The Road To War

by Peter Tonkin

  ‘Hireh, Hello, Septem,’ said Cleopatra, her voice low and musical.

  Artemidorus turned and bowed, finding it unexpectedly difficult to breathe. She had been twenty-five years old when he last saw her and was nearing twenty-seven now. The intervening years had put more lines of strain and worry on her face. Her braided black hair was bound in a simple white Greek headband. Her face was devoid of make-up, her forehead broad, her dark eyes deep and her nose pronounced. Her generous mouth was caught in a half- smile, a dimple at each corner. ‘What has Antony sent?’ she asked, ‘apart from one of his most trusted agents and the redoubtable Quintus?’

  ‘His love. He said to tell your majesty that if he could have discovered which part of him contained his love for you, he would have sent that too.’

  Cleopatra chuckled. ‘Well I think we all know which part of Antony contains his love. And if he sent that, the lady Fulvia might be less than happy – and many Roman matrons simply heartbroken.’

  Quintus choked. He had never been this intimate with Cleopatra and knew nothing of her ready – occasionally ribald – wit.

  The Queen gathered the gauzy robe she was wearing over her simple linen dress around her slim waist, crossed to a chair and sat. ‘So, in place of his love he sends letters.’ An imperious hand was held out.

  Artemidorus handed over the first of Antony’s scrolls. ‘This is the personal letter,’ he explained. ‘As your majesty will see at once, it contains his statements of affection, assurances of perpetual regard, both personal and political.’

  He picked up a second scroll and placed it on the table where she could easily reach it. ‘This contains reports of what he has done since his return from beyond the Alps, so you have a clear understanding of the background to this.’ He held up a third scroll. ‘Which contains his assessment of his – and your – current situation and how he plans to proceed, with your help. As well as details of what he would like that help to consist of, if you are willing and able to provide it.’ He put the third scroll beside the second.

  ‘Is there anything in this third scroll that has not been basically covered by the arrogant boy that Brutus sent with his threats?’

  ‘I would guess nothing, Majesty. You can see the situation from here as clearly as Antony can see it from Rome. He cannot allow Brutus and Cassius to continue ravishing the east – especially as it is now his personal province as Triumvir. It costs him revenue and reputation. And of course, his legions are restless. They wish Caesar’s murderers caught and punished.’

  ‘As do I. But I have little room for maneuver. Nor does Antony. He cannot move against them until he has some kind of control of the sea,’ she nodded. ‘Which at present belongs to the fleets commanded by Brutus’ and Cassius’ admirals Murcus and Ahenobarbus, currently stationed at Rhodos. And by Sextus Pompey in Sicily – who may not be Brutus’ friend but is certainly not Antony’s ally either.’

  ‘Nor yours,’ added Artemidorus, slipping unconsciously into the easy intimacy they had achieved in happier times. ‘Given that it was your brother who had his father killed when he came here for help after the battle of Pharsalus.’

  ‘Ptolemy XIII. That stupid little rat listened to the power-mad slug of an advisor Pothinus too often. You know, I showed Caesar where to push the knife in when we executed him.’ Her mood darkened suddenly. ‘Probably about the same place Brutus stabbed his knife when he killed Caesar.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Artemidorus without thinking. ‘Brutus stabbed him in the groin. Waste of time stabbing a eunuch there.’

  Cleopatra blinked with shock at what was clearly a revelation. Recovered. ‘No. Indeed. Right in the middle of his neck, just above his shoulders. Slowly. Squealed like a pig at slaughter. Might just as well have beheaded him. And stupid little Ptolemy drowned in the Nile running away from the battle where Caesar, Mithradates and the Judeans under Antipater trounced General Achillas’, Ptolemy’s and Arsinoe’s armies. He wouldn’t take off his golden armour so they tell me, so he went down like a stone. Pity the crocodiles didn’t get him first.’ There was a moment of silence then she continued, ‘We are well rid of both of them. If only we were as well rid of that conniving little bitch Arsinoe.’

  *

  Charmian returned then, with the child Ptolemy Caesarion. Without his formal costume he looked much younger than he had beside his mother Isis on the dais. A serious-eyed little boy of rising five – but a little boy still. ‘Charmian says that Septem has brought presents from Antony,’ he said. ‘Is there one for me?’

