Revenge

by Andrew Frediani

  “What can you do?” asked Plotius, spreading his hands in resignation. “He is so enraged by the political developments of the moment that he has no great desire to devote himself to his art… Sometimes I think he should join Julius Caesar’s assassins in the East, but perhaps he’s not too fond of them either. I know he had some dealings with an emissary of theirs a few days ago, but he quarrelled with him too. Just imagine, it was the son of Caesar’s traitor. Do you remember Titus Labienus?”

  Maecenas blinked. “Are you saying that Quintus Labienus was here?”

  “Certainly. I know that he’s proscribed, and I would have reported him had I known his identity,” said Plotius. “Horace only told me after he had gone when I asked him who he had been arguing with so animatedly, and now I’m telling you because I know that you will never report him – after all, our friend the poet was only approached by that traitor, he didn’t give him refuge, and if I’m not mistaken the decree does not punish people simply for having been contacted by one of the outlaws against their will. On the other hand, the fact that he chased him away absolves him of any guilt…”

  Maecenas was already on his feet and heard Plotius’s final words while he was opening the tent flap to rush out. “Incredible!” he kept saying to himself, as he began rushing about the camp, followed with difficulty by his young slave, in search of a high-ranking officer who could show him where Horace was. Ortwin was hunting for Labienus in Rome and the surrounding area, and the murderer had actually been in the camp of Mark Antony’s legion and was perhaps even a friend of Horace’s. It would be a bad business when the German found out. That charming optio had made no secret of hating Julius Caesar and anyone who wished to emulate him, but Maecenas would never have thought he would actually have colluded with the murderers.

  He hurried to the primus pilus centurion and asked for Horace, and was directed to the stables. He marched straight there and burst in. The sentries, intimidated by his rank, made no attempt to stop him, and he peered about in the torch lit gloom until, amongst the horses, he saw Horace’s elegant profile intent on offering one of the animals some oats. “Strange duties for an infantry officer,” he said to himself, then walked over with determination, the optio only noticing his presence when he was standing right beside him.

  “Stand aside, tribune, you are frightening my horse,” was all he said, not looking into the Etruscan’s face.

  Maecenas was already tense and ready to explode, and he knocked the oats out of Horace’s hand. “We need to talk, urgently. Come outside, right away, optio!” he shouted, suddenly realising that the eyes of all the grooms and soldiers were on him.

  Only then did Horace look at Maecenas, and he made no attempt to hide his contemptuous displeasure. “Are you ordering me as my superior or demanding that I do so as the pest that you are?” he asked, softly.

  Maecenas felt a blaze of anger. Despite his interest in the optio, he had promised himself that he would never put any pressure on the young man nor use his influence to force Horace to spend time with him. He thought he had been discreet and now he heard himself being called a pest!

  The man was intolerable. So why was he there, taking such an interest in him?

  “I am ordering you as a tribune and as a representative of the triumvirate. Come outside, optio, immediately,” he hissed, hoping that his face had looked grim enough to scare him. But apart from his resigned look, Horace did not appear to be particularly cowed as he dutifully followed him outside. When they were far enough away from the building and the tents, the Etruscan stopped and said, “I know that you met Quintus Labienus.”

  Horace hesitated. “So…?”

  “He’s an outlaw.”

  “He came looking for me.”

  “Why?”

  Horace was silent.

  “I asked you why,” insisted Maecenas.

  “He was trying… trying to incite the army against the triumvirate.”

  “Is that all?”

  “What else would it be?”

  “Perhaps he was looking for collaborators to try and topple the triumvirate.”

  He remained silent again, and Maecenas took his silence for admission.

  “Just as I imagined,” he said. “But why you?”

  “Someone had told him that I was displeased with the state of affairs,” Horace admitted.

  “But you refused, didn’t you? I know that you had an argument…”

  “I did not like the man, that’s all. He was irritating and arrogant. Exactly the kind of person I can’t stand. I would never trust someone like him. He had the manners of a madman.”

  “But he is a close associate of Cassius Longinus.”

