The Memoirs of Cleopatra

by Margaret George

  “O fortunate soldiers!” Antony shouted as he rode down the main street of the camp. “To have been the first to sight the enemy! It is a great honor!”

  Antony’s purple cloak was mud-stained and his feet filthy, but he looked fresh and shining compared to the soldiers, who simply stared back at him. Finally a faint cheer or two rose from the ranks.

  “The army is on its way,” he assured them. “Canidius Crassus is bringing eleven legions from Patrae, including the old Ironclad. Remember the Ironclad?”

  They just looked back at him, wooden-faced.

  “More legions are coming from elsewhere. And cavalry as well.”

  The commander of the garrison, Marcus Grattius, welcomed us into his quarters, when we dismounted wearily. My legs were shaky, and the ground felt odd.

  The door shut behind us, Antony clasped the commander’s shoulders. “How bad is it?” he asked. “How many of them are there?”

  Now it was the turn of Grattius to remember that we were probably hungry and thirsty. But before we thought of even washing our hands, Antony demanded the figures.

  “It is a large army,” Grattius began cautiously. “You must understand, I have not been invited to review it!” He laughed, a sad-sounding laugh. “But from what I have seen, I would estimate about eighty thousand men. I have no way of knowing how many legions, or which legions. Of course they are all Romans—no foreign allies or auxiliaries.” He turned as his attendant brought ewers of fresh water and towels for us. “Ah. Here we are.”

  Antony held out his hands as the water was poured over them into the basin.

  “And where are they?” he asked, speaking above the sound of the water.

  “They have established a camp on the northern promontory, on higher ground.”

  Higher ground. They were smart.

  “It is well sited, except that it has no water supply. For that, they must descend to either the river Louros or the springs on lower ground.”

  A weak spot! I was relieved to hear it.

  “It cannot easily be circled from the north, and it would be difficult to attack it from the south, being uphill. And the flat ground below can serve as a battlefield.”

  “Or a camp for us,” said Antony quickly. “We should establish ourselves there; that way we will command both sides of the mouth of the gulf.”

  His hands were being wiped dry, and now the attendant came to me. The water on my dirty hands felt good.

  “There is another drawback to their position,” Grattius told Antony. “The bay where Octavian is anchored is usable only during good weather. It offers no protection from any storm, being exposed on three sides.”

  “So he will be driven to seek something else,” I said. “How secure is Leucas?” Leucas, a mountainous island that lay just offshore from Actium, was manned by our forces. It was a crucial possession: As long as our ships could land there, we could receive the food supply from Egypt without interruption.

  “Very secure,” said Grattius.

  Leucas was an island in name only, because the water separating it from the mainland was so thick with reeds and sandbars that no ship could sail through it. True to the maddening nature of the terrain at Actium, no one could march across it, either. It supported neither horses nor ships, being something halfway between land and sea.

  “I am relieved to hear it,” said Antony. His words would have convinced anyone but me; I knew he would visit it straightway to make sure.

  Now that things were resolving themselves into concrete details, Antony seemed in control once more. Details he could attend to, rearrange, plan. No more surprises, now that his hand was on the helm. It is good when the nebulous begins to take a familiar shape and become something manageable, merely life-size.

  The food arrived. Although my head was spinning from hunger, I was almost beyond the point of having an appetite. But I smiled politely.

  There was crane, duck, heron.

  “As you can see, we have an abundance of waterfowl,” Grattius said.

  “Yes, I imagine they nest in the marsh,” said Antony.

  Along with the mosquitoes and gnats, I thought.

  “The fishing is good, and we also have a specialty in the area: enormous prawns. What’s a delicacy elsewhere is common fare here.” Proudly he gestured toward a bowl of prawns floating in a thick stew. “I am afraid I cannot say the same for the wine,” he said apologetically. “ ‘Army rations’ says it all.”

