Colleen McCullough - 6. The October Horse - A Novel of Caesar and Cleopatra

Lucius Antonius made no move to follow him, just stood frowning.

"The cunning little fox, he pulled the wool over my eyes beautifully," Lucius said to Fulvia a little later. She was with child again, and missing Antony acutely, which made her short-tempered. "You shouldn't have let him speak," she said, her face somber enough to reveal a few unflattering lines. "Sometimes you're an idiot, Lucius. If you've reported his words accurately, then what he said when he pointed to the ring around the sun implied that Caesar is a god and he the son of a god." "D' you really think so? I just thought it was crafty," said Lucius, still chuckling. "You weren't there, Fulvia, I was. He's a born actor, that's all." "So was Sulla. And why inform you he's a virgin? Youths don't do that, they'd rather die than admit that." "I suspect he was really informing me that he's not a homosexual. I mean, he's so pretty any man would get ideas, but he denied having any vices. His needs are simple, he says. Though he's a good orator. Impressed me, actually." "He sounds dangerous to me, Lucius." "Dangerous? Fulvia, he's eighteen!" "Eighteen going on eighty, more like. He's after Caesar's clients and adherents, not after noble colleagues." She got up. "I shall write to Marcus. I think he ought to know." When Fulvia's letter about Caesar's heir was followed two nundinae later by one from the plebeian aedile Critonius telling Antony that Caesar's heir had tried to display Caesar's golden curule chair and gem-studded gold wreath at the games in honor of Ceres, Mark Antony decided it was time to return to Rome. The little mongrel hadn't gotten his way Critonius, in charge of the ludi Ceriales, had forbidden any such displays. So young Octavius had then demanded that the parade show the diadem Caesar had refused! Another no from Critonius saw him defeated, but not penitent. Nor cowed. What's more, said Critonius, he insisted on being addressed as "Caesar"! Was going all over Rome talking to the ordinary people and calling himself "Caesar"! Wouldn't be addressed as "Octavius," and even declined "Octavianus"! Accompanied by a bodyguard of veterans several hundred strong, Antony clattered into Rome upon a blown horse twenty-one days into May. His rump was sore and his temper the worse for a grueling ride, not to mention that he had had to interrupt vitally important work if he didn't keep the veterans on his side, what might the Liberators do? One other item dumped a colossal amount of fuel on his rage. He had sent to Brundisium for the tributes from the provinces and Caesar's war chest. The tributes had duly arrived in Teanum, his base of operations a great relief, as he could go on buying land and paying something off his debts. Antony wasn't fussy about using Rome's moneys for his private purposes. As consul, he simply sent Marcus Cuspius of the Treasury a statement saying he owed that establishment twenty million sesterces. But the war chest didn't come to Teanum because it wasn't in Brundisium. It had been commandeered by Caesar's heir in Caesar's name, the bewildered bank manager informed Antony's legate, the ex-centurion Cafo. Aware that he couldn't go back to Campania armed with no more than this, Cafo made extensive enquiries all over Brundisium and its suburbs, even the surrounding countryside. What he learned amounted to nothing. The day the money disappeared had been one of torrential rain, no one had been out and about, two cohorts of veterans in a camp said no one in his right mind would have been out in that kind of weather, and no one had seen a train of sixty wagons anywhere. Aulus Plautius when applied to looked utterly blank and was prepared to swear on his family's heads that Gaius Octavius had had nothing to do with any thefts from the bank next door. He had only arrived from Macedonia the day before, and was terribly ill in the bargain blue in the face. So Cafo rode back to Teanum after deputing several of his men to start asking after a train of wagons north to Barium or west to Tarentum or south to Hydruntum, while others enquired if any laden ships had put out to sea as soon as the gale eased. By the time Antony rode for Rome, all these investigations had yielded nothing. No train of wagons had been seen anywhere, no ships had put out. The war chest had disappeared off the face of the earth, or so it seemed. Since it was too late in the day to summon Gaius Octavius, Antony soaked his sore rump in a mineral bath, then had a lusty all-over bath with Fulvia, saw the sleeping Antyllus, ate a huge meal washed down by plenty of wine, then went to bed and slept. Dolabella, he was informed at dawn, had gone out of town for a few days, but Aulus Hirtius arrived as he was breaking his fast and didn't look in a good mood either. "What do you mean, Antonius, bringing fully armed soldiers into Rome?" he demanded. "There are no civil disturbances, and you don't have Master of the Horse privileges. The city is alive with rumors that you intend to arrest the Liberators still here I've had seven of them visit me already! They're writing to Brutus and Cassius you're provoking war!" "I don't feel safe without a bodyguard," Antony snarled. "Safe from whom?" Hirtius asked blankly "That snake in the grass Gaius Octavius!" Hirtius flopped on to a chair. "Gaius Octavius?" Unable to stifle it, he laughed. "Oh, come, Antonius, really!" "The little cunnus stole Caesar's war chest in Brundisium." "Gerrae!" said Hirtius, laughing