Memoirs of Cleopatra (1997)

by Margaret George

.

  In due time two letters arrived, one official, one personal. In the official one, Octavian complained in lofty language about Antony's appointments in the east, and criticized his judgment. The personal one adopted a sneering tone.

  .

  My dear brother-in-law, If you can rouse yourself from your bacchanab in the palace of Alexandria, your wife and children would certainly appreciate a letter from you--a novelty indeed. Or have you entirely forgotten your family and your duties in the arms of that Egyptian Queen? I seriously question your ability to shoulder your half of the world, judging from your recent behavior. Perhaps you should think of retiring and appointing a younger man to carry your burdens, before you stumble completely.

  I hope this finds you in good bodily health. Mentally I am afraid you may be in sore need of restorative rest--in the west. You will be most welcome at home, whenever you can find it in yourself to make the journey.

  Your brother, and fellow Triumvir, Imperator J. Caesar, Divi Filius P. S. Cease championing the claims of that bastard son of the Queen s. It is unworthy of you.

  .

  "The nerve!" yelled Antony. "Implying I am crazy!" He smacked the letter. "How dare he?"

  "Stop yelling," I said, "or you will sound crazy."

  "And what about the way he calls you 'that Egyptian Queen'--as if you didn't have a name!"

  "He knows my name well enough," I said. "Just as he knows Caesarion's." I thought the attack was a good sign. It meant that we had touched a raw nerve, and he felt threatened by our claims.

  "I'll answer right now!" shouted Antony.

  "No, not now!" I said.

  "Yes, now!" He grabbed a pitcher of wine and poured himself an enormous cup. "And in my own hand!" He rifled through his writing-box and extracted all the materials, then started writing furiously. Finally he thrust the letter at me.

  .

  What's come over you? I suppose you're irked because I sleep with the Queen? Well, what of it? She is my wife. And anyway, what's new about it? Hasn't it been going on for nine years now? And, say, what about you? Is Livia your only bed partner? My congratulations to you if, when you receive this letter, you haven't been having it off with Tertulla or Terentilla or RufMa or Salvia Titisenia, or maybe the whole lot of them all together! Does it really matter to you where or with whom you have sex? Evidently not!

  .

  I burst out laughing. "What a picture--all of them at once. He must have a wall-to-wall pallet."

  "He does. He likes a large gathering." Antony drained his cup, and poured another one.

  "It's very funny, but it doesn't really answer the accusations."

  "I don't care! Let him know I know the truth about his pious act. I will answer the political charges in a separate letter." He paused. "He doesn't even mention Armenia! Can it be so unimportant that I won a new province for Rome? What has he ever done that's comparable?"

  Later, in a sober letter, he duly set out his complaints about Octavian, taking his stand on solemn promises and on strict legality. His fellow Triumvir had shown ill faith toward him, in refusing to send him the four legions he was owed under the terms of the treaty of Tarentum, in not allowing him to recruit new soldiers in Italy, in giving his veterans inferior land grants, and in unilaterally deposing Lepidus from office and appropriating all of Lepidus's territories and legions, rather than dividing them. All these failed to honor the terms of their alliance. As for Caesarion and Cleopatra--the Queen was his wife, and had been Caesar's, and Ptolemy Caesar was their legitimate son. But that was a different matter altogether from the legal misbehavior of Octavian in their partnership.

  He sent it off, then left Alexandria to join Canidius with his legions in Armenia, preparatory to making another attempt on Parthia in concert with the Median king.

  * * *

  The shaky edifice of the Triumvirate was still--legally--standing, restraining both men from overt hostilities. However, the Triumvirate would expire in only another nine months. What would happen after that? The Republic was dead, in spite of sentimental talk about it. It had monumentally failed to resurrect itself after Caesar's death. Rome had been ruled by a dictator, then by three dictators--the Triumvirs--and now by two dictators. It was obviously reverting to one-man rule again. The only question was, which man would it be?

  And the answer was the old, simple one: the man with the best army. Thus it had always been.

