The young man thought he was in too much pain to reach orgasm, but the sight of Fulvia sent him into ecstasies, and when soon afterwards he felt that he about to come he made the mistake of telling her – he should have known what Fulvia would do in that sadistic way of hers. An instant after his cry of pleasure, the woman climbed off him and watched as he shouted in what was now only pain.
Agrippa had no doubt that she drew further pleasure from this. He stared at her, and found confirmation in her gratified look. Nevertheless, he would still have liked to pull her to him and embrace her and kiss her. She seemed to detect his desire and immediately got up, picked up her clothes and quickly put them on without saying a word or deigning to look at him again. She then walked towards the tent’s entrance, and only when she was in the doorway, once again bathed in early morning sunlight, did she turn towards him and say, “See you this afternoon, Agrippa dear. And make sure you’re ready…”
*
Fraternising. It wasn’t the best way to make a name for yourself in battle, especially as he had to ‘fraternise’ with soldiers he’d been fighting until a few months previously, but those were Octavian’s orders. Salvidienus Rufus looked across the river, studying Antony’s and Lepidus’s troops who were guarding the shore opposite, camping out as they anxiously waited for news from the isle.
The task annoyed him a great deal. Octavian was busy in a private meeting with the two most powerful men in Rome, Maecenas was creating clienteles in the camps of the other two commanders, Agrippa … well, Agrippa was probably having a great time with Antony’s wife. He, however, had been charged with the most menial, insignificant task: he was to dampen the bellicose spirit of the soldiers of the two armies who were lined up along the opposite banks of the river in order to force Antony and Lepidus up against the wall and get them to back the desire for peace that the majority of the troops felt.
This really wasn’t the sort of thing he was good at. Rufus had already turned his mind towards war with Caesar’s murderers, a war in which he hoped to earn enough merit to eclipse Agrippa once and for all and announce himself as one of the best generals of his day. He understood that it was necessary to use Antony’s and Lepidus’s resources to tackle Brutus and Cassius, but if it had been up to him, he’d have eliminated them directly and taken their troops. He’d even tried to suggest that to the other sect ministers, but they’d looked at him as though he were mad. After all, it wasn’t impossible: with a little imagination and willpower, you could come up with a decent enough plan to assassinate those two while they negotiated on the island. By the gods, the Sect of Mars Ultor had bribed dozens and dozens of people, wouldn’t it have been possible to do the same with some of Antony or Lepidus’s bodyguards? Or perhaps with Lepidus himself, using him against Antony and thus eliminating him too?
Nothing doing: they’d resolutely refused. And not out of any moral scruples: with what was at stake now, it was no longer appropriate to have any. No, out of fear that something would go wrong and threaten the sect’s route to success. What nonsense. You couldn’t aim for high goals if you didn’t have the courage to go all the way, and sooner or later, Rufus was sure, he’d convince Octavian to use even more unscrupulous methods as the stakes continued to rise.
In the meantime, however, they had to use the strange systems that Maecenas concocted in his fertile mind, and he was one who never chose the direct route to obtain a result. Rufus made a gesture of annoyance: he’d become nothing more than the agent of a cowardly, devious little man – and one who’d joined the brotherhood after him at that. And that fucking Etruscan was actually a tribune, just like him, but without having an ounce of his military skill. In reality, he felt as though he’d been demoted, and he was determined to regain favour within the sect. But he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do that while he was restricted to handing out spices…
He decided to make the most of his task. He knew that you win soldiers over with valour, as well as with money and loot, and, when the time was right, he intended to show them how courageous he was. Meanwhile, however, he was determined to put his name about so that the legionaries would one day know who was leading them.
“Let’s go,” he said to the small group of soldiers who were waiting with him on the shore. One of them pushed the boat into the water and they all climbed aboard, loading the gifts. After a few strokes of the oars, Rufus noticed that those on the far shore were already alert and awaited them with drawn swords. If only it had been a military operation… him leading the troops to break through the enemy’s defences.
But it was anything but that, and he waved his hand in greeting, trying to ease the tension of the soldiers on the shore. When he realised that they could clearly make out his features, he even forced himself to smile, despite his frame of mind. He arrived on land to be met by the diffident looks of Antony’s men, who, under a centurion’s orders, had left what they had been doing and lined up on the river bank.
“Relax, friends,” he began, raising his arm in greeting and heading towards the nearest officer. “My name is Salvidienus Rufus, I’m a tribune and part of Consul Octavian Caesar’s General Staff. We just thought there must be a better way of passing the time while the bigwigs reach an agreement than hanging around our camps wondering how it will all end.”
“And what might that be?” the centurion asked, without taking his eyes off him. Rufus had a sword at his side, but he would have been run through by at least ten other swords before he had time to touch the hilt.
The tribune ordered a soldier to give him one of the bags they’d brought with them. “Look, Centurion,” he said, opening it and pulling out the contents, “we in the consul’s army think of you as brothers. We’re all Roman citizens, aren’t we? And many of us fought side by side under Caesar’s command, right? So I don’t see why we should be scowling at each other. I’m only here to talk, and as a sign of good will I thought I’d share with you and the other officers these spices we’ve been sent from Rome, directly from Arabia. You know, we who are sent by the Senate have less problems with supplies…”
Rufus noticed that the other officers had started to listen more carefully. As had the soldiers. Some had even begun to lower their swords, without waiting for their superiors’ command.
