by Karen Essex
Did they think he was a fool? Demanding that he disband his legions while insisting Pompey keep his intact? Did they really believe that he would enter the city of Rome without protection, where he would immediately be entrapped, imprisoned, and put on trial for the abstruse constitutional violations they accused him of committing ten years ago?
In a final attempt to negotiate with them, Caesar had sent the tribunes Quintus Cassius and Marcus Antonius to Rome to deliver his very modest demands and his plan for peace. But the senate intimidated the two, refusing them their power of veto, and causing them to leave Rome in a hired taxi, disguised as slaves. A brilliant move on Antony’s part, he reflected. Antony, who loved the company of actors, had played his role with relish. When the tribunes arrived at Ravenna and delivered the news that the senate had not only rejected Caesar’s plans for peace but had also insulted the Tribunes of the People, Caesar stood before his men and gave a speech.
“They have seduced Pompey and led him astray, through jealous belittling of my merits; and yet I have always supported Pompey and helped him to secure advancement and reputation. In Rome’s recent past, armed force restored the tribunes’ power of veto. Now, armed force is repressing and overriding it.
“I have been your commander for nine years; under my leadership, your efforts on Rome’s behalf have been crowned with good fortune. You have won countless battles and have pacified much of Gaul and Germania. Now I ask you to defend my reputation and stand against the assaults of my enemies.”
The men rushed to the cause. He did not have to ask even one man twice.
“To Ariminum!” they shouted, referring to the town across the Rubicon where the tribunes had gone to begin to raise support for Caesar—the first stronghold Caesar might make in Italy if he was to cross the river and thus wage war on his opponents.
He was capable of this, capable of turning against the senate and prevailing, capable of marching these men into any foreign land and obliterating the current regime, even if that regime was the Roman government. All he had demanded of the senators were his rights. He had offered to disband the troops if Pompey would do the same. He wished only to be allowed to run for consul in absentia, as was the will of the people, and to return with dignity to the internal politics of Rome. But the senate would have him stripped of his legions, of his honor, of his rights.
In what dream world did they imagine he would cooperate with them?
“Sir, you hesitate.” Asinius Pollio, one of Caesar’s few officers who possessed both bravery and a scholarly mind, came to the commander’s side, penetrating his solitude. Pollio’s polite demeanor and aristocratic features and fair-mindedness were flawed only, in Caesar’s mind, by his youthful friendship with the arrogant menace, the poet Catullus. But Caesar had forgiven him that and had spent more than one moment like this, reflecting on the possible outcomes of his commands, in the company of the pensive young man.
Rain came once more, beating down upon the heads of the two men as they stood in the muck of the banks and stared at the racing current of the river. “I am envisioning the horror wrought by the action I am about to take,” said Caesar.
“The men do not fear it, sir,” Pollio answered quickly.
“I am considering the misfortune the simple act of crossing the river shall have upon all mankind.”
“It is true, sir, that Roman soldiers are garrisoned everywhere. If we cross the river, we challenge them all. They must either be seduced or defeated.”
“But if I do not cross the river, I must consider the misfortune I bring upon myself. As you know, prestige has always been of prime importance to me, outweighing life itself. If I do not do this thing, I fear I cannot go on.”
“As I have said, the men are ready.”
This is what it came down to. The misfortune of mankind versus his own misfortune. He could do what the senate demanded—lay down his arms and walk right into Rome and into their trap. And would all of mankind be better off if he did this? Perhaps it would avert war, but in the long run, why would that be better than war? Men loved war. He would not disappoint those who had supported him and believed in him despite the criticism he had taken in his long and illustrious career.
Who was to say that the fortune of Caesar was not to benefit all of mankind?
“Well then,” Caesar said in a low voice. “The die must be cast. Let the game begin.”
Kleopatra had not left the palace in two months. She had neither privacy nor freedom, leaving her room only to walk in the courtyard daily with Hephaestion or Charmion, followed by two vigilant guards.
