The Memoirs of Cleopatra Part 81

Early May, and we were in Armenia, being feasted by Antony's new-won ally, King Artavasdes, in his drafty palace overlooking the valley of the Araxes River. It was an elaborate structure, and as I looked around the dim chamber I became aware that the long arm of Greek architecture, style, and furnishings did not reach here. We had left the west behind, and from here on all would be foreign to us: foreign manners, foreign protocol, foreign motives. Octavian has been pleased to call me eastern and exotic, but that is not so--Egypt and Greece are not foreign, even to Rome.

The hall was many-domed, like a bazaar, or a series of tents. Intricate patterns of gold and lapis covered the span, and were echoed in bright tiles underfoot. More color ran down the walls in heavy gold-embroidered silk, and the tables were draped in what looked more like rugs than cloths. The Armenians did not eat reclining, but sat straight on backless chairs. The vessels on the table were gold, ma.s.sive, and as encrusted with gems as warts on a toad.

Artavasdes himself was slender and dark, with enormous, soulful eyes and a drooping mustache. He turned mournful eyes on me when he spoke, and although he was polite, his stare was invasive. Over his oiled ringlets he wore a tiara with a veil in back, and his costume was entirely Persian: baggy trousers, voluminous cape, fringed tunic. He had a ring--sometimes several--on each finger, including his thumbs. Mardian would have been scandalized, since he had found even the Antiochenes repulsive in their overdone finery.

Artavasdes was seated between Antony and me, and stretching out on either side were the Roman officers: Canidius, who had brought his legions here to join forces with the bulk of the army, and t.i.tius, Dellius, Plancus, and Ahen.o.barbus. They wore their plain Roman uniforms--bronze cuira.s.ses and purple cloaks, st.u.r.dy nailed sandals, and military decorations, either crowns or symbolic silver spearheads. They looked very workmanlike and unembellished next to the Armenians.

As a child I had studied Median, and it pleased me to speak a bit to Artavasdes, if only to let him know that we could understand his asides to his n.o.bles. Antony was more impressed than he, whispering in my ear, "How many languages do you know?" and then adding, "I suppose you speak Parthian as well!"

In truth, I had also studied it briefly, but only recently had begun trying to relearn it. I hoped I would have need of it, and soon.

"I know a little," I admitted.

When I saw how surprised Antony was, I said, "You must learn it as well. If you are to be master of all the east, you cannot depend on translators; you must not be at another man's mercy that way."

He merely grunted; like all Romans, he expected the entire world to switch to Latin to accommodate him.

Artavasdes was gesturing, rolling his hands in intricate circles to punctuate his words. "My brother King Polemo and I will slay hundreds of the Parthians," he promised.

At the sound of his name, King Polemo of Pontus nodded at us from his end of the table. Antony had made him king recently, and he was enjoying the t.i.tle as only an elevated commoner can. Together he and Artavasdes would contribute six thousand fine cavalry and seven thousand foot soldiers to Antony's army.

I looked down the table at all the men's profiles--Antony's still firm, no hint of a sagging chin or flaccid cheeks, but with lines at the corners of his eyes that had not been there in Rome, and scattered gray in his otherwise dark hair. Canidius, being older, looked it, his skin more like tanned hide than a youth's. Dellius would have had a perfect profile, but his looks were spoiled by his pitted complexion and his habit of slicking his hair back. Plancus, like Antony, was not young but still in his soldier's prime, as was Ahen.o.barbus, with his hawk's nose and red beard only a little lightened by gray. Plancus's nephew alone, the dark and caustic t.i.tius, was of the next generation, a youth in search of glory. The rest were wary, less intent on performing astounding feats of arms than on annihilating the enemy in any way possible and returning safely. There was little of Alexander in them, little yearning for wider horizons or conquests; they fought for advancement in the courts of Rome.

"No, make that thousands," Artavasdes corrected himself, with typical Asiatic exaggeration. Everything was in thousands and tens of thousands. "Tomorrow we will present a demonstration of falconry," he said.

