The Memoirs of Cleopatra Part 102

"And t.i.tius with him, no doubt," I said. I had not yet had the opportunity to tell Antony about the conversation I was privy to in the garden, and I was saddened to hear it confirmed. I had hoped it was just a pa.s.sing mood with them.

"You knew about this?" He looked surprised. "How?"

"I caught part of a conversation between them, but they were only thinking aloud; you know how people rehea.r.s.e many ideas, but act on few."

"What was their reason?" Antony kept rereading the note. "This says little, only that after much deliberation, he has decided to return to Rome."

"I am sorry to say that they were joking--joking about their history of switching sides."

Antony let out a long sigh. No one had ever left him before, and he, whose strong sense of loyalty was one of his main characteristics, attached great importance to it. "And t.i.tius, you say?"

"Yes. Shall we pay a call on him? I venture to say we will not find him at home!"

t.i.tius had been a.s.signed a villa beside that of his uncle, beautifully situated on rising ground with a superlative view of the acropolis. Again, a private palace that any king would have been proud to claim.

We alighted from the litter and our servant knocked loudly on the door. Eventually a house servant answered, and when we identified ourselves and demanded to see the commander Marcus t.i.tius, he blinked at us and shook his head.

"The honorable commander is not here," he said.

"And when will the honorable commander return?" I asked sweetly. "Shall we wait?"

He looked alarmed. " "Oh no, Your Majesty, that would not be fitting. We have no suitable place--"

I brushed past him easily. "I am not particular," I said. "In fact, I have long wished to tour this villa--I understand that it has several fine mosaics in the dining room. I shall amuse myself for a while."

"Your Majesty, I must ask you to refrain from--"

"And I--I'd like to inspect the commander's weapons room. He has long promised to show me his collection of shields, including the copy of Ajax's. He has bragged about it for years!" said Antony heartily. He headed in the opposite direction, to the servant's dismay. He did not know which of us to follow. Finally he settled on Antony.

As soon as they had gone. Down a hallway, I turned around and followed them. The house was clearly empty. There were a number of telltale trunks stacked in the atrium, and the scattered debris that always seems to appear during packing lay on the floors: dust b.a.l.l.s, sc.r.a.ps of paper, pins, and pieces of string.

"O Athena!" Antony's voice rose in mock surprise. "All the shields are gone!" He stuck his head out of the door and called to me. "Come and see! Someone has stolen t.i.tius's prize collection! Why, you--" He turned to the servant. "He'll have your head for this when he returns!"

I entered the room, which was stripped and echoing. "Alas, poor t.i.tius!" I had not thought it in me to go along with Antony's game--he, who played when others would weep--but found myself caught up in it. It made things sting less. "How grieved he'll be! Were you asleep when you should have been guarding?"

I could see the pegs in the wall where the shields had hung. t.i.tius always kept them nearby, as if they brought him luck.

"No--yes--" He looked miserable.

"All right, my lad, you needn't pretend any longer," said Antony in consoling tones. "You needn't protect him. We know he's gone, and we know where. We just want to know when--and why."

"He left last night. As for why, I swear I don't know."

"He didn't leave letters to be delivered?"

"No, sir. In the name of all the G.o.ds, I am telling the truth."

It's the younger generation. No No manners. manners. I almost laughed at the thought. "Has he taken everything?" I asked. I almost laughed at the thought. "Has he taken everything?" I asked.

"Everything that could be packed," the servant said.

We left the room and returned to the atrium. Suddenly I said, "As long as I am here, I should should see the famous mosaics." I made my way toward the dining room. On the way I pa.s.sed a bust of Octavian perched on a pedestal. "Why, look! He's forgotten his Octavian!" see the famous mosaics." I made my way toward the dining room. On the way I pa.s.sed a bust of Octavian perched on a pedestal. "Why, look! He's forgotten his Octavian!"

Seeing the face and features of my foe again was startling. After all, I had last seen him when he was barely eighteen, before he became a man, not to mention acquiring an official portrait. This was how he wished to be regarded now. I came closer, scrutinizing it.

Well, he had changed, but I would still recognize him. He was thinner, and his neck longer, his hair longer and more disheveled. (Why did he want to be portrayed so untidily?) His head was c.o.c.ked arrogantly, restlessly, his brows furrowed a bit. This was a hungry, seeking man, sizing up anything his eyes fastened on, critically. I had to admire the honesty and nerve of someone who allowed such an accurate characterization of himself to circulate. The energy seemed to burst from the stone.

"What's wrong? Didn't he want this?" I pressed the boy.

"He was afraid the marble would crack. Look, there's a fault below the ear." The servant pointed to it.