“Very generous…” said the centurion, no less on the alert than before. “Come to bribe us, tribune? Get back to where you came from now or I’ll have you arrested. I’m loyal to my commander.”
Rufus raised his hand in surrender. “Bribe you? Are you joking? With a few spices? I have no wish to separate you from your commander. In any case, we’ll all soon be under a single command – Rome’s. I told you: it’s just a way of making you understand that we’re all in the same boat, and that there’s no reason to be suspicious of each other. I know my comrades, now I want to start getting to know you as well, so we won’t be strangers when we march side by side against Caesar’s murderers.”
“Come on, Centurion… a few spices won’t hurt anyone. We’ll put them in tonight’s slop, right?” a soldier exclaimed, before an optio silenced him with a blow of his baton.
The centurion seemed to hesitate.
“There’s plenty more of this stuff,” said Rufus, gesturing to the boat. “But I’d like to eat these spices together and have a chat in your tent over a plate of seasoned game – talk about Caesar’s exploits, and those we’ll have when we avenge his death… What do you say? In the meantime, can I have them distributed to the other officers? Then they can decide whether to give any to their men.”
The centurion looked slightly disorientated. Probably the last thing he’d expected from a soldier from the other side, someone he’d fought against a few months before at Modena, was to be invited to lunch. Many of his men were smiling, as were some of the officers. He cracked.
“By the gods!” he exclaimed. “You’re right, Tribune! Why should we be wary of each other? We don’t have any reason to be. If our commanders are then it’s for personal reas
ons that we don’t have to share, unless we’re talking about orders. But until they make me fight you – and I hope they don’t – you’re my comrade and, I’ll go as far as saying, my superior, Tribune!”
“Well said! Our only enemies are Caesar’s assassins and anyone who chooses to follow them!” Rufus echoed. The other soldiers whistled and cheered, and the tribune’s legionaries instantly set about mingling with Antony’s men – according to the instructions they’d received – and exchanging opinions on the political and military situation. Rufus nodded in satisfaction and moved towards his interlocutor, putting an arm around his shoulder.
Then, as he climbed the bank with the officer, he raised his other arm. It was the signal: a second boat would now set off, bringing more soldiers and gifts. By evening, the two armies would be ‘fraternising’ just as Maecenas had wanted.
But soon, he said to himself, very soon, it would be the Etruscan who would be carrying out his orders…
*
“Given that you’re so committed to the soldiery,” said Lepidus, seemingly satisfied with the agreement they’d reached, “and now that we’re partners and are in some way bound by your promises, it would be a matter of grave embarrassment if we didn’t at least try to fulfil them. What are you actually planning to do?”
Octavian was copying out a draft of the terms of the agreement they’d just concluded, reading what he’d written at each step of the way so the other two triumvirs could confirm the powers that were being ascribed them. They’d agreed that a definitive text should be ready by evening and that it should be delivered to a tribune of people loyal to them for submission for popular approval.
Antony, who was drinking from a jug of water, took advantage of the fact that Octavian was concentrating, to intervene. “Let’s be frank – you’ve dropped us in it. If we don’t give the soldiers what you’ve promised them, we’ll lose their support, and we can forget all about the war against the ‘liberators’. If we give it to them, we’ll be forced to found colonies and confiscate properties from Senate bigwigs and the equestrian class, and if we do that we’ll lose their support, which is already pretty lukewarm. But we’ll need them if we don’t want to be continuously watching our backs while we’re at war. I’d rather not even try to be so generous to the soldiers, at least not until we’ve won. Then we’ll see.”
Octavian finally raised his eyes and looked at him in amusement. “You’ve always been a skinflint, Antony,” he said. “As I understand it, the soldiers mutinied at Brindisi because you were so much more tight fisted than me. I’ve kept my promises so far, giving everyone who enrolled before the Modena war everything I offered them when they signed up, and I mean to continue keeping my promises: I have no intention of losing credibility. Credibility is everything in politics, especially in a situation like ours, where even the dimmest voters of the Curiate and Centuriate Assemblies no longer pay any attention to the candidates’ promises, knowing that as soon as they’re elected, most of them will just serve their own interests. Clienteles, we need to procure clienteles. It comes down to this: people who back us will continue to do so if they know we’ll give them what we’ve promised. We’ll need to be like a patron with his clients: always give them something, however small, but constantly show them that you remember them and that you’ll look after them. That way you feed their hopes of getting more in the future. And, at this stage of the war, our clients will be the soldiers. The others – all the others – will not be too happy with what we’re doing, but given the exceptional circumstances I’d get them to pay a whole year’s rent as tax on their rental income, for example. Or I’d get them to maintain the troops in the cities where they winter.”