"Tomorrow we must review the troops and prepare to move," said Antony. "The season is late enough already." Indeed, it was quite late to begin, and time was precious.

"But, Imperator, can I help it that the snows refused to melt?" He twirled his ringed hands.

Entertainers filed into the hall, playing unfamiliar instruments: pottery rattles, bull-headed lyres, silver pipes. They had a tame lion that they led about by a silken leash; I wondered if they had removed his teeth, just in case.

Artavasdes had provided us with sumptuous quarters in his palace--an entire set of apartments, hung with tapestries and staffed with what seemed an army. But I found the quarters gloomy and oppressive, smelling of mold, and I did not wish to spend my last night with Antony in them.

"Tell your staff to set up your tent," I suddenly said to Antony. "What?"

"Your commander's tent--the one you will use in the campaign," I said. "I want to sleep in it with you."

"Set up a tent on the palace grounds?"

"No, down by the river, where the army waits."

Antony laughed. "Decline the king's hospitality and tell him we prefer to sleep in a tent?"

"Put some other coloration on it. Say I wish to experience it, and this is the only opportunity I will ever have. That is true."

"He will take it as an insult."

"Tell him you must do it to humor me, as I am expecting a baby and have odd whims. Or say that you have a personal custom of spending the night before embarking with your men--that the G.o.ds commanded it and you dare not break the custom now, lest it jinx the expedition. Or tell him both stories."

"Oh, very well. To be honest, I prefer my tent to this." He looked around distastefully at the dank apartments. Then he turned back to me, suddenly. "Are you? Is it true?"

"Yes," I said. "I had meant to tell you tonight, at a better time."

"Then you absolutely must turn back. You cannot come any farther on this campaign. But--it seems that once again I will miss the birth." He came over to me and put his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head.

It seemed fated that the fathers of my children would never be there when I gave birth. I would always bear them alone, with no one to show them to but Olympos.

"It is not your fault," I a.s.sured him. Any more than it was Caesar's fault that he had to be at war at the time. It was the price I paid for choosing soldiers for my children's fathers. "I cannot ask you to cut the campaign short to hurry back to Alexandria by early winter. If I did, I would be aiding the Parthians."

He held me to him tightly. "Always politics," he lamented. "Even our most private and precious moments are governed by politics."

"I was born to it," I a.s.sured him. "I am used to it."

Down by the Araxes, the tent was duly erected a little way from the common soldiers' tents, who normally slept eight men to a tent. The troops greeted Antony with heartiness and affection, flattered that he wanted to be with them, and their genuine response made a glaring contrast to Artavasdes' oiled flattery. In the falling light, enormous, fair-haired men crowded around him, calling out, "Imperator! Imperator!" These were the soldiers of the Fifth Legion, recruited by Caesar from native Gauls. They had served faithfully with him, even withstanding charging elephants in the battle of Thapsus; he had rewarded them with an emblem of the beasts for their ensign. There was also the famous Sixth Legion, the Ironclad, that had served Caesar in the fateful Alexandrian War, and gone on to revenge him at Philippi under Antony. They were as hardened as their nickname, leathery and sunburnt.

Around the campfire they raised their cups high, toasting us. They were ready to fight, eager to set out, straining like racehorses to be let loose. They had not fought since Philippi, and were starved for action and battle. As the flames bathed them in a bronze glow, almost turning them into statues, I felt the excitement of war, which stirs men's hearts and obliterates thoughts of death. Defeat is never more unthinkable than on the eve of a campaign, drinking with one's comrades before the campfire, polishing the spears.

And how they loved Antony! How they teased and toasted him, as if he were one of them. He seemed to know them all personally, asking after their friends, children, love affairs, injuries. Such things cannot be falsified.

We retired to the tent--a large goatskin one, stretched over an oak frame. Inside there were two folding camp beds, stools, a ground covering, and two lanterns, plus the water pitchers and basins. Antony gestured around, saying, "I hope this is austere enough for you."