  Horace held out his hands in exasperation. “And what can I do about that?”

  “It means that he is a very dangerous individual. He is wanted, now that we know he is in Rome. Always assuming he still is. To get to him, the triumvirate’s men will surely come to you – and you know what happens to those who have had dealings with the outlaws…”

  “But you’re one of the triumvirate’s men, aren’t you?” said Horace, with a bitter smile. “And you’ve found me…”

  “And it’s a lucky thing for you that I have!” burst out Maecenas, hoping that he wouldn’t regret what he was about to say. “Soon others will come, so get out of here, quickly. Get away from Rome, leave it immediately and go and reach your heroes, the ‘liberators’ in the East.” The optio stared at him in amazement, then was lost in thought for a moment. Finally he nodded, turned and started to leave, but he suddenly turned back and asked, “Why are you doing this for me?”

  Maecenas hesitated. “It grieves me to see talent go to waste,” he said.

  “But you don’t even know how I write…”

  This time the Etruscan had no answer. He shook his head, and it was he who turned and left.

  *

  Octavian ripped the innards from the sacrificial ram and lifted them up, solemnly, then gave them to the two slaves to lay on the brazier a few feet away, and said, “Repeat after me, Popillius Laenas: I swear to Mars Ultor, upon the lives of those I love most and my children today as well as those I have in the future, that I will do everything in my power to fulfil the objectives of the Sect of Mars Ultor.”

  “I swear to Mars Ultor, upon the lives of those I love most and my children today as well as those I have in the future, that I will do everything in my power to fulfil the objectives of the Sect of Mars Ultor.”

  “I swear to Mars Ultor that I will not rest until I have ensured that all the murderers of Julius Caesar have been punished: Gaius Cassius Longinus, Marcus Junius Brutus, Decimus Brutus Albinus, Gaius Trebonius, Servilius Casca Longus, Publius Servilius Casca Longus, Lucius Tullius Cimber, Publius Sextilius Naso, Quintus Ligarius, Minucius Basilus, Rubrius Ruga, Lucius Pontius Aquila, Marcus Spurius, Caecilius Bucolianus the elder and Bucolianus Caecilius the younger, Pacuvius Antistius Labeo, Gaius Cassius Parmensis, Petronius, Publius Decimus Turullius and Servius Sulpicius Galba, and their associates, beginning with Pompey and Quintus Labienus. May they face the same end as those already punished by Mars Ultor: Gaius Trebonius, Decimus Brutus Albinus, Lucius Pontius Aquila and Minucius Basilus.”

  Octavian reeled off the names one by one and waited for the new recruit to repeat them before continuing.

  “I swear to Mars Ultor that I will do everything in my power and I will adopt all necessary weapons and resources to bring peace to Rome and transform it into a lasting, prosperous empire, just as Caesar had intended.”

  “I swear to Mars Ultor that I will do everything in my power and I will adopt all necessary weapons and resources to bring peace to Rome and transform it into a lasting, prosperous empire, just as Caesar had intended,” Laenas repeated.

  “And finally, I swear before Mars Ultor that I will never betray my friends nor betray this brotherhood, to which I consider it a privilege to belong to. May Mars Ultor turn his arrows upon me if I do not keep my oath.”

&nbs
p; “And finally, I swear before Mars Ultor that I will never betray my friends nor betray this brotherhood, to which I consider it a privilege to belong. May Mars Ultor turn his arrows upon me if I do not keep my oath,” echoed the centurion.

  “Now you too are a son of Caesar!” said Octavian. He turned to the others present. “Let us all share the food to sanction our pact and consecrate ourselves to Mars Ultor.” He motioned to them to approach the altar, then to the slaves to pass around the half-cooked entrails of the ram, which he himself distributed to the followers, beginning with the initiate Popillius Laenas, who looked less than enthusiastic.

  Gaius Chaerea had been given a cool reception upon his return to the sect, unlike like the initiation ceremony which had taken place several months before, when Octavian – who at the time had been neither consul, nor Caesar, nor triumvir – had consecrated them all together to the avenging God: even poor Quintus Pedius and Etain, the first victims of a struggle which had grown more difficult than ever.

