The baby’s pitiful cries pierced the silence that had descended in the room. They were as agonising for Vitruvius to hear as Rebecca’s screams had been just a few hours earlier. He watched the continuing stalemate between Antony and Melissa until it became too much for him to bear. He dived forward and picked up the baby, pulling it into his arms and began gently rocking the boy. As the child’s sobs began to subside, he spoke, choking back his emotions. “I take responsibility for this child. I claim him and I will care for him.”
Melissa and Antony both stared at Vitruvius in disbelief. Antony recovered his composure first and returned his gaze to Melissa. “It appears you have achieved your objective, woman. The boy has been claimed by a Roman father and so has the right to be a Roman citizen himself.”
Antony turned to Vitruvius and slapped him on the back. “Congratulations, Vitruvius. I hope he will make you very proud one day. Now get him out of here before he starts that infernal noise again. I shall join you later in your celebrations.” Antony returned to his seat, gloating in his victory over Melissa. He could live with the minor embarrassment she had caused, but she really had gone too far this time and his patience had run out. He would make her pay for her disrespectful attitude later, and enjoy hearing her beg for leniency.
Vitruvius placed the child back in Melissa’s arms. “Take the boy home. Please!!” There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Melissa nodded and left the room. She knew there was nothing to be gained from staying. Vitruvius’ intervention made it impossible to make Antony admit to his parentage of Antonius.
Once Melissa had gone, Vitruvius turned his attention back to Antony, who sat looking at a scroll, ignoring him. Vitruvius coughed. Antony looked up at him and sighed. “What is it?” he asked.
Vitruvius’ mouth went suddenly dry. He wanted to challenge Antony and make him pay for everything that had happened, but he could not bring himself to do so in such a public setting. He swallowed his pride and instead asked for help. “I cannot feed the child, sir. He needs a woman who can give him milk. I do not know where to find such a woman.”
Antony stood up and walked down to the main floor. He walked round Vitruvius, looking at the guards on the door. He clapped his hands together and dismissed them, ensuring they closed the doors to the chamber behind them. Only his secretary remained.
Then he spoke openly to Vitruvius. “Must I do everything for you? I might just as well have taken the brat myself.” He shook his head in disbelief, knowing he was going to have to provide for the boy whether he wanted to or not. “There is a slave in my household who gave birth to a stillborn child not two days ago. As I intended to get rid of her anyway, I will have her sent to you. She can nurse him. Good enough?” Vitruvius nodded and Antony continued. “When it is done, you can keep her for all I care, but I will not provide anything further. You took that baby knowing full well he was not yours and as foolish as it was, you are the one who has to live with that decision, not me.”
Antony began pacing to and fro. Melissa had annoyed him and the more he thought about her, the more frustrated he became. He stopped again in front of Vitruvius and pointed towards the door. “And as for that blasted woman, I will deal with her in my own time and in my own way and you ...” he poked Vitruvius in the chest with his finger “... will not intervene when I do. You tell her she may not leave the house again without my permission. I am watching her and she had better start showing me some damned respect or she will end up in the same state as the other one, whether Caesar permits it or not.” He waited for a response, but Vitruvius did not speak. He was unable to. He was too angry to do anything but punch his commanding officer.
Antony could see the conflict in his former comrade’s face. The two men stared at each other, until Antony broke the deadlock between then. “Is there something more you wish to say to me legionary Vitruvius?” The emphasis he placed on the word legionary was meant as a clear reminder of who was in charge. Vitruvius went to raise his arm, but thought better of it and controlled himself by putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Antony had seen the initial reaction and knew Vitruvius was near to breaking. He stepped back a little, spreading his hands wide and lifting his arms away from his body slightly. He had adopted the most unthreatening pose he could. He was unarmed and made a very tempting target.
