Caesar's Spies- The Complete Campaigns

by Peter Tonkin

  ***

  ‘Why, Marcus Tullius, I believe you are the last of my old friends to come and greet me...’ Caesar’s voice was soft. His tone gently chiding. Very much that of one dear friend who finds himself unexpectedly disappointed in another.

  Artemidorus studied the faces of both men closely. Refusing to be distracted by the thickness of Cicero’s neck and mentally cursing Fulvia for putting the thought of it in his mind. The day was drawing to a close. It had been full of tense, almost desperate activity. Caesar’s command tent had been erected first and the camp was taking shape around it. The unusual approach dictated by the need to meet the flocks of senators and officials who had hurried out of the city to greet him. The young general looked tired now, worn out by the necessity of keeping the terrified men calm – for the time-being. Beginning to reassure them that if they met the reasonable requests – of which they were already well aware – then everything would be settled amicably.

  ‘I’m afraid my legs could not keep pace with my desires, Caesar,’ answered Cicero smoothly now, with hardly a blush. ‘I am growing old, I’m afraid. And I am by no means well.’

  ‘Well, you are here now, old friend. Please rest your weary legs.’ Caesar gestured to a chair. Cicero sat. ‘I will send for light refreshment. Water, wine and fruit should meet your needs...’

  Cicero and Caesar sat opposite each-other across the table in Maecenas’ Etruscan-styled atrium to Caesar’s main command tent. But Caesar’s spymaster had not yet arrived. Neither had Agrippa or Rufus. Which was why the young commander was happy for Artemidorus and Felix to remain for the time-being. His secret agents being the closest he could come to his other friends and advisors at such short notice.

  ‘When is the soonest the Senate can be called, Marcus Tullius?’ asked Caesar gently. ‘To reconsider my requests? Later this very night, perhaps?’

  ‘The Senate can only meet at night in the most extraordinary circumstances,’ answered Cicero, gesturing to a solicitous military slave that he wanted a glass of water and a fig.

  ‘Tomorrow, then?’

  ‘Perhaps the day after,’ hedged Cicero. He paused, sipping the water. Pushed the fig aside.

  ‘That would be excellent,’ nodded Caesar. ‘It would allow time for the next four legions to arrive and set up camp. Perhaps even all six. We will use the Campus Martius, of course...’

  Which, with the African legions on the Janiculum, thought Artemidorus, would mean that young Caesar’s legions (now numbering 11) would surround almost half of the city. A feat unrivalled since the times of Sulla. Not even Divus Julius had managed such a thing. He wondered how much longer it would be before Cicero got the full measure of the man he was trying to manipulate and outfox. Well, he thought, there is no fool like an old fool.

  Cicero was still blandly refusing to give a direct answer to any of Caesar’s questions, though he had begun to nibble the fig, when Agrippa arrived. ‘Caesar,’ he said, interrupting yet another political platitude, ‘Do my legions go onto the Campus Martius as planned?’

  ‘They do, Marcus Vipsanius. I will come and inspect them as soon as I can. In the mean-time, Marcus Tullius, I must regretfully call our meeting to a close. I will arrange for an escort to accompany your litter as it is late, the city is restless and I observe that, like many of your friends and colleagues, you were so keen to come and greet me that you have come without the squad of lictors due to your standing and responsibilities.’

  ‘I thank you Caesar, but remember, no man may bear arms within the Servian Walls, so...’

  ‘My friends Felix and Septem here are dressed in civilian clothing and do not have any weapons. They hardly compare with a dozen lictors in number, but I assure you they will keep you safe.’

  Cicero had no option but to give in gracefully. As a pair of legionary slaves helped him out to his litter, Caesar gestured to the two men he had detailed to accompany him. ‘Septem, Felix,’ he whispered. ‘I do not trust him or the Senate. All the senators who came to see me today are either Cicero’s men or Antony’s. Until Divus Julius’ will is formally ratified and I get to inherit his clients as well as what is left of his fortune and estates, the only one of them I trust is Quintus Pedius. I want you to make sure Cicero goes straight home – then inform my mother and sister it is safe to go home as well from whatever place you hid them. And finally I would like you to devise some way in which I can test the truth of whatever he and the Senate feel I have forced them to agree to. How willing they are to fulfil any promises they have made in the longer term – when my sword is no longer at their throat.’

