by Peter Tonkin
They left at dawn and later the next day arrived at Mutina which had survived Antony’s attempts to drive Decimus Albinus out of Cisalpine Gaul much better than its northern neighbour. It still bore the marks of Antony’s siege but it had been quick enough to recover from the effects of its resultant starvation. And important visitors such as the Pontifex Maximus and his escort were given the best the city had to offer either in temples or taverns. Though Ferrata, Mercury and Furius would have liked to try a whorehouse or two as well. But being the Chief Priest’s escort brought responsibilities as well as rewards. So they stayed sober, unsatisfied and on watch in two-hour shifts by their accommodation’s water clock.
Well-fed and fairly well rested, therefore, they arrived at Caesar’s castrum outside Bononia in the late morning next day, having cantered across the intervening 15 military miles in little more than three hours. At least two days ahead of Antony’s expected arrival. The guard on the gate recognised Lepidus and Artemidorus – as well as the messengers who had been riding between the camps so recently. He conducted them to Caesar’s command tent at once, therefore. The contubernium marched smartly behind the three leaders, each of them leading their horse. Enobarbus and Artemidorus went shoulder to shoulder with Lepidus, also leading their horses, until the Martia Legion’s grooms took them away to be fed and watered.
Maecenas and Agrippa waited at the entrance to the tent’s Etruscan atrium to greet Antony’s ambassadors. Arms folded. Eyes narrow. Expressions guarded.
‘Right,’ said Lepidus quietly to his two immediate companions as he took in the fact that Caesar had not yet deigned to join the negotiations. ‘This is where the real work begins...’
iii
‘Antony feels that he has come more than half way towards meeting Caesar already. Look at it from his point of view. He’s crossed over the Alps and marched most of the way across Gallia Cisalpinus. And how far has Caesar come in reply?’ Lepidus let the rhetorical question hang in the air unanswered. Because Caesar hadn’t moved an inch to meet Antony as yet. Still hadn’t even appeared at the negotiating table. ‘He certainly won’t come much further than Mutina without some specific proposal as to meeting-place,’ concluded Lepidus.’
‘Though he won’t want to linger there, given what he did to the city,’ observed Maecenas.
‘I thought we had agreed that responsibility for that lay with Decimus Albinus. Who has now paid for his stubborn arrogance. Paid in full,’ answered Lepidus with a frown. And the merest flicker of a glance towards the man who had collected that payment by taking Decimus’ head.
‘So, if I may suggest, then, what we are seeking is a location well away from both Mutina and Bononia where Caesar and Antony can meet face to face. Alone.’ Artemidorus summed up almost a solid day of debate between Lepidus and Maecenas. Fortunate indeed that Caesar and his advisors also believed in one of Antony’s most important rules – if you were in the tent then you got to speak your piece. He and Enobarbus were acting as Lepidus’ bodyguards, and had attended all the negotiations so far. They had been selected as his bodyguards precisely because they were known – and trusted – in Caesar’s camp; but also would have useful insights and suggestions to offer. Though the crypteia as a whole yet again mounted guard on the Pontifex Maximus’ tent while he slept, exhausted, last night. In the heart of the enemy’s camp.
‘Alone except for immediate bodyguards,’ agreed Lepidus. And Maecenas nodded too. It was pleasant to see them agree on something, the secret agent thought. Only Lepidus’ diplomatic skills had kept the negotiations from becoming fractious. Maecenas was acerbic, probing, arrogant. And, almost unforgivably, young.
‘Then if that much at least is agreed, perhaps we should go out and look for somewhere that could meet – or be made to meet – all our requirements,’ said Artemidorus.
‘Like what?’ wondered Maecenas.
‘Like a tent in a large field that only certain men would be allowed into,’ suggested Enobarbus.
‘Not a tent,’ said Maecenas at once. ‘Caesar wants everything done in plain sight.’
‘A clearing in a forest,’ suggested Lepidus.
‘A forest would hide the legions – and, as Quintus will observe if asked, or, indeed, if not asked - the trees would obscure the legions’ sight-lines in any case.’ Enobarbus shook his head.
‘The top of a mountain...’ Maecenas was running out of patience again. There were no mountains anywhere near here. And there were no forests, come to that.
