Colleen McCullough - 5. Caesar

This prayer was not answered. At the middle of April, Cato and Favonius, with Lucius Postumius in tow, arrived in Dyrrachium to tell of their ejection from Sicily by Curio. "Why didn't you go on to Africa?" asked Pompey. "It seemed better to join you," said Cato. "I am ecstatic," said the commander-in-chief, secure in the knowledge that irony would pass straight over the top of Cato's head. Two days later, however, a more useful man did turn up: Marcus Calpurnius Bibulus, who had dallied in Ephesus on his way home from governing Syria until events shaped themselves enough for him to perceive a proper course. Not that he was any more deferential or understanding than Cato, simply that his resolution to oppose Caesar was allied to a strong desire to be genuinely helpful rather than needlessly critical. "I'm so glad to see you!" said Pompey fervently, wringing his hand. "There's no one here apart from Labienus and me with any idea of how to go about this war." "Yes, that's obvious," said Bibulus coolly. "Including my esteemed father-in-law, Cato. Put a sword in his hand and he does well. But a leader he is not." He listened while Pompey summarized his preparations, nodding approval. "An excellent idea, to get rid of Lentulus Crus. But what's your strategy?" "To train my army to think like an army. Spend the winter and spring, possibly also the early summer, near Thessalonica. It's closer to Asia Minor, a shorter march for troops sourced there. Nor will Caesar deal with me until he's tried to deal with my Spanish army. After he loses in Spain he'll regroup and come after me he has to, or else submit, and he won't do that until he's not got a man left. It's mandatory that I control the seas. All the seas. Ahenobarbus has set himself up to take over Massilia, which has told me that it respects its ties with our government. That will slow Caesar down and oblige him to split his forces even more. I want him to experience the old, familiar Roman headache a shortage of grain in Italia. We must dominate the seas between Africa, Sicily, Sardinia and the Italian coast. I also have to deny Caesar passage across the Adriatic at whatever time he decides to come east." "Ah, yes," purred Bibulus, "pen him in and starve Rome out. Excellent, excellent!" "I have you in mind as admiral-in-chief of all my fleets." That came as a surprise. Immensely gratified, Bibulus put out his right hand and clasped Pompey's with unusual warmth. "My dear Pompeius, an honor you will not find misplaced. I give you my word that I'll do the job properly. Ships are strange, but I'll learn. And learn well." "Yes, I think you will, Bibulus," said Pompey, beginning to believe that this decision was the right one. Cato was not so sure. "To love my son-in-law is a right act," he said in his usual hectoring tones to Pompey. "However, he knows absolutely nothing about boats." "Ships," said Pompey. "Things that float on water and are rowed. His nature is Fabian, not Marian. Impede, stall, delay, stalk, but never engage. You need a more aggressive admiral-in-chief." "Like you?" asked Pompey with deceptive mildness. Cato reared back in horror. "No! No! I was thinking of Favonius and Postumius, actually." "Good men, I do agree. However, they're not consulars, and the admiral-in-chief must be a consular." "Yes, that is in keeping with the mos maiorum." "Would you prefer that I appoint Lentulus Spinther, one of the Marcelli, or perhaps recall Ahenobarbus?" "No! No!" Cato sighed. "Very well, it must be Bibulus. I'll spend a lot of time talking to him about developing considerably more aggression. And I must talk to Lentulus Spinther and both the Marcelli. And Labienus. Ye Gods, that man is dirty and untidy!" "I have a better idea," said Pompey, holding his breath. "What?" "Hie yourself off I'll have the Senate give you propraetor's imperium to southern Asia Province and raise a fleet for me. I imagine Lentulus Crus, Laelius and Triarius will have enough to do in the north. Go to Rhodes, Lycia, Pamphylia." "But I won't be at the center of things, Pompeius. I'm needed at the center of things! Everyone is so disorderly! You need me here with you to smarten everyone up," said Cato, dismayed. "Yes, but the trouble is that you're so famous in places like Rhodes, Cato. Who, other than the wise, incorruptible and much respected Cato, can persuade the Rhodians to back us?" Pompey patted Cato's hand. "I tell you what. Leave Favonius behind with me. Give him instructions. Depute him to do what you'd do." "That might work," said Cato, brightening. "Of course it will!" said Pompey heartily. "Off you go, man! The sooner, the better." "It's terrific to be rid of Cato, but you've still got that fart Favonius around your neck," said Labienus, displeased. "The Ape is not the equal of the Master. I'll sool him onto those who need a boot up the arse. And those," said Pompey with a huge smile, "whom I personally detest."

When the news came that Caesar was sitting before Massilia and that Ahenobarbus was confident he would get no further, Pompey decided to pull stakes and march east. Winter was upon him, but his scouts were confident that the highest passes through Candavia were still negotiable. At which point Marcus Junius Brutus arrived from Cilicia. Quite why the sight of that mild, mournful, singularly unwarlike face caused Pompey to throw both arms around Brutus and weep into his overlong black curls, Pompey never afterward knew. Except that from the very beginning this inevitable civil war had been a series of disastrous bungles, conflicting voices, unjust criticisms, disobedience, doubt. Then in walked Brutus, a completely unmartial and gentle soul Brutus wouldn't rasp, wouldn't carp, wouldn't try to usurp authority. "Do we have Cilicia?" he asked after he had composed himself, poured watered wine, ensconced Brutus in the best chair. "I'm afraid not," said Brutus sadly. "Publius Sestius says he won't actively support Caesar but he won't do anything to offend Caesar either. You'll get no help from Tarsus." "Oh, Jupiter!" cried Pompey, clenching his fists. "I need Cilicia's legion!" "You'll have that much, Pompeius. When word came that you'd left Italia, I had the legion in Cappadocia King Ariobarzanes was very delinquent in his loan repayments. So I didn't send it back to Tarsus. I sent it on through Galatia and Bithynia to the Hellespont. It will be with you in winter quarters." "Brutus, you're the best!" The level of wine in Pompey's goblet went down considerably; he smacked his lips and leaned back contentedly. "Which leads me," he said casually, "to another, more important subject. You're the richest man in Rome, and I haven't enough money to fight this war. I'm selling up my own interests in Italia, so are the others. Oh, I don't expect you to go so far as to sell your house in the city, or all your country estates. But I need a loan of four thousand talents. Once we've won the war, we'll have Rome and Italia to carve up between us. You won't lose." The eyes so earnestly and kindly fixed on Pompey's widened, filled with tears. "Pompeius, I daren't!" he gasped. "You daren't?" "Truly, I daren't! My mother! She'd kill me!" Mouth open, Pompey stared back, stunned. "Brutus, you're a man of thirty-four! Your fortune belongs to you, not to Servilia!" "You tell her that," said Brutus, shivering. "But but Brutus, it's easy! Just do it!" "I can't, Pompeius. She'd kill me." And from that stand Brutus would not be budged. He blundered out of Pompey's comfortable house in tears, colliding with Labienus. "What's wrong with him?" Pompey was gasping. "I don't believe it! I can't believe it! Labienus, that spineless little worm just refused to lend us one sestertius! He's the richest man in Italia! But no, he daren't open his purse! His mother would kill him!" The sound of Labienus's laughter filled the room. "Oh, well done, Brutus!" he said when he was able, wiping his eyes. "Magnus, you have just been defeated by an expert. What a perfect excuse! There's nothing in the world will ever part Brutus from his money."