"So this is where you will live for months and months," I said wonderingly. That he, who so enjoyed luxury, could switch to this.

"I will hardly notice it," he said. "My mind will be on other things."

We sat down together on one of the narrow beds. The lanterns gave off only a feeble light around us. "I will bring you victory, lay it at your feet," he promised.

"And I will lay our new child at your returning feet," I also promised. My task would be easier than his; my body would form the child, day after day, with no effort on my part.

Suddenly he took me in his arms, burying his face in my hair. He said nothing, but the tight grip of his fingers spoke for him. His silence was more telling than all his usual talk.

Together we lay back on the bed, its light frame creaking under the weight of two people. Still, neither of us spoke. There were so many words I had stored up to use--words of farewell, of good cheer, of love, of encouragement. Now not one of them would come. All I could do was run my hands through his hair, wondering if I would ever do so again, fearing that in our last embrace I was struck mute. But if it was our last embrace, what difference did it make what words I spoke, or failed to speak? It was too momentous; no words would serve.

With Caesar I had not known it was our last time together; this was worse. Better to be ignorant. d.a.m.n all leave-taking, curse all staged good-byes! With a cry I held him against me, my heart aching.

I took his head in my hands, and covered his face with kisses, as if I would map it all with my lips, trace it with my tongue. I wanted to remember the imprint of his body on mine, make it permanent; I could not hold him close enough. But I tried, until at last he broke the spell of silence, saying, "I love you," under his breath, sliding his arms underneath me, clasping me to him so tightly I could hardly breathe.

With the amber-colored light of the lanterns sending out faint pulses of illumination, we twined our arms and legs about each other, twisting and turning on the suspended bed, straining to either banish or elevate the moment. I entered him as much as he entered me, and all our unspoken farewells surged through our bodies.

It was a short night. It seemed that dawn came up at midnight. But that was because I would have had the night never end, would have prolonged it until noon. By the time the first finger of light probed its way into our tent, the soldiers outside had already begun their day. Antony stuck his head out the tent flap and was greeted with choruses of teasing, and, indeed, it was embarra.s.sing for him. He hastily pulled on his clothes, kissing me lightly and saying, "By midmorning I will inspect the legions and present them. I especially want to show you the siege machinery before it is loaded."

I stretched. "Yes. I will be ready." As soon as he had left, I got up off the flimsy bed and washed in the cold water that had been provided, then dressed in my traveling clothes. I looked around the tent once more, wondering what it was like to make this one's quarters in heat and cold. I knew the Romans insisted on making ordered, fortified camp at the end of each day's march, which added two or three hours to their day. No wonder they slept well at night--not only from the security of their guarded camps but from sheer exhaustion.

I left the tent and found that the entire army was milling around the riverbanks. It was huge--I had not appreciated just how many men a hundred thousand were, and how much equipment was needed: rolled tents, mules, wagons, stakes, food supplies, engineering tools. Each soldier had to carry on his person three days' worth of food in a bronze box, as well as a kettle and a hand mill. He also had to carry his entrenching tools: a pickax, a chain, a saw, a hook, palisade stakes, and even a wicker basket for moving earth--all of that in addition to his javelin, his sword, his dagger, and his shield, and the heavy bronze helmet he wore. As I watched these st.u.r.dy men, thus laden down, I had to marvel that they could cover fifteen miles a day, day after day, and twenty-five on forced marches.

As Antony had told me, there were sixteen legions setting out for Parthia under his command. Some of them were seasoned veterans like the Fifth and Sixth; others were newer. Since each legion was considered a living ent.i.ty, with its own history and often its own distinguishing emblem, when men were lost they were not replaced with new recruits. Thus a venerable, battle-tried legion might be considerably undermanned, with less than the usual five thousand soldiers. Antony's now were about at three-quarters strength. New recruits were a.s.signed to new legions.