‘I have an idea,’ said Artemidorus. ‘I believe we rode past a place that might just suit as we travelled in from Mutina yesterday.’
***
The river was broad but so shallow that the bridge spanning it hardly elevated the Via Aemilia. You needed to be paying close attention even to realise you were crossing a bridge or a river at all. Artemidorus led the small group of horsemen up the via from Bononia, and reined to a stop at the near end of the bridge. As Lepidus, Enobarbus, Maecenas and Salvidienus Rufus, another of Caesar’s closest advisors, reined to a stop behind him.
The secret agent urged his horse off the road and followed the river bank due north. On either side of the broad, shallow watercourse green fields stretched almost as far as the eye could see. Too far from either Mutina or Bononia to have much in the way of cultivation. Sloping up on either hand away from the river flowing at the foot of a gentle green valley which looked to be more than a mile wide. In the distance ahead, just within sight-range, a little island split the stream into two. The low hump of land made more obvious by a stand of trees growing on it. As they drew near the island, it became clear that the trees stood at the wider end of a tear-drop shape, with a wide bank at their feet slowly narrowing downriver. Just like Tiber Island at the heart of Rome. But whereas Tiber Island was covered with buildings and large enough to accommodate an entire legion, this island might be big enough for a couple of dozen men, a shelter of some sort. A table, perhaps, and two or three chairs. All in plain sight of anyone standing along the banks. Yet far enough out in the main channel to make a serious surprise attack impossible.
Artemidorus reined to a halt and sat silently as the others looked at the island and fitted it into the requirements that they had spent the last few hours discussing. After a while he said, ‘if the generals sit on the island to negotiate, the legions can form up in the fields and watch what is going on. Caesar’s men on this side, Antony’s on the other.’
Silence fell once more as they all looked round, weighing Artemidorus’ words. ‘Looks pretty good to me,’ said Rufus at last.
Maecenas frowned at his ready acceptance of the unspoken proposition. Then shrugged grudging agreement.
‘I speak for Antony,’ said Lepidus. ‘And I believe he would find this place satisfactory.’
‘I believe Caesar would feel the same.’ Maecenas nodded after a few more moments and a glance at Rufus. ‘I’ll ask Caesar to confirm that himself, however.’
‘Why not suggest Caesar brings Marcus Agrippa when he comes to check,’ said Artemidorus. ‘Someone will need to build two bridges – one from each bank – within a very short time indeed. And if anyone can, Agrippa can.’
‘Excellent,’ said Maecenas, at last discarding his confrontational negotiating technique. Looking almost boyish with excitement.
‘What is the name of this river?’ asked Lepidus. ‘If the meeting on the island goes to plan, the name of the river will go down in history.’
But nobody knew what the name of the river was.
iv
‘It’s called the Fluvius Lavinius,’ said Agrippa, looking thoughtfully down into the fast-flowing stream. ‘I don’t think the island has a name, though.’
‘Fly-speck,’ suggested Caesar. ‘It’s small enough.’
‘No,’ countered Agrippa. ‘After you, Antony and maybe Lepidus have been on it, it will need a more important name than that.’
‘Only if something important comes of our meeting,’ said Caesar. ‘Septem, what
do you think?’
The three men sat on restless horses looking down from the eastern bank at the teardrop shaped island Artemidorus suggested. Several hundred Consular guards remained in ranks on the distant the road. As he had discovered it, Caesar had decided he should guide Agrippa and himself to look at it and to discuss any matters arising from its selection. Matters that might need to be referred back to Antony.
‘I think you need to hold the meeting first and name the island later, Consul,’ said Artemidorus.
‘Wise advice,’ nodded Caesar. ‘Well, you have discovered the place. I have approved the place. Agrippa here will build bridges to the place. Perhaps I will ask you to name the place in one of Divus Julius’ new weeks. For now it is enough that you guided us here. Now, take your crypteia back to Antony and tell him I will meet him here in three days’ time.’
‘With respect, Caesar, I will take only one or two of my people with some notes of the progress that has been made so far. If General Lepidus is staying to continue discussions with you, it would be inappropriate to leave him with no guards at all.’