  ‘There certainly is, Your Majesty.’ Artemidorus’ tone softened. He liked the boy – as he had liked and served his father Divus Julius. ‘Quintus, would you show young Caesarion what we brought for him?’

  The boy hurried to Quintus’ side as the old soldier opened the first of the two inlaid boxes. And lifted out a toy boat. The model of a felucca such as might be seen at any time flitting up and down the Nile. Its hull was made of solid cedarwood, its upper works, mast and rigging of gold. Its high gull-wing sail of linen almost as fine as that his mother wore.

  Caesarion looked at it, entranced. ‘Does it float?’ he asked breathlessly.

  ‘Of course, it floats,’ said Quintus. ‘Want to try it out? Is there a bath or a pond nearby? Preferably not the one full of crocodiles.’

  Cleopatra smiled at her wide-eyed, excited son. ‘Use your own bath,’ she said. ‘Mine is larger I know but they’re getting ready to fill it with heated wine.

  ‘For my skin,’ she added to Artemidorus after the pair had vanished with the boat. ‘To keep it soft and youthful. And, of course, divine. Now, what toy has Antony sent to me? Another boat?’

  ‘I believe so, Majesty.’ Artemidorus opened the second box and, with some effort, lifted out its contents and set the present on the table. It was a quinquereme made of gold. Nearly two cubits long and over four high when he erected the golden mast and settled the golden spar. ‘But not for your bath, I fear.’ He unloosened two tiny silk strings and the sail – with the figure of Isis at its centre – fell into place. He pressed a lever and three banks of oars appeared from holes in the sides and began to move as though rowing the boat forward.’

  ‘Ingenious,’ she said, her voice a little breathless, as her son’s had been.

  ‘I believe Antony employed an Alexandrian artificer to make it,’ he said. ‘They are the most cunning workmen in the world.’

  ‘And it is in miniature precisely what he wants from me, full-sized. And just one, whereas he would like at least a fleet and preferably a navy.’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

  He had hardly finished speaking when the sound of a scuffle came in through the window overlooking the courtyard. Semi-articulate threats and curses in Roman-accented Greek. Larded every now and then with cries of ‘Civis Romanus sum!’

  ‘Ah,’ Cleopatra’s expression hardened. ‘Another stupid little rat with inflated ideas of his own importance. Lucius Calpurnius Bibulus, come to his just deserts.’

  That was the expression she must have worn, thought Artemidorus, as she showed Caesar where to stick the knife in the back of Pothinus’ neck.

  vi

  Cleopatra rose and crossed to the window, frowning at the little drama unfolding down there. Artemidorus went to stand at her side – as close as he deemed proper under the circumstances.

  Young Lucius, still in his shining armour was being half-carried towards the whipping post by several palace guards as a crowd of the advisors from the top of the dais followed to witness the arrogant Roman’s punishment.

  Cleopatra sighed. ‘I may have made an error, Septem. This will give Brutus all the more reason to work towards my overthrow – even if he cannot convince Cassius to invade at once. As I understand it, the boy is the son of his late wife by a previous marriage. Still, too close in blood for comfort. And, as he has correctly informed me, if Brutus has Ephesus then he has little sister Arsinoe. But still, Isis has spoken. He must be scourged.’

&nbs
p; ‘But, Majesty, I heard Isis speak with all the rest who were there. And nothing was said about how he should be scourged.’

  ‘What does that mean, Septem?’

  ‘Consider this, My Queen. Isis has spoken. He must be whipped for his pompous arrogance and that of his commander. But he is a mere boy about a man’s work. Severe injury might spur Brutus to intemperate action. He sent his late wife’s beloved son on a dangerous errand and knows it. His conscience may well be pricked if the boy is hurt too badly. Furthermore, such a thing would cause outrage in the Senate too. Even with Cicero dead, there would be Senatorial voices loudly raised against you. This is, after all Cato’s grandson. Shedding his patrician blood would be a considerable risk.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he continued, ‘Isis would be satisfied were the scourging carried out as demanded. But, while the boy remains dressed in his armour. If Isis was satisfied with that, the boy could be returned essentially unharmed. With nothing wounded but his pride, his arrogance – and that of his master – made into a kind of joke. So any attempt to reply would simply make the arrogance seem more ridiculous and cause the joke to get better. Even Cassius would be sniggering in secret.’