  And now, in the first initiation ceremony since that one, it was Popillius Laenas’s turn. He certainly wouldn’t replace what they had lost, and Chaerea saw that he was not the only one who thought so when Ortwin approached him, shaking his head resignedly. As they ate, several groups formed: Octavian was talking to Maecenas, Agrippa and Rufus, increasingly distant from the armed wing of the sect, while Laenas clung to their togas like a dog waiting for a pat on the head even though no one took the trouble to welcome him to the sect. Octavia was conversing with her cousin Lucius Pinarius and Veleda. Ortwin came up to him just as he was approaching Octavia to ask her about the massacre where Atia and Etain had died. A massacre for which Gaius felt partially responsible. If he hadn’t pretended to be sick, maybe they would have sent him to protect them instead of Veleda, and things might have turned out differently.

  “Not a good addition, this one,” said the German.

  “I agree,” replied Gaius.

  “I accompanied him on a couple of executions and he made a terrible impression on me,” Ortwin continued. “He is unbalanced, as well as cruel. I did everything I could to make that clear to the rest of them, but Octavian believes that someone like him can be useful to the sect.”

  “We are all useful to the sect, I would say – or rather, to him in particular – but no one is indispensable,” said Gaius, bitterly. “Lately I have been feeling expendable myself, and I have seen the objectives of justice and peace we set ourselves at the beginning giving way to those of supreme power…”

  Ortwin peered at him intently with his one eye. “Those are pretty dangerous things to say…”

  “Yes, yes… Ignore me – I just want peace and quiet and to be with my family. I’ve had enough of all this bloodshed.”

  “That’s rather a strange way for a soldier to think.”

  “What can I do? Perhaps deep down I’m not cut out for war. I already feel like a veteran who wants to get his pension and retire with his family to some beautiful farm.”

  Ortwin put his arm round Chaerea’s shoulder. “Listen, Gaius, I served Caesar and I watched his methods became less and less orthodox over the years. But he was the best, and I chose to serve him until I decided I had other priorities. He simply did what the times called for, that was all. Obviously, that was not enough, because he was killed by those he had pardoned, but I am convinced that Octavian is the best too. And he must do what the times call for. He must build upon Caesar’s successes and avoid repeating his mistakes and show his own clemency. It is necessary to go through all this, however distasteful it may seem, to reach the peace you long for. And the more we do now, the more ruthless we are, the sooner that will arrive. I too have goals to pursue and I can only pursue them once we have completed the task of the sect…”

  “I deserve a chance! I am older than him and I have more experience. It’s my turn first!” Ortwin stopped at the words of Rufus, who had suddenly raised his voice to the other ministers. Gaius saw Octavian lay a hand on his arm and, with that icy stare which reminded him so much of Caesar, command him to calm down.

  Ortwin smiled half-heartedly. “I knew that sooner or later this problem would emerge…”

  “What is Rufus talking about?” asked Gaius.

  “The war against Sextus Pompey. You have been out of things for a while now, so perhaps you are unaware of the latest developments. As you know, we must defeat him before going to the East – all the more so now that he has taken Sicily from it’s governor Bitinicus and is building a stronghold against the triumvirate. The outlaws know this and are fleeing there along with refugees from the cities of Italy whose lands were promised as a colony for veterans. The island is becoming the headquarters of those of Caesar’s assassins who are against us, and if we wait much longer, Sextus will be too powerful to defeat. He is proving to be as great an admiral as his father, and many experienced sailors and navarchs are rushing under his banner, especially from Spain, where his family has always had a large following. He has a respectable fleet now, and he can intercept the grain from Africa and starve Rome, attacking us from behind as we head towards Macedonia, or invading Italy with a pincer movement together with Caesar’s assassins, or even on his own… In short, defeating him is no less important than killing Julius Caesar’s assassins.”