‘Because you do not trust me?’ Caesar’s eyes narrowed suspiciously
‘Because he is Pontifex Maximus,’ answered Artemidorus, with a glance up towards the serried ranks on the via. ‘And, like you, Consul, is due as much pomp as we can arrange for him.’
‘Very well.’ Caesar turned to Agrippa. ‘Marcus Vipsanius, is three days long enough for you to construct bridges to Fly Speck Island from either bank?’
‘Yes, Gaius. I could probably do it in two. Depending on the availability of wood and stone – and the firmness of the river-bed.’
‘Then let’s move on. Now that the initial negotiations have more or less been completed, I will join in the process personally.’ Caesar glanced round the massive vacancy of the wide river valley. The promise of an evening wind stirred the long meadow grass until it began to mimic the sea, heaving in whispering waves. ‘Septem, please inform Antony that while Lepidus and I will have come to some initial agreements by the time he arrives, these are nothing more than suggestions to be balanced with whatever Antony himself has to offer.’
‘I know the General is impatient to move on, Consul. I am certain he will be grateful for any structure you can bring to the negotiations that will allow matters to progress.’
Caesar looked at Artemidorus, weighing his bland assertion. Then he burst out laughing. ‘Septem. If we come through this unscathed and still as friends, remind me to send you as ambassador to Parthia! If anyone can retrieve Crassus’ lost eagles without an outright conflict, it would be you!’
‘Not to Brutus or Cassius, Consul?’
The laughter in Caesar’s face died. ‘Oh no,’ he answered. ‘There will be no embassies to Brutus, Cassius and their friends until I send someone to serve them an official, irrevocable, non-negotiable declaration of war. And after that, of course, someone to collect their heads.!’
***
‘So,’ said Antony, looking up from the last of the letters Artemidorus had presented him with. ‘We meet on this Fly Speck Island of yours. Caesar and I?’
‘And possibly Lepidus,’ answered Artemidorus.
‘That seems wise enough. He’s on my side after all. Unless the bloody boy has managed to work some wicked magic on him...’
‘I doubt that, General. The Pontifex Maximus should be proof against such, things, surely.’
Antony gave a bark of laughter. ‘Good point! I hadn’t thought of it! So. The three of us. Negotiating...’ his voice trailed off.
‘The future of the world,’ said Ventidius Bassus, clearly awed at the idea.
Antony looked up, his expression distracted. The three of them sat in Antony’s command tent. This was not supposed to be a planning meeting, merely the reporting-in of a messenger carrying letters from Enobarbus, Lepidus and Caesar, all of whom were waiting in Bononia for Antony’s approach in little more than two days’ time. ‘I will summon a full meeting of my advisors in a while,’ Antony said. His voice, like his expression lost in speculation. ‘But in the meantime, both of you, what do you think they will propose?’
‘As far as I know, General,’ said Artemidorus carefully, as Ventidius Bassus made no reply, still dazzled by the prospect of the upcoming negotiation. ‘There has only been one occasion where three men such as yourselves have tried to control the reins of power all at once. When Divus Julius, Pompeius Magnus and Marcus Licinius Crassus came to an agreement seventeen years ago in the year 694 since the founding of the city, during the consulship of Metellus Celer and Lucius Afranius. As I understand it, they split the power of the state between them. None of them was Consul that year – though Divus Julius was Consul next year in 695. Instead they ruled over the senate, city, the country and the empire as though they were all one man. Three men acting as one. A triumvirate.’
Antony’s gaze became less vacant. As did Bassus’. Both slowly focused on Artemidorus. ‘A triumvirate,’ repeated Antony. ‘That would be a good beginning. But not quite an equal distribution of power. Senior triumvirs wielding more influence as would be proper... Over more vital sections of the country and the empire...’
‘With legions apportioned accordingly,’ suggested Bassus.
Antony gave another grunt of laughter. ‘Apportioned to whoever could afford to pay them...’
‘No, General,’ said Artemidorus. ‘Surely that would be too dangerous and divisive. You would need to ensure that each of the triumvirs was equally able to pay.’
‘But that would require an enormous amount of money. And, from what I hear, the bloody boy all-but emptied the treasury as soon as Divus Julius will was ratified so that he could pay his legions the first half of what he promised them. Where in the name of all the gods would we get enough money to pay all the legions and run the Republic? Especially as those bastards Brutus and Cassius have robbed us of all the income we used to get from the East?’
