My spirits sank. The warm waters had bred the worms, a ship’s worst enemy. We had not been able to haul the ships out over the winter and tar their timbers, whereas Agrippa’s had spent that time in drydock.
“I fear there will not be enough oarsmen to power them,” said Ahenobarbus. “Even triremes require a hundred and seventy rowers, whereas the larger ships, well—” He coughed and reached for a cup of wine, or what passed for wine. “Pardon me.” He hacked loudly, embarrassed.
“What will we do about the oarsmen?” I asked.
“We have already taken action,” said Antony. “In this emergency, we have had to—recruit locally.”
“What do you mean, recruit?” There were no people in the area, and certainly none likely to volunteer for service.
“What he means,” said Ahenobarbus roughly, “is that we are grabbing men. Kidnapping them—pulling farmers out of their fields, yanking mule drivers off their mules, snatching grinders from their mills.”
Had it come to this? I was ashamed. “No!”
“War is not a pretty occupation,” said Antony, and the soldier now showed, granitelike, through the politician. “But we must not lose sight of our essential objective: to win. Everything else must pale beside that.”
Yes. Always the winning. There are those of us who understand that. As for the rest—let them go. They do not know how to bleed, how to sacrifice. “Can they row?” was all I asked.
“No,” said Ahenobarbus bluntly. “Oh, they can move a ship. Muscle power alone can do that. But maneuver it, execute any real naval tactics, no—it is beyond them.”
“But it is essential that we at least be able to move them. Otherwise we must burn the empty ships,” said Sosius. “This way they can follow any breakout to safety.”
“So that is what you are thinking of.” Now I realized their aim.
“Yes,” said Antony. “We have decided.” He nodded to Sosius and Ahenobarbus. “They will lead a dash out of the gulf, while we”—he nodded to Dellius—“act as decoys by riding northward, as if we are seeking aid from Macedonia and our ally, King Dicomes. That will draw Octavian’s attention. Then, when the ships have escaped, we will meet on the farther side of Greece, beyond Agrippa’s reach.”
It was a daring plan, and reflected Antony’s creativity in battle.
“What of the army?” asked Canidius.
“I will take six or seven legions on board the ships,” said Antony. “The rest will remain here, under your command.”
Canidius looked unconvinced. “And what will I do? Wait to be attacked?”
“You won’t be attacked,” said Antony confidently. “Octavian will be thrown into confusion. Remember, he fights only under Agrippa’s banner, and Agrippa is not here.”
“Yes, I believe he is still occupied in the Gulf of Corinth,” said Sosius. “He has now made after Corinth itself, and the naval station under Quintus Nasidius there.”
“Good,” said Antony. “Let him spend himself there.”
“And I?” I asked. “Where will you have me be?”
“On board your flagship,” said Antony. “You must extricate yourself from this place.”
Ahenobarbus put down his cup and was taken with a coughing fit. Again he excused himself, saying it was nothing.
The awning began to rustle, a tiny little movement. It was nearly noon, and the scorching sun stood directly overhead. Antony stepped out and, shading his eyes, looked at the horizon.
“It begins,” he said. “Soon the offshore breeze will start blowing, and you can expect relief, my friends.”
Dellius snorted. He sounded like a disgruntled pack animal. “Relief? What’s that?”
“When you are becalmed, even a puff of a breeze feels like paradise,” I said.
“We are fortunate that we can count on the wind every afternoon,” Antony said. “And every night. It blows down from the mountains all night, and in the afternoon reverses itself, so it comes across the waters and seeks us here.” He smiled. “The god of the winds is doing what he can to ease our situation.”
“Bah,” said Ahenobarbus. “If he cared about our situation, he would blow so we could round the island of Leucas more easily. As it is, we will have to sail far out into open ocean to get clear of it when we try to break away.”
Antony clapped him on the back. “Why, an expert sailor like you can manage well enough.”
He grunted. “Yes, but can anyone follow me?”
