Caesar

by Colleen McCullough

  "That is ideological, not practical. Practically speaking, we will maintain absolute neutrality."

  "You had better, Philodemus. If I see any evidence to the contrary, you'll find yourself under siege."

  "You can't afford to besiege a city of one million people," said Philodemus smugly. "We are not Uxellodunum or Alesia."

  "The more mouths there are to feed, Philodemus, the more certain it is that any place will fall. You've heard, I'm sure, the story of the Roman general besieging a town in Spain. It sent him a gift of food, with the message that it had sufficient in store to eat for ten years. The general sent a message back thanking its people for their candor, and informing them that he would take it in the eleventh year. The town surrendered. They knew he meant every word. Therefore I warn you: do not aid my enemies."

  Two days later Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus arrived with a fleet and two legions of Etrurian volunteers. The moment he hove to off the harbor, the Massiliotes removed the great chain which barred the entrance and permitted him to sail in.

  "Fortify everything," said the Council of Fifteen.

  Sighing, Caesar resigned himself to besieging Massilia, a delay which was by no means as disastrous as Massilia clearly thought it was; winter would make the Pyrenees difficult to cross for Pompey's troops as much as for his own, and contrary winds would prevent their leaving Spain by sea.

  The best part about it all was that Gaius Trebonius and Decimus Brutus arrived at the head of the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Legions.

  "I left the Fifth on the Icauna behind massive fortifications," said Trebonius, gazing at Caesar with an almost bemused fondness. "The Aedui and the Arverni have fallen nicely into line, and have good Roman-style troops available if the Fifth needs strengthening. I can tell you that the news of your victory in Italia was all any of the Gallic tribes needed to fall into docile torpor. Even the Bellovaci, who still mutter. They've tasted your mettle, and Italia proves it. I predict that Gallia Comata will lie very low this year."

  "Good, because I can't afford to garrison it with more men than the Fifth," said Caesar. He turned to his other loyalest legate. "Decimus, I'm going to need a good fleet if we're to beat Massilia into submission. You're the naval man. According to my cousin Lucius, Narbo has developed an excellent shipbuilding industry and is dying to sell us a few stout decked triremes. Go there now and see what's available. And pay them well." He laughed soundlessly. "Would you believe that Pompeius and the consuls forgot to empty the Treasury before they scuttled off?"

  Trebonius and Decimus Brutus gaped.

  "Ye Gods!" said Decimus Brutus, to whom the question had been directed. "I couldn't even contemplate fighting alongside anyone but you anyway, Caesar, but that news makes me religiously glad I know you! The fools!"

  "Yes, but what it really tells us is how confused and ill prepared they are to wage any sort of war. They strutted, postured, waved their fists in my face, insulted me, thwarted me—yet all the time, I realize now, they didn't believe for one moment that I would march. They have no strategy, no real idea what to do. And no money to do it with. I've left instructions with Antonius not to impede the sale of any of Pompeius's properties, nor to prevent the money's going out of Italia."

  "Should you do that?" asked Trebonius, looking as worried as ever. "Surely cutting Pompeius off from any source of funding is one way to win bloodlessly."

  "No, it would be a postponement," said Caesar. "What Pompeius and the others sell to finance their war can't go back to them. Our Picentine friend is one of the two or three wealthiest men in the whole country. Ahenobarbus would be in the top six or seven. I want them bankrupted. Penniless great men have clout—but no power."

  "I think," said Decimus Brutus, "that you're really saying you don't intend to kill them when it's over. Or even exile them."

  "Exactly, Decimus. I won't be apostrophized as a monster like Sulla. No one on either side is a traitor. We simply see Rome's future course in different ways. I want those I pardon to resume their positions in Rome and give me a few challenges. Sulla was wrong. No man functions at his best without opposition. I truly cannot bear the thought of being surrounded by sycophants! I'll be the First Man in Rome the proper way—by constantly striving."

  "Do you consider us sycophants?" asked Decimus Brutus.

  That provoked a laugh. "No! Sycophants don't lead legions capably, my friend. Sycophants lie on couches and trumpet fulsome praise. My legates aren't afraid to tell me when I'm wrong."

  "Was it very hard, Caesar?" asked Trebonius.