This was the finest Roman army to set out in our times--perhaps in any time. Even Caesar had not had an army like this.

I saw Antony riding through the crowd, making slow progress because it seemed each man had a personal message for him. If he was impatient or his thoughts were elsewhere, he did not show it. How splendid he looked, there among his men; how easy it was to forget the hundreds of miles lying ahead of them, to be painfully and laboriously covered before the actual fighting could begin. Today, with the new-risen sun sparkling off the river, all the preparations seemed merely invigorating.

Antony saw me and waved, then trotted over. "I'll bring another horse for you, and we'll see the siege and field artillery," he said. His spirits were high, and I could tell he thought no more of the night in the tent, but only of the challenge before him.

Together we rode to the far end of the staging field, where the road led off to the south, upon which the wagons would soon trundle and the troops march.

Before me lay what looked like a city--piles of logs cut into sections, thousands of stakes, and ma.s.sive wheeled machines on thick frames. And, lying on a train of flat wagons, an enormous ram, its iron head gleaming gray in the sunlight.

"How can this ever be transported?" I asked, in wonder. The sheer length of the ram would make it difficult to carry on twisting trails.

"The individual wagons are flexible," said Antony. "They can bend to fit around curves."

"But the ram itself is not," I pointed out. "And its very length--it would breach the gates of heaven. What do you antic.i.p.ate using it on?"

"It is eighty feet long," he said proudly. "In the open country where we are going, there is no timber. We have to bring our own siege works."

I felt apprehensive looking at all this. It seemed a chain of iron to tie them down, rather than equipment necessary to win. "Curses that they must be located on a flat, treeless plain! And guarded by mountains." An ominous combination.

"I will have to divide the army," he said. "Naturally the foot soldiers will move more quickly than the heavy equipment. But others have done this successfully; it should cause us no hardship."

"And these?" I pointed to the clumsy wheeled machines lying placidly in the field.

"The biggest one is the 'wild a.s.s--called that because of its kick." It looked like a gigantic gra.s.shopper ^to me. "It can hurl a boulder over into the forest there--about a quarter of a mile. We use it to break down city walls, or to crush men and horses. There are smaller catapults, of course, that throw lighter stones for shorter distances to give covering fire for the troops as they advance on the enemy."

There were so many of these machines in the field they looked like a herd of animals grazing. Again, my heart sank. How was all this to climb over the mountains?

A blare of trumpets announced the arrival of Artavasdes and his cavalry, trotting proudly toward the parade grounds. The jingle of their bronze bridle ornaments made music in the air. Following behind were the brightly costumed foot soldiers, so much more conspicuous than the Romans. The army was a.s.sembling; it was almost time to depart.

By noon they had left, the commanders with their guards riding past the stand where I and my people were watching, followed by the troops marching in columns, the trumpeters, the medical detachment, the artillery and food stores, and the endless baggage wagons and laden mules. It took almost two hours for the entire force to pa.s.s by, and another hour before it disappeared from view along the riverbed.

I had wanted to see the departure, but I dreaded the long campaign ahead of them. I wondered why Caesar had been so eager to embark on it, and whether even he had realized what an undertaking it would have been. I had cut short an audience with a self-styled pundit on Roman affairs who had remarked that perhaps the very best of Caesar's famous luck had come to him on the Ides of March. By dying then, he had saved himself from two very possible ignominious ends to a glorious career: either to be King of Rome 'and not be able to manage his subjects, or to be cut down in Parthia. Perhaps the man had spoken truer than I had admitted. Certainly even Caesar would not have found the Parthians an easy conquest. Their very location, so difficult to reach, served as protective insulation; a Roman army would exhaust itself before ever encountering them.

I sighed and finally turned my gaze from the empty road. We would have to spend the night here, and this time there was no avoiding Artavasdes' palace. Its dreariness exactly fitted my mood.

