It is unthinkable that Cleopatra did not mark this particularly impressive achievement in some way. A little-known sandstone statue group (dyad) from Dendera portraying ‘two deities whose exact identity is not certain’ quite possibly represents Cleopatra’s new offspring, a boy and a girl who are shown embracing. The boy’s sidelock of hair is topped by the sun disc and the girl’s coiffure is adorned by the lunar crescent, while the amulet-like eyes of Horus on each crown bestow vital protection. They are both surrounded by the great coils of two protective serpents, the spirits of Isis and Serapis, who guarded Alexandria and all members of the royal house, and the back of the sculpture is spangled with stars.
Yet their celestial names and attributes were also guided by the prophecies of the Sibylline Oracle which had already revealed that Rome would be defeated by the East, led by a mistress who would usher in a golden age of love and reconciliation. This united empire of East and West would be ruled over by a divine boy whose coming would be announced by a star. A further prophecy known as ‘the Battle of the Stars’ claimed that the Bull, identified with Dionysos-Antonius, would kill Capricorn, the badge of Octavian, whereupon ‘the Virgin changed the fate of her Twins in the constellation of the Ram’ — an ambiguous passage which may well have been interpreted as a reference to Isis-Cleopatra, her new twin children and Alexander as the ‘sacred ram of Amun’. As revealed by the great Zodiac ceiling that she created at Dendera, Cleopatra and her astrologers used such prophecies and oracles as a means of manipulating the present and anticipating the future. The practice was highlighted by the earliest horoscope found in Egypt, dated precisely to 4 May 38 BC: the name ‘Per-at’, ‘female pharaoh’, was followed by a technical listing of ‘Sun: Taurus 4: Jupiter in Cancer. Moon: Capricorn 20 and a half. . .’.
While Cleopatra’s royal astrologers were busy predicting the future for herself and her children, she used the same methods to keep informed of matters in Rome, where astrology was also used to predict births, marriages and deaths. Antonius himself seems to have had some interest in such matters, and an Egyptian astrologer was part of his retinue in Rome. But while predicting a glorious future for Antonius, he also warned that his spirit would always be overshadowed by that of Octavian, from whom he was advised to keep a distance — the astrologer was perhaps in Cleopatra’s pay as a means of interpreting the stars to her own advantage while keeping a connection between them.
Cleopatra and Antonius are certainly known to have corresponded, for it was later said that ‘he had frequently at the public audience of kings and princes received amorous messages written in tablets made of onyx and crystal, and read them openly’. Although the letters contents were never divulged, their ‘amorous’ nature presumably reflected Cleopatra’s state of mind, and although almost every word in classical literature dealing with love and passion was penned by men, a rare female perspective is provided by one Egyptian woman writing to her husband, ‘you must know that I did not see the sun because you are out of my sight; for I have no other sun but you’. Even more dramatically, the lyrics of a popular Ptolemaic song conveyed feelings of abandonment, claiming that ‘pain grips me whenever I remember how he used to kiss me, all the while treacherously intending to desert me . . . beloved stars and Mistress Night, my partner in passion, now escort me once again to him toward who Aphrodite drives me, I who am betrayed . . . Be warned — I have an unconquerable will when I am enraged, when I remember I will sleep alone.’
It may even be the case that Cleopatra employed magic to influence Antonius during their long separation; her alter-ego Isis was certainly well known as Mistress of Magic ‘who arose in the beginning as Magician’, and spells of the time often begin, ‘I call upon thee Lady Isis, with thy many names and many forms.’ These might include Aphrodite, Venus, Demeter and Hekate, a moon deity from Thrace, and with spells often performed facing the moon as Isis’ celestial symbol, magical equipment included sinuous, long bronze wands in the form of cobras, bronze divination bowls and amulets, and charms inscribed with a combination of hieroglyphs, Greek letters and Hebrew formulae.
Among a whole range of love spells, one claimed to attract ‘men to women and women to men and makes virgins rush out of their homes’. A particularly sinister curse from Cleopatra’s reign asked a love rival, ‘are you a burning woman, an abominable fire, a scorching woman? You should bathe yourself in blood, you should wash yourself with urine, one should set a suit of nettles on your body. Go! No one will find enough water in the sea, you sow, for washing off your face. Your day of death is at hand.’ Such words were spoken over wax or pottery figurines with the victim’s hair attached or even impaled with nails.