  ‘Like paying the legions,’ said Artemidorus, thinking of Quintus’ friend Remus. And the six of Caesar’s legions yet to see a sestertius of the money promised to them by the Senate.’

  ‘Like making me Consul!’ snapped Caesar. Sounding, for the first time, exactly like Divus Julius himself.

  iii

  The journey back to Cicero’s house behind the Temple of the Vestal Virgins low on the Palatine was not long. But Septem – looking at events as a spy rather than a soldier- found it fascinating. He and Felix walked on either side of the old lawyer’s litter as the slaves carrying it jogged after the torch-bearers lighting the way. Almost the instant they entered the Porta Fontinalis, the febrile atmosphere of a city uncertain whether or not it was under siege seemed to grip everyone. Figures scuttled through the shadows, occasionally coalescing into muttering groups. Passers-by, mostly on foot but some in litters, came and went. But, because Cicero’s litter was well-known and apparently unguarded, one or two of the men – on foot or in litters – joined him for a moment or two of hurried conversation. Which the old lawyer, all too well aware of the actual purpose behind his apparently meagre escort, tried to control. With mixed success.

  There were no familiar faces – indeed the men in the litters remained invisible – but the snippets of conversation were nevertheless quite audible to Septem.

  ‘Cicero! What shall we do? Is the boy besieging us?’ Demanded the occupant of the first litter carried briefly alongside Cicero’s.

  ‘Young Caesar assures me that he will not enter the city or interfere with us in any way. He modestly requests that we reconsider the three demands presented by his centurions.’ Septem smiled at the stilted formality of Cicero’s careful reply.

  ‘But from a position of such strength! Surely we have to...’

  ‘I will summon the Senate and we will discuss matters...’

  ‘Tonight? Surely we must move swiftly...’

  ‘No, old friend! Surely you remember that the Senate cannot be convened at night!’

  ‘Even so...’

  ‘Put your mind at rest. And your body too. Go home and sleep. Tomorrow or the day after, I will call the Senate...’ The strain of keeping control of the conversation was beginning to tell in Cicero’s voice as he dismissed the man.

  Only to find the first litter immediately replaced by a second. ‘Cicero! How are we to control the boy now? You assured us that he was little more than your puppet and now he is more dangerous than Antony.’

  ‘Young Caesar needs no-one to control him,’ snapped Cicero rudely. ‘He is his own man and makes his own decisions...’

  ‘As long as he does not decide to join with Antony!’ persisted the stranger in the second litter. ‘Are we still certain of Generals Pollio and Plancus? Decimus Albinus is a broken reed...’

  ‘There is little chance. Antony is still hostis. He and Octavian... I should say young Caesar, fight like animals in the arena whenever they meet. There is still hope...’ The second litter swept away into the sea of darkness that was the Forum Romanum.

  A third, a single figure this time, in Senatorial robes, detached himself from his lictors and came scurrying through the shadows of the Forum. ‘Cicero! How can we control the boy until we recall Cassius and Brutus with their armies from the East?’

  ‘Put your mind at rest. I am in contact with both of them. As well as with Generals Plancus and Pol
lio. All is not yet lost...’

  ‘We must promise him anything he wants – and prepare to break those promises at the earliest...’

  ‘No! No! The Senate could never countenance duplicity...’

  ‘Ha! Surely you are joking Marcus Tullius, why, I remember...’

  ‘Good night, Quintus Antistius!’

  ‘Well, if we accede to his demands, I will leave the city as soon as possible and join Brutus.’

  ‘That is your decision, of course. And, perhaps a wise one as you too wielded a dagger on the Ides of March. Goodnight again.’

  ***

  The street outside Cicero’s house was almost as busy as on the morning of an important trial. It seemed that half the Senate had come to consult him. To seek his guidance and leadership. The old lawyer stepped out of his litter with every appearance of weariness and surprise. But the last Artemidorus saw of him, he was ushering his visitors into the atrium of his villa with almost sprightly excitement and enthusiasm. Being at the heart of the situation, with his finger on the pulse of the nation for one last time seemed to have knocked years of him.