  "To do what I warned you I would? To cross the Rubicon?"

  "Yes. We wondered and worried."

  "Hard, yet not hard. I have no wish to go down in the history books as one of a series of men who marched on their homeland. Simply, I had no option. Either I marched, or I retired into a permanent exile. And had I done the latter, Gaul would have been in a ferment of rebellion within three years, and Rome would have lost control of all her provinces. It's high time the Claudii, the Cornelii and their ilk were prevented at law from raping their provinces. Also the publicani. Also men like Brutus, who hides his commercial doings behind a wall of senatorial respectability. I'm necessary to institute some badly needed reforms, after which I intend to march for the Kingdom of the Parthians. There are seven Roman Eagles in Ecbatana. And a great, misunderstood Roman to avenge. Besides which," said Caesar, "we have to pay for this war. I don't know how long it will last. Reason says a few months only, but instinct says much longer. I'm fighting fellow Romans—stubborn, persistent, pigheaded. They won't go down any easier than the Gauls, though I hope with less bloodshed."

  "You've been mighty continent in that respect so far," said Gaius Trebonius.

  "And I intend to remain so—without going down myself."

  "You've got the contents of the Treasury," said Decimus Brutus. "Why worry about paying for the war?"

  "The Treasury belongs to the People of Rome, not the Senate of Rome. This is a war between factions in the Senate, having little to do with the People save those who are called upon to fight. I have borrowed, not taken. I will continue to do that. I can't let my troops plunder, there will be no booty. Which means I'll have to recompense them from my own funds. Extremely considerable funds. However, I'll still have to pay the Treasury back. How? You can bet Pompeius is busy squeezing the East dry to fund his side of things, so I'll find nothing there. Spain is penniless aside from its metals, and the profits from those will be going to Pompeius. Not to Rome. Whereas the Kingdom of the Parthians is immensely wealthy. One place we've never managed to tap. I will tap it, I promise you."

  "I'll go with you," said Trebonius quickly.

  "And I," said Decimus Brutus.

  "But in the meantime," said Caesar, very pleased, "we have to deal with Massilia and Spain."

  "And Pompeius," said Trebonius.

  "First things first," said Caesar. "I want Pompeius ejected from the West completely. To do that is to take money from him."

  Very well fortified and defended—particularly now that Ahenobarbus had arrived to swell its naval and military resources—Massilia held out easily against Caesar's land blockade because it still dominated the seas. Its granaries were full, perishable foods were brought in by water, and so confident of Caesar's inability to win were the other Greek colonies along the Province coast that they hastened to supply Massilia.

  "I wonder why it is that none of them think I can beat a tired old man like Pompeius?" asked Caesar of Trebonius at the end of May.

  "The Greeks have never been good judges of generals," said Trebonius. "They don't know you. Pompeius is an enduring legend because of his campaign against the pirates, I think. This entire coast sampled his activities and talents at that time."

  "My conquest of Gallia Comata wasn't very far away."

  "Yes, Caesar, but they're Greeks! Greeks never have warred with barbarians; they've always preferred to enclose themselves in coastal cities and avoid the barbarian inland. That's as true o
f their colonies in the Euxine as it is in Our Sea."

  "Well, they are about to learn that they've backed the wrong side," said Caesar, nettled. "I'm leaving for Narbo in the morning. Decimus ought to be on his way back with a fleet. He's in charge on the sea, but you're in overall command. Push them hard and don't give too much quarter, Trebonius. I want Massilia humbled."

  "How many legions?"

  "I'll leave you the Twelfth and the Thirteenth. Mamurra tells me there's a new Sixth freshly recruited in Italian Gaul—I've instructed him to send it to you. Train it, and if possible blood it. Far better to blood it on Greeks than Romans. Though actually that's one of my great advantages in this war."

  "What?" asked Trebonius, bewildered.

  "My men are from Italian Gaul, and a great many of them from across the Padus. Pompeius's soldiers are properly Italian save for the Fifteenth. I realize Italians look down on Italian Gauls, but Italian Gauls absolutely loathe Italians. No brotherly love."

  "Come to think of it, a good point."

