Augustus- Son of Rome

by Richard Foreman

  Julius fought on, leonine. A knife cut into the back of his right leg, slicing his hamstring. Again he fell to one knee. The old soldier found a dagger on the floor and returned to his feet. A wounded, cornered animal. Yet blood increasingly seeped out of him, sapping his strength.

  For a time Brutus had but watched on, mournfully transfixed. He had believed that by the time he delivered his obligatory blow Julius would have already perished - and he would not have to look his friend, the man who had spared his life, in the eye. Marcus finally got to his feet and approached his enemy.

  Julius stumbled once more, his right leg giving way, but he rose again, his visage still showing signs of life and fight. It was not just his blood now which splattered the marble floor. Such was their wariness of Caesar that, to re-group and check the extent of their wounds and losses, there was a lull in the attack as they circled their victim.

  The groans of injured assassins and the sight and sounds of panicking senators fell into the background as Brutus entered the cordon of assassins, which surrounded their prey. For a second or so Caesar believed that Brutus had come to save him, but then the praetor plunged his dagger into the dictator’s stomach.

  “You too, my son?”

  “I’m sorry,” his killer immediately whispered, unsure as to whether his victim had heard.

  Caesar slumped to the floor for the third and final time. His mind was becoming, like his sight, a blur. Tears cut streaks into his bloodied face. Twenty-three stab wounds punctured his body, which lay beneath the cold gaze of Pompey’s statue. He would not allow them to hear or see him suffer though. Caesar would die as he lived - with dignitas. Julius’ final act was to cover his toga over his head.

  Terror and confusion reigned in the Senate, rather than a sense of justice and liberty. Brutus finally woke from his trance-like stupor and realised the ensuing state of anarchy.

  “Cicero, Cicero. Rome needs you again,” the praetor suddenly shouted, noticing his former mentor fleeing the scene as well.

  But the elder statesman, after hearing his name being called out, merely turned around to the assassin and shook his head - either in condemnation of the deed, or to convey his inability to bring order to the pandemonium the conspirators had unleashed.

  Dapple-grey clouds flocked together over the city and cast Rome in darkness.

  17.

  Dear Atticus,

  You will forgive me if this letter lacks niceties and pleasantries, but know that your friendship is one of the few things which I still have faith in.

  The thunder-clap has no doubt reached you by now. I will recount however what transpired after the deed. I’ll attempt to be brief - to save both your time and mine - and so too you may already have received news of the assassination and aftermath from other sources, albeit that news might contain more garnish that Gaulish stew.

  Where rumour is married to truth is that, immediately after the killing, my name was called out, either as a cry for help or to lend my authority to the bloody act. Suffice to say the ‘libertores’ should have applied for my help and to lend authority to the deed earlier. We would not now be in the state we’re in, so to speak, if they had. So the tyranny survives, though the tyrant is dead.

  The theatre emptied, faster than if a troupe of lepers should have taken to the stage. Fear and panic were legion. Mark Antony was perhaps as frightened and confused as anyone - and it was only after when he realised that everyone was terrified that he emerged from his hiding-place.

  Three loyal servants returned for the body and took it back to Caesar’s house.

  Come late afternoon I ventured out and appealed for peace. I also appealed for Brutus to take a lead as praetor, who along with others had taken refuge in the Capitol. But instead Antony took the lead, as consul. We overestimated our authority, but more so we underestimated him. During the dead of night he seized control of the treasury and also Caesar’s papers and will. He also secured the support of Lepidus - and therefore the soldiers under his command which are posted just outside of Rome. Where were we? Sleeping, or biting our nails.

  The morning appeared to bring a certain amount of hope and conciliation. A Senate meeting was called, albeit, claiming to fear for his life, Antony was notable by his absence. Neither the optimates nor Caesarians wanted to inflame the situation too much, partly because neither knew the strength of the other I suspect. The sole exception to this was Cornelius Cinna, who denounced Caesar as a tyrant and that not only should his legislation be decreed null and void, but his murderers should be declared heroes and rewarded.

