The Memoirs of Cleopatra Part 43

Caesar started laughing again. "Hush. Or Fulvia will beat you, and I will cancel the appointment."

"Along with all those other new appointments you have made?" Antony turned toward me, as to a confidant. "Caesar has increased the number of senators from six hundred to nearly nine hundred. Downright barbarians, some of them, imported from Gaul. Sure to cause comment. No one will notice me; I'm much too ordinary."

"These were the men who helped me to victory. If it had been pirates and cutthroats, they too would have their reward," said Caesar. "At least they were my friends, and loyal to me."

"But they wear trousers!" lamented Lepidus. "Trousers instead of togas!" Trousers in the Senate house! The end of the world has come!"

"That's absurd," said Caesar. "Here they will put on togas, regardless of what they wear at home."

The men heaving the statue up the steps were groaning, and I could see the figure sliding slightly on its platform. But they were almost to the top.

"Come," said Antony. "You don't plan to watch it being put on its pedestal? Let's go have some fun. I know a place--"

Caesar gave a mock moan. "No plays. No chariot races."

"I know," said Antony. "Let's go to the athletic field and have a race. As we used to. Do you remember?" He leaned over and put his arm around Caesar's shoulder.

"Yes, I remember," said Caesar. "I wonder if I can still beat you."

"Come and see," said Antony. "Come and see: But I warn you--"

Laughing, they descended the steps together, Caesar walking lightly.

I will always remember that day on the steps; it consoles me when I think the world is a sorrowful place. Joy sticks in the memory, bright and burnished, leaping out across the years. It is a thing pure in itself, joy, and the rarest of traits among men.

It was time for the Saturnalia again, that holiday celebrating license. I understood it a little better now; it seemed to have something to do with Saturn, but why that meant everyone should wear the cap of liberty, and slaves and masters change places, and the toga be forbidden, I did not know. People were permitted to say all sorts of things that would normally be out of order, so those seven days made for lively listening.

Houses were opened to friends, and they streamed in, pa.s.sing from one dwelling to another, exchanging gifts. Those gifts were curious, often one thing disguised as another--candles that looked like food, food that looked like jewelry, plants painted to look like, stone carvings. Some of the larger households appointed a master of ceremonies, a Saturnalicius princeps, Saturnalicius princeps, who ordered people to perform--sing, dance, recite poetry. Caesar held open house, allowing people to circulate freely in and out of his doors, and up on the Palatine, Cicero did likewise, as did Antony in Pompey's former palace nearby, and nearly every other Roman with a hand in politics. It was an opportunity to show those Roman virtues of accessibility and generosity-- and a way to please the people that was less b.l.o.o.d.y than the games. who ordered people to perform--sing, dance, recite poetry. Caesar held open house, allowing people to circulate freely in and out of his doors, and up on the Palatine, Cicero did likewise, as did Antony in Pompey's former palace nearby, and nearly every other Roman with a hand in politics. It was an opportunity to show those Roman virtues of accessibility and generosity-- and a way to please the people that was less b.l.o.o.d.y than the games.

Because Ptolemy had begged to go--he wanted to dress himself as a eunuch and pretend to be Mardian--I agreed to visit a few homes.

"But not all of them!" I warned him. "I won't go house to house. It is not what queens and kings do."

"But we won't be queens and kings. I'm Mardian!"

"How will anyone know who you are supposed to be? No one here knows Mardian, except Caesar. And how can you dress like a eunuch? They dress like anyone else." I hated to deflate him, but the truth was the truth.

"I'll speak in a high voice," he said.

"But your voice is is high," I reminded him. "I think the eunuch idea is . . . too far-fetched. Why don't you be something else, like a pirate or a gladiator? Or a chariot racer? There are lots of slave and freedman roles you can play." high," I reminded him. "I think the eunuch idea is . . . too far-fetched. Why don't you be something else, like a pirate or a gladiator? Or a chariot racer? There are lots of slave and freedman roles you can play."

"Is my voice really that high? As high as a eunuch's?" He sounded distressed.