She was prevented from participating in government, but Hephaestion reported to her the local horrors. The previous summer, the true Mother of Egypt, the life-giving Nile, had risen to only half its normal height. Now there was a food shortage throughout the land. Without her permission, the Regency Council issued a decree in the names of both her and her brother that grain should not be distributed in the provinces, but instead sent directly to Alexandria to prevent a famine in the city. The punishment to grain merchants caught distributing corn to the provinces was death. The people were deserting the provincial nomes and flooding the capital. Those who stayed behind were either starving, raising armies to revolt against the government, or both. What choice did the Regency Council give them? It protected the interests of itself and of the Greeks in Alexandria while pronouncing a death sentence of starvation on the native people. Kleopatra thought of her loyal supporters in Thebes, who surely believed she had deserted them. There was little she could do.
Charmion would not leave her side, watching with great suspicion as a slave tasted every morsel of her food, and inspecting her linens and garments that came back from the laundry for stealthily placed poisons or potions. Charmion even brought an old Nubian conjurer woman into the palace to tell the queen’s fortune daily and to inspect all her belongings for curses placed upon them that might have gone undetected to the untrained eye.
She had not received so much as a letter. She demanded to know what messages had arrived for her from within and without the kingdom, but was told repeatedly that she had received nothing. For the first time in her memory, she was without access to the carefully constructed network of information that her father had established. No letters from Archimedes or Hammonius. Not a word from her contacts in the east. She was certain that the Regents intercepted her correspondence.
After months of cloister and bad news, Kleopatra was brought the message that Pompey’s oldest son, Cnaeus, had arrived in Alexandria.
“So I am to be trotted out as if nothing were wrong?” she said to Hephaestion.
“I believe that is correct, Your Majesty,” he said. “Perhaps we can use the unexpected visit to our advantage.”
Kleopatra winced when she entered the Royal Reception Room where she and her father had passed so many hours. Her squatty little brother was flanked by his Regents. Pothinus wore his usual costume. Achillas had donned formal military attire, and Theodotus, with his wrinkled, disapproving mouth, wore the scholars robes. What must the Roman think of this cast of characters running the kingdom?
Cnaeus had inherited his father’s height, Roman good looks, and imposing air. Kleopatra was grateful that she had taken time with her toilette. With nothing else to do, she and Charmion had perfected the use of cosmetics that enhanced her looks. She still kohled her eyes and applied cinnamon to her lips and palms. But her body slave suggested that they wash the queens hair with a rinse of henna to enhance its highlights, and cut short ringlets to frame her face, while the rest of her mane was swept into a graceful knot. With these improvements, her good features—the almost green eyes, the thick dark hair with hues of red, the lush full lips, the regal cheekbones—were brought forth, while her mannish strong nose seemed to recede. She wore simple, elegant gowns that highlighted the pleasing curves of her figure—now that she had finally acquired them. Unable to ride her horse every day, she had put on a few pounds, and they had landed in jus
t the right places. She took pride in her new figure. She liked to set off a dress of exquisite fabric with long strands of pearls or chokers of dazzling emeralds. She had mixed for herself a special perfumed oil, making the chemist swear to keep the ingredients a secret. Whereas she had previously used artifice to hide her youth, now she used it to enhance her natural glamour. Though she was not beautiful, she knew that she was more than just a little bit appealing. She noticed now that eyes dared to linger longer on the person of the queen, and that the slightly uplifted noses of those she passed followed her as she walked by, as if doubly entranced by not only the loveliness, but also the unexpected fragrance of a beautiful flower.
She saw an appreciation of her appearance in the eyes of the Roman. She looked at her brother, who appeared shocked at her sudden sensuality. She saw that she had taken them all by surprise.
How you resemble your father,” said the queen, allowing the Roman to take her hand, looking charmingly into his eyes, and speaking to him in Latin, which she knew annoyed both her brother and the regents. “He is well, I hope?”