harder. A servant appeared. "Gaius Octavius is here, domine." "Let's ask him, then," said the scowling Antony, temper not improved at Hirtius's patent disbelief. The trouble was that he didn't dare antagonize Hirtius, the loyalest and most influential of Caesar's adherents in Rome. Carried huge weight in the Senate, and would be consul next year too. The high-soled boots came as a surprise to Hirtius and Antony both, and didn't contribute to metaphors like snakes in the grass. This demure, togate youth with his odd pretensions, a danger? Worthy of an escort of several hundred armed troops? Hirtius threw Antony a speaking, mirthful glance, leaned back in his chair and prepared to observe the clash of the titans. Antony didn't bother to rise or extend his hand. "Octavius." "Caesar," Octavian corrected gently. "You are not Caesar!" Antony bellowed. "I am Caesar." "I forbid you to use that name!" "It is mine by legal adoption, Marcus Antonius." "Not until the lex curiata of adoption has been passed, and I doubt it ever will be. I'm senior consul, and I'm in no hurry to convene the Curiate Assembly to ratify it. In fact, Gaius Octavius, if I have anything to do about it, you'll never see a lex curiata passed!" "Go easy, Antonius," said Hirtius softly. "No, I will not! You stinking little pansy, who do you think you are, to defy me?" Antony roared. Octavian stood expressionless, eyes wide and completely opaque, nothing in his pose betraying fear or even tension. His hands, left cuddling folds of toga, right by his side, were curved in a relaxed manner, and his skin was free of sweat. "I am Caesar," he said, "and, as Caesar, I wish to have that part of Caesar's fortune intended to go to the People of Rome as their inheritance." "The will hasn't been probated, you can't have it. Pay the people out of Caesar's war chest, Octavius." Antony sneered. "I beg your pardon?" Octavian asked, allowing himself to look astonished. "You stole it from Oppius's vaults in Brundisium." Hirtius sat up, eyes gleaming. "I beg your pardon?" Octavian repeated. "You stole Caesar's war chest!" "I can assure you that I didn't." "Oppius's manager will testify that you did." "He can't, because I didn't." "You deny that you presented yourself to Oppius's manager, announced that you were Caesar's heir, and requested the thirty thousand talents of Caesar's war chest?" Octavian began to smile delightedly. "Edepol! Oh, what a clever thief!" He chuckled. "I'll bet he didn't produce any proof, because even I didn't have any in Brundisium. Perhaps Oppius's manager stole it himself. Dear, dear, what an embarrassment for the state! I do hope you find it, Marcus Antonius." "I can put your slaves to torture, Octavius." "I had only one with me in Brundisium, which will make your task easier if you charge me. When did this heinous crime take place?" Octavian asked coolly. "On a day of terrible rain." "Oh, that exonerates me! My slave was still prostrate from seasickness, and I from asthma and a sick headache. I do wish," said Octavian, "that you would accord me my due and call me Caesar." "I will never call you Caesar!" "I must serve you notice, Marcus Antonius, since you are the senior consul, that I intend to celebrate Caesar's victory games after the ludi Apollinares, but still during Julius. That is why you see me this morning." "I forbid it," Antony said harshly. "Here, you can't do that!" Hirtius said indignantly. "I'm one of Caesar's friends prepared to contribute funds, and I would hope you'll be contributing yourself, Antonius! The boy's right, he's Caesar's heir and has to celebrate them." "Oh, get out of my sight, Octavius!" Antony snapped. "My name is Caesar," said Octavian as he departed. "You were intolerably rude," said Hirtius. "What possessed you to rant and rave at him? You never even asked him to sit down." "The only thing I'd ask him to sit down on is a spike!" "Nor can you deny him his lex curiata." "He can have his lex curiata when he produces the war chest." That set Hirtius to laughing again. "Gerrae, Gerrae, Gerrae! If someone did indeed steal the war chest, then it had to be an undertaking that must have been nundinae in the planning and execution, Antonius, as you well know. You heard Octavianus, he'd only just arrived from Macedonia, and he was ill." "Octavianus?" asked Antony, still scowling. "Yes, Octavianus. Whether you like it or not, his name is Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus. I shall call him Octavianus. No, I won't go so far as to call him Caesar, but Octavianus gives him his due as Caesar's heir," said Hirtius. "He's remarkably cool and clever, isn't he?" When Hirtius walked out into the peristyle of the palace on the Carinae, he found Antony's veteran escort gathered in it, apparently waiting on the senior consul's orders. And there in the middle of them was Octavianus, smiling Caesar's smile, moving his hands like Caesar, it seemed capable too of Caesar's wit, for they were all laughing at whatever he was saying in that deep voice that sounded more like Caesar's every time Hirtius heard him. Before Hirtius reached the group, Octavianus was gone with a Caesarean wave. "Oh, he's lovely!" sighed one old stager, wiping his eyes. "Did you see him, Aulus Hirtius?" another asked, eyes equally misty. "Caesar's image, young Caesar!" What game is he playing? wondered Hirtius, heart sinking. Not one of these men will be in the ranks by the time Octavianus comes into his own, as he certainly will. It must be their sons he wants. Is he capable of that much planning?