I could see the hairline fracture just beneath the little, low-set ears. "What a shame just to leave him here, ail alone! I think we should adopt him!" I turned to Antony. "Don't you think we need an Octavian bust? Let's take him home. And

"Whatever you wish," said Antony. "But we must find a suitable place for him."

In the war-planning room, I thought. It is best to keep your adversary before your eyes there.

That night, when the household noises had ceased and all the servants-- even Eros--had finished their tasks and withdrawn, we talked seriously about the defections. Antony had a drawn look on his face that made him, for the first time, look his fifty years. He was forcing himself to review reports of his junior commanders, in search of good replacements. It was not exactly diverting reading, but it was crucial.

"There's young Dentatus," he said. "He shows promise. And Gaius Mucia.n.u.s was recommended by--" He sighed and put down the papers. "Plancus and t.i.tius will be sorely missed. Not that any commander is irreplaceable, except Caesar himself."

"I think Agrippa's loss to Octavian would be crippling," I said. "He is no Caesar, but he is the nearest thing to a successor, militarily. Except for you, of course," I hastened to add.

"No point in dreaming about that. Agrippa isn't likely to appear at our headquarters tomorrow."

I had to ask it. "Antony, why do you you think they defected? And what does it mean to our cause?" think they defected? And what does it mean to our cause?"

I watched as the thoughts marshaled themselves. His face showed the struggle he had to make sense of it. But he would answer honestly, for that was his nature. He,-like Caesar, did not flinch before the truth.

"Inasmuch as he stands for anything, Plancus has always favored peace and compromise," he finally said. "He served Caesar loyally, if unremarkably, in Gaul and afterward. Later he voted for amnesty for Caesar's a.s.sa.s.sins, and tried to support the Senate. Then, when it came down to it, he lost heart for Cicero's policy, and joined me. He never has been a fervent supporter of anything. I suppose he couldn't sustain enough enthusiasm for the coming conflict."

"Does he think that Octavian will require less?"

"Perhaps he feels he will be given less responsibility there. And also, lately I caught him in some questionable financial dealings. He was a bit of a thief, as it turned out. I was going to have to take away his privilege of using my signet ring and acting as my agent. He knew what was coming."

So! He had taken his revenge this way. But would Octavian take him? Octavian (to his credit, I must admit) was reputed to like treachery, but despise traitors. Sometimes he executed them--after extracting their information.

"But the bust of Octavian--does that mean he always favored him?"

"Who knows? Maybe it was just an extra one lying around. Octavian has flooded the world with his statues, since they are to be set up alongside Caesar's in all the temples dedicated to Rome, and that's a lot of temples."

"And t.i.tius?"

"t.i.tius." He sighed. "I admit he had talent. Although a bit of an opportunist, and a flatterer--"

I remembered the way he used to kiss my hand, and look meltingly at me. And then I remembered, too, naming that city after him: t.i.tiopolis. I had kept my word. Well, I would change it back again! And Plancus, painting himself blue and dancing around naked at the banquet. . .

A bit of a flatterer .. . bit of a flatterer .. .

"Antony, how many support us only from policy, and how many because of personal loyalty? It seems that we cannot rely on the ones who have joined us for political reasons. Are they with us out of conviction, or only because they are vaguely against Octavian?"

"They make it their business to hide that from us, my love," he said. "And it is dangerous to read others' minds. We will just have to trust their better natures." He smiled and pulled me over against him. I rested my chin on the top of his head. "Distrust rots a man's soul."

I supposed he was right, but it was too n.o.ble for me.

Almost two months after Octavia had received her papers of divorce, and left Antony's house, weeping, so it was said, Antyllus, Antony's eldest son, arrived in Athens. Although the wily Octavian had long urged his sister to consider herself divorced and abandon Antony's home, rubbing it in how badly she was treated, when the actual divorce came, he made much of it. He made sure that she transferred from Antony's house to his in broad daylight, with the train of her children trailing after her. She was the wronged woman, the perfect mother, now cast out. With her into Octavian's house went Marcellus, aged ten, the two Marcellas--aged eight and sixteen--then Antony's son Iullus, aged ten, and the two Antonias, aged seven and four. Only Antyllus, at thirteen the eldest of Antony's, wanted to go to his father rather than remain in Rome. And, sensing that he was too old to be used easily, Octavian let him go.