  “I don’t care,” said Antony, “as long as it cures thirst.” He drained his cup. “Forgive me. I forgot to tell you how grateful—and impressed—I am with your ploy to arm the oarsmen and put them on the decks to look like soldiers. Quick thinking. There’ll be a commendation for that.”

  The commander smiled, pleased to be praised by his leader. “Thank you, Imperator,” he said simply.

  We were to stay in the quarters of a centurion; Grattius had offered his, but we refused. As soon as our army arrived, we would be setting up another camp, a much larger one, and would have our own headquarters, with the commander’s tent, praetorium, and the attached headquarters, principia.

  That night, as we prepared to retire, Antony said, “Remember how you insisted on sleeping in a tent and turning your back on Artavasdes’ palace? Now you can live in one, but we must hope for a quick resolution and therefore a short stay.”

  I had lived in tents before; when I had been in exile, expelled from Egypt. I remembered my days outside Ashkelon, and the sandstorm there.

  “I will be here, with you, in a tent, for as long as it takes,” I assured him. I was well aware that others would be less than pleased with that. But I had no intention of departing; let them cry “go back to Egypt” until they were hoarse. As long as Antony did not wish me anywhere but by his side, I could endure their hostility. No, I would not budge.

  “Besides, without me, the client kings will lose heart. They will not fight just to advance Rome; why should they? They feel they have already given enough to Rome.”

  “What?” Antony asked.

  I had been thinking out loud. Was I that tired? “My mind is wandering,” I said quickly. “I meant nothing. Just that I will be here with you in your tent…as long as you wish me here.”

  “I have never fought a war with a woman by my side,” he said.

  “You have never had a queen for a wife,” I reminded him.

  “Do you mean to remain in camp, or will you wish to…” He sighed. He was too weary tonight to fight a personal battle with me over my direct participation in the war.

  Now was not the time to discuss what I would, or would not, do. I was not sure myself. “Tonight I wish to sleep, as soon as possible,” I said soothingly. And I did; I hoped that after staying awake all night riding, I would not be so overtired that I could not sleep.

  He smiled, relieved to put aside all business. Now this interminable day-night-day would end. He would rest. Tomorrow he could face the situation with a clear head.

  The centurion had prepared his regular bed for Antony, and set up another one for me nearby. Both were folding frames with leather straps, laid with blankets. Both looked very small.

  “I see the military life has already begun,” I said, eyeing the bed. “I suppose it’s as hard as a stone, too.”

  “Of course. Soldiers must be tough.” He pulled back the blanket and stretched out on the creaking frame. It shuddered and settled. He draped his arm over his eyes. It was not something he normally did; was it field behavior, to shut out the light?

  “With equipment like this, how did soldiers ever get their lascivious reputation?” I lay down on my bed; it felt like the ground, except that it was not damp.

  “They go outside their tents for relaxation,” he mumbled. “Where do you think the term ‘camp followers’ comes from?”

  “I don’t think there’ll be many women who will follow this particular camp,” I said. Actium was not a congenial location to practice the oldest profession.

  “No,�
� he said, “only you.” Then I heard him fall asleep.

  Under the stretched leather of the tent’s ceiling, I heard the wind straining the seams. They creaked and moaned, an ugly sound.

  So it had finally begun, and here was where we must make our stand, in this dismal place so far from Rome or Egypt.

  I awoke before dawn, shaking with cold. The single blanket had been inadequate, even though I had wrapped myself in it, and was…was I still wearing my clothes? I ran my hands down my arms and felt sleeves. Yes. We had been so muddled and exhausted we had forgotten to undress. I lifted my head out of the blanket in the dim light and saw Antony’s brown tunic still covering his shoulder.

  Actium. We were at Actium, huddled in a tent. This was the morning we had waited for for so long. But I had never imagined it like this.

  The pillow was cold, but I supposed I should be thankful there even was a pillow. I burrowed my head into it and waited for Antony to awaken. While I did so, I said one prayer after another for our army, our fortune, our allies, and our children…back in Alexandria. May we leave you an inheritance of glory, not shame. Let us not be the cause of grief to them. In trying to secure their future, let us not lose it for them.