  Lucius Caesar had gone native, regarded Narbo as his home; when Cousin Gaius arrived at the head of four legions—the Ninth, the beloved Tenth, the Eighth and the Eleventh—he found the Province's governor so well ensconced that he had three mistresses, a brace of superb cooks and the love of all of Narbo.

  "Have my cavalry arrived?" Caesar asked, eating with relish for once. "Oh, I had forgotten how deliciously light and tasty—how digestible—the dug-mullets of Narbo are!"

  "That," said Lucius Caesar smugly, "is because I've taken to doing them the Gallic way—fried in butter rather than in oil. Oil's too strong. The butter comes from the lands of the Veneti."

  "You've degenerated into a Sybarite."

  "But kept my figure."

  "A family trait, I suspect. The cavalry?"

  "All three thousand you called up by name are here, Gaius. I decided to pasture them south of Narbo around the mouth of the Ruscino. On your way, so to speak."

  "I gather Fabius is sitting at Illerda."

  "With the Seventh and the Fourteenth, yes. I sent several thousand Narbonese militia with him to force passage across the Pyrenees, but when you reach him I'd appreciate your returning them. They're good and loyal, but not citizens."

  "And are Afranius and Petreius still facing him?"

  "Across the Sicoris River. With five legions. The other two are still in Further Spain with Varro." Lucius Caesar grinned. "Varro isn't quite as confident as everyone else that you'll lose, so he hasn't done much to bestir himself. They've been spending a cozy winter in Corduba."

  "A long march from Illerda."

  "Precisely. I think all you have to worry about are the five legions with Afranius and Petreius. Do try the oysters."

  "No, I prefer the dug-mullets. How clever of your cook to bone them so thoroughly."

  "An easy fish to bone, as a matter of fact. They're so flat." Lucius Caesar looked up. "What you may not know," he said, "is that Pompeius sent from Epirus and borrowed heavily from the men of his Spanish legions. They gave him everything they had and agreed to waive pay until you're defeated."

  "Ah! Pompeius is feeling the pinch."

  "He deserves to, forgetting to empty the Treasury."

  Caesar's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "He'll never manage to live that down, Lucius."

  "I hear my son has elected Pompeius."

  "I'm afraid so."

  "He never was very bright."

  "Speaking of brightness, I met a remarkable member of the family in Formiae," said Caesar, transferring his attention to the cheeses. "All of thirteen years old."

  "Who's that?"

  [ Caesar 499.jpg ]

  "Atia's son by Gaius Octavius."

  "Another Gaius Julius Caesar in the making?"

  "He says not. No military talent, he informed me. A very cold fish, but a very bright one."

  "He's not tempted to espouse Philippus's life style?"

  "I saw no evidence of it. What I did see was huge ambition and considerable shrewdness."

  "That branch of the Octavii have never had a consul."

  "They will in my great-nephew," said Caesar positively.

  Caesar arrived to reinforce Gaius Fabius toward the end of June, bringing the strength of his forces up to six legions; the Narbonese militia were thanked and sent home.

  "Lucius Caesar told you that Pompeius has borrowed this army's savings?" asked Gaius Fabius.

  "He did. Which means they have to win, doesn't it?"

  "So they think. Afranius and Petreius were bitten too."

  "Then we'd better reduce them to penury."

  But it seemed that Caesar's fabled luck was out. The winter dissipated early in continuous downpours which extended into the high Pyrenees and brought a spate down the Sicoris which knocked out every bridge across it. A problem for Caesar, who had to bring his supplies over those bridges. A narrow but fast-flowing stream even when not in flood, the Sicoris continued to defy the new arrivals; when finally its level dropped, the presence of Afranius and Petreius on its far side prevented rebuilding of the bridges. The rain persisted, camp was a misery, food was low.

  "All right, boys," said Caesar at assembly, "we're going to have to do it the hard way."

  The hard way was to slog with two legions twenty miles upstream, mired to the ankles in mud, and there throw up a bridge without the knowledge of the Pompeians. Once this was done, food flowed in again— even if camp was no drier.

  "And that," said Caesar to Fabius, "is what Caesar's luck really consists of—hard work. Now we sit through the rains and wait for fine weather."