  They no sooner left Cicero than they hurried down to the House of the Vestals to give Atia and Octavia the news that it was safe for them to go home. A message taken into the interior of the House by the Vestal who opened the door – together with the assurance that a suitable escort would be waiting at the door within half an hour.

  Artemidorus reported both situations to Quintus Pedius as soon as he and Felix returned to their temporary base in the old general’s villa.

  ‘I will send my lictors to escort the ladies at once – lictors and my best litter. That should do the trick,’ said Pedius. ‘But I must admit I’m more concerned about Cicero if what you say is true. It’s a great pity that you couldn’t have found some way of spying on whatever Cicero and his visitors are discussing.’

  ‘With respect, sir,’ answered Artemidorus, speaking as Septem the secret agent, ‘I don’t think there’s any need. They will be discussing whether Caesar and his legions present a strong enough threat to warrant immediate Senatorial action – which clearly they do.’

  ‘In spite of the fact that Caesar is behaving so modestly and reasonably...’ inserted Felix.

  Septem grinned. ‘Just because a lion sleeps does not make it any less dangerous,’ he observed. Then he continued. ‘They will be assessing how soon the Senate can meet. Cicero has already suggested the day after tomorrow. Though he can actually convene a meeting whenever he likes. Then they will be planning ways in which the Senate at that meeting can promise Caesar everything he has asked for – and how they can break those promises the moment the threat he poses is diminished.’

  ‘Pass a law one day and then rescind it the next,’ mused Pedius, who was after all a Senator. ‘Yes. I’ve seen them do that on occasion.’

  ‘Precisely, sir. Unless Caesar is willing to stay camped all along the Servian wall as he is now, there is no way of ensuring that he can trust the Senate to keep its word to him, no matter what proposals they pass into law.’

  Pedius nodded. ‘Cicero will argue – and not without reason – that a contract agreed under duress has no legal weight in any case.’ He rose and began to pace the peristyle, his head bowed and his face folded into a frown as he thought things through. ‘But Caesar cannot afford to wait where he is. He must settle the question of Antony. And then the question of Brutus and Cassius in the east. Until all the debts arising from the slaughter of Divus Julius are paid, there is important work for him to do. All of it far away from Rome. It is a riddle I must admit I cannot solve.’

  ‘I can see a solution,’ whispered Septem to Felix as Pedius paced out of ear-shot. ‘Though I hope and pray to Achilleus that Caesar isn’t forced to adopt it: Sulla’s solution. If he can’t trust them, get rid of them.’

  Felix looked at him, horrified. ‘You mean proscription?’

  iv

  A little less than two days later, Quintus Pedius and his guests were seated back in the Etruscan-themed atrium of Caesar’s command tent. By now, Caesar had been joined by Maecenas and Rufus as well as Agrippa. Their legions were encamped on the increasingly crowded Campus Martius. The four young friends sat quietly, listening to Pedius’ report of the Senate proceedings earlier in the day.

  ‘They have agreed to everything,’ he said roundly. ‘Although you have not even entered the city or formally presented yourself, you are unanimously elected Suffet Consul in place of Gaius Vibius Pansa, to serve the rest of his term of office until the calends of Januarius 712 ab urbe condita since the founding of the city. While wielding all his powers and fulfilling all his responsibilities. In concert with myself. I will replace Aulus Hirtius for the same period.’

  Artemidorus shook his head. ‘Not even Divus Julius was appointed Consul without even entering the city,’ he said. ‘You have managed an extraordinary coup, Caesar.’

  ‘I appear to have done so at any rate,’ agreed Caesar. ‘But the proof of the metal is in the testing of the steel. We will discuss your plans for that in a moment. Meanwhile, sir, what else did the Senate say?’

  ‘Divus Julius’ will is formally and fully ratified. You are now in sole possession of his fortune, property...’

  ‘And his list of clients,’ breathed Agrippa. ‘Some of the richest and most powerful men in the empire now owe you their absolute allegiance. Amazing...’

  ‘At least I should have enough money to fulfil Divus Julius’ promise of seventy-five Attic drachmas to every Roman citizen. And, talking of money, my legions...’