“All right,” Lepidus agreed. “I’d suggest we take a note of what measures we can take to try and squeeze a bit of money out of these exhausted lands. Brutus and Cassius can plunder client kingdoms and provinces that haven’t been touched by the war and are therefore still prosperous with impunity. Given that, we can’t permit ourselves too many scruples: I say let’s tax land and slaves. Write that down as well, Octavian.”
“If we’re not going to have too many scruples,” Antony added, “then let’s get everyone to pay a tenth of their assets and let them make the estimates. Then we can accuse them of having falsified their estimates and seize the lot! Oh yes, write that too, young man.”
Lepidus nodded, but Octavian found the idea abhorrent. “No, that’s too much,” he muttered. “We’re not extortionists…”
Antony moved his face towards him. “Are you forgetting that we’re at war? We all know that unless we attack them, sooner or later Cassius and Brutus will try to invade Italy, or at least blockade its supply routes. All we need to do is let these people know that if they don’t pay they risk having the war turn up on their doorstep again, causing them even worse privations. You’ll see, the Romans will pay to keep the conflict away from their streets.”
Octavian decided to give in. Antony had a point: they were at war, by the gods! “So, let’s see what taxes have been cut in recent decades and bring them all back…” he said.
“Ah, I see you’ve got the idea! Just as well that you were the idealist of the group,” commented Antony. “You and all your beautiful speeches about reforming the Republic…”
“I am, indeed,” Octavian said with conviction. “Once this emergency is over my clientele – indeed, our clientele – will be every single Roman. Everyone will make sacrifices now to be rewarded later. If you only serve the interests of a clique because it supports you, you’re simply serving your own interests and those of your friends, but what could be worthier than serving the interests of everybody, even those you don’t know? If we manage to benefit everyone, starting with the soldiers, we’ll be working for the good of Rome and we’ll have fulfilled our objective of helping it become prosperous, peaceful and powerful, just as the gods ordained.”
“You’ve got some big ideas, boy,” intervened Lepidus, “but we live in dark times, in which practical needs and personal ambitions are dominant. It’s impossible to serve everyone’s interests.” The conversation had taken a less antagonistic turn, now that the three had reached an agreement and could afford to wind down.
Octavian nodded. And he prepared to fire off his last arrow, curious to see how they would react. “Of course, I’m aware that you can’t please everyone. But you can aspire to higher goals if you prevent those who oppose progress from doing any harm…”
Antony’s eyes narrowed and he stared at him carefully. His features tensed: in an instant, he was on his guard again. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Simple. We have to do what Caesar didn’t,” explained Octavian. “When Quintus Pedius had the law prosecuting Caesar’s murderers approved, we trod lightly. In effect, we only struck those who killed Caesar with their own hands. But they are not the only enemies of the State. We’re well aware that they have a strong network of alliances and friends who could take their place at any time. Rich and influential friends. Caesar was famous for his clemency too, and he paid for this imprudence with his life. We won’t make the same mistake. We’re preparing to fight a war which could end all wars, and we don’t want any unexpected developments. After his victory at Pharsalus, Caesar had to fight two other wars in Africa and Spain before he managed to best all of Pompey the Great’s friends.”
“Let me get this straight…” Lepidus interrupted him. “For the good of Rome, we should execute a few more big shots?”
“…And seize the assets we confiscate from them, if I’ve understood you properly?” Antony added.
“Any big shots who colluded with Caesar’s killers, of course,” Octavian specified. “If we eliminate the opposition in the Senate then we won’t have to look over our shoulders any more. A few selected people, I mean, not some Silla style massacre. I have no intention of bringing back the terror of his proscriptions…” His idea – and that of the sect – was to remove once and for all anyone who might undermine the stabi
lity of the State and obstruct the course of justice against Caesar’s killers. And to use their assets against those same killers. The assassins would be defeated with money obtained from their executed or exiled friends.
Antony and Lepidus both grew thoughtful, and Octavian could see that the idea had caught their attention. He didn’t have to wait long before one of them spoke. It was Antony.
“Silla was able to govern confidently and ensure stability for Rome after his proscriptions…” he whispered, with a malign smile.
“And I certainly know some people who deserve to be wiped off the face of the earth,” added Lepidus.
“My uncle Lucius Caesar, for example!” said Antony, bursting into uproarious laughter.
“Why, do you reckon my brother deserves to live?” joined in Lepidus, and he too started to laugh, unable to stop himself. The two triumvirs egged one another on, doubling up with laughter until their eyes watered. Octavian, however, merely twisted his lips into a grimace of faked amusement – just enough to indulge the general state of hilarity which seemed to have spread even to the bodyguards. But the thought that it might get out of hand began to nag at him.
When the laughter died down, the three men looked at each other in silence, and Antony said what the young man had been afraid of hearing. “We should do it, you know?”
“Do what?” he replied. But he already knew the answer.
“Eliminate anyone who might stand in our way. And encourage people to report any potential enemy of the State.”
“Making the names of the condemned people public, of course, and offering a reward to anyone who reports where they’re hiding or tells us who their closest friends are,” Lepidus specified. “Just like with the proscription lists. That way, we’ll have all the informers we want.”
Revenge Page 12