“He is as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” answered the Roman.
What do you mean? He is not ill?” asked Kleopatra.
Cnaeus waved away a tray of food and drink that was proffered. Kleopatra remembered that Romans sometimes did this to illuminate their stoical constitution, particularly in times of gravity. Cnaeus’s bright face turned solemn. He stiffened and addressed the small assembly. “As allies of my father, and to repay him for his gracious hospitality of your father, the late king, in Rome, and for his tireless efforts to restore this monarchy to your family, my father asks that you furnish me immediately with a fleet of ships and ground forces to aid Rome’s war against the renegade Julius Caesar.”
“Rome is at war with Caesar?” Kleopatra asked. “We have not heard this news. Or have we? How is it that we have not heard of this?” She looked to the others in the room. They reacted with a polite veneer of interest, as if Pompey’s son were updating them on the health of distant acquaintances.
“Your Majesty, as all the world knows, Caesar’s goal is complete tyranny. The man is crazy. He has turned his back on the Republic and the Constitution and has become his own man,” he said, indignant. “The senate came almost in its entirety to my father and begged him to defend the State against Caesar’s menace. My father is the only power to stand toe-to-toe with Caesar, the only commander with an army that can defeat Caesar’s legions. They are mad with their years of victories, you see, and in Caesar’s thrall.”
Pothinus and Theodotus began to mutter sympathetic words to Cnaeus, condemning Caesar’s actions and offering their unqualified support to Pompey. Pothinus spoke up. “The queen remembers so fondly your father’s generosity to the Royal Family in Rome. Does she not? Your Majesty?”
“Oh yes,” she answered, realizing that Pothinus was avoiding a commitment of ships and men by making small talk. “I was just a girl, and your father let me ride his horse, simply because I wanted to.”
“I am acquainted with the story, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing low to her, lifting his handsome face and giving her a lingering smile. How did these Romans keep their large and dangerous-looking teeth so white? she wondered. Was it that the twins who founded the city had been suckled by a she-wolf? She did not know if Cnaeus was trying to seduce her or win her support, or both. She returned his smile, but asked herself: If Pompey is so mighty, then why has his son fled to Alexandria to ask for Egyptian support? One would think multiple Roman legions enough to defend Italy against a renegade.
“And how goes this war?” she asked. “What is the progress?”
“My father has left Italy to regroup his armies in the Greek lands. He awaits reinforcements from the governor of Syria. Caesar now invades Spain. He intends to take it away from the Roman people and have it for his own.”
So, in the span of a few months, Caesar had ejected the mighty Pompey from Italy and had already turned his attentions to subduing the rest of Rome’s provinces—that is, those he did not already control. And this was but March. “And what of Rome? Who controls the city?”
Cnaeus looked uncomfortable, as if he did not wish to be interrogated on these matters. “Caesar marched into Rome. On his orders, his men broke open the temple of Saturn and took the treasury against the veto of the tribune Metellus, who attempted to stop the crime with his own body. The renegade has confiscated the entire Roman treasury for his war against his own country. He made a speech threatening the senators, saying that if they were too timid to govern with him, he would simply govern by himself. Then he made off with the money, leaving his henchman, Antony, in charge of the city”
“Dreadful! Treasonous!” Pothinus interjected.
“So Caesar has taken the city?” Kleopatra asked.
Ignoring the question, Cnaeus said, “Caesar underestimates my father’s power. It was foolish of him to let my father escape to Greece. Pompeius Magnus shall emerge victorious from the eastern lands just as he did thirteen years ago.” Cnaeus seemed very protective of his father, a condition the queen could appreciate. “We shall surprise Caesar if he is foolish enough to think he can win the war on Greek soil.”
Pothinus composed himself, putting on a pious air. “May Pallas Athena, whose shield is thunder, protect your father in this war! Tonight at dinner we shall give count of the number of our ships and soldiers to be placed at your command.”
Expressing gratitude and relief, Cnaeus left them.