Vitruvius’ hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. In one move he could take his revenge for the defilement of the woman he had grown to love. All he had to do was thrust his sword deep into Antony’s chest, and, if he were facing any other man, he might have done so, but this was not just any man. He had seen Antony take this exact stance with prisoners after a battle. Antony enjoyed tormenting his enemies, offering them an opportunity to kill an apparently easy target. It was a form of sport he would perform for the men who served under him. A sword would be given to a prisoner and Antony would parade in front of them, daring them to kill him. He would get closer and closer, taunting them, insulting them, even making promises of freedom if they could best him, until the urge simply became too great and they lunged. It never ended well for the challenger. And here he was, taunting Vitruvius, daring the soldier to believe he could bring the great Mark Antony down. Vitruvius knew only too well that he would be on the ground before his sword had left its sheath. When it came to battle, Antony’s reactions were lightning fast and his judgement second only to Caesar’s. Antony had never got into a fight he could not win, and today was going to be no exception.
Vitruvius relaxed his hand on his sword and raised his eyes to stare at the wall, somewhere just above Antony’s head. “No sir,” he said, fighting the waves of hatred goading him to react.
Antony moved closer until they were only a fraction apart. He moved his head to the right and spoke so softly that only Vitruvius could hear him. “I see you have remembered your place. It would be best for everyone that you do not need reminding of it again.” He turned his head and placed a kiss on Vitruvius’ cheek, making it plain that he had been merciful in his actions. Standing back, he placed his hands firmly on Vitruvius’s shoulders in an open gesture of friendship, but he exerted far more force than was necessary until Vitruvius’ knees buckled slightly under the strain. Antony smiled as he spoke aloud. “There − we are friends again. I would not want it any other way.” He addressed his secretary. “I am done for the day. Any other business will have to wait until tomorrow.”
Antony stormed from the room, pushing his way through the people still waiting to see him. He was angry with Melissa for her behaviour, but at the back of his mind another thought plagued him, making him angrier still. Despite his attempts to push it aside, the thought kept coming back to him, making him smile. He had a son, and against his better judgement, he was overjoyed at the news.
Antony had no chance to take his revenge on Melissa. A few days later word arrived that Caesar’s fleet had returned to allow Antony and the reinforcements to embark for Greece. Caesar’s messenger insisted Antony come at once with all the troops he had mustered.
As soon as Vitruvius told Melissa what was happening, she sent word to Antony that she must speak with him. He had no intention of seeing her before he left, but Caesar had also sent specific instructions regarding any further information she could provide, so he was forced to call on her.
Melissa knew Caesar would be expecting word on the outcome of his forthcoming engagements with Pompey, but she also knew that he would not be returning to Rome for a very long time. There was far too much to tell Antony, and so she set about writing as much down as she dared.
Firstly, she had to deal with the impending battle. Caesar’s forces’ first encounter with Pompey would be at Dyrrachium, but this would prove indecisive. The final battle would be at Pharsalus. Caesar would emerge victorious and Pompey would be forced to flee to Egypt where he had good connections and would hope to receive aid. This much she had already told Caesar, including information on Pompey’s tactics, but she had not told him what would happen
beyond the battle. She wrote that Caesar would follow his quarry and would be reunited with Pompey in Alexandria, but that he would never see his old friend in the same way again. Melissa had no intention of telling Caesar outright that Pompey would be murdered as soon as he landed in Egypt and that Caesar would be presented with his severed head in a basket. That was a fact Caesar would have to find out for himself.
Melissa knew that Egypt was suffering from its own problems. Queen Cleopatra VII and her brother-consort King Ptolemy XIII were at loggerheads over the rule of the country. Unrest in Egypt was bad for Rome for two reasons. Firstly, the old king, Ptolemy Auletes, had bribed Rome to not annex Egypt even though his uncle, Ptolemy X had bequeathed the country to the Republic in his will. Auletes taxed his people excessively to raise the money, which resulted in revolution and his expulsion. He then fled to Rome and promised even more money to a number of prominent Romans if they helped to restore him to his throne. Troops were sent, including the young Mark Antony, and Auletes was returned to power. His debts were never paid in full, and, as a result, Egypt still owed the Roman people an immense sum of money.