  So I set about to strengthen the Egyptian fleet while Antony was away. The profits from the balsam groves would finance it nicely. We already had a respectable navy of some hundred ships, built primarily from the timbers of Cilicia. Now I must procure better ones from the mountains of Lebanon--

  huge cypresses and cedars. I needed those longer timbers to build the larger ships. Agrippa had built a first-rate fleet with heavy ships. We must have equal-sized vessels; we must not paddle around in light boats like Sextus and get swamped and crushed.

  I was convinced the fleet would be of key importance in any war. Agrippa had a mighty navy, and one always uses the weapons to hand. He was unlikely to let his ships sit idle in a conflict.

  I visited the dockyards every few days, finding great satisfaction in seeing these wooden sea creatures taking shape on the shore. The walls of the largest, the "ten," rose high above me like a fort. The oars were fashioned from the trunks of the tallest pines to be had. The socket where the bronze ram would go was as big as an elephant.

  "Majesty, just casting the ram is an art," the shipwright assured me. "To fashion a bronze beak of that size--it's hard to keep the metal from cracking. Cooling it is tricky."

  It would take days before the success of any casting was known. Fitting the timbers, seasoning them, treating them with asphalt and binding the wood with sheets of lead to keep out worms--what a lengthy, expensive process!

  Epaphroditus had warned me not to go overboard. "Forgive the pun," he had said. "But it is easy to go wild in shipbuilding. Sometimes I think ships are nothing but a funnel to send money directly to the bottom of the sea."

  "I know," I said. "But we must have a first-rate navy!"

  "First-rate means extravagant. Personally, I think you get more for your money with the army. Just the upkeep of ships is ruinous, and finding oarsmen--well, most men prefer the land. So the navy is a second-choice service."

  "What about using slaves?"

  He laughed. "If you want to bankrupt Egypt in one season. Slaves are much too expensive. Every time a ship sinks, think of the cost! No, it's far cheaper to pay oarsmen. Besides, slaves must be supported for life, whereas you need only hire the oarsmen as you go along, and for short periods."

  "You are a hard-hearted wretch," I said.

  "A finance minister has to be," he countered. "Let the chief of the physicians enjoy the luxury of a tender heart. But your generals and your finance minister--that's another matter." He laughed. "Can you imagine a general who flinched from battle?"

  "Yes," I said. "Octavian."

  "He can't be as cowardly as you make out. Are you sure of that?"

  "Antony says at the battle of Naulochus, he lay belowdecks in a stupor of fear and had to be roused," I insisted.

  "Are you sure he wasn't just seasick? Many normal men are. It is no disgrace."

  "Why are you taking up for him?"

  "I am not," he said. "I only want to point out that Antony was not there at Naulochus, let alone belowdecks on Octavian's ship, any more than Octavian is present in Alexandria at your banquets. We must be careful of believing what we have not seen for ourselves."

  "Ah! You always act as my schoolmaster." Yet it was comforting to hear the viewpoint of someone who lived outside the palace.

  As we strolled through the dockyard, under the shadows of the great ships, Epaphroditus pointed to the two just ahead of us. "It is possible that a war can be won by other means, and these powerful ships may be sunk with words. Gossip, lies, innuendo may do more harm than actual weapons, if they unman the opponent. The important thing i
s not to fall victim to your own manufactured gossip." He paused. "For example, you must, by all means, put it about that Octavian is utterly contemptible as a man and a fighter. But never believe it. He would not be where he is, were he that negligible. Nor would you need these ships."

  Epaphroditus was right, of course. The war of words and reputations, which swayed men's hearts, was an insidious one, and well worth winning. Already in Rome, I heard that various "meetings" were held to "discuss" Antony and the "African problem."

  It was Mardian who was first alerted to these, and he came hurrying in to tell me.

  "They are, of course, set up by Octavian's agents to appear spontaneous," he said, his wide brow furrowed. "That way he can claim to be responding to the wishes of the people."

  "Well, what particularly are they saying?"