  “And Rufus wants supreme command…”

  “Exactly. In my opinion, Agrippa is by far the more capable, but if he and Octavian were not such close friends the position would have gone to Rufus, both for seniority and experience. His protests are understandable.”

  “Rufus has been resentful towards him for quite a while now, and if there isn’t already open conflict between them it is because Agrippa is careful not to provoke him,” admitted Gaius. He had been aware for some time of Rufus’s discontent – he had been the only one who had been happy at Agrippa’s expulsion from the sect before the war of Modena. “It seems absurd, but right on the eve of the most difficult of battles, we are no longer so united. And I must confess that what with all this internal dissent, I myself no longer feel as motivated as I once did.”

  “Hold out, Gaius, or you will have even more reasons for feeling demotivated,” insisted Ortwin. “If the sect doesn’t attain its goals, there will be no peace for the empire, not even for you. Octavian will not give up, even if it means carrying on alone, and nor will Mark Antony, you can be sure. And neither will Julius Caesar’s assassins, now that they are convinced that they represent the only chance of saving Rome. You think our methods are questionable – what about those of Brutus and Cassius? Did you know that Cassius conquered Rhodes with two naval battles and then plundered the city of all its wealth, even that which belonged to private individuals, putting to death any who had hidden their riches in wells or in graves? And that the magistrates of Tarsus sold free citizens to find the money to pay the tribute? If we wait a little longer, Cassius will take Egypt as well, even if Queen Cleopatra is with us. Did you know that the citizens of Xanthus committed suicide en masse when Brutus conquered them?”

  Gaius glanced over at the ministers, who, in hushed tones, were deep in discussion. There was tension in the air, although Rufus was trying to control himself. Popillius Laenas, now ignored by the others, walked over and put an arm around him, jovially, “So, comrade,” he began. “We are like brothers now. And I am a brother of this barbarian, too,” he added, looking warily at Ortwin with a forced smile. “Even if he has pissed me off more than once and I’m not the type of man who forgets a slight. But there are other people we need to get rid of, right? We’re at war, and we’re all on the same side. The three of us might be a kind of little triumvirate, eh? Laenas, Chaerea and Ortwin, united by necessity and not by love… Lovely, isn’t it?”

  Without saying a word and without changing his expression, Chaerea looked at him, and realised that Ortwin was doing the same. There would be plenty of friction between those two in addition to the animosity which already existed between Rufus and Agrippa. And the animosity which Octavian, no
w increasingly obsessed with the demands of his responsibilities, seemed to feel for all of them. It was increasingly difficult to remain part of that sect, which had become a sort of mirror of the internal struggles to which Rome had fallen prey since Caesar had died.

  He turned in the direction of Octavia, instinctively seeking comfort from the love he knew he could find in her eyes, and when she noticed, she gave him an expectant look which redoubled his feelings of guilt towards his own woman.

  He knew then that this rekindled passion would bring him nothing but trouble.

  XIV

  Octavian stared at those present. All the cult members were there apart from Ortwin, who would be arriving shortly with Titus Labienus’s head. Agrippa, Maecenas, Rufus, Lucius Pinarius, the newly returned Gaius Chaerea, Octavia, Veleda, and the new recruit, Popillius Laenas.

  He had called them to his tablinum for a secret meeting about the tasks and roles assigned to them with regard to the civil war, which needed to be fought on two fronts. After that, there would be the meeting with his staff to discuss purely military matters, and then another with Mark Antony to decide upon the strategy to be adopted. But this was the meeting that mattered most, because here he could speak of the sect’s objectives and bring them into focus before facing Caesar’s assassins.

  And because he was going to find out who the traitor was.

  If Ortwin brought Labienus to him alive, he would happily torture him in front of all those present in order to extort the name of the person who had helped him. He needed to know who it was before the campaign began so that he wouldn’t have the spy under his feet when he needed to take even more delicate decisions. And if there was one person who could solve the problem, it was Ortwin. Labienus was an old enemy of his, and moreover had threatened his woman, so he had no doubt that the German would use all his skill to try and get the name out of him.

  But meanwhile, the others were waiting for the meeting to begin.