"It hasn't changed yet," I said. "Perhaps by this time next year..." I sighed. I hoped he was not going to worry about it. There was enough to worry about in his persistent cough. "Now, what can I be? Not a queen . . .

I won't be a serving girl, it's too expectedI suppose I could be a gladiator myself. . . that is, unless you want to be."

"Oh, no, you you be the gladiator," he said quickly. "But are women gladiators?" be the gladiator," he said quickly. "But are women gladiators?"

"I think I have heard of some," I said. But had I? Perhaps it was my imagination.

"What sort of sword will you carry? Do you want a net and trident?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I think that Decimus, Caesar's favorite general, has a school of gladiators. I'm sure he'll provide me a costume. But I think a net and trident would be awkward in the crowds, don't you?"

"It would be fun to accidentally poke some people--like Cicero! Or that Fulvia!"

"Cicero would likely cry, and then compose an essay about it," I said. "And Fulvia--she probably carries a trident herself at all times, well sharpened. I wouldn't want to give her the excuse of using it."

The short winter's day was already growing dim by the time we entered Caesar's doors. His atrium, his dining room, his garden were packed with people, most with the cap of liberty, denoting freed slaves, perched on their heads. The din was overwhelming.

I clutched Ptolemy's hand in one of mine, and Charmian's in the other. On this holiday the slaves, servants, and masters all mingled together, and the masters had to serve the slaves.

My gladiator's costume was of the type called Samnite, and I had modified it to make it more modest, since true gladiators wore only a sort of loincloth and shin protectors, as well as a magnificent helmet. I had thought it well to cover my upper body with a breastplate, and my upper limbs with leather lappets. But I did love the helmet--it had a heavy curved rim and ornamentation all over the crown, as well as a decorated visor.

When Decimus had brought the costume in person, I had taken the helmet in both hands and lowered it slowly onto my head. As soon as it was in place, I felt different. I knew then, for the first time, what it would feel like to be a warrior, to step out onto the field. I also knew then that I wanted to do so--I wanted to lead troops, or command a ship. True, I had gathered an army against my brother long ago, but I had not seen any actual fighting. This weighty helmet, this sword in my hand, made my blood sing, taking me by surprise.

"It is kind of you to have brought this for me," I told him, removing the helmet.

"It is my pleasure," he said. "I hope you will find it a good fit. I took it from one of my smallest fighters, a man from Malta. For all their small size, the Maltese are fierce."

I liked this man as much for his gentle manner as for the fact that I knew Caesar was fond of him. Decimus had served him well in two sea battles and in Gaul, and Caesar had disclosed to me that he planned to announce Decimus's appointment as governor of Gaul for the coming year.

"You make a most formidable gladiatrix gladiatrix," he said. "But you need an opponent. That is why I brought two costumes--Charmian can be your adversary." He handed her the old-fashioned costume of the Thracian fighter. "We don't have much call for this any longer, but I think it will make a good disguise."

At the time I thought, What a sweet, considerate man!

Now Charmian and I, as the two gladiatrices gladiatrices, and Ptolemy, as the chariot racer, wearing the green colors of a champion that appealed to him because it was the shade of the Nile, wove our way through the crowd in Caesar's atrium, looking for faces we could recognize in the dim light.

At first I saw no one and wondered why all crowds looked alike. Then, with relief, I glimpsed Lepidus standing against one wall, munching on a stick of pastry. He was not wearing any costume, which was good, as I never would have recognized him otherwise.

"Hail, brave fighter!" He saluted me, and I removed my helmet to talk to him. He looked surprised when he saw who the gladiator was. "Great Queen!" he said. "What battles do you fight?"

I saw him eyeing my arms and legs appreciatively. I thought it best to remind him of Caesar. "Only those who seem to be Caesar's foes."

He swept his hand over the room. "The house is swarming with them. But Caesar has declared an amnesty for those who will not accept an outright pardon, and they have come running back to Rome. Just think, had Cato, his enemy, lived, even he might be here tonight!"

A group of slaves pushed past us, shouting about gambling. "Bets taken! Dicing about to begin!" they yelled.