The curious lack of words had stayed with us to the end. Antony merely saluted me from horseback, and I raised my hand to him, silently. *

Tomorrow I must begin my own long journey, traveling down the banks of the Euphrates, ice-green and flat, until I reached Syria. Then I would go due south and enter Judaea, where I had told Herod I would meet him in Jerusalem. I had little heart for it; if I could have waved my hand and been back in Egypt, that is what I would have chosen to do. I felt drained, mainly from seeing Antony off with his army, but also from the early stages of my pregnancy. Another child, and I was no longer so young--I would be almost thirty-four by the time it was born. I wondered idly if I would name it something to do with Parthia, commemorating a victory there? But it would be too early to know the outcome by then.

Antony was my partner in all things, and together we dreamed of ruling over a world empire, stretching from Spain in the west to Parthia in the east, from Britain in the north to Nubia in the south. I knew he loved me deeply, enough to alienate his family and jeopardize his standing in Rome for my sake. I had three children, all heirs to a rich future, a.s.suring us of our dynasty. But I felt curiously alone, and very tired. At the same time I wished I could change my mind and gallop after Antony, surprising him in his tent late that night. I imagined it in vivid detail for a moment; yes, if I rode away now . . . But no. It was too late. The sun was already touching the tops of the trees to the west.

Chapter 58.

My journey southward was uneventful, but all the time my mind was with Antony's army as it marched farther and farther away. For the first few days I knew I could still ride fast and overtake them--should I need to-- but after that the distance was too great, and we were gyres widening in opposite directions. I had to commend him into the hands of the G.o.ds, of his own patrons Dionysus and Hercules, and pray for their goodwill toward him.

I forced myself to turn my attention to the lands lying before me, lands that had just been returned to Ptolemaic possession after two hundred years-- thanks to Antony. I traveled through Damascus--mine!--and down the Via Maris to pa.s.s through my seaports of Ptolemais Ace, once the center of Ptolemy Phi lade lphos's rule of Phoenicia, and Joppa and Ashdod. The flat coastline showed what poor material the Phoenicians and Israelites had for seaports; there was no natural harbor the whole length of the land. The beaches stretched down to the water, allowing for no anchorage and no protection against the wind. At Joppa, men had constructed a facsimile of a harbor, but it was a poor thing compared to Alexandria's. Nonetheless, I found the country appealing; its climate was more temperate than Egypt's, and it actually had rainfall, making for flowers and green meadows, and trees other than palms.

I was deeply grateful that this land had been restored to my family. How my ancestor Ptolemy Philadelphos would smile. Perhaps . . . yes, perhaps it would be fitting to name this new baby after him, to mark the restoration of our ancient kingdom.

A deputation of Herod's--mounted on fine chargers, richly dressed--met us outside Joppa.

"In the name of Herod, King of the Jews, we welcome you to Judaea," said one.

"And will conduct you to Jerusalem, where our lord awaits you," said another. They smiled as though Herod's sole desire were to see me.

As we made our way to the city, the hills, covered in pines and aromatic shrubs, gave way to steeper ground with chalky white rocks rising from the soil. The air grew cooler, the air seemingly finer. I was anxious to see the famous Jerusalem, about which so many claims were made. Like Athens, it was more than a city, it was magic, history, a rarefied site. Men who were more than men had walked, written, and died here. But since the Jews did not believe in demiG.o.ds, these heroes had a unique, though limited, aura. In any other culture, David would have ascended to G.o.dhood, Solomon reigned eternally, and Moses hovered beneficently forever. Yet the Jews stated firmly, " "He was gathered to his fathers"; their bones were in the earth.

Just as the horses were becoming fatigued from the climb, Jerusalem opened out before us. Spread out on its mountaintop, it was not a large city, but it was glorious. A bank of gray clouds parted overhead to let beams of sunlight hit the yellow-gold walls and buildings, making them glow.

Hie recently rebuilt walls of the city were broken only by strongly fortified gates, through which we were escorted with due ceremony. More ceremony on the other side, and then we were sped to Herod's palace, where he awaited us.