That night, alone with Antony—our tent cooled by the mountain air, for all that it wafted the marsh odors toward us—I asked him more specifically what the true situation was. The doors stood open, the windows begged for the east breeze to enter.
He spoke soberly of what he had seen that morning. “The fleet is severely compromised,” he began. “Both the men and the ships suffer.” He paused, then poured himself some of the equally compromised wine. He kept no secret store of good wine for himself; he drank what his men drank. “I fear they are no longer battleworthy.”
I stifled a cry. All my glorious ships! My men!
He came over to me and took both my hands. “Do not despair,” he said. He lifted my left one and, holding it up, looked at it. He was staring at his own seal ring, with which we had joined our fortunes in Antioch all those years ago. “My dearest wife, when we bound ourselves to one another…” He dropped my hand. “Perhaps this was not what you envisioned.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“I mean you did not promise to endure…this.” He jerked his head around to indicate not only the quarters we shared together, but all of Actium. “You thought to join two empires.”
Yes, I had thought that. But in the passing years I had come to bind myself completely to Antony the man—not the Triumvir. “I will never abandon you,” I said simply, “nor wish myself elsewhere than at your side.”
“Ah,” he said, “but the plan calls for us to part.”
“And reunite,” I said. “Does it not?”
“Yes. But first—” He dropped my hands and outlined the plan.
Sosius would lead the ships out of the gulf while Agrippa was still occupied in the south. Some fighting would ensue with the small blockading fleet, but Sosius should be able to defeat the enemy handily. I would follow the first squadron of Roman ships, and we would later sail around the Peloponnese to a safe spot in Greece on the east coast.
“And you?” I asked.
“I will distract their attention by riding north with a large detachment, drawing off a legion or two,” he said.
“I do not like being parted, and unable to reach one another,” I said. I had grave misgivings, but I would not dishearten him.
“It is our only chance.” The gravity of the situation revealed itself in his voice. “We have no choice.”
I attempted to smile. “Why, then, when fate offers you no choice,” I said, “you must appear to relish it.”
He embraced me. “There’s my brave captain,” he said. He bent down to kiss me, and I welcomed it. It had been a long time since we had lain in one another’s arms, and I felt distanced from him.
I reached up and touched his thick, sweat-dampened hair. “I will follow you and your fortunes throughout all the earth,” I said. I had never thought to say that to another person, with no reservations. Even with Caesar, there had been conditions.
“May they ride a flood tide of victory,” he said. Now he wrapped his arms around me. “I would be grieved to ask you to share anything else.”
“Then you do not trust me,” I said. “If you expect me to share only your fairer hours, then I am not a true wife, but merely a political ally.”
“No, you are not that,” he assured me.
He kissed me as if to prove that it was more. I held him to me, reveling in the feel of his body against mine. I felt that I loved him in his entirety, the solid flesh that stood on this ground, as well as the mind that made plans for far away.
We retired to our bed. I held him, whisp
ering how I loved him. And I did; this time at Actium had showed another side of him. The more that was revealed of him, the more I found to love. There were no disappointments or lacks in this man; he was all he outwardly appeared to be.
Through the open window the mountain breeze entered and spread itself out in the room, as if to soothe us. I welcomed its coolness, which came as a ministering spirit to us, hovering over our heated bodies.
“Is this a fitting place to make love?” he whispered.
In truth, it had not been. Actium was the enemy of eros, skewering desire and turning it inside out. But tonight we would defeat it.
“The fitting place to make love is wherever I find you,” I said. And it was true.
He sighed, and I could tell he had hated the long abstinence.
“Here,” I said, “render yourself into my hands.” I pressed on his shoulders and turned him over. He lay motionless on his back, mine to do with as I liked. “Oh, if an enemy should find you so,” I murmured.
“They never will,” he vowed. “Only you.”
Standing on the deck of the flagship Antonia in the early morning hours, I touched my helmet to make sure it was securely in place. This time there had been no argument about whether I should wear protective clothing; both Antony and Sosius were only too glad that I had a helmet and breastplate, and fitted me with sturdy boots as well, and a thick fireproof cape.
