Текст книги "The Ides of March"

Автор книги: Valerio Massimo Manfredi

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

15

Romae, in Domo Publica, a.d. III Id. Mart., prima vigilia

Rome, the residence of the Pontifex Maximus, 13 March, first guard shift, seven p.m.

Caesar was getting ready to meet with his officers. He was wearing a simple knee-length fatigue tunic, like the one he used during his military campaigns, cinched at the waist by a leather belt with an iron buckle. A servant was just lacing up his boots. He gave him a quick look to make sure his clothing was in order, then asked, ‘Anything else, master?’

‘See if you can do something to my hair,’ replied Caesar, looking at himself in the mirror.

The servant combed it slightly forward to partially hide the early stages of baldness.

There was a knock at the door and Silius Salvidienus appeared.

‘Are they here?’ asked Caesar.

‘Yes, they’re all downstairs. Calpurnia is offering them drinks. Aemilius Lepidus, Decimus Brutus, Mark Antony, Caius Trebonius and the others. They appear to be in a jolly mood.’

‘Have places been assigned at the table?’

‘As you’ve requested. Decimus Brutus at your right, Mark Antony at your left.’

Caesar seemed to ponder this for a few moments.

‘Is something wrong, commander?’

‘If Labienus were here, he would be sitting at my right.’

‘Labienus is dead, commander, and you paid him the respects due to a faithful friend and a valiant enemy.’

‘Fine, then. We can go downstairs.’

Caesar could see in Silius’s face that he had something more to say, so he dismissed the servant.

‘What is it?’ he asked warily.

‘It’s not pleasant, I’m afraid. It’s going to irritate you.’

‘Well, let’s have it, then.’

‘There’s someone who is passing around an interpretation of the Sibylline Books which claims that only a king can defeat and subjugate the Parthians.’

Caesar shook his head and sat down, crossing his arms. He sighed. ‘So that’s how far it’s gone. This I would never have expected.’

‘It’s a serious matter, commander. Another bit of slander meant to alert the people to your presumed intention of establishing a monarchy in Rome and in the empire. Whoever it is is trying to isolate you and thus weaken you. A king would be loathed by the people and the Senate alike. Remember the Lupercalia festival. You told me yourself that most of the crowd were scandalized when you were offered the royal crown.’

‘Do you know the source of this falsehood?’

‘No.’

‘Which means it will be attributed directly to me. I am the Pontifex Maximus and thus the custodian of the Sibylline Books, from where this oracle is said to come.’

‘Commander, the intention of harming you is explicit. You must defend yourself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That your enemies are preparing something. Rumour has it that in one of the coming senatorial sessions a proposal will be put forward to proclaim you king.’

Caesar said nothing but his eyes were like those of a lion being stalked by hunters. From downstairs came the voices of the high commanders of his army, those men who were preparing to conquer the rest of the world.

Silius sensed that it was time to make his move. ‘May I ask you a question?’

‘Let’s hear it,’ said Caesar.

‘Has anyone, in these last few days, attempted to put you on your guard against something?’

Caesar gave an involuntary shudder and Silius felt that he was about to share an important confidence that would allow him to ask more questions.

‘I don’t mean an explicit declaration,’ he added. ‘A veiled allusion, perhaps? Doesn’t anything come to mind, commander?’

Caesar could see the raving expression of Spurinna, the augur, hissing at him, ‘Beware the Ides of March!’ but he turned calmly to Silius and said, ‘We have to go downstairs. They’re waiting for us.’

He took a scroll from the table entitled The Anabasis of Cyrusand started down the stairs.

Silius followed him and, before entering the meeting hall, stopped to listen to the enthusiastic welcome Caesar was receiving: military salutes, shouts of greeting, barracks banter. Then Caesar’s voice, sharp as a sword: ‘Commanders of the legions of Rome, magistrates, masters of the cavalry and auxiliaries!’

‘Caesar!’ they all replied in unison.

It felt as though the lion had leapt into the circle of hunters.

