems to leave something to be desired.'
'Sir.' He tried to come to attention and salute. I have rarely seen anything sloppier. We nodded and rode past into the heart of the camp.
The army's demoralization was evident. You would not have thought they had taken part in a great victory only weeks before. There were soldiers in various states of undress everywhere, and women too. One African girl bared her breasts and cried out to us that we could have her for free, any time we wanted, whoever we were. 'As long as you're not Lepidus himself,' she cried, 'I'd make him pay through his pompous nose.' And the soldiers standing round her laughed, to hear their General insulted.
Keeping together, though I had no fear of any danger, we rode into the parade ground. One troop - defaulters perhaps -was being put through a desultory drill by a bored centurion. They halted - without command - when they saw us, and I mounted the rostrum. Agrippa roared out to the centurion, commanding him to have his fellow-centurions assemble. This they did more quickly than I had expected, and
very soon the parade square was full of men - ordinary soldiers as well as centurions - and some officers as well. Agrippa called them to silence, and I stood forward.
'Fellow-Romans,' I called out, 'many of you will know who I am. For those who don't, I am Caesar.' At the mention of the name, a great shout was raised and the crowd surged forward. 'I come to you,' I said, 'disdaining to wear any protection,' and, saying this, I tore off my breastplate and stood with my chest exposed.
'Will any man here strike Caesar?' I cried out. For a moment there was complete stillness in the crowd, and then this was overtaken by a babble of cheering. I raised my right hand. 'Well, you're better than senators then,' and they laughed in agreement. 'But,' I said, 'I'm sorry to tell you your general is of a different mind.' I produced the letter and waved it above my head. 'See here. I've a letter from him. He tells me to get out of Sicily. It's not a friendly letter, though Lepidus has no cause for complaining against me. So I've come here to ask your advice. Should I obey your general?'
Soldiers like irony. It is their own natural mode of expression, and they are pleased when it is employed by men like us at the expense of our social equals. This is not to be wondered at. Irony is after all an invitation to enter a conspiracy with the speaker.
'I confess,' I went on, 'I was in a sad state when I got this letter. Knowing Lepidus as I do, I was really alarmed. So were all my staff. Agrippa here - you won't believe this - was all for packing our bags and baggage and hot-footing it for Rome. But then, we had two thoughts. The first was: what if Lepidus follows us to Rome and tells us to get out of the city also? The second was: I wonder if his soldiers, those brave legions which have won glorious victories even under Lepidus' command, agree with their noble general. (Where is he by the way?) So I came to ask you . . .'
Well, you can imagine the response. I knew I was running no danger. There have never been Roman legionaries who would prefer Lepidus to me (I don't say I could have played the same game with Antony's troops - or even Pompey's). So I was quite safe and I had calculated correctly. They cheered me and roared with laughter, and crowded round the rostrum, stretching up their hands to shake mine or touch me. I let the euphoria develop, then stepped back and held up my hand again . . .
'Thank you, soldiers, thank you, comrades. This is a great day for all of us. We have peace in the Roman world. The Republic is no longer tormented by civil wars that have now lasted since the
Senate's threats to his life and liberty compelled Caesar to lead his legions across the Rubicon. I am glad to know that you will not let Lepidus' little ambition disturb that peace. You have done nobly. It is now time to reward you. All those who wish to leave the service in the next months will be rewarded with farms and an end-of-service payment. Those who choose to remain in the colours will receive a cash bounty - as soon as I can get the Treasury clerks to disgorge one. If there is a long delay, and you all know what they can do to tie you up with red tape while they sit pretty themselves, why then, I shall advance the money out of my own pocket, I'll borrow from my own bankers if I have to. And then try to screw it back from the Treasury. And now, let me thank you formally and finally for the courage you have shown and for what you have done for Rome, for peace and for the well-being of the Republic of your fellow-citizens . . .'
Meanwhile there was no sign of Lepidus. I consulted a moment with Agrippa, and left him to bring the camp back to order and discipline. We agreed that there should be a parade in the late afternoon.
'You'll produce Lepidus at that, will you?' Agrippa said; but there was really no question in his voice.
The triumvir had retreated to a villa on the flank of the hill overlooking the camp, and I followed him there. It was a charming spot, a building of pale creamy stone, festooned with roses, wisteria and clematis, a place, I thought, in which to pass an idyllic retirement. It suited itself to my calm mood.
Lepidus had made an effort to compose himself in order to receive me. He was still as handsome as ever, and self regard or self-consequence had not quite fled him. In his first sentences he sought the old tone of patronage; a tremor in the voice betrayed him. I asked that all attendants leave us, and led him out on to the terrace.
The hum of the camp rose to us. Beyond it the great cornfields of the Sicilian plain extended to the mountains. If one made a half-turn, the sea sparkled with a docility I rarely experienced while campaigning. Alone, Lepidus' manner crumbled; he even knelt before me, and pawed the skirt of my tunic. I told him to get up, to remember that he was a Roman noble, a consul and my colleague.
'Though also,' I added, as I sat down, 'a fool.'
There was no pleasure in this meeting. I have never been other than embarrassed by the sight of humiliation. That day at Philippi, when the defeated cursed me as they marched by, killed all delight in victory that I might ever have had. Yet things have to be wound up.