“There may be fire thrown on deck, and most likely arrows and stones as well,” said Antony. “Keep the shield with you at all times.” He had handed me a small round one. He looked distressed to be leaving me, but he was no more distressed than I at having him gallop off over the mountains. “Do whatever Sosius tells you.”
Yes, I would be up on deck. Belowdecks, with the rowers, I would not be able to see if the ship was rammed, and might be trapped. If we should be hit, there was a small rescue boat we could launch to escape from the deck. Besides, cowering away from action did not suit me.
“Yes,” was all I could answer. I took his hand and looked at him. This was too public a place for private farewells. I had to believe it was not a farewell at all. And what we had to say had already been well said the night before.
The plan was for us to sail around to Iolcus—the port from which Jason had embarked to search for the golden fleece—and meet with Antony there.
We had loaded the flagship with our treasury, which weighed it down. But it was the ship most likely to withstand a battering, as it was the largest of the fleet, a “ten,” and the safest place for our treasure, which is always risky to move.
Now we waited for the tide to turn to help us in our efforts to get clear of the narrow mouth of the gulf. Our makeshift oarsmen needed all the assistance they could get. We would row as far out as possible before raising sail so that the afternoon breeze (Isis! Let it not fail today!) coming from the west-northwest would carry us past the mountainous bulk of Leucas and out to open sea.
As for Octavian’s fleet, it rode at anchor near the entrance of the gulf, blockading it. But the best fighting ships were away with Agrippa, and these leftovers were commanded by Tarius Rufus, no one to worry about.
Antony clasped my forearm, and looked up at the sun. “I must leave,” he said apologetically. “It grows later and later.” He was rowed back to shore, and I saw him disappear into the ranks of his men.
Noon, and the wind was still. The fiery sun reflected off the water, which was as flat as a table, no ripples anywhere. The far horizon melted into the sky.
Everything was ready. We had taken six legions on board the vessels, armed and ready for fighting. We hoped to surprise Rufus and slip away rather than engage in combat, but that was probably too optimistic.
My helmet was hot, and I felt stifled inside the cloak. I opened its front; no need to be bundled up now. On deck, the archers with their store of arrows, the slingers and javelineers stationed in the towers, were eager to set off. At both prow and stern were mounted catapults to fling stones and shoot arrows. Oh, we were a proud sight. But it would be better not to have to use any of it.
At the signal from Sosius, the squadrons began to move in file toward the opening. We had close to three hundred ships, and keeping them in formation was a task in itself. The first lot emerged safely, and from what I could see, Rufus’s fleet was anchored to the north, not near the entrance at all. Then, as we streamed out and as my ship approached the mouth of the gulf, there was movement to our right; Rufus had been startled into action. The oars on his “six” were digging frantically and the ship was moving fast toward our lead ships. Trailing in his wake were two others, hoisting their collapsible towers and preparing to pelt us with rocks and arrows. And behind them a host of triremes and quadriremes stirred themselves into action.
Our oarsmen speeded up so we could escape the confined waters. We shot out past the two guard towers at the entrance to the gulf, but Rufus and his ships were closing in on us.
“Down!” yelled Sosius, just in time for us to duck and avoid a volley of stones. He then stood up and signaled to his own men to fire back. Fireballs followed, but rolled harmlessly off our deck and into the water.
Making quickly for our sides were two smaller ships, perhaps triremes. Their crews were propelling them through the water at high speed, and their gleaming rams, riding high out of the water, were aimed at our sides. One of them thudded against us, but was thrown back by our reinforced timbers. The other poised itself for an attack below our waterline. But a stone from our catapult almost swamped it, knocking it spinning. A cheer went up from our decks.
Several ships farther out had now engaged and were fighting. This was not going to be easy. “Faster!” Sosius ordered, to move us out into open water. We could not help our brother ships other than to fire on their enemies, and that we did, hoping to sink them.