The meeting went on until late, a good two hours. Caesar began with the Anabasis.He summarized Xenophon’s account of the expedition of the ten thousand Greek soldiers who, four centuries earlier, had made it nearly all the way to Babylon without striking a blow, but immediately pointed out that things had changed considerably since then, and that Crassus’s army had been wiped out just ten years earlier by the Parthians at Carrhae. This was the main objective of the mission: to avenge the massacre of Carrhae. Rome had been humiliated, the triumvir defeated, thousands of her most valiant soldiers killed, her Eagles lost. But this would be only the beginning. The Parthians constituted a perennial threat, so the problem must be solved once and for all.

He went on to describe the tactical and strategic aspects of the expedition. He took, from a case already sitting on the table, the map that Publius Sextius had provided him with. A copy of the ancient Road of the King, it included all the other roads and caravan routes that crossed the vast territory of the Parthian empire, stretching all the way to Armenia, to Sarmatia, Media and Bactriana. He laid the map on the table and the members of the war council were awed by a masterpiece of geographical expertise the likes of which they had never seen.

Each one of them, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, eagerly regarded this vision of the eastern part of the world. Each one made his comments, with those who already knew something of the Orient tracing their fingers over the rivers, lakes, seas and mountains they recognized.

Then it was Caesar’s turn. His officers followed the tip of his index finger as he drew out the lines of march and the attack routes on the parchment sheet painted in natural colours: brown for the mountains, bright green for the rivers, lakes and seas, light green for the plains, ochre for the deserts. The place names in Persian had been carefully transcribed in Latin in an even hand.

His plan was to attack on two different fronts, from Syria and from Armenia, converging his forces in a pincer on the capital, Ctesiphon.

The problems to consider, Caesar said, were the enemy cavalry and the double-curved bows the Parthians used, which could strike from a considerable distance. He pointed out that even if Crassus had won at Carrhae and had pushed on into enemy territory, his chances of succeeding would have been slight. Lost in the immensity of the Syrian and Mesopotamian deserts, deprived of his own cavalry, the army would have been easy prey for the continuous onslaughts of squads of enemy archers on horseback. Their tactics were to attack, strike and retreat, without ever engaging the infantry in hand-to-hand battle. This had been reported by a man who had miraculously survived the massacre, hidden under a pile of bodies.

As Caesar proceeded with his explanations, Silius noticed that some of those present were looking more at him than at the map. They were watching his expression rather than listening to his words. Why? What were they trying to read in their commander’s face?

His strength, decided Silius; they were trying to gauge how much strength remained in that wrinkled brow, those eyes, that jaw, in his fisted hands leaning on the table.

Antony seemed the most attentive to Caesar’s strategic plan, even interrupting him to ask for clarification. He seemed to be truly eager to leave on this Parthian expedition and play the role of subordinate commander in the vast theatre of operations. The others weren’t showing real interest, as if they didn’t believe it would happen. Decimus Brutus, for instance, was constantly talking under his breath to Caius Trebonius, making comments Silius would have liked to hear.

Perhaps Antony wanted to prove to Caesar – who had been treating him rather coldly since the Lupercalia incident, and who had seated him on his left at the table – that he was still his best officer, the only one among them capable of conducting wide-ranging, important operations. To let Caesar know he had been wrong to shut him out.

Silius himself was convinced of Antony’s military worth, but still wondered about his behaviour at the festival. Had he been acting on his own initiative? Had he merely made a mistake, a glaring error of judgement? Could one believe that Antony had truly meant it as a sincere gesture of admiration? Offering Caesar the king’s crown in order to say later that he had been the only one to openly acknowledge Caesar’s true worth? Could it have been a calculated ploy to become Caesar’s most trusted man, the most powerful in the empire after him?

Anything was possible, but nothing was convincing, because Antony was not a stupid man.