I had been curious to see Antony's son, this boy who was his Roman heir. Antony talked of him often enough that I knew he carried him close to his heart. But he had not actually seen him in almost nine years, and he was startled by the tall boy who greeted him. He was already in that awkward, gawky stage, without the winsomeness of childhood, that causes such agonies for a youth. He had none of Antony's solidity, but was thin and weedy, with a long, narrow face, and teeth that seemed too big for his mouth. How had Antony and Fulvia ever produced such a slight creature? Still, he had a sweet disposition (which he had inherited from Antony and not from Fulvia), and he was a long way from being grown. He might fill out later.

At first he was shy around his father, but Antony soon disarmed him, and the boy provided him with his only respite from the mounting crisis of the coming war. When he was with Antyllus, he was able to suspend all the cares pressing down on him. Watching them together made me long for Caesarion, for Alexander and Selene, even for little Philadelphos. It is good to have children to take us into other worlds, even as we try to prepare the present one to hand on to them.

It was from Antyllus, surprising as that may seem, that we first heard about Plancus and t.i.tius's doings in Rome. And he mentioned it innocently enough. He had been asking questions about Egypt and the pyramids, when he suddenly said, " "Is your tomb as big as the Pharaohs' ?"

I didn't know what he meant. "My tomb?" I asked.

"Yes, your tomb. I kept hearing about it in Rome. They were all talking about it. What's so special about it?"

I had to think hard. "Nothing, really. It is next to the Temple of Isis, on my palace grounds. It is just a regular mausoleum, except"--perhaps this is what he meant--"it has special doors that can't be reopened once they are closed. Why?"

"Well, everyone says the tomb must be special, since my father insists on being buried in it, instead of in Rome. I tell you, everyone everyone was talking about it!" was talking about it!"

"And how did they know that?" asked Antony, putting down the reports he was reading.

"They said it was in your will."

We looked at one another. The will. It was in the safekeeping of the Vestal Virgins, absolutely inviolate.

"How did they know what was in my will?" asked Antony. "It's supposed to be a secret--until I die, that is."

"Oh"--Antyllus shrugged, paying more attention to the toy soldiers he was arranging on a heaped-up blanket to serve as a mountainous battlefield-- "they stole it from the Vestal Virgins."

"What?" Antony got down on one knee and looked sternly at his son. "No joking, now. No playing. Did they really steal it?"

Antyllus put down the soldiers. "Yes. Uncle Octavian made them. Some Romans who had come back told him about it, and he demanded to see it."

"He isn't your uncle!" I said sharply.

"He made me call him that," said Antyllus. "He would get angry if I didn't."

"Well, stop it!" I said. "You aren't closely related to him!"

"Hush." Antony frowned at me. "That isn't important. What I want to know is who who stole the will." stole the will."

"Uncle--I mean Octavian. He grabbed it by force from the Vestal Virgins. It caused a big ruckus in Rome. Everyone was carrying on about the way you wanted to be buried in Egypt. It made people mad. And, oh, let's see ... I see ... I don't remember what else. It was the tomb part people kept talking about." don't remember what else. It was the tomb part people kept talking about."

Plancus and t.i.tius. They had witnessed the will. They had told Octavian about it, and he had used it in his uncanny way. But how had he dared to violate the sanctuary of the Vestals? He was gambling that what he found in the will would make it worthwhile. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d. And he had won.

That night in our chambers, I lay quietly against Antony's shoulder and talked in hushed tones. "We need to take stock of our position," I said. "Plancus and t.i.tius have changed the equation. What is happening in Rome?"

"It sounds as if they have won a pardon from Octavian by presenting him with inside information about me--what they were privy to as the keepers of my seal, and witnesses to the will," Antony said. "They had to offer him something he wanted in order to be taken in. After all, all, they had been with me for ten years. That would have tainted them in his eyes." they had been with me for ten years. That would have tainted them in his eyes."

"How damaging is this information?"

"I never thought it was damaging at all," he said. "I don't understand why it should be."

The sounds of a summer night drifted in through the windows, songs from nearby courtyards, laughter, footsteps on the paving stones below. On the streets of Athens, people were enjoying the warmth, the clear, starry skies above them.

I put my head on his chest and listened to the slow, steady sound of his heart. How calmly he lay there, how unconcerned he seemed. I put my arms around him, feeling the strong, arched ribs under my hands. He was like a st.u.r.dy, rough-barked oak that gave shelter. Just touching him made my worries and fears subside. The defections of Plancus and t.i.tius had disturbed me deeply, but less for the loss of their persons than for what it symbolized. It might sap the morale of those still with us. Desertions could spread, like plague.

The reports that finally came from Rome were astounding. Antony was right; as price of their admission to Octavian's good graces, Plancus and t.i.tius told him that Antony's will contained shocking information that he could put to good use.