‘Perhaps, Antony,’ suggested Ventidius Bassus, with a thoughtless phrase that would echo in Artemidorus’ memory for the rest of his life, ‘you should find a way of looking for the money you need a little closer to home.’
v
Antony’s legions formed up on one bank and Caesar’s on the other. The Alaude Larks and the Thirty Fifth opposite the Martia and the Fourth with only the Fluvius Lavinius and the little island at its heart between them. ‘The last time two armies were this close together,’ said Antony, ‘I was able to wade across and invade your camp pater, all on my own!’
‘I remember the incident slightly differently,’ answered Lepidus. ‘But no doubt your recollection is much more accurate.’
The pair of them were standing in the middle of the front row. Ventidius Bassus stood on one side and Enobarbus on the other. Artemidorus and the contubernium were ranked immediately behind the senior officers. And, behind them a squad of 300 who would guard the bridge while Antony was on the island. Looking over Antony’s shoulder, Artemidorus could see the familiar figures of Caesar, Agrippa, Maecenas and Rufus precisely opposite. Like his general, they all appeared to be in full uniform, though unarmed – the scabbards for their swords and daggers empty. The hump of the island, augmented by low scrub half-cleared and two wooden bridges largely made from the trees that had once stood there, obscured everything below their waists. But the empty scabbards were easy enough to see.
A little further down the island, where it was broadest, and still shaded by a couple of tall saplings too thin to be of use to the bridge-builders, stood a table and three curule chairs beneath a bright awning that offered yet more shade but hid nothing. It was as though there was going to be a meeting of some part of the Senate here, thought the spy; and to a certain extent that was so. For a Consul of Rome was involved. Who spoke for the Senate and People at negotiations such as these. A couple of amphorae stood nearby and three glasses sat on the table near the chairs. What was in them only time would tell – but Antony would probably be the first to find out. Another
, smaller, table stood a little distance away. And Adonis, record keeper to the Senate itself, stood ready to record the deliberations of the meeting – and any decisions the three most powerful men in the world might come to.
‘Right, Pater Lepidus,’ said Antony. ‘Over you go and check it out. Take Septem and my tribune here as agreed. I don’t want to find any more assassins like that murderous nothus Myrtillus lurking in that scrub!’
Lepidus took two steps forward. Enobarbus and Artemidorus fell in behind him. But then he stopped. Turned. ‘How shall I signal if it’s all-clear?’ He asked. ‘I don’t want to come all the way back. It will make us look ill-prepared and cowardly.’
‘Hadn’t thought of that,’ admitted Antony ruefully.
‘We’re all wearing full uniform, General,’ said Artemidorus. Why doesn’t General Lepidus just wave his cloak? It’s a military sagum, red as blood. Everyone will be able to see.’
‘Good idea,’ nodded Antony. ‘Let’s go with it. Wave your cloak, Pater. You will be the venatione hunter and I will be taurus the bull...’
‘The Minotaur at any rate,’ grumbled Lepidus as he turned. ‘Let us hope that young Caesar is no Theseus!’
But Antony pretended not to hear.
The three soldiers marched forward toward Agrippa’s crossing. As they did so, Artemidorus saw that Agrippa, Maecenas and Rufus were reflecting their action on the far bank. So carefully and precisely that Agrippa’s footfall and Lepidus’ echoed from beneath the timber arches at exactly the same moment as they stepped from grass bank to wooden bridge. Then he and the Tribune stepped up at precisely the same moment as Maecenas and Rufus.
***
The river island was small. Far too small to accommodate Antony’s 300-man guard, let alone Caesar’s as well. They stood back and guarded the bridges, therefore, while Lepidus, Agrippa and their immediate guards examined the island more closely. The low scrub was thin and half-cleared. The sandy soil of the place was bare beneath some scrawny grass. The only thing preventing it from cracking under the heat of the late-October sun was the constant irrigation of the river. There was no-one concealed here. Nothing to find. It took Lepidus and his team mere moments to decide this – and Agrippa even less time – for he had built the bridges, cleared the scrub, erected the awning and brought the tables and chairs.