'I could charge you with treason,' I said. 'I could have you named an enemy of the Republic, a public enemy and outlaw. There would be no difficulty in doing so. Antony would support me, and I doubt if you would find any to speak for you. Even your own nephew Paullus urges me to do this.'
He whimpered excuses. He had been ill-advised. I had misunderstood his letter. He had merely been putting in a claim for the governorship of Sicily. It was a long broken speech, and the remnants of that oily ingratiating manner irritated me. I stopped him short and told him what I required in order to display my clemency.
The last act was played out before the army. Agrippa had organized the parade, and they looked unexpectedly smart. A good deal of polishing and burnishing had taken place. They were out to do me and themselves honour, to prove, in the manner of soldiers, that they were worthy of respect, and, at the same time, to express their gratitude and loyalty to me. It may also be that they wished to shame Lepidus.
I inspected the troops, with the usual pauses before individuals whom the centurions had recommended for my attention.
Then we waited for Lepidus. He rode in on a grey horse. That was a mistake for he had never had a good seat, and, now in his agitation, he was bouncing all over the place. However he managed to dismount without too much awkwardness, and only a small stumble. He looked round wildly, having been too occupied in managing the horse (which was, as a matter of fact, absolutely placid) to make sure of his bearings before he was on foot. It disturbed him to see that I was waiting on a dais some ten feet off the ground, so that he had to climb a flight of steps to reach me. Unobtrusively, my guard detained his attendants so that he mounted alone. I remained seated on a golden chair. Courtesy urged me to rise of course, but I had decided that the effect of my superiority would be more effectively marked if I remained seated.
Lepidus was sweating. He halted before me. I looked him in the eye but said nothing. Silence quivered in the air. I sensed the intensity of the soldiers' gaze. I waited.
Compelled by my silent eye, Lepidus sank to his knees before me. He held out both hands, the wrists together and fingers extended.
'Caesar,' he said.
Behind me, my guards placed their right hands on their sword-hilts. Lepidus gulped.
'Caesar,' he said again, 'I have come to ask for mercy . . .'
'Lepidus,' I said, 'we came together, with Mark Antony, to restore the Republic, to avenge my murdered father and to bring peace to the Empire. But you have tried to steal my glory and my victory; you have planned to make war against me. My grievances are deep, and they are not mine alone. I am ready to forgive your offences against myself, but your offence against the Republic is rank . . .'
I paused, and then raised my voice to make sure that all the soldiers heard.
'Nevertheless,' I said, 'since you have been rejected by the soldiers whom you thought yours, but who have all instead recognized and obeyed their higher loyalty to the Republic, I shall practise that clemency on you which was ever my father's watchword. You will be stripped of your dignities; the triumvirate is dissolved. Yet you shall be left with one office, an
d that the highest of all. You succeeded my father in the office of Pontifex Maximus. Though you have discharged it unworthily, yet my reverence for the Gods is so great that I shall not presume to dismiss their unworthy priest. Remain therefore what you have been; but, from now on you must discharge your duties by deputy, for you are banished from Rome and sentenced to perpetual exile.'
Believe it or not, the disgusting object crawled forward and embraced my knees. He even licked the dust from my feet in his abject relief. I drew back, and ordered him to be led away.
The troops parted and watched him go in silence. I am sorry to say that some of the men spat on his shadow.
'It's the first time he hasn't provoked laughter,' Agrippa said later.
Lepidus' behaviour cast a gloom over us. We would not have thought a Roman noble capable of such degradation. The soldiers too were ashamed to have accepted him as commander.
My sentence of exile was not strictly legal of course. But it was necessary. Anyway I had it confirmed and ratified by the courts as soon as I returned to Rome.
I was sincere in my decision to leave him as Pontifex Maximus. It was not for me to disturb the formalities of religion.
EIGHT
There is hardly one moment in a political life when you can relax and enjoy what you have achieved. (In this politics resembles marriage.) I had restored order in the West, planted the seeds of fruitfulness in Italy, commenced the long task of embellishing Rome. Virgil had already sung the promise of a new Age of Gold; a benign sun ripened the cornfields and empurpled the grapes of plenty. But Antony . . .
For three years, while he made Athens his headquarters, he lived agreeably with my sister. She had no more to complain of than drunkenness. Of course, there was also a certain absurdity. It was not seemly for a Roman noble to preface his public announcements with the words: 'Antony the great and inimitable'; and it did make him a figure of some fun to the rest of us. It was impolitic too for him to advertise the favours he enjoyed from Dionysus, when he so often made it clear that he was enslaved to the God; and perhaps it was not in the best taste to claim descent from Heracles - hardly a model husband or father, you will remember. However such excesses could be easily forgiven; after all, everybody knows that Greeks and Orientals like high-flown language, and indeed make a cult of insincerity. (This is why Romans find it so difficult to come to a true measure of Easterners; we do not realize that for them rhetoric is an end and pleasure in itself, frequently quite unrelated to action, never moving beyond a purely verbal significance; I do not think that Antony understood this himself, I believe he was seduced by his own propaganda.)