  Of course the couriers galloped between Rome and Caesar's camp, between Massilia and Caesar's camp; Caesar never liked to be more than two nundinae behind events. Among the many letters from Rome came one from Mark Antony, carried very swiftly.

  The word in Rome is that you're stuck, Caesar. All the Sicoris bridges out, and no food. When certain senators heard, they staged a joyful celebration outside Afranius's house on the Aventine. Lepidus and I thought it might be amusing to watch, so we went along— no, I didn't need to cross the pomerium! They had singers, dancers, tumblers, a couple of rather horrible freaks, and plenty of shrimps and oysters from Baiae. Between ourselves, Lepidus and I thought it a bit premature. By now, we think, you will have solved your supply problems and be dealing with the Pompeians.

  One further effect of this news that you were in serious trouble concerns the Senate; the celebration concluded, all the waverers— about forty, all told—departed for Pompeius in eastern Macedonia. I believe that when they get there, these anxious-to-be-on-the-right-side senators will not suffer any deprivations in the field. Pompeius has taken up residence in the governor's palace at Thessalonica, and they're all living mighty high.

  Neither Lepidus nor I prevented this mass exodus, in which I hope we did right. Our assumption was that you're better off without these creatures in Italia—let Pompeius have the joy of them. By the way, I let Cicero leave too. His noises of opposition didn't diminish, and he didn't care much for my style of governing. I've got this terrific chariot drawn by four lions, and made a show of driving it whenever I was in Cicero's neighborhood. Truth to tell, Caesar, it's a pain in the podex. I had male lions with black manes—huge and very imposing animals. But they refused to work. Lazy! Every two paces they'd flop down and go to sleep. I had to substitute females. Even so, lions do not make good chariot pullers. Which makes me skeptical about Dionysos and his car drawn by leopards.

  Cicero left from Caieta about the Nones of June, but not with brother Quintus. As you well know, Quintus's son is minded to side with you. Been listening to tata, I suspect. Both brother Quintus and nephew Quintus elected to stay in Italia, though for how long remains a mystery. Cicero is playing on family feelings. Full of moans right up to his departure. His eyes were in a shocking mess when I saw him at the beginning of May. I know you wanted him to stay here, but he's better gone. He's too incompetent to make any difference
to Pompeius's chances of success (which I rate very low), and he'll never come round to your way of thinking. A voice like his is better removed to someplace it can't be heard. His boy, Marcus, went too.

  Tullia, by the way, gave birth to a seven-months child in May—a boy. But it died on the same day in June that old Perperna died. Fancy that! The senior senator and senior consular. Still, if I live to be ninety-eight, I'll be happy.

  A letter which both pleased and displeased Caesar. Was there anything could make a sensible man out of Antonius? Lions! He and Lepidus were right about the senatorial exodus—better without such men, they'd only make it difficult for Lepidus to pass much needed legislation. Cicero was another matter. He should not have been let leave the country.

  The news from Massilia was cheering. Decimus Brutus and his inexplicable gift for doing well on water had paid dividends. The blockade of Massilia's harbor he instituted had begun to hurt the city so badly that Ahenobarbus led the Massiliote fleet out to do battle. With the result that Ahenobarbus went down, sustaining very heavy losses. Decimus Brutus's blockade was still firmly in place, and Massilia was eating less well. Also, it would seem, developing a dislike of Ahenobarbus.

  "That," said Fabius, "is not surprising."

  "Massilia picked the wrong side," said Caesar. He compressed his lips. "I don't know why these places deem me incapable of winning when I can't lose."

  "Pompeius has a much longer record of success, Caesar. But they'll learn."

  "As Afranius and Petreius are about to learn."

  By the middle of Quinctilis, Afranius and Petreius were worried men. Though there had been no major engagement between the two armies, Caesar's three thousand Gallic cavalry were hitting the Pompeians hard along their supply lines. Very short of horse troopers themselves, Pompey's two old retainers decided to pull out and move south of the great river Iberus, into country Caesar didn't know. Country which was absolutely loyal to Pompey, which would not supply Caesar with food. To compound the Pompeian woes, some of the bigger Spanish towns north of the Iberus were starting to think Caesar's chances were better. Led by Sertorius's old capital, Osca, they declared for Caesar, who was related to Gaius Marius, who was related to Sertorius.