Yet regardless of her personal feelings for Antonius and indeed for Octavia, it was clear that Cleopatra was deeply concerned by political matters closer to home after the Parthians forced Antonius’ client king Herod from Judaea. He travelled south to Alexandria to seek help from Cleopatra, who formally received him as Antonius’ ally and in the same way that previous Ptolemaic royals had employed Jewish generals offered him command of her army. Turning her down, he instead requested a ship to take him to Rome, where he was declared ruler of Judaea and King of the Jews by the Senate, who saw him as a vital counter to Cleopatra’s growing powers in the East. With official sanction from Rome Herod went into military overdrive, returning to Judaea to oust the Parthians, kill off all remaining rivals to his throne and deal with fundamentalist Jews who regarded him as a Roman collaborator. Yet his expansion into Samaria, Galilee and much of Syria also earned him Cleopatra’s bitter enmity, since these were all territories she wanted for herself in order to restore the Ptolemies’ former empire.
She must also have been seriously unimpressed with news that Octavia was pregnant with Antonius’ child. When the couple’s first daughter, Antonia, was born in the autumn of 39 BC they moved to Athens for the winter to prepare for Antonius’ forthcoming invasion of Parthia. There they issued coins featuring their joint profiles, and with the Athenians honouring the couple as ‘Beneficent Gods’ Antonius underwent sacred marriage to the city’s patron goddess Athena Polias, who on this occasion was identified with Octavia. And as the wily Octavia tried to eclipse her rival on a divine as well as an earthly level, this incursion into territory previously occupied by Cleopatra must have outraged her — presumably as intended.
Nevertheless Antonius’ political fortunes were in the ascendant. Herod’s success against the Parthians was matched by that of Antonius’ forces, led by his capable deputy Publius Ventidius Bassus, one of Caesar’s men and part of the old guard. The Parthian advance into Asia Minor and Syria was beaten back and their crown prince killed in battle near Antioch in June 38 BC. His severed head was sent on a tour of the provinces to ram home the point.
Having finally beaten the Parthians to restore Rome’s honour fifteen years after they had defeated Crassus, Antonius celebrated the victories in Greece while Ventidius was given a Triumph of his own in Rome. Yet such success clearly upstaged Octavian: despite the fact that had married into the family of Sextus Pompeius, Sextus himself remained a rallying point for rebels. His powerful fleet controlled Rome’s all-important grain supply and this power was a threat to the Triumvirs’ plans.
Left with little choice, Octavian had to take him on, and began by divorcing Scribonia, mother of his only child. Claiming as the reason ‘I could not bear the way she nagged me’, Octavian had already spotted a much younger model. Almost immediately after his divorce in January 38 BC he made nineteen-year-old Livia Drusilla divorce her husband to marry him in ‘indecent haste’, according to Antonius, particularly since she was then pregnant with her second child. Nevertheless, their enduring union was probably the most important alliance Octavian ever made, based on Livia’s impressive family’s connections, her outstanding advice and her political, some claimed murderous, man-oeuvrings behind the scenes.
Although Octavian then launched his attack against Sextus, he was twice defeated and was forced to ask Ant
onius for help. So in the spring of 37 BC Antonius brought him the ships he needed. He was met at Tarentum by Octavian and a large retinue including Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace) and Publius Vergilius Maro (Virgil), two poets appointed as Octavian’s spin doctors to promote his public image and rewrite history when necessary.
As Antonius and Octavian continued to dominate Rome’s fortunes, Octavia’s presence was vital in negotiating the uneasy peace between husband and brother, two men of wildly differing character who never actually liked each other. Nevertheless, she managed to persuade Antonius to loan Octavian 130 ships, promising that her brother would return the favour by providing Antonius with twenty thousand more troops for his forthcoming campaign of retribution against Parthia. And since the original Triumvirate had lapsed, it was renewed for another five years with the treaty of Tarentum, sealed by the betrothal of Antonius’ eldest son, nine-year-old Antyllus, to Octavian’s two-year-old daughter Julia.
After business was concluded in autumn 37 BC, Octavian returned to Rome to maintain a high public profile as the model Roman leader while Antonius left Italy for the East. He was accompanied by Octavia, pregnant with their second child, but she became ill on reaching Corcyra (Corfu) and, rather than risk her health, Antonius sent her back to her brother’s care in Rome where she lived with their daughter Antonia, his two sons by Fulvia and Octavia’s two sons by a previous marriage.