  "Let the man speak for himself." He then dragged an unwilling youth in by the elbow. The slender reed of a man had to follow in Mardian's wake. "He is just off a ship from Ostia. But before that, he had a stand in the Forum, selling vegetables. He claims he came here to make a deal with our leek and fig merchants."

  The youth jerked his arm away from Mardian's. "What, have I committed a crime? Is it against the law to walk the docks of Alexandria and try to arrange for a food shipment? Well, pardon me.'" He brushed himself off. "Get this fat fellow off me!"

  "Tell us what you know, and you shall have a free cargo of all the leeks and figs you want. We'll even throw in some Derr dates. Now, what about these public meetings in Rome? Have you attended any?"

  "Oh, they're announced in the Forum. I get invited to all of them. But I've only been to one."

  "Who announces them? Who invites you?"

  He looked puzzled. "I don't know. Just--men. Respectably dressed men."

  "Senators?"

  "How do I know? They aren't famous, if that's what you mean."

  "And what do they discuss at these meetings?"

  "I told you, I've only gone to one. In that one, people were talking about Antony and how he had deserted Rome, forgotten his duty, had turned into an eastern kingI remember they claimed it was Carthage rearing its head once again."

  "Carthage?" This was absurd.

  "You know, Hannibal and all that. . . Africans attacking Rome."

  I burst out laughing.

  "It isn't funny," Mardian cautioned. "Don't forget the Dido and Aeneas story--the noble Roman seduced by a foreign queen. It's a favorite in Rome."

  "Yes, because he rejects Dido and leaves her to die of a broken heart. I suppose that's what they'd like Antony to do to me!"

  "Undoubtedly," said Mardian.

  "So what else do they say?" I asked.

  "That you are . . . uh . . . not virtuous."

  "You mean they call her a harlot?" Mardian's usually silky voice was hard.

  "Well, yes." He looked down at his feet. "They also say she's bewitched Antony, using eastern drugs. Made him her slave. As Hercules was unmanned by Omphale. Suddenly there are drinking vessels with the Omphale legend everywhere. Someone is circulating them. They show Omphale, the Queen of Lydia, wearing Hercules' clothes, and carrying his club, while the effeminate Hercules, dressed in a gown, walks beside her chariot under the shade of a parasol, carrying a spindle. He has been ruined, enslaved by the Queen, who plays the part of a man." He blushed. "The drinking vessels are finely made--from Arretium."

  Arretium! Those vessels were expensive. Someone was paying dearly for it.

  "What else?"

  "Nothing. I don't know. I didn't pay all that much attention."

  "Didn't you find it entertaining?" Mardian asked.

  "Somewhat," he admitted. "But it gets repetitious after a while."

  "Well, return to Rome and keep your ears open. We will see to it that some different and equally amusing gossip is soon bandied about."

  Antony still had a large following in Rome, and there were plenty of agents willing to spread damaging stories about Octavian. Mardian and I compiled a list of them. I was glad Antony was not here; he would have objected. Now we could say what we wished without censure.

  We put it out that Octavian was both cowardly and incompetent, relying on Antony (at Philippi) and Agrippa (at Naulochus) to do his fighting for him, while he cowered safely away from danger. He had broken every pledge. He was addicted to gambling, and so rapacious that he had condemned men to death just so he could get his hands on their fine furniture and Corinthian vessels, for which he had a special fondness.

  As for his personal morality--it was unspeakable. First, he had sold his favors to Caesar in exchange for being named his heir, and then passed himself around to Caesar's friend Aulus Hirtius for another three hundred thousand sesterces. Then he had seduced the wife of Claudius Nero and married her scandalously when she was still pregnant with Claudius's child--

  or was it Octavian's? And even that did not satisfy him. Nowadays he sent his agents out into the streets to procure women for him, stripping them naked and inspecting them like slaves. Sometimes even at dinner parties he could not control himself, but dragged a guest's wife off into his bedroom right before her astonished husband's eyes.

  But what could you expect from a man whose father was a money-changer and whose mother ran a perfume and ointment shop? And whose greatgrandfather was a slave'!