He could not have been unaware of the risks involved in making such a public gesture in front of such a large crowd. In the Senate it was a different matter, for here there was a relatively select group of aristocrats, most of whom owed everything to Caesar and bent over backwards to praise him. But not the people. Antony must have realized that suddenly forcing them to accept a choice that was universally felt to be scandalous, if not repugnant and even perfectly useless, was a huge risk. Not only because their reaction would be unpredictable, but even more so because the move had not been approved by Caesar himself. Silius believed Caesar when he said he had not been consulted. So what was the meaning behind the gesture, then? Had Antony acted on his own or was there someone behind him?

Although Silius had been over all this again and again, these thoughts kept crowding his mind and he was ashamed to realize he was not listening more closely to his commander as he illustrated his plans for universal conquest.

His generals were urging Caesar on now, enjoining him to conquer the whole world. They were raving about his plans, pressing him to undertake further exploits, to push past the boundaries of the inhabited world, to take on the desolate stretches of Sarmatia, the vast deserts of Persia and Bactriana, to follow the dreams of Alexander the Great. Now there was a model for you: larger than life, always victorious. .

Silius Salvidienus was watching Caesar’s face in the midst of this frenzy of excitement. His grey eyes were lit intermittently by a tired glow; otherwise they expressed mainly weariness and almost unbearable strain. These were the eyes of a man who could move only towards the impossible or towards death.

Both were undesirable outcomes.

The session ended in an atmosphere of general euphoria and Caesar announced he would convene the Senate for the morning of the Ides of March. There were various matters that would have to be finalized, some routine and others representing important new developments.

Caesar accompanied his guests to the door personally. As he was leaving, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus took his hand and said, ‘I’m expecting you for dinner tomorrow night, then. I hope you haven’t forgotten.’

‘How could I forget?’ replied Caesar. ‘It wouldn’t be wise to neglect the invitation of a man who has an entire legion in fighting order at his command!’

Lepidus laughed as the others slipped past one by one, meeting the escorts they had waiting outside.

Silius’s glance happened to fall on Antony as he was exchanging a few words with his servants. That seemed odd to him, as did Antony’s expression. He turned to Caesar and said, ‘Commander, if you don’t need me at the moment, there are a few things I have to look after.’

Caesar grinned. ‘At this hour? How can I say no? What’s she like? Blonde or brunette?’

‘Brunette, commander,’ replied Silius with the hint of a smile.

‘Be sure to distinguish yourself in the line of duty, then.’

‘You can count on that, commander,’ replied Silius, trying to assume a rakish air. ‘The Thirteenth never disappoints!’

He crossed the threshold, but before leaving turned around, serious again: ‘Commander. . there may be another explanation.’

‘For what?’

‘For that rumour about the Sibylline Books. Maybe it’s not someone who wants to isolate you or discredit you – or rather, maybe that’s not all. Maybe someone is trying to force your hand. .’

Caesar said nothing.

Silius gave a nod and walked off into the dark.

Slipping between the northern corner of the Domus and the House of the Vestals, Silius lingered in the shadows at the edge of the halo of light cast by a couple of tripods beside the entrance. He was keeping an eye on Antony’s litter and the two armed bodyguards escorting him with lanterns in hand. The small convoy set off on the same road that Lepidus was taking towards the Tiber Island at first, but then turned left on the riverbank at the Sublicius Bridge, bound towards the portico of a small shipyard. Where was Mark Antony headed?

Silius followed at a safe distance, conveniently shielded by the big alders that lined the southern bank of the river. The darkness hid him, while Antony’s litter was easily visible thanks to the lanterns his bodyguards held high to light their way and to frighten off muggers and thieves.

Silius saw the litter stopping and then a certain jostling about in the shadows. Something was happening. At that distance, he couldn’t make out what it was, so he drew closer. He saw someone getting out of the litter dressed as a servant, though he could not be a servant, and someone getting into the litter who was dressed as Antony but was not him.

Silius followed the man dressed as a servant who was walking unaccompanied towards the Sublicius Bridge. It was Mark Antony. The men accompanying his litter were protecting a servant wearing Antony’s clothing.