"This is the one time when slaves are allowed to gamble," said Lepidus. "Openly, that is." He stepped out of their way.

Then a party of men and women dressed like Gauls paraded through the room posing and crying, .

Caesar led the Gauls in triumph Led them uphill, led them down To the Senate house he took them the Senate house he took them Once the glory of our town.

"Pull those breeches off," he shouted "Change into a purple gown!"

At the word "breeches," they all pulled them down. Everyone shrieked. Caesar, at the far end of the atrium, laughed and tossed them a purple gown.

"Cover yourselves!" he shouted.

"So he isn't embarra.s.sed by it," said Lepidus. "Interesting. He's so unpredictable. Cato bothers him, and this does not." He looked around. "And I'm surprised there aren't verses about the libertini libertini as well." When I did not respond, he explained, "Liberated slaves. Caesar has let their sons into the Senate. It's as if he were appealing to the people, right over the heads of the aristocracy." as well." When I did not respond, he explained, "Liberated slaves. Caesar has let their sons into the Senate. It's as if he were appealing to the people, right over the heads of the aristocracy."

The common people, and his legionaries--there lay Caesar's strength. He had harnessed the latter, and now meant to harness the former. A dangerous game.

The heat from the ma.s.s of bodies was growing oppressive, the noise level unpleasant. I should seek out Caesar and greet him, but the sight of Calpurnia standing resolutely by his side deterred me. I found myself watching him carefully through the holes of my visor. How did he speak to her? Did she take his hand, or did he take hers first? Why were they still married?

Lepidus bent over and whispered in my ear, "There's to be a motion put before the Senate to allow Caesar to marry more than one wife."

"What?" There was no society that permitted that, to my knowledge. Men had legal concubines, yes; but more than one true, equal wife, no.

"I have heard it from reliable sources," Lepidus said. "It would enable Caesar to beget legal heirs, since Calpurnia is barren. There are several hereditary honors granted to Caesar that he cannot pa.s.s on--the t.i.tle of Imperator, and the office of Pontifex Maximus--owing to his lack of an heir."

"Then let him divorce Calpurnia!" I said. "Everyone seems to be divorcing everyone else in Rome." I had lately heard that Cicero's marriage to the nubile Publilia had ended in divorce--hardly a surprise.

"It seems"--Lepidus hesitated--"he does not wish to."

Yes. Evidently that was the case. Or else he would have. But I would never consent to becoming his second wife while he retained the first. I would be the first, the only, the real wife--or not at all. "Whose idea was this?" If Caesar thought that I would ever consent to such a thing--then he did not know me at all. Or else he truly had begun to think himself exempt from the normal rules of decency.

"I cannot imagine that it would have originated anywhere else but--with Caesar himself," said Lepidus. "No one would dare propose it without his knowledge."

What an insult! Suddenly I hated him, standing there so smugly with his Calpurnia hanging on his arm, surveying all his guests, including the ones he had magnanimously pardoned, whether they would have it or not.

"Come, Charmian!" I said. "Ptolemy! I find that I would prefer the hospitality of Cicero. Yes, even the hospitality of Cicero!" I grabbed their hands.

"But we just got here!" cried Ptolemy.

"It's too crowded," I said. "Cicero's house is grander. Let us go there."

We pushed our way out and into the Forum, where the falling darkness, and the lighted torches, were refreshing after the heat and confusion inside. There were groups of people tramping through, but they were in clumps and much of the pavement was empty.

We turned east and pa.s.sed by the house of the Vestals, then turned at the site of the Temple of Jupiter Stator and found the road, the Clivus Palatinus, that led in a stately ascent to the Palatine Hill. Torches were planted along the way, and the tall umbrella pines were whispering in the rising breeze. I thought what a soothing place this must be to live, high above the vexations of Rome. The air was delicately perfumed with the pines, and from the winds blowing in from the countryside.

It was not difficult to find Cicero's mansion, which was famous as much for its size and site as for the fact that Cicero's political enemy Clodius had had it demolished, and Cicero had rebuilt it grander than ever in revenge. Lights shone from every window, and the well-clipped hedges around it seemed as ordered as Cicero's polished writings. The house reflected the man--but then, does it not always?