In the four years since I had seen him, even more had happened to him than to me. While Antony and Octavian had granted him the t.i.tle of king, they had left him to secure the land for himself. The Parthians had overrun his country and taken Jerusalem; Herod and two Roman legions had fought bitterly to evict them. He was left the victor of a war-damaged city and an empty treasury. But he was a king, and he had been right to refuse my offer to command Egyptian forces. Knowing he would never be satisfied with less than he now grasped, he was a wise man, albeit a tired one.

"My dearest Queen, most exalted Cleopatra," he said, coming toward me, hands outstretched. A radiant smile lit his face, and one would never guess that I had just stripped large portions of his kingdom from him. He dared not alienate Antony--or Antony's wife. A complaint from me, and Antony would investigate. A word from Antony, and he was dethroned. And so-- "My dearest Queen!"

"Herod, my friend," I said, extending my hand to him--the one with the wedding ring, and Antony's seal. "It is my pleasure to see you here, in your rightful kingdom."

His smile slackened a little. His kingdom would have been bigger, but for me. "It has been a long four years," he admitted. "But the struggle was worth it."

"Where territory is concerned, it always is," I agreed.

"Come, come," he said, leading the way to his rooftop, where chairs, couches, awnings and potted plants made a shaded garden of retreat.

The hills spread out on all sides, and I found myself looking out over the roofs of the city. It was a fetching sight, as Jerusalem lay on many different levels. On the highest ground was a flat plateau, embellished buildings rising in its center.

"Our temple," he said, pointing to it. "I am afraid the grounds were damaged in the fighting, but at least it was not desecrated." He paused. "When Pompey came here, the year Octavian was born, he actually entered the Holy of Holies. An unbeliever! Although he didn't touch anything, the few minutes he spent in there meant it was desecrated." Herod sounded more annoyed than offended. "It was expensive to get it cleansed and restored! Ah well." He nodded to his servitor, who brought a tray of goblets for us.

I tasted the sweet yellow liquid; its fiery strength burned my lips. Watching me, Herod gave a soft chuckle.

"This is the famous wine made from your new palm grove in Jericho," he said. "They call them 'hangover palms' because of the strength of the brew. Now you understand why people pay so dearly for it." Again, no trace'of any resentment; he might have been talking about a bouquet of flowers or a handkerchief, rather than a considerable source of income lost to him.

"Its sweet taste disguises its power," I said. "It ought to be called 'the scorpion' for its sting."

"Of course you will want to inspect the palm and balsam plantations," he said, "as well as your bitumen site on the Dead Sea. So I have made arrangements for an excursion tomorrow. We will have to depart before dawn, as it is so beastly hot this time of year."

I was indeed curious to see them, and particularly the Dead Sea, that unique body of water that was more mineral than anything else. They said the waters were so heavy that a man could not sink in them, and so bitter that if you breathed them in, your lungs would never recover. Bits of asphalt bitumen rose to the surface at the southern end of the sea, and were skimmed off to be used in various ways: for mummification, for protection against pests in vineyards, for medicine, and for mortar. Again, a lucrative holding for Egypt.

"I have had an idea," he said casually, as if it was of no moment. "Why concern yourself with the management of these things? What a nuisance for you--having to station Egyptian officials in Jericho and on the unG.o.dly sh.o.r.es of the Dead Sea. Who would want to be exiled there?"

"I thought Jericho was considered a pleasant place," I said. "Is it not an oasis? I have even heard rumors that you plan to build yourself a palace there." I smiled sweetly at him; let him know I was no fool, and made it my business to know what went on everywhere.

"You have heard much," he replied. " "But where you can have heard that-- why, I have scarcely the money to rebuild the damaged walls of Jerusalem! In order to present my Imperator Antony with a worthy wedding gift, I was forced to melt down my plate."

Yes, I remembered the gold platter he had sent. "It was very beautiful," I told him.