  Eros tiptoed into the tent and awakened Antony. When I saw him I knew Canidius had arrived sometime in the night with his legions, and all was well.

  Antony staggered up, shaking his head.

  “My lord! My lord!” said Eros. “They have come. They are waiting for you.”

  The water for washing was so cold it turned my face into a mask. As we left the tent and walked along the hard dirt street, the brisk morning air did nothing to warm it. Grattius joined us and we left the fortified area to meet our troops. They stretched out all around us, surrounding and engulfing the camp. Eleven legions—about forty thousand men—were a huge host. But had Grattius not said there were twice as many across the water?

  Besides these newly arrived men, there were the seventy thousand oarsmen who had been stationed here all winter, plus the soldiers of the garrison. How was this unhealthy place to house and keep them all? The refuse alone would make a mountain of debris. But that was what the military engineers and diggers had to attend to; it was not all the glory of building ramps and siege machines.

  “Sir!” Canidius rode up, saluting sharply. His long, lined face looked even longer and more lined. “We present ourselves and wait to make camp where you direct.”

  Stretching out before us was adequate space all around the existing garrison, well away from the water’s edge. Antony rode around it and returned, nodding. “I think we must keep all together for now. When the other troops arrive, we can spread out on the other side of the water. Of course, the engineers have the final say.”

  In true Roman fashion, they busied themselves all day surveying and laying out the lines of the camp, and by nightfall our tent and the wooden structure that would serve as our headquarters had been erected in the middle. While they worked, we conferred with Canidius, Ahenobarbus, and Dellius on the general situation. Of course I was present; it did not take long for me to see how this displeased the other commanders, particularly Ahenobarbus.

  We were seated around a long trestle table in the garrison headquarters, where Grattius had unrolled a gigantic scroll containing a map of the area, painstakingly sketched. He pointed out to us where the enemy was camped, and the features of the landscape—where the bogs were, where the fresh springs were located, the elevation of the camp.

  Canidius pored over it, saying very little.

  Ahenobarbus asked a few questions about the state of the fleet.

  “We have lost a number of the oarsmen,” said Grattius. “Disease has taken its toll.”

  Lost oarsmen! I had provided crack Egyptian and Greek rowers. How were we to replace them?

  “How many?” I asked. Ahenobarbus glared at me. What, could I not ask a simple question?

  “I would say a good ten thousand already,” Grattius said.

  Ten thousand! And what did he mean, “already”?

  “In the summer, when the heat causes swarms of mosquitoes, disease increases,” Grattius explained.

  “But of course we won’t be here in the summer,” Ahenobarbus snapped.

  “No, of course not,” Antony agreed. “As soon as the other legions, and the kings, join us, we will give battle.”

  “Land battle?” asked Canidius eagerly.

  “It depends on the condition of the fleet,” Ahenobarbus countered. “Right now there are only five squadrons—three hundred ships—inside the harbor. The rest are stationed up and down the coast.”

  “We lost a number at Methone,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, true, but we still have seven squadrons. When they arrive, they can attack Octavian’s fleet from the west, and allow the rest of ours inside the gulf to exit and join in the attack.”

  “Octavian has been giving signs that he will seek battle,” said Grattius. “First he tried to attack our fleet—”

  “And was deceived by your stratagem,” said Antony proudly.

  Grattius nodded. “And now we have sighted a lot of milling up on the heights. Yesterday they lobbed fireballs over at us, and fired stones into the camp. They mean to provoke us into battle.”

  “When they outnumber us two to one,” said Canidius. “How surprising!”

  “We must hold them off until we are at full strength,” said Antony. “And then—!” He smashed his fist into his palm.

  “Right now the enemy fleet has no very secure harbor, and it is also to its advantage to fight immediately,” said Grattius.