Secondly, the fertile banks of the Nile produced most of the grain that fed the people of Rome and to lose that supply would lead to starvation and rebellion back home. Melissa explained to Caesar that he would need to mediate a resolution to the problems of Egypt to ensure Rome received its annual supply of grain. In short, Civil War in the East meant starvation in Rome and that would turn the populace against Caesar. She told him that she knew he would aim for a peaceful solution, but that in the end he would be forced to choose between the warring siblings and shore up one regime. She did not tell him which side to choose, or that he would lose himself to Cleopatra’s charms and remain in Egypt far longer than he should. To have done so would have been too risky. Caesar’s future had to unfold as it had already done in the past.
Melissa prepared a second scroll for Antony. She told him he would struggle to reach Caesar until April, mainly because of adverse tides, but also because he would have to dodge Pompey’s fleet, which would be intent on blockading him in Brundisium. He would eventually land north of his intended destination, and Pompey would try to intercept him, cutting him off from Caesar’s army. Melissa wrote down every detail she knew to help him avoid capture; far more detail than she had ever given to Caesar. She explained that Pompey would begin a night attack at Dyrrachium and Antony would face the worst of the fighting. He would be greatly outnumbered, but he could lead his men to victory against the odds, if he just believed it possible.
When the final battle commenced at Pharsalus, Caesar would appear to sideline Antony and he would play only a minor part in the battle, but this was all part of Caesar’s plan. Antony’s reputation had grown over the years and Pompey would be expecting him to be in the thick of the fighting. His actions in the battle for Dyrrachium would only strengthen Pompey’s belief in Antony’s importance. By keeping him on the periphery, Caesar hoped to convince Pompey that his forces were weaker elsewhere and lull him into making a mistake in where he chose to attack. Caesar would also be tasking Antony with the final rout and round-up of Pompey’s fleeing forces, a task that required both him and his troops to be fresh and not battle-weary. Caesar wanted as many of the senators who were supporting Pompey as possible to be kept alive, and he trusted Antony more than any other officer to be able to keep control of the men, ensuring clemency was shown to the right people. Above all else, Antony had to find a young man called Marcus Brutus and return him to Caesar alive. This man was the son of Caesar’s lover, and Caesar had a particular fondness for him. If he achieved all the tasks Melissa had spoken of, Antony would return a hero and become master of Rome in Caesar’s absence.
Antony arrived on the day he was due to leave Rome. He had deliberately left his visit until the last minute to spend as little time as possible with Melissa. He was still smarting over her attempt to embarrass him with the baby, and made no attempt at the usual pleasantries when he entered her home.
“Well, woman, do you have a message for Caesar or not?” he barked on entering the room.
Melissa was adding a final note to the second scroll. “I do,” she replied as she began to roll the document up. “It is over there on the couch in the carry case. I have not sealed it as I expect you will wish to read it.”
Antony went to the couch and grabbed the scroll case. He was preparing to leave when Melissa called him back. “Wait. There is another scroll. This one is for you.” She rose from her chair beside the window and walked over to where Antony stood. “It tells of your future alone and not Caesar’s.” She held the scroll out for him to take.
He kept his back turned, not wanting to look at her. He was totally thrown by this gesture. Melissa had never given any details about his future before, so why start now? She had to be up to something and he began to regret not having the time to challenge her over it. He took the scroll without speaking and started towards the door again.
Even though she despised Antony at times, Melissa could not let him leave in such a way. “I know we are not friends, but is there nothing you have to say to me, Antony?” she called after him, making him pause at the door. She continued quickly. “So much relies on your safe return. Whether you believe it or not, I have no desire to see you dead, and, if you are injured this time, I will not be there to tend your wounds.”