  And as for the charges about Antony and his Dionysus revels, at least he wasn't disrespectful to the gods--like Octavian at his Banquet of the Twelve Gods, where he dressed as Apollo and then led a riotous orgy. An insult, a monstrous affront to the gods!

  I had balked at the charges about Caesar.

  "He despised those lies!" I told Mardian. "His enemies trotted them out whenever it suited them! How can I perpetrate them?"

  "Caesar believed in using the best weapon for the job," said Mardian. "If this can help you and Caesarion, well--it would be a worthwhile sacrifice."

  Still, I hated it. But every bit of mud I could sling at Octavian must be used. "All right," I agreed reluctantly.

  Soon Rome was buzzing with these allegations, while Octavian was off in Illyria, busying himself with his troops. It cost us a lot of money, but what is money for?

  Both men were absorbed in military pursuits abroad while Rome boiled with their rivalry in blackening one another's names. In Alexandria, the perfect days passed, unmindful of what was happening in the rest of the empire. But my agents kept me well informed, and I was aware of every nuance in the capital: of Oppius (who well knew the truth! miserable traitor to Caesar) writing a pamphlet "proving" that Caesarion was not Caesar's; of people calling Octavian's patron not Apollo the Benefactor but Apollo Tortor, the Torturer; of others accusing Antony of perfidy in executing Sextus; of the snickering about Octavian using hot walnut shells to soften the hair on his legs. Octavian's men accused Antony's style of speaking and writing as being beset with "the stink of far-fetched phrases" in a most un-Roman manner; Antony's agents ridiculed Octavian for wearing built-up sandals to make himself taller. (I contributed that.)

  Then, suddenly, Agrippa banished all the fortune-tellers and magicians from Rome. "We want none such here!" he had decreed. "Away with astrologers and their false prophecies! Let them go back to the east, to keep the company they fancy, with those who worship beast-gods and other abominations!" Placards were circulated showing Antony and me with Anubis and Hathor crouched over us--Anubis with his jackal head and Hathor with her cow's ears. My agents managed to secure one for me, and I saw it for myself.

  There were also poems about my being a Queen served by "wrinkled eunuchs" as "foul" as myself. It seemed I led a parade of perverted creatures-- evil eunuchs, whores, beast-worshipers, soothsayers, and necromancers--in obscene rites. All the while I bedecked myself in jewels and perfumes and the kingdoms I had demanded of my drunken Roman general as the price of my favors--I, the fatale monstrum, fatal monster, of the east.

  At first I found them amusing, if only for an exercise in imaginative writing. I was embarrassed about the eunuch remarks
and took care to hide them from Mardian. But as time went on, the sheer venom in them became disturbing. Such a volume of hatred being released--were these the same people who had paid court to me in Rome when I was with Caesar? They had seen me with their own eyes, eaten with me, talked with me. Was it possible they could now believe these charges and hate me past all reason?

  Weeks dragged by, and there was no word from Antony. Had he launched his attack on Parthia? Where was he now?

  Finally the strain became almost unbearable, and I told my household that I was going to the mineral springs to bathe and rest. The new-style Roman baths were gaining favor everywhere, with their hot-and cold-water rooms, but they seemed too artificial for me. I preferred the ancient, natural springs.

  "I suppose the Romans would say I am just returning to my primitive, bestial origins," I said. "Or perhaps I go to indulge in sensual orgies. And I must not forget my jewels."

  "You must not wear your silver into the water!" said Mardian. "It will tarnish."

  I laughed. "Not you, too! I was only joking. I have no intention of taking to the waters with jewelry on."

  I would take Charmian and Iras with me. They had little pleasure of late, and would benefit from the health-giving waters.

  Now, looking back, I know it was the last time I was ever to sport and play in Egypt, a free creature, with no one watching. It had been so when I was a child, but less so lately. The court in Alexandria was not private, and was always a stage. But the waters were always waiting, patiently, and if I did not seek them it was my own fault. Later I would be unable to seek them, long for them as I may.