  Cleopatra clapped her hands. Charmian appeared. ‘Go at once and tell the guards there is no need to remove the Roman’s armour. But he must still be given fifty lashes.’

  ‘Yes, Majesty.’ The woman disappeared. Moments later she reappeared in the courtyard and went to the men still wrestling with the young Roman. Everything stopped as she spoke. The Egyptians all looked up at the window, their faces frowning with surprise. Cleopatra nodded.

  Lucius stopped struggling, seemingly giving into the inevitable. Artemidorus had no way of knowing whether he understood the orders Cleopatra had given. But he stood listlessly as his sagum cloak was removed, then his belt, sword and dagger. His wrists were attached to the top of the whipping post. He looked up at the window then, his face a mask of confusion as he realised his armoured vest was still in place. Artemidorus stepped back. Things were likely to get complicated enough without the young aristocrat knowing how deeply Antony’s secret agent was involved.

  The beating began. Lucius was wearing scale armour, hundreds of overlapping pieces of metal that shone like gold, but were probably bronze, thought Artemidorus. Lighter by far than the segmented armour he had on. But by the same token, thinner and less robust. Lucius wouldn’t lose any blood, but he would feel the weight of the blows, diminished but still painful; doing much more damage to his pride than to his back.

  *

  ‘What are you doing?’ he roared as the executioner laid on with a will, bringing his whip hard across the armoured shoulders. ‘Is this some kind of Egyptian joke? You are trying to insult me! Cato’s grandson! Do you suppose a Roman cannot withstand the pain of a scourging? How dare you! Stop! Stop at once! I demand you remove my armour and go about it properly! Stop! Stop I say.’

  But Cleopatra’s carnifex did not stop. He laid on with a will, counting out the strokes in heavily accented Greek. Almost loudly enough to drown out Lucius’ demands that he be stripped and whipped like in the proper fashion, so he could show these effete Egyptians how a true Roman patrician dealt with pain. And the witnesses, one after the other began to laugh at the young man’s outrage.

  vi

  ‘The boy will go crying back to Brutus,’ said Cleopatra. ‘Who may be angry or amused. But it is Cassius I fear most.’

  ‘He is the closest to your borders and controls the largest army,’ Artemidorus nodded.

  ‘Nearly half of which is made up of the Egyptian legions who deserted to him,’ said Cleopatra walking back to the table laden with her paperwork and the golden quinquereme. As she sat she glanced up at the map of her country on the wall. ‘They know the country – its strengths and weaknesses too well. If he invades, things will go badly for me.’

  ‘They also know that if he comes into Egypt they will have to march across the Sinai unless he’s going to ship them to Perusium, where Antony first won fame. And part of the point of my mission is to distract Cassius’ navy away if I can. Allowing Your Majesty freedom of movement here – and giving you an opportunity to put a navy together – will more than compensate for a blockade of Brundisium. That is why I made no secret of the fact that troops were moving across from Italy when I brought Messala and Lucius. They have passed the warning on – but it seems neither Brutus nor Cassius has acted on it yet.’

  The queen gestured. The secret agent sat opposite her.

  ‘A good plan, which might still work – if Ahenobarbus and Murcus are sent to patrol the waters off Italy,’ she mused. ‘Particularly if Cassius can’t use their transport vessels, he might find it hard to come as far as the Delta – let alone get across it to Alexandria.’

  ‘If he does not invade, things might still go badly for you in the long run, Majesty. That is why you must support Antony. Antony is your only hope.’ Artemidorus leaned forward urgently. ‘If Cassius turns back and marches north to join Brutus you may have breathing-space large enough for you to build the ships Antony so desperately needs. But you must go all out to support him to victory. He is your only friend in this. If Cassius and Brutus join forces and prove strong enough to defeat Antony and Octavianus, do you think they will hesitate to come after you and, if not you then Caesarion? Everything that has happened during the last few years has been about destroying Divus Julius, his friends and associates. The Triumvirs have the upper hand in Italy because of the proscriptions – but those have only sharpened the hatred of the men who have survived or escaped proscription, their clients, friends and families.