Meanwhile Antonius travelled on to Syria to reorganise the Eastern provinces following the Parthian invasions. Over the winter of 37-36 BC which he spent in Antioch, he drew up new plans for controlling the East. Reducing the previous five provinces down to three, namely Syria, Asia (referring to Asia Minor) and Bithynia, he also amalgamated the scattered client kingdoms into fewer, larger regions in order to create a chain of allies stretching from Thrace in the north right down the eastern Mediterranean to Egypt in the south. He placed each in the hands of his most trusted supporters. Herod would remain in Judaea, backed by a Roman garrison to suppress Jewish unrest, while hand-picked new men included Amyntas, secretary to a previous client king and now promoted to ruler of Galatia, and Polemon, son of a Phrygian politician, who gained Pontus. Cappadocia went to Archelaos Sisinnes, son of Antonius’ one-time lover Glaphyra and Archelaos, short-lived consort of Cleopatra’s eldest sister, Berenike IV.
Yet, with no sign of the legions promised by Octavia and her brother, Antonius would need the support and wealth of Cleopatra more than ever. But he had not seen his lover for almost four years, nor the twins she had borne him. And since in the meantime he had married and fathered two children by Octavian’s sister, he knew he would need to make some serious concessions to win back the support of the woman who held his future in her hands.
Chapter 10
Goddess of the Golden Age: the Restoration of Empire
In autumn 37 BC, Antonius once more sent his envoy to Alexandria to request the presence of Cleopatra in Antioch. He must have presented her with a most attractive offer in return for her support, an offer suggested by the choice of venue. The great Seleucid city had long played a crucial role in Ptolemaic politics, from Ptolemy Ill’s expansion in the 240s BC to the great ceremony of 145 BC when the people of Antioch had offered Ptolemy VI the Seleucid throne and diadem. His adoption of the combined Ptolemaic and Seleucid diadems demonstrated his control of both empires in a form of dual regalia which must surely have appealed enormously to Cleopatra. It had also been at Antioch where Antonius had taken up his post as Gabinius’ cavalry commander back in 55 BC, setting out to meet the teenage Cleopatra and escort her back to Egypt with her father Auletes. Eighteen years later, he prepared to meet her again as she finally arrived in a city filled with meaning for them both.
Royal protocol aside, it must have been a deeply emotional moment for the couple as Cleopatra presented Antonius with his three-year-old twins for the very first time. Although he already had at least five other children, his twins by Cleopatra gave him a dynastic link to Alexander the Great. So, whereas his other children all bore their father’s name, from his eldest child Antonia, his two sons Marcus Antonius Antyllus and Iullus Antonius and, most recently, two daughters again both named Antonia, he acknowledged Cleopatra’s children as his own while confirming their names as Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene.
Names and their associations would be an important part of his propaganda campaign. Since the Greeks regarded the sun and moon as twin companions of Victory there was a great portent for the forth-coming campaign against Parthia, whose king was traditionally regarded as ‘Brother of the Sun and Moon’: Antonius’ paternity made him ‘Father of the Sun and Moon’. The children’s names equally reflected Cleopatra’s ambitions, since Alexander Helios, named after Alexander the Great as the sun god Helios in his distinctive sunray crown, had been the role model of Ptolemy III who had extended Ptolemaic power to its greatest extent. The same king had also sent Isis’ statue to Antioch and the goddess’ powers were now invoked in the name Cleopatra Selene, whose namesake had ruled over much of the region during four marriages within the Ptolemaic and Seleucid houses. As likely mother of Auletes, Selene was also the child’s great-grandmother, so this was a most appropriate name to conjure with in Cleopatra’s attempted reunification of Egypt and Syria under her own control.
Taking up residence with her precious children in Antioch’s royal palace, set among groves of laurel and cypress trees, Cleopatra was at last reunited with Antonius when the thirty-one-year-old pharaoh officially married her forty-six-year-old Roman lover in the winter of 37 BC.