  Brutus and Cassius appeared before us. The murder, Brutus argued, had been an act in the name of peace, not war. He would refuse any money or honour offered to him for deposing Caesar. Rome had been their cause, not personal ambition (I think we are both raising our eyebrows to that one my friend). Cassius then moved centre-stage and was fulsome of his praise of his fellow libertore. Brutus, he exclaimed, had “fulfilled his destiny”. As his noble ancestor had delivered Rome from the tyranny of Tarquin the Proud, “our Brutus” had once again saved Rome from despotism. Once again “Rome would be a republic, not a monarchy”.

  A bout of cheering here issued forth from their supporters, but although they won over many they did not win over a majority.

  Deputations from Antony then addressed the Senate. It was and would be the consul’s duty to maintain order. “Peace and order” would be sovereign. Despite the danger to his own personal safety his representatives announced that the consul would address the Senate the following day.

  That afternoon Brutus appeared before the people. He was eloquent and persuasive, although far from inspirational. He listed Caesar’s crimes or ‘illegalities’ as he pedantically called them and argued that the dictator was in fact a tyrant. Corruption was rife (but, unlike the beard Marcus has taken to growing, hasn’t it always been in fashion?). Caesar had employed the law arbitrarily. I sensed that people left the Capitol feeling partly satisfied with Brutus’ arguments, though more so they were still just in shock and worried that civil war could again break out.

  The following day saw Antony appear before the Senate - with Brutus and Cassius now absent, fearing for their lives. Although he had sworn an oath to protect Caesar and avenge his death - Rome, public order, peace, took precedence over one man’s honour. I must confess I even begrudgingly admired his performance in certain respects. Yet it was “because of the dictates of peace and order that we should not regard Caesar as a tyrant and ratify his legislation” he exclaimed. For stability’s sake Dolabella should succeed Caesar as consul. Moreover the various positions and promotions that Caesar had planned should be honoured. As you can well imagine a large number of senators nodded sagely in agreement with this proposition, being beneficiaries of the policy. “Peace is what we are all trying for,” Antony reiterated, before positing that “If we nullify one act of Caesar’s, must we not do so for all? And who will tell Caesar’s veterans, entitled to their land settlements, that they now own nothing?” Fear swept over many of the neutrals now, if indeed one could have still considered them neutrals.

  Can you imagine how shocked and suspicious I was to then not only hear Antony amiably call my name, but also agree with me in that we should establish an amnesty for the assassins? “We should pardon both Caesar and his murderers,” he generously proclaimed, to the approval of the majority. The motion was speedily passed. To cement a bond of trust and good faith Antony then motioned to abolish the office of Dictator, a motion which was also duly ratified. The dramatic session ended with the announcement that Caesar’s will would be opened and read the next day.

  The will was read by Piso, as self-important and insignificant a fellow as one could hope to avoid, at Antony’s house. I attended, despite the tasteless decor. In a predictably self-glorifying gesture Caesar bequeathed his gardens upon the Tiber to the people to enjoy at their leisure, for free. Added to which he bequeathed to each citizen 300 sesterces, a sum so generous as to be ridicul
ous, and they’ll surely never even receive three sesterces of the entitlement.

  The most dramatic revelation however, which was unbeknown even to Calpurnia, involved the news that Caesar had apportioned three-quarters of his estate to his great-nephew, Octavius. Yet can we now not rightly call the boy his son? For Caesar also stated in the will that he had legally adopted the child. Even Antony’s solemn countenance displayed flickers of distress and amazement.

  The news filtered through to the great unwashed and people perhaps now loved Caesar more in death than they did in life. Their love and sympathy increased for Caesar as markedly as their shame and disdain for Decimus Brutus, who was named in the will as a legatee. Even in death Julius is still out-manoeuvring us all.

  A few days passed without major incident. Cleopatra thankfully left Rome, taking her child of dubious parentage with her. Decimus made a tactical retreat back to his province in Gaul. Antony, Brutus and Cassius met for dinner. I was absent but I was informed that the mood was conciliatory. I dared to hope.