Antony remained poised on the threshold and Melissa was not ready to give up while he was still in the room. “I must thank you for sending the slave, Renna, to act as wet nurse for the child. Without her, Antonius would surely have died. Do you wish to see your son before you leave?”
Antony finally turned round, but still he did not look at Melissa. This was the first time he had heard the baby’s name. Even though he did not regret his decision to disown the child, he was touched that the baby had been given his name. He fought his desire to admit to wanting to see his son, shaking his head in response to the question. After a moment, he reached inside his armour and retrieved a metal locket. He leant towards Melissa and put it into her hand. “For the boy. He has a Roman father and so should observe the traditions of my people as well as yours. Do you know what this is?” Melissa nodded, amazed at the gift. Antony had given Melissa a bulla, a metal amulet that hung around a boy’s neck to protect him from evil spirits from his ninth day of life until the day he became a man and donned his first toga. From the look of it, this one was made of gold.
“Good, then you will know when to give it to him,” he added gruffly.
Anthony was conflicted in what he should do. He had no idea what it was Melissa wanted from him. To him she was a total enigma. A few months earlier he had tried to kill her, but still she showed concern for him. He longed to know where she got her strength from and what forces drove her to forgive his many shortcomings. Half of him still wanted to tell her how much he hated her, while the other half wanted to take her in his arms and show her how much he wanted to stay by her side, if she would only have him. Unable to speak again for fear he would reveal his true feelings, he simply waved goodbye to her by raising the hand holding his scroll.
Chapter 16
News came in the middle of summer that Caesar had been victorious. The battle went according to the historical accounts Melissa had read, and she breathed another sigh of relief. There had still been no changes to history worthy of note.
Antony would soon be back in Rome, and, to the dismay of the returning senators, he would be in complete charge. Antony’s escapades during this time would form the basis for Cicero’s later attacks on him, presenting him as a drunken lout who was incapable of leading the Republic. Melissa began to wonder if she should try to temper Antony’s behaviour on his return, but to do so would mean breaking her self-imposed rule of not interfering in the past.
The problem was that she knew she had feelings for Antony, despite his abhorrent behaviour towards her. Antony’s biggest failing was that he was far too passionate for his own
good. He threw his heart and soul into everything he did, be it on the battlefield or in the bedroom, and took every rejection as a personal attack. This he had adequately demonstrated through his earlier correspondence with Cicero. His letters had moved Melissa in ways she had not intended, leaving a part of her desperate to get to know the man that seemed determined to stay hidden behind the boisterous front he preferred to display to the masses. She was sure that inside this shell was a different man, with far greater depth than the frivolity suggested. Yes, she had suffered the misfortune of witnessing his darker, vindictive side on more than one occasion, but there were hints of another man buried somewhere in between these two extremes. This was the man she had first met in the surgeon’s tent at Brundisium and then again briefly in the moments before he tried to strangle her. This was the genuine Mark Antony, bereft of his ego, with his true self laid bare. It was this man she really wanted to know and it was for this man that she now considered risking a great many things, including Caesar’s displeasure. She wondered if she was blurring the dividing line between the two Antonys, just as Rebecca had done. As much as she hated herself for it, the answer was yes. Her relationship with Mark Antony reminded her of that of Benedick and Beatrice in Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado about Nothing’: on the surface they feigned dislike of each other, but secretly their feelings were far more complex.
Regardless of how he behaved, Antony had so much promise and could be so much more, given the right guidance. Melissa found herself in an unenviable situation. Now she understood the turmoil Caesar must have felt in the hours before she met him as he stood on the banks of the Rubicon all those months ago, deciding whether to cross. She imagined herself standing on the banks of her very own Rubicon and found her decision was proving just as difficult: should she turn aside and let history run its course, or should she step into the flowing waters of uncertainty and help Antony towards a better future? She decided to try to help him become all he could be, no matter what it did to history as she had known it. His potential was worth the risk, provided he did not drown her along the way.
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