Silius crossed the bridge after him and continued shadowing him, although by this time he was fairly sure of where they were both headed: Caesar’s villa on the other side of the Tiber, where Cleopatra lived. Antony was about to go in alone, at night and without an escort, wearing the clothes of a servant.

A chorus of dogs barking, then a door opening silently. Antony slipped in and the dogs quietened down. Just after that, a line of guards came around the western corner of the house, making their rounds of inspection at the garden’s perimeter.

In a single moment, Silius saw many of his suspicions confirmed and the collapse of others that he might have defended vehemently if it had ever come to that.

He had to find his way in, but how? He could run back to the Domus, report to Caesar on what he’d seen and return with a group of men who would replace these guards and occupy the entrances. That would allow him to enter the villa and the queen’s apartments, in order to spy on her and Antony. But all that would take much too long. Whatever was happening in that house had to be discovered without delay.

Silius entered the garden by climbing over the wall and carefully approached the villa. The dogs must have been busy greeting the newly arrived guest. Silius circled around the building cautiously, checking every corner. He’d been in that house before, with Caesar, and he’d know where to go once he got in. But the problem was getting in. Cleopatra’s residence was a kind of fortress. Antony had let himself in the side door with a key, and the dogs had immediately stopped barking because they were obviously familiar with him.

The main entrances were guarded. And the patrol he’d already seen was encircling the perimeter.

He noticed a chimney at the end of the western corner of the house, where the servants’ quarters were located. There were some square openings on the chimney wall where the wooden beams of a maintenance scaffold had been removed. He thought he could use them as toeholds, so he did just that. When the guards had passed he kicked off his shoes and climbed to the top. Part of the roof was covered with tiles; if he could cross without making any noise, he would find himself in the terraced area, which would make an easier surface to move on. Once on the terrace, he paused to get his bearings. To his right were the peristyle and the inner garden. He could hear the monotonous bubbling of the fountains. A little further on was the atriumwith its pool at the centre, and in the middle was the master apartment. He remembered that there was a small thermal bath system on the other side of the house that probably wasn’t being guarded.

He crossed the terrace and another section of tile-covered roof and easily reached the baths, which were covered in part by tiling and in part by fine plaster. He slipped down to the first terraced level and reached the dome of the laconicum, the steam bath, which was open at its centre to allow the smoke from the braziers to escape. He made the opening bigger by using his dagger to prise off the tiles, working in silence, and dropped in. He had the good luck to land on a pile of ashes that remained at the centre of the dead embers. And from there he slid to the floor without difficulty.

He was inside!

The queen must still be in her winter apartments, adjacent to the walls of the calidarium, to take advantage of the warmth created by the room’s heating system. Accustomed as she was to the climate in Egypt, Cleopatra detested the cold, damp Roman winter.

Silius groped his way around in the almost complete darkness, attempting to recall the plan of the house. He was drawn like a moth to the dim glow cast by a lantern in one of the adjacent rooms. He had to try hard not to fumble or make any noise that would give him away. The house was immersed in silence and the slightest sound would bring on the dogs or worse.

He reached the calidarium, which was linked to the laconicumby a short corridor. He counted his paces and stopped at the place where, according to his calculations, the brick cavity wall that collected the heat produced by the baths met the queen’s living quarters.

He put his ear to the wall and he thought he could make out voices having what seemed to be a conversation.

He used the tip of his dagger to chip away at the mortar that joined one cavity segment to the next. He worked very carefully, well aware that if he could hear their voices, they’d be able to hear any noise he made. He was tense and sweating profusely, anxious to complete this mission he’d assigned himself. The sensation of being so close to making an extraordinary discovery made him feel strangely elated, almost inebriated.

As soon as he’d removed the layer of mortar between one heat collector and the next, he was able to stick the point of his blade into the brick and widen the hole he had made until it was half a palm wide. He drew close to listen.

The voices were clear and recognizable now, the voices of a man and a woman.

The man was Antony.

The woman spoke Latin with a strong Greek accent. She must be Cleopatra.

‘I’ll always be grateful to you for what you’ve done. . but I’m afraid it was all for nothing.’