  I have dared not commit to such folly since the funeral however. For once, I believe that Mark Antony was sober. We should perhaps be thankful that he is usually drunk, for in his oratory and stratagems that day he reminded me of his esteemed grand-father. I sensed that it was not just his hand behind the speech and spectacle which followed though. Suffice to say I spotted phrases and techniques borrowed from Hortensius, Caesar and even myself. Antony has a new lieutenant, one Enobarbus, who has come to my attention. My sources tell me he is both an accomplished soldier and orator. Unfortunately my agents also tell me that he is unswervingly loyal to Antony. Or maybe Fulvia is sticking her oar in and stirring up trouble. She was not one to rule a household when she could rule a consul instead.

  The pyre was a work of art in itself my friend, indeed such was its impossible height that you might have even witnessed its peak from Greece. The duteous consul and mournful friend took up his position in the forum next to Caesar’s bier, facing an already captivated and emotional audience.

  The colourful panegyric came first, listing Caesar’s titles and achievements. After praising Caesar’s accomplishments as a general and statesman he then artfully listed his virtues as a friend and mentor. The men nodded in fraternal appreciation, the women batted their eyelids at the handsome - but sensitive - consul to such extent as to create a draught. Antony recounted the oath that he had taken to protect his general and avenge his death. The collective gasp here sucked in the draught before Antony assured everyone again that peace meant more to him than his own oath. Cue applause.

  Tears came next, from Antony. I was somewhat underwhelmed in regards to Antony being overwhelmed. But the pliable crowd drunk down his lies like a bottle of cheap Massic. Such was his seeming loss of self-control that eventually Antony began to speak as if he were Caesar himself, trying to make sense of the heinous crime, apologising for being misunderstood - and them damning his murderers. “Did I save these men that they might murder me?” he finally, dramatically, expressed as a wax figure of Caesar, replete with painted wounds, was brought into view. Women - and men - wailed. The pyre was lit - and the flames of people’s passions fanned. Mourners fuelled the flames as all manner of junk (jewels, wreaths, and robes) was tossed onto the pyre. Stools, benches and curtains followed. Antony created the spark, but the conflagration of hate and lawlessness fed itself. Rioting ensued. The Senate House was set alight. Enraged mobs marched through the streets, torches and weapons in hand, seeking vengeance upon the assassins who had felled the “people’s champion”.

  For more than a few days Brutus and Cassius became prisoners in their own homes, such was the appetite for destruction and revenge from the mob. Order was eventually restored, although one suspects Antony could have restored it sooner. Concerned for their safety - and to get rid of his rivals - Antony proposed that Brutus and Cassius take over the governance of the corn supply in Asia and Crete respectively. Without either accepting or refusing the offer, both conspirators abandoned Rome. I too followed them, fearing that Mark Antony might get around to considering me an enemy or, worse still, a potential ally.

  And so a number of the noble but daft libertores - and myself - met at Antium yesterday. I advised Brutus that he should accept Antony’s way out and re-group in Asia. Antony has not been as clever as he thinks I argued, for rather than raise taxes and crops, Brutus will hopefully raise an army. My intention is for Cassius to do the same in Crete. I also have faith in Decimus Brutus to defy Mark Antony when it comes to him handing over his province in Gaul, later on in the year. This triumvirate will cut Mark Antony down to size. Brutus is the key however in unlocking the gates of the Republic again. We must protect, laud and fund him. Both the patricians and the people trust him. Once I cited how he should not only venture to Asia for his own safety, but for Porcia’s, he saw reason. I fear I will have to rely on Brutus to persuade Cassius though. Looking most valorous I assure you, the picture of a warrior, Cassius announced that he had no intention of going to Crete, “Should I take an insult as though it were given as a favour,” he protested. His fate is linked to Brutus’ though. And he’s astute enough to know that the capital is controlled now by Antony. He has the support of enough of the people and enough of the soldiers who are camped just north of the city - like the Sword of Damocles hanging over our head.