  ‘Will all receive the extra bounty as promised. To be paid from the City treasury at the earliest opportunity.’

  After Pedius had left, the six men huddled round the table while legionary slaves brought water, food and wine. ‘Now,’ said Caesar, ‘we need to discover to what extent I can trust Cicero and his cronies to keep their word. I cannot move if I cannot trust them and I must come to some sort of an accommodation with Antony. And soon. You will need to prepare yourself for a long hard ride, Septem. You and your crypteia will be carrying my messages to Antony as soon as I know what I can tell him.’

  ‘And your crypteia is back to full strength, I understand,’ observed Felix. ‘Now that your wild woman remembers who she is. Though I note that she never forgot how to wield her weapons.’

  ‘That’s what she, her guardian spirit Mercury and Glyco her physician told me,’ nodded Artemidorus who had checked up on Puella the instant Glyco and the legion were in place. And had found her fully recovered – though remaining with the doctor for the time-being so he could keep an eye on her convalescence. The physician proposed to write a book about her condition and his successful treatment of it through masterly inactivity. Typical Athenian, though the Spartan spy. Taking credit for doing sod all.

  ‘Good,’ said Caesar. ‘Now, Septem, how can we test the good faith of the Senate? What scheme have you come up with?’

  ***

  Cicero slept little and lightly. He stirred the moment his ex-slave, secretary and friend Marcus Tullius Tiro entered his room. ‘What is it?’ he asked, shielding his eyes against the glare of Tiro’s oil lamp.

  ‘Quintus Antistius Labeo and some other men are here to see you.’

  ‘At this time of night? I must be important! Has that arrogant boy entered the city after all?’

  ‘No Marcus Tullius. The opposite is true, I believe. Quintus Antistius will explain.’

  During this muttered conversation, Cicero rose and, with Tiro’s help, put on some robes formal enough for entertaining guests. Then, preceded by Tiro and the lamp, Cicero hurried through to the atrium of his villa.’

  ‘Quintus Labeo, Decimus Turullus, Minucius Basilus,’ he said in greeting as his gaze swept over his visitors. ‘What on earth brings you here?’

  ‘Have you not heard?’ asked Quintus Labeo, his voice shaking with excitement. ‘It is all over the city. A rumour that seems to be true!’

  ‘What rumour? Wh
at are you talking about, old friend?’

  ‘The legions! The Fourth and the Martia; the African legions with them! Moved by the nobility of General Gaius Cornutus’ suicide, and mollified by our promise of guaranteed full pay, they have all deserted Octavius Caesar! They have all declared for us!’

  Cicero’s mind raced. ‘Then the boy no longer poses a threat. Where the Martia Legion leads, all the others will follow! We must summon the Senate into immediate session and rescind the motions we passed yesterday.’

  ‘Not the back-pay...’

  ‘No, Minucius Basilus. That would indeed be to cut off our nose in despite of our face! But the Consulship! Divus Julius’ will. We must take Octavian’s power back into our own hands. All of you, send out your servants. Tiro, send out mine! Call the Senate to meet at once in the Temple of Tellus, even though it’s the middle of the night. At once! We must act!’

  Full of excitement and energy, Cicero bustled back into his bedchamber and set about dressing in his senatorial toga and consular badges. Tiro summoned his litter and his lictors, who supplemented the bundles of their fasces with flaming torches. Then he was off through the black-throated vias and deep-shadowed forums to the Temple of Tellus.

  v

  The great old building and its precincts were deserted and dark when Cicero’s litter arrived. The lictors with their torches stood around the statue of Quintus Cicero as his brother stepped down and almost ran up the steps to the temple itself. His lictors lit the way and opened the great doors. Then, as he stood by the massive entrance, they set about preparing the temple for an almost unprecedented night-time meeting of the senate. Lighting lamps. Arranging seating. The one thing Cicero regretted was that there was no opportunity to summon Spurinna, the Senate’s haruspex, to make a sacrifice and read in its entrails the fortune of the meeting – good or bad. Nevertheless, he followed the lictors into the building, then waited at the door, getting ready to greet the senators as they answered his call to attend an extra-ordinary gathering of the Senate.