Their marriage was recognised in Egyptian law and Antonius’ status as royal consort referred to in demotic texts; ancient sources refer to Cleopatra ‘who married the Roman general, Antony’. He himself announced ‘uxor mea est’, ‘she is my wife’, and although he was already married in Roman law, which forbade marriage to a non-Roman citizen, Antonius certainly regarded marriage between Roman and non-Roman citizens as legally binding, since he married his eldest child, Antonia, to a wealthy Asiatic. Although polygamy was likewise banned under Roman law, Alexander, Ptolemy I and Ptolemy Physkon had all been married to several women at once. So too had Caesar, marrying Cleopatra while he was still married to Calpurnia and even planning new laws to legalise the move. So, given his intention to follow in Caesar’s footsteps, Antonius himself wed Cleopatra, his sacred marriage to the goddess Athena in Athens repeated in Syria when Dionysos-Osiris finally married Aphrodite-Isis to usher in the prophesied Golden Age.
No doubt he was attired for the ceremony in the manner of a Greek groom, richly clothed and perfumed; Roman men did little more than put on a clean toga and comb their hair. Yet the bride in both Greek and Roman tradition had to undergo a whole variety of rites prior to marriage. After being bathed, perfumed and made up, the Greek ‘nymphokomos’ would be on hand to oversee every detail of the bride’s appearance as a means of expressing her family’s status; the Roman wedding garment, on the other hand, based on an ancient Etruscan noble’s tunic, would be woven by the bride to prove her domestic abilities.
Although Cleopatra’s attire would have been manufactured by dressmakers and arranged by her attendants to transform her into black-robed Isis, she may have adopted the traditional Roman bridal belt of ewe wool to symbolise fertility. It was tied firmly in place with the complex knot of Herakles, Antonius’ ancestor; the knot was a popular motif in gold jewellery and is likely to have appealed to Cleopatra alongside her trademark pearls and diadem.
Of paramount importance in Roman wedding preparations, the bride’s hair was styled with a spear as a reminder that the first Roman marriages were associated with warfare when women of the neighbouring Sabines were carried off to Rome for marriage. A spear which had taken life was felt best able to tackle the dangerous sexual powers believed to lurk in women’s hair. Its tip was used to part the hair into six sections which were then wrapped around the head to create the ‘six-tressed coiffure’ of the Vestal Virgins which ‘commits the bride’s chas
tity to their husbands’.
Then, with heads bound by fragrant laurel, myrtle or marjoram flowers, Greek and Roman brides traditionally wore a veil, dyed with costly saffron to create the orange-red ‘flame colour’ believed to promote fertility. Both the Greeks and Romans associated red with births, marriages and deaths: it was the colour of sacrifice from the woman sacrificing her virginity to her husband to the blood of childbirth, and the mother of Zeus’ twins, Leto, was known as ‘Leto of the red veil’. So, as mother of divine twins herself, Cleopatra may well have worn a red veil as part of her bridal outfit, fitting as it did with the fiery Egyptian goddess Hathor-Sekhmet, dubbed ‘Lady of the Red Linen’ after her propensity for violence and blood-letting. A red veil would certainly have complemented the black robes of Isis, whose temples were a venue for marriage where couples could ‘exchange vows with the goddess as our witness’. So it seems quite possible that Cleopatra and Antonius made use of Antioch’s own temple of Isis, whose cult statue, dating back to 241 BC, had been sent from Egypt by Ptolemy III to mark the extent of Egyptian control.
Although scenes from Antioch’s ‘House of the Isis Mysteries’ show the goddess standing beside a male initiate wearing nothing but a red cloth over his shoulder, the actual marriage ceremony differed widely throughout the ancient world. Traditional Egyptian marriage required little more than cohabitation followed by equal legal rights to property and divorce, whereas Greek and Roman women were handed from father to husband as property. The original Roman marriage which symbolised the seizure of the bride by force with the words ‘Thus, beloved, I seize you’ was eventually superseded by a ceremony based more on Eastern customs in which the bride announced, ‘Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.’ And as the couple clasped right hands, a ring might be placed on the third finger of the bride’s left hand — usually gold in the case of the wealthy, perhaps set with a precious stone carved with an image of deities or hands clasping in union. Certainly, Antonius was sufficiently impressed with the work of the Athens-based engraver Gaius Avianius Evander to bring him to Alexandria: a gold ring adorned with a red jasper intaglio of Antonius’ portrait was perhaps a type deemed appropriate for his new wife Cleopatra.
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