  ‘And of all the rulers in the kingdoms of the east, you are the most closely associated with Divus Julius. Even if Cassius achieves a total victory over Antony, he dare not let you or Divus Julius’ child live. And he is utterly ruthless remember. If he had had his way, Antony, you and Caesarion would all have died on the Ides. Only Brutus’ scruples stopped him then. They will not do so again. No. Your only hope is Antony and Antony alone. I like young Octavianus. He is quick-minded, cunning and ruthless. But he too would destroy you if he alone gained victory over Cassius and Brutus. If Antony died in battle, for instance...’

  ‘As I hear the Consuls Hirtius and Pansa did at the Battle of Mutina, mused the queen. ‘One, perhaps stabbed in the back by Octavianus and the other poisoned by Octavianus’ physician...’

  ‘I do not believe such rumours because I was there. But the fact that they remain current tells you much about how young Caesar is viewed. And there is a side to him I never saw in Divus Julius. Sometimes he seems to enjoy watching others suffer. Making others suffer. Things would go badly if you or Caesarion ever fell into Octavianus’ hands...

  *

  ‘But these are only my external troubles,’ said Cleopatra some time later after more discussion. ‘I have more problems at home. Because there has been no inundation for the last two years, all along the Nile the crops have failed. I have opened the storehouses of the Ptolemies – as Queen – and of the temples – as Isis. But even there, stocks are running low. And the vermin whose natural homes are in the fields have run into the cities and villages seeking food. And they have brought a plague with them that no prayers or powers can stop. I have talked to my priests in Memphis as I have talked with my physicians in Alexandria and no-one has any idea how to help. My Egyptian subjects are starving, dying and restless.’ Cleopatra hesitated then added. ‘But your very presence gives me some relief, Septem. There is no-one in Alexandria or in Egypt that I can open my heart to as I can to you. And, through you, to Antony. It is as though I have Divus Julius here with me again for a little while.’

  ‘Majesty, you have never needed the advice of any man to see your way clearly – or the help of any man to achieve your ends. Even Divus Julius danced to a tune you played from the moment Apollodorus laid you at his feet wrapped in a carpet and bag of hemp. And all Antony wants is to dance to the same tune.’ He had never been given such a compliment in
all his life. He fought to keep the tears from his eyes and knew that he would serve this woman to the end of his abilities. To the end of his life if need-be. Then he asked, ‘And no-one nearby has any grain? You have enough gold to buy all the grain you could ever want.’

  ‘Parthia has grain. And although Mithradates’ successor King Orontes is loudly supporting Brutus and Cassius – because they are at his borders too – he is willing to sell to the highest bidder. Cassius and Brutus are more interested in using their money to pay their legions and in any case can rely on Sextus Pompey for grain. But then, even if I can buy what I need, there is the problem of getting it here. With Cassius and his army in Judea, hard up against my Eastern border, and his navy patrolling the seas, I have no way of getting the corn from Parthia into Egypt.’

  ‘So it seems that your troubles at home and abroad would be alleviated if Cassius would move back north.’

  ‘And if the Nile would inundate. Yes.’

  ‘Well, the motions of the Nile are out of my control. But as for the matter of Cassius...’

  XIII: Hunefer

  i

  Notus had played little part in the mission so far, indeed at times, Artemidorus thought he had made an error in not sending him back from Dyrrhachium with Adonis and Venus. The only thing that had stopped him was the fact that had he done so, he would have left Kyros heartbroken. But now, he thanked his guardian demigod Achilleus that he had kept the young man with the rest of the contubernium.

  Notus and Kyros were seated at a table in Cleopatra’s island palace, surrounded by her most trusted secretaries and seemingly every piece of writing equipment the palace possessed as well as oil lamps, candles, wax, sand, salt water and a range of scroll-cases. While Artemidorus watched, they were slowly but perfectly recreating the scroll and seal that Brutus had sent. Under Artemidorus’ wondering eyes the two young men were flawlessly recreating the papyrus, the ageing, the ribbon, the seal, the greeting, except for Cleopatra’s name, at the top; and Brutus’ signature at the bottom. Everything except the recipient’s name and the message. Those were blank. On another sheet of papyrus beside it, Notus was perfecting his forgery of the handwriting used by Brutus’ amanuensis in the original scroll.