‘I would have done anything for you, my queen. If Caesar had accepted the crown on the day of the Lupercalia festival, no one would have opposed him. The Senate would have ratified his title and you would have become the sovereign of the world. I would have served you with devotion, content just to be near you, protecting you. But Caesar didn’t understand-’

‘Caesar didn’t want to understand. I’ve suggested it to him on numerous occasions, and each time he has refused to even talk about the possibility. He has recognized his son, but only in private form. However, I haven’t given up yet. You must have heard the latest about the Sibylline prophecy.’

‘I have.’

‘Yes, my ministers have always had a certain hold over those simpletons, your priests. But he won’t take the opportunity, I’m almost certain. It’s clear that I don’t count at all for him.’

‘For me you are everything. . everything, my queen.’

‘You’re saying that to console me.’

‘I’m saying that because it’s true. I see your image before my eyes day and night, everywhere I go. Your face, your body. .’

‘And my feelings? My hopes? My aspirations?’

‘Yes, those as well. I want what you want.’

‘Are you willing to swear to that?’

‘I swear it, my queen. On the gods and on my own life.’

‘Then listen to me. What I’m about to say is of the utmost importance. Our future, my son’s future, the future of the entire world, depends on it.’

A long silence followed and Silius, with his ear glued to the hollow in the wall, feared that they had moved to another room where he would no longer be able to hear them. But then Cleopatra spoke up again. Although her voice was muted and distorted, its timbre and tone were laden with irresistible sensuality, made even more intriguing by that Greek lilt. Silius had seen her several times but had never heard her speak before. Now he could well understand how Caesar had fallen in love with her, how anyone who had the fortune to meet her, see her, listen to her, would find her entrancing.

‘I’ve heard that Caesar’s life is in danger.’

Antony didn’t say a word.

‘Do you know anything about this?’

Antony did not reply.

‘I’m alone in this city. There’s no one I can count on.’

Antony said something that Silius missed, then Cleopatra began to speak again.

‘But I have met a few people here. I managed to find the ear of a man who is very close to Caesar, just before he was about to depart for a mission in the north of the peninsula. I asked him to find out whatever he could about this threat to Caesar’s life. I told him what I knew and gave him some contacts. .’

Silius thought of Publius Sextius and was startled.

‘I made him swear that the matter would remain between the two of us. I wanted him to understand that it was Caesar’s safety I was concerned about, immensely so, although Caesar himself seems to give it no thought. I should be hearing from this person by tomorrow. If it’s any later than that it might be too late. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

Silius imagined that Antony had nodded or answered her with a look.

‘Good,’ continued Cleopatra. ‘If anything should happen, you will be the only person I can trust in this city. Cicero despises me and there are many others who can’t stand me. Antony, you must promise me you’ll be careful. You must be prudent. Do it for me and for my son.’

Silius heard nothing more, but he’d heard enough. He was certain that Caesar would listen to him now and take immediate action. The problem now was getting out. He couldn’t go back by the route he used to get in, because he had no way of getting up to the hole he’d dropped through at the centre of the laconicumdome. So he had to find a way out through the house. At least he was familiar with the layout and the darkness would cover him. He could get to the peristyle and from there to the servants’ quarters. He could use the side door, slipping out between the guards’ rounds.

A sudden gust of wind swept in from the hole in the dome and stirred up a cloud of ashes from the floor. Silius could not hold back a violent sneeze.

He froze, ears straining, heart in his throat. He heard nothing. After all, he thought, anyone in the house could have sneezed. A sneeze was no cause for alarm.

He started to move again, cautiously. He crossed the tepidariumand the frigidarium, reached the door and opened it on to the corridor that led to the peristyle. He looked round anxiously. There were only a few lanterns lit under the portico; no one was in sight. He made his way towards the atrium, staying close to the wall.

A voice rang out behind him as the light of several torches flooded the portico. ‘Quite a bad cold you have there, Silius Salvidienus. What are you doing out at this time of night?’

It was Mark Antony.