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

* * *

Quite aware that he was effectively muzzled, Antony stalked home in a towering rage. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right! The cunning old fox was master of every trick in the political and legal manuals, plus a few tricks he'd invented. Soon every last senator would be compelled to swear a mortal oath to uphold all of Caesar's laws and dictates in his absence. It would be administered under the open sky of the temple of Semo Sancus Dius Fidius, and as Pontifex Maximus the old boy had gotten around things like holding a stone in the hand to negate the oath Caesar had been around too long to be fooled by anything. Trebonius. I need to talk to Gaius Trebonius. Not Decimus Brutus, but Trebonius. Somewhere very private. He made contact after the Senate met to appoint Dolabella the suffect consul after Caesar stepped down. Suffect, but senior. "My horse has arrived from Spain. Want to take a walk out to the Campus Lanatarius and see him?" Antony asked jovially. "Certainly," said Trebonius. "When?" "There's no time like the present, Antonius." "Where's Decimus Brutus?" "Keeping Gaius Cassius company." "That's an odd friendship." "Not these days." They walked on in silence until they passed through the Capena Gate, heading for the area which contained Rome's stables, as well as the stockyards and slaughterhouses. The day was cold, a bitter wind blowing; inside the Servian Walls they hadn't felt it as much, but once beyond the city, their teeth began to chatter. "Here's a nice little tavern," said Antony. "Clemency can wait, I need wine and a warm fire." "Clemency?" "My new Public Horse. After all, I am the flamen of the new cult of Caesar's Clemency, Trebonius." "Oh, he was angry when we gave him the silver tablets!" "Don't remind me. The first time I ever met him, he kicked my arse so hard I couldn't sit down for a nundinum." The few occupants of the tavern looked at the newcomers and gaped; never in all the place's history had two men in purple-bordered togas walked through the door! The landlord rushed to escort them to his best table, evicting three merchants who were too awed to protest, then hunted for his best amphora of wine, put bowls of pickled onions and plump olives down for them to munch. "We'll be safe here, this lot's as Latin as Quirinus," said Trebonius in Greek. He sipped experimentally at his beaker of wine, looked surprised, and waved his approval at the beaming landlord. "What's on your mind, Antonius?" "Your little plot. Time's running out. How's it going?" "Well in one way, not so well in another. There are enough of us at twenty-two, but we lack a figurehead, which is a worry. There's no point in doing this particular deed if we can't survive it in an odor of sanctity. We're tyrannicides, not murderers," said Trebonius, uttering his favorite sentence. "However, Gaius Cassius has joined us, and he's going to try to persuade Marcus Brutus to be the figurehead." "Edepol!" Antony exclaimed. "He'd be all of that." "I'm not sanguine about Cassius's chances of success." "How about," said Antony, pulling layers off an onion, "some additional guarantees in case you don't get your figurehead?" "Guarantees?" Trebonius asked, looking alert. "Don't forget I'll be consul and don't think for a moment that Dolabella's going to be a problem, because I won't let him. If You-know-who is dead, he'll lie down, roll over, and present me with his belly," said Antony. "What I'm proposing is to smooth things over for you with the Senate and People. My brother Gaius is a praetor and my brother Lucius is a tribune of the plebs. I'm happy to guarantee that none of the participants will be brought to trial, that none will be deprived of his magistracy, province, estates or entitlements. Don't forget that I'm Caesar's heir. Ill control the legions, who love me a great deal more than they do Lepidus or Calvinus or Dolabella. No one will dare to go against me in the Senate or the Assemblies." The ugly, attractive face turned feral. "I'm not nearly as big a fool as Caesar deems me, Trebonius. If he's killed, why not kill me and Uncle Lucius and Calvinus and Pedius? My life is in jeopardy too. So I'll make a bargain with you with you, and you alone! It's your scheme, and you're the one who'll hold the rest together. What I'm saying to you is between you and me, it's not for dissemination to the others. You make sure that I'm not a target and I'll make sure that no one suffers for the deed." Moist grey eyes reflective, Trebonius sat and thought. He was being made an offer too good to spurn. Antonius was an administrative sloth, not a maniac for work like Caesar. He'd be content to let Rome slide back into her old ways as long as he could strut around calling himself the First Man in Rome and as long as he had Caesar's staggering fortune to spend. "It's a deal," said Gaius Trebonius. "Our secret, Antonius. What the rest don't know won't hurt them." "That goes for Decimus too? I remember him from Clodius Club days, and he's maybe not as stable as most people think." "I won't tell Decimus, you have my oath on it."

Early in February, Caesar got his casus belli. News came from Syria that Antistius Vetus, sent to replace Cornificius, had blockaded Bassus inside Apameia thinking it would be a short, swift siege. But Bassus had fortified his Syrian "capital" very efficiently, so the siege became protracted. Worse than that, Bassus had sent to King Orodes of the Parthians for help, and help had arrived; a Parthian army under Prince Pacorus had just invaded Syria. The whole of the northern end of the province was being overrun, and Antistius Vetus was penned up in Antioch. Since no one could now possibly argue that Syria ought not to be defended or the Parthians contested, Caesar rifled the Treasury for a great deal more than he had originally intended, and sent the war chest to Brundisium to await his arrival; for safety, it was stored in the vaults of his banker Gaius Oppius. He issued orders that all the legions were to assemble in Macedonia as fast as the transports could ferry them there from Brundisium; his cavalry were shipped from Ancona, the closest port to Ravenna, where they were camped. Legates and staff were told to get to Macedonia yesterday, and he informed the House that he would step down as consul on the Ides of March. A startled Gaius Octavius suddenly found himself served a curt notice from Publius Ventidius to go to Brundisium, where he was to embark at the end of February with Agrippa and Salvidienus Rufus. The order was a welcome one, for his mother was weeping and wailing that she would never see her beloved only son again, and Philippus was, thanks to her dramatics, unusually testy. Deliberately abandoning two-thirds of what she had put together for him, he hired three gigs and two carts with a view to setting off down the Via Latina immediately. Freedom! Adventure! Caesar! Who managed to see him for a very brief farewell the evening before he departed. "I expect you to continue your studies, Octavius, because I don't think your destiny is a military one," said the Great Man, who seemed tired, unusually harassed. "I will, Caesar, I will. I'm taking Marcus Epidius and Arius of Alexandria to polish my rhetoric and knowledge of the law, and Apollodorus of Pergamum to keep me struggling with my Greek." He pulled a face. "It is improving a little, but no matter how hard I try, I still can't think in it." "Apollodorus is an old man," said Caesar, frowning. "Yes, but he assures me that he's fit enough to travel." "Then take him. And start educating Marcus Agrippa. That's one young man I'm anxious to see capable of a public career as well as a military one. Has Philippus arranged for you to stay with someone in Brundisium? The inns will be overflowing." "Yes, with his friend Aulus Plautius." Caesar laughed, looked suddenly boyish. "How convenient! You can keep an eye on the war chest, young Octavius." "The war chest?" "It takes many millions of sesterces to keep an army eating, marching and fighting," Caesar said gravely. "A prudent general takes his funds with him when he goes if he has to send back to Rome for more money, the Senate can prove very difficult. So my war chest of many millions of sesterces is sitting in Oppius's vaults right next door to Aulus Plautius's house." "I'll keep an eye on the war chest, Caesar, I promise." A quick handshake, a light kiss on the cheek, and Caesar was gone. Octavius stood staring at the empty doorway with an ache in his heart he couldn't define.