Show me a mans wife, a mans house, and a mans servants, let me observe them carefully, and I will tell you everything about him me a mans wife, a mans house, and a mans servants, let me observe them carefully, and I will tell you everything about him, my tutor had once p.r.o.nounced. I think he was right.

We entered the s.p.a.cious atrium, with its large impluvium impluvium pool of collected rainwater in the center. Immediately I could see how tasteful the murals were, with muted green and black backgrounds, setting off scenes of flower garlands and orchards of fruit trees, so ljifelike I felt I could pluck one of the apples. pool of collected rainwater in the center. Immediately I could see how tasteful the murals were, with muted green and black backgrounds, setting off scenes of flower garlands and orchards of fruit trees, so ljifelike I felt I could pluck one of the apples.

Instead of the close-pressed mob at Caesar's, discreet groups of people stood about talking. I caught sight of Cicero himself bearing a tray of food and serving guests. I approached him, remembering to remove my helmet.

"Welcome, Your Majesty," he said. "Excuse me just a moment." He proferred a basket of fruit to some people nearby. One of them made a show of taking forever to select a fig.

"It is Tiro, my secretary," said Cicero, when he turned back to me. "He greatly enjoys this turnabout." He offered me the basket as well. I declined.

"What? You will not have an apple, or even a pear? These come from my very own estate in Tusculum. Please! You insult my farming prowess!"

I reached in and took one. "Why is it that you Romans must see yourselves as farmers, even when you are statesmen?" I asked. "It is unique to your country."

"Yes, I know," he said. "No one ever pictures Alexander raising pears, or Pericles tending his rows of beans. I depart for my country house in two days, and I am counting the hours."

"If I were to have a country estate in Egypt--nay, I cannot imagine it!"

"You are a creature of the city," said Cicero. "Of course, what a city! Alexandria, dazzling in white marble! I have longed to enter the Library and wander among the scrolls. What treasures there must be, lying unsung in the niches!"

"We are proud to have the finest library in the world," I said. "But Caesar plans to build a similar one here in Rome."

He smiled diffidently. "Yes, but I am already an old man," he said. "I fear I shall never be able to take advantage of it."

Just then I saw a knot of men I recognized well: Brutus, Ca.s.sius, and Casca. They hung together as if they were roped. Brutus had a woman with him I had never seen before. It must be his new wife, Porcia. Beside her was Servilia.

I felt a flare of jealousy in looking at Servilia. I suppose Caesar would make her one of his auxiliary wives as well! I thought. After all, he should take a number, or the special privilege would be worth little!

Cicero had been talking, and I had missed most of his words. They ended, ". . . if you might consider it."

"I beg your pardon," I said. "Would you repeat that?"

"I was asking if it might be possible for me to borrow the ma.n.u.script you have of the Iliad, Iliad, and I was interested in some of Sappho's poems. I understand there are fragments of her writings found nowhere save in your archives." and I was interested in some of Sappho's poems. I understand there are fragments of her writings found nowhere save in your archives."

His keen eyes, surrounded by wrinkles, were eager. I wished I could oblige him.

"I am sorry," I said, "but it is strictly forbidden to remove any scrolls from the Library."

His expression changed instantly. "Surely you could give the order."

"No. Even I am not permitted to remove any. But I could have copies made."

"So you don't trust me!" he said. "Copies!-"

"I told you, it is our rule--"

"Are you not an absolute ruler? Could you not command their removal?"

"It would not be right," I said. "I cannot order it just on a personal whim."

"You would be quick enough to remove them if Caesar asked!" he said coldly.

"A copy should suffice," I said. "That way you could keep it for your own library. With all the shipwrecks, surely you can appreciate that we cannot trust our ma.n.u.scripts to the high seas."

His smile and genial manner had drained away. "I see."

"Is this a test of some sort? For it makes no sense otherwise," I said. "I have told you I would be pleased to make copies of whatever you request."

"Never mind," he said. "Don't trouble yourself!"