“A magnificent person!” Pothinus exclaimed. “I don’t see how we could turn him down.”
“Doing our own little part to help Rome destroy herself!” giggled Theodotus. Ptolemy joined his laughter. Achillas remained aloof, eyeing Kleopatra all the while, waiting for her response. She could not imagine what, if anything, was their plan. If the fools had not cut off her communications, she would have been prepared for this.
“Let us not hasten to the aid of Pompey,” Kleopatra said. She reminded them of Pompey’s propensity toward inaction, remembering him fleeing to his garden as Cicero stood screaming outside his gates; remembering the two crucial times he refused Auletes support.
“My dear girl, we have no reason to aid Pompey save that we were so politely asked. What care we if Pompey or Caesar prevail? If we help Pompey vanquish Caesar, so be it. Had Caesar asked first, I suppose we should have given him what he wanted, too. Though I dare say Caesar, at what—fifty years of age?—wouldn’t cut the figure this young Pompeius does.”
“It is insane to choose sides in this war,” she said, feeling the impatience creep into her voice. “Did you not hear what he said? Do you not gather that Pompey is losing the war and that, in desperation, he sent his son to Egypt to secure reinforcements? Do you not understand anything of Roman politics? We must not choose Pompey over Caesar. If Caesar wins, he shall punish us. He shall bring us to our knees, no better than if we were barbaric Gauls.”
“What do you know about Julius Caesar? You don’t know anything. You just think you do,” shouted Ptolemy.
Kleopatra did not even look at her brother, but addressed his regents.
“It is said that Caesar is lucid beyond ordinary human capacity, yet at times he falls to the ground in brief fits of madness during which he is touched by the gods. Then, minutes later, the gods miraculously release him and he is Caesar once more. How can you dream of challenging a man like this? If we bet, we must bet on Caesar. Already he has run Pompey out of Italy.”
Ptolemy jumped from his chair and stood to face her, looking like a small version of Auletes, eyes bulging and fat face turning red. “Just because you went to Rome with Father doesn’t mean you know everything,” he sputtered. “We ought to throw you to the soldiers like they asked.”
“What would you have us do, my brother?”
“We ought to do what Pothinus says. We ought to give Pompey what he wants so that he and Caesar can annihilate each other. If you weren’t so bewitched by Ro
me, you would see that that is best.” He sat down next to Pothinus, who smiled at his young charge.
Kleopatra laughed to herself. Undoubtedly the eunuch envisioned himself under Cnaeus’s strong body that very evening, as if a good fuck was reason enough to align the nation with the party who is losing the war. To Hades with the lot of them.
A moment of prescience descended upon the queen, gifting her with the singular, obvious solution to her problems.
“So be it,” she said and she left the room, leaving them with their mouths agape, stunned at her compliance.
The queen had not dined in the banquet room since the Gabinian uprising, but that evening she was escorted to dinner to give the illusion to Pompey’s son that all was well in the palace. Cnaeus was not fooled by the little family gathering. Despite the place given to him between Theodotus and Pothinus, he insisted that “the young queen appears lonely,” and seated himself next to her.
“What is occupying the mind behind so beautiful a face? Cnaeus wished to know.
Would that she could have told him: Possible exile. Famine. A revolt against her brother. Civil war. Ptolemy against Ptolemy while Roman fought against Roman.
Kleopatra tried to maintain the flirtatious conversation the Roman wished to engage her in, all the while wondering how long she would have to spend at dinner before she could slip away to the Prime Minister’s rooms and find out if he had recruited a small militia to sneak her out of the city.
“Your Majesty, please forgive my insolence, but I must know something,” Cnaeus said, leaning very close to her, looking down the front of her gown and speaking his warm breath into her ear so that no one might hear. “How does a lovely young queen endure married life with a little boy husband? I do not understand your customs. I know the Greek affinity for very young males, but surely a woman, a formidable woman like you, needs a full-grown man in the marriage bed?”