Plancus and t.i.tius's appearance had been timely. Octavian, freshly returned from Illyria, was only a private citizen now. The Triumvirate had officially expired, and Octavian held no public office. Furthermore, he had no const.i.tutional reason to lead a crusade against his ex-fellow Triumvir and brother-in-law. Antony had not done anything aggressive or illegal, and Octavian had earlier declared the civil wars over. Antony still had a loyal following in Rome, plus almost half the Senate with him, and there were vast numbers of fence-sitters who kept themselves aloof from either faction. Unless Octavian could find some excuse to attack Antony and to marshal public opinion on his side, he could not proceed.

Then came the divorce. Routine enough in itself, it provided evidence that Antony was casting off his Roman ties for the Egyptian Circe. It gave fuel to the fire, fanned by Octavian, that Antony was becoming un-Roman. Then the will, with its wish that Antony be buried beside me, "proved" that Antony had repudiated Rome and planned to move the capital to Alexandria.

"While he lies embalmed like a Pharaoh in that foreign land, I--no matter where I fall in battle--I, Imperator Caesar, will lay my bones in the family tomb I am even now constructing beside the Tiber. Even my dust will not forsake or abandon you, Mother Rome!" Octavian had cried, when he revealed the contents of the will.

The response was an explosion of anger and disgust at us. Antony was called every vile name imaginable. Plancus stood up in what was left of the Senate and described Antony's servile fawning on me: Antony left a senator in mid-speech to follow my litter and place himself among my eunuchs; he stopped in the middle of council meetings to read love poems written by me on jeweled tablets; he even rubbed my feet in public, anointing them with oil and kissing them pa.s.sionately.

I remembered the time in Ephesus when t.i.tius had intruded on us in the privacy of our own house, where Antony was rubbing my feet because I felt ill. Now Plancus had exaggerated it into this slander.

Plancus entertained the Senate for days outlining one folly, evil, or mistake of Antony's after another. The catalogue of Antony's failings was as high as the pyramids.

Finally one old senator rose and remarked pointedly, "My, Antony certainly managed to do a great many evils before you you could bring yourself to leave him." could bring yourself to leave him."

Public fervor was one thing, but Octavian needed something more binding before he could strike. Since burial plans did not const.i.tute disloyalty--one senator had objected that it was unfair to punish a living man for what he intended after his death--Octavian would have to invoke a "higher sanction," one above the const.i.tution. He thought of a way: Romans would swear allegiance to him, in his own person, rather than for any office he held. Thus he would be the patron, and all the country his clients.

An oath of allegiance was hurriedly composed, and by autumn people were persuaded to take it.

I held a copy of it and read it aloud to Antony, who could barely bring himself to listen.

" 'I hearby bind myself to have the same friends and enemies as Imperator J. Caesar Divi filius Divi filius, to fight with body and soul, by land and sea, against anyone who should threaten him, to report treason seen or heard, and to consider myself and my children less dear than the safety of the Imperator Caesar. Should I break my oath, may Jupiter visit me and my children with exile, outlawry, and ruin,' " I read. "Thorough, isn't it?"

Antony shook his head. "Bononia refused to take it," he said.

"Yes, that town is loyal to you." But the army, the veteran colonies, most of the leading citizens of the towns had taken it. Meanwhile, in Rome, the fence-sitters had finally been pushed off into Octavian's yard. The will and the divorce had done it--both personal things, pertaining to Antony's private life. How ironic. They enabled Octavian to claim that all loyal citizens, shocked and saddened at Antony's disgrace, had risen up in a spontaneous expression of their devotion to the Divi filius: Divi filius: champion of Roman fort.i.tude, virtue, and tradition. Hence the oaths. champion of Roman fort.i.tude, virtue, and tradition. Hence the oaths.

"We still command more resources," said Antony. "Our army is bigger, our navy superior, and our treasury deeper. When the clash comes, we will prevail. I am a better commander than Agrippa and Octavian put together. Do you remember when we talked about creativity? Mine is in warfare, and it will not fail me now."

"There was was something in the will that shocked Octavian, but it was not what he shouted about," I said. "The real thing that frightened him he kept to himself." something in the will that shocked Octavian, but it was not what he shouted about," I said. "The real thing that frightened him he kept to himself."

Antony rubbed his forehead, as if he would erase the lines there, lines that had settled on him since coming to Athens. "What was that?"

"In the will you emphatically support Caesarion's inheritance. By that we deny Octavian a place in the west, as well as in the east. We give him no place to go. He knows that, and cannot submit to such a scheme."

"Yes, that is true," admitted Antony. " Thus we must make war, that we may live in peace,' as Aristotle said."