Suddenly our ships broke free; Rufus’s vessel had been injured, and all was thrown into confusion. We had a clear shot to escape. I felt immense relief and jubilation. Free! Free! We had got away!
But still no wind, and we could not raise our sails. Where was the wind? Why today, of all days, must it be late? The rowers could not keep up their speed for long. Behind us there were many more ships waiting to come out into the open water. And then…then…a heavy mist seemed to originate from the far side of Leucas, white and impenetrable. Like a malevolent blanket it spread out, creeping around the island, to the gulf entrance and, with astonishing speed, over both fleets. We could not steer, except blindly.
On faith we had to keep rowing forward, not at all sure we were going straight. We had to slow our speed for safety. I clung on to the rail, trying to see something besides whiteness to the south. And swimming through the mist I saw what I must dismiss as an evil vision, brought about by the confusion. It looked like…it looked like…it could not be…enemy ships!
Oars lifted out of the waves in perfect rhythm, flinging arcs of water to each side, and the prow of Agrippa’s “six” reared itself not three hundred feet away. And dimly, farther back, were the shapes of others, like a running pack of lions.
“Back water!” yelled Sosius, seeing it at the same time as I. “Change course!” We must change direction and try to ram him head-on, rather than present our side to him. “Prepare to fire!” Soldiers climbed up on the towers, and the rest lined the rails, bows at the ready.
But the size of our ship meant that we could not change course quickly. We were in the process of turning when Agrippa was upon us, and the ship shuddered with the impact. I was thrown to my knees, and clutched at a pile of rope to keep from sliding across the deck. Crawling to the rail, I saw Agrippa’s ship below, reeling from his assault on ours. Our stout reinforcements had saved us; his ram had not been able to pierce our sides. Our soldiers were now unleashing a hail of arrows at him, and managed to start a fire on his deck. A swarm of men ran out with hides to smother it.
“Let the Queen surrender!” I heard someone yelling; was it Agrippa himself? I pulled myself up to my
feet and looked down. Could that be he, the tall, wide-shouldered man calling up to us, brandishing his spear? But in the melee it was impossible to tell, and it had been years since I had seen him, just a boy, in Rome.
The enemy had now formed a barrier out to sea that we could not cross; their numbers were so great they could afford to form a double line.
“Back!” ordered Sosius, and he signaled to the others to change course.
“Back?” I cried. After all this, we would have to return? I ran up to him and grabbed his arm. “No, no!”
Roughly he yanked it off. “We must!” he said. “We are outnumbered and surprised. Would you lose the entire fleet?”
“We couldn’t—some would escape—”
“Not enough,” he said. “We cannot risk it.”
I had the authority, but not the naval experience, to countermand his orders. I had to meekly stand by while we—oh, the shame of it!—turned back into the gulf, rejoining those ships which had never managed to leave in the first place. I wept with anger and frustration.
I reentered the headquarters which I had thought never to see again. How different it looked now, what a hated prison! It looked—it ought to have been—deserted! Is there anything more humiliating than to return like that?
And Antony was gone, already crossing the mountains with Dellius and Amyntas and the Galatian cavalry and the three legions. When he got to lolcus, and we weren’t there—
I flung myself down on the abandoned bed and beat it with my fists. The bed, not meant for such an attack, collapsed in a welter of legs and straps.
Antony returned when he heard of our disaster. It wasn’t only for me; he was unwilling to abandon his fleet and half his army. Now we were all back where we had started, except for the unfortunate ships lost in the attempted escape.
“A fog that late in the day”—he shook his head—“and Agrippa coming to the rescue in his timely fashion. It’s hard to believe.”
“Don’t forget that the wind failed, as well.” One would almost think that the gods had deserted us, that our cause was doomed. But I must not allow myself to think like that. What if Caesar had thought that way at Alesia? That was no way to win battles.
The Memoirs of Cleopatra Page 119