  I should just mention that Servilia was present at the meeting also and got on her high horse about my involvement, especially when I lectured the group on failing to deal with Mark Antony originally, “A pity you didn’t invite me to dinner on the Ides of March. Let me tell you, there would have been no leftovers,” I remarked. Suffice to say that Servilia has grown too old and dry for anyone to look up her skirt whenever she gets on her high horse, though. I warrant that old age is making me cantankerous my friend. Everything irritates me.

  Gaius Matius lamented, before I left for Antium, that “If Caesar, for all of his genius, could not find a way out, who is going to find one now?” Perhaps I agree with him. War seems inevitable. Sullans, Marians, Populares, Optimates, Caesarians, Republicans - Rome is perhaps fated to be divided. I used to ask “Who will bring harmony to the classes?” Now I think to myself, ‘Who can?’

  I have just received news from Salvidienus in Apollonia that Octavius intends to come to Rome in order to claim his inheritance. Salvidienus also insists that he is at my and the Republic’s disposal. Not two months ago he was making similar ingratiating noises to Caesar.

  I understand that the boy has a tutor, which you recommended the family to. Are you still in contact with this tutor? Can we trust him? Does he have any influence over the boy? - And can we influence him?

  If I can get to the boy - before some assassin’s knife - then we might be able to use him. Antony will never freely hand over his inheritance. With his new name - and the fact that he can afford, unlike Antony, to win over the ardent Caesarians by promising to avenge his great-uncle’s murder - Octavius may be able to create a schism in the Caesarian camp.

  Balbus has no doubt been informed of the news or it might even be the case that he influenced the boy’s decision. The old Spaniard has been suspiciously quiet. I have received but one letter from him, in which he expresses a desire to maintain the peace at all costs and, for the moment, make friends with Antony. In short, as much as I enjoy his company I don’t trust him a yard. One letter is perhaps as stingy as Crassus also, for such is the proximity of our estates that the secretary could deliver it himself.

  Take care my friend. My apologies for this abrupt ending.

  Cicero.

  18.

  Octavius gazed back at the Apollonian coastline, conscious of the fact that he might never see its shores again. The ocean appeared as black as Styx. Aye, was he now sailing to his death? Had Caesar taken charge in Hades by now? The lights from the harbour blinked but they were soon enveloped by the kohl-black night.

  Oppius, once he had dried his own tears, had given the boy the news. Octavius b
etrayed a flicker of resentment and additional shock after hearing that Marcus Brutus had been part of the treacherous act, but otherwise he remained stone-faced. Only when alone did he break down and weep for his great-uncle. A pit, or grave, opened up inside of him – grief was like a vacuum, consuming all. All the sadness in the world could not fill the black hole. Only hate and revenge could help clot the void, he darkly surmised. Octavius asked Oppius for the names of all the murderers, he refused to call them libertores. He etched them into his mind; only their deaths could erase them from the list, branded upon his thoughts as the names were.

  His step-father had entreated Octavius to remain in the care of Oppius and the loyal legion at Apollonia. Cleanthes too had warned his student about acting rashly. “Let the light of reason guide you”, the philosopher had advised. But the light of a funeral pyre, made up of the bodies of his enemies, held a more powerful sway in his mind’s eye.

  Octavius still wore the inky cloak of his black funeral toga. He felt frustrated that he was so far from Rome – and his enemies. The youth had composed an oration for his great-uncle - or rather now father - which no one would ever hear.

  “Caesar was not just a father to me but rather he was a father to Rome – a protector and provider ... Caesar was loyal to his friends, compassionate towards his enemies ... He believed that Rome should provide prosperity for the many, not the few ... the self-interested Senate judged Caesar a tyrant, but rather, upon opening his will did we not discover that he was Rome’s benefactor? Will Brutus bequeath his library to Rome, as Caesar opened up his gardens? How many sesterces will Cassius give to each citizen in his will? Hopefully enough for us to purchase a dagger and plant it in his grave before any floral wreath ... And how can we trust Decimus Brutus to honour the land agreement for the legionaries when he dishonourably murdered the man who made that promise? ... It is not just I who has lost a father. We have all lost a father.”