  “At least they are free to come and go as they wish,” said Ahenobarbus. “We, on the other hand, are bottled up inside the gulf. We can go nowhere without fighting our way out. We can choose no other ground for combat by land or sea; the enemy has pinned us down in this spot.” His deep voice was resonant, compelling.

  “When our army is at full strength,” said Antony, “we will drive theirs back, into submission. Then their fleet will have to withdraw.”

  “I have another idea,” said Ahenobarbus suddenly. “Was not war declared against Cleopatra? Then why not unmask Octavian’s dishonesty? You”—he looked directly at me, not even using a courtesy title—“should depart with your fleet for Egypt immediately. This will force Octavian to follow you—after all, you are his foe, so he claims—and free Antony and me to sail to Italy and invade.”

  “True, if the Queen acted as a decoy—” Antony nodded, joined by Canidius.

  How naive could they be? But I knew Ahenobarbus was not naive; he just wanted me gone. “If it does not work,” I countered, “then we will have split our forces. Have you sage commanders never heard the tired old phrase ‘divide and conquer’? No. It is a bad idea.” I looked straight at Ahenobarbus, who scowled.

  “We should attempt to send spies into their camp,” said Dellius, to change the subject before tempers flared.

  “I have tried, but it hasn’t worked,” said Grattius. “We can try again.”

  Men kept pouring into the camp, and it felt odder and odder to be the only woman among thousands of men. The only woman! When I was with Antony and his commanders, it was not so glaring—I was used to being the only woman in council meetings—but when I rode out in the mass of soldiers, all staring at me, I felt it acutely. There must have been women present, somewhere—smuggled in, or serving as cooks and laundresses—but I never saw them. Instead I was drowning in this sea of maleness.

  It should have been a woman’s delight, but I found it disturbing. It made me ponder the question: What is it that differentiates us? Why should I feel so different from them? What made me so aware of it? The way they looked? The way they looked at me? Or was it the way I looked at them? And yet I begrudged Ahenobarbus his objection to my presence at the council table, just because I was a woman.

  They were all here: the rest of the legions, the eight kings attending us in person, bringing with them their troops and those of the
kings who could not be here but contributed men and arms. The senators, all three hundred of them, had arrived from Patrae and Athens. The extended camp had been set up, with spacious headquarters and dining pavilion. Even Antony’s and my tent was moderately comfortable. Or perhaps it was just that I was growing used to conditions in the field.

  With the arrival at last of Charmian and Iras from Patrae, I was rescued from my position as the sole woman at Actium; along with them came a contingent of other women who would serve at headquarters as musicians, cooks, seamstresses, weavers, and providers of the long hair needed for the torsion springs of crossbows and ballistas. Nor were they here to relieve the lusts of the soldiers; intrepid camp followers had managed to find their way here after all, arriving shortly thereafter. Tempers in the camp improved mightily, and the number of spats and fistfights among the men fell quickly.

  “Why, we are becoming halfway civilized,” I told Antony. There were now coverlets as well as blankets on our bed—which was large enough to share—and braziers kept the chill away. We even had heated bathwater—sometimes.

  He was pleased, having just reviewed the troops. We were now at full strength; nineteen Roman legions, with the Asian light infantry and cavalry, brought our total forces to about a hundred thousand men. We outnumbered Octavian. Our only possible weakness was that about a third of the legionaries had no battle experience, having been recruited after the conquest of Armenia.

  Our attempt to place spies in Octavian’s camp had been unsuccessful. Theirs was a close-knit and loyal bastion.

  Now, in the lull before we joined battle, we would gather in the dining pavilion for a feast with our commanders and allies. It was an ancient tradition in the east, and seemed fitting.

  Charmian had brought some of my ceremonial clothes in the trunks from Patrae, and she proceeded to dress me, choosing a modest gown of the richest material—embroidered brocade trimmed with pearls. I had wanted to wear what I referred to as my commander’s uniform—it had a silver breastplate with a red cape fastened to the shoulders, and a silver helmet in the shape of a vulture’s wings—but she emphatically pronounced it unsuitable.