Chapter X
X
At the beginning of November, we began our return journey to Italy.
Caesar was determined to stay in the saddle at the head of his army.
It was a brave attempt to demonstrate his leadership.
But it was foolhardy. As our long column of three legions wound through the mountains, I could see how much the effort cost him.
By the time we reached Dyrrachium two weeks later, he had once again fallen into a state of nervous exhaustion.
He had to be carried aboard his flagship in darkness to avoid being seen, and stayed in his cabin throughout the crossing.
The winter sea was grey and rough – too rough, at least, for Sextus’s pirates to trouble us.
That was our sole piece of good fortune.
Caesar was pitched around for three days and nights, sick and sleepless, and when at last we made land in Brundisium, his doctors were unanimous that unless he rested for at least a month, he was unlikely to survive.
This latest bout of illness was to have serious consequences. It meant he would not be in Rome in time for the opening of the new session of the Senate on the first day of January, when Lucius would assume the consulship.
As the days passed and he did not appear in Rome, his absence set the city talking, and eventually brought our old friend Maecenas hurrying down to Brundisium to discover what was wrong.
We were staying in a villa close to the harbour, surrounded by a cordon of soldiers. They held back the permanent crowd of petitioners and onlookers who filled the neighbouring streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the most famous young man in the world.
When Maecenas turned up unannounced, I was relieved to see him.
I told him about the illness and then took him in to see Caesar, lying in a darkened room.
He was weak but alert enough to recognise his visitor.
I had grown used to Caesar’s feeble appearance, but Maecenas could not hide his dismay.
Their meeting was short, at the doctors’ insistence.
Afterwards, Maecenas described the state of affairs in Rome.
Food was short due to Sextus’s pirates, who were intercepting the grain shipments from the east. The city was full of angry farmers fearful that they were about to lose their land to the returning veterans.
Lucius and Fulvia were encouraging the protests.
She was especially active behind the scenes, practically running the state – appointing magistrates, letting her gangs roam the streets, spreading the rumour that Caesar was dead.
– He must show himself in public to prove he is still alive, otherwise matters could slip entirely out of control.
I replied that given the state of his health, he could not possibly appear in public. He looked so weak it would only fuel the rumours.
Maecenas thought about it for a while, staring into space, twisting the rings on his fingers.
– It does not actually have to be Caesar. Hardly anyone down here knows what he looks like.
He asked me if I could find a young legionary of noble appearance who could briefly show himself to the crowd. He would not need to speak more than a few words of greeting. I thought it a hare-brained scheme, but in the absence of a better idea, that is what we did.
The son of an equestrian, as handsome as a young Apollo, agreed to play the part.
We dressed him in Caesar’s toga, and at dusk took him out into the town, protected by a heavy guard.
The people flocked around and applauded him.
He spoke a few words privately here and there, then graciously accepted an armful of petitions, which he handed to me before retreating inside.
So successful was this impersonation, and so heroic-looking our ideal Caesar, that Maecenas commissioned a sculptor to capture his likeness.
Copies of the bust were quickly made by a team of local masons.
One was dispatched to Rome, one to Naples, one to Capua, and so on.
In time, other artists made their own versions – copies of copies of copies.
One can see them even now, spread across the empire.
When Caesar had sufficiently recovered a few days later, we explained to him what we had done. I feared he might think it disrespectful. Instead, he approved entirely and mused on the possibilities.
– The truth is, I am not Caesar. No one is Caesar. Caesar is a name, a myth – a legend beyond mere flesh and blood. We should learn from this. After all, I cannot be everywhere at once.
But it was clear he did need to be back in Rome.
Having listened to Maecenas’s report, he demanded his clothes, and when his doctors protested, he threatened to have them executed on the spot.
We wrapped him in blankets and laid him on his mattress in his special carriage, and left Brundisium that afternoon.
Caesar carried his illness inside him like a devil.
It seized him without warning, dragged him to the edge of death, held him suspended there for weeks, and then abruptly withdrew.
Given it had been going on for years, we had to reckon on it happening again.
From this point on, his health became a consideration in all our decisions.
It had the same potential to affect the future as a battle won or lost.
Reaching Rome at the end of January, we found the situation even graver than Maecenas had described.
People were starving. The streets were dangerous.
At night, there was much looting. Lucius, who was due to become the presiding consul in February, openly blamed Caesar for the crisis, even though the resettlement of the veterans was Antony’s policy as much as his.
Caesar was so unpopular that when he did once venture out to the theatre to show himself in public, his appearance provoked a violent demonstration.
Only with difficulty did he make it back to his house.
The next day, he went to see Lucius, taking Maecenas and me with him.
We found the consul in his house on the Palatine, together with Fulvia.
He had the same physique as Antony, but little of his charisma – a weak character in a strong body, who was dominated by both his older brother and his sister-in-law.
He tried to compensate by throwing his weight around, especially when he was drunk.
He expressed surprise at seeing Caesar, and left most of the talking to Fulvia, who was sarcastically oversolicitous about Caesar’s health – you can’t be too careful at your age – and suggested he should perhaps consider retiring from public life in the hope of surviving a little longer.
But Caesar was full of that euphoric energy that often follows illness.
He ignored her and handed Lucius a letter Antony had given him in Greece to deliver to his brother.
It instructed Lucius, under the terms of the agreement struck at Philippi, to transfer to Caesar two of the eleven legions stationed in Gaul under the command of his legate Q. Fufius Calenus.
Lucius read the letter and handed it to Fulvia. It was she who answered for them both.
– We cannot comply. All those legions are necessary to keep order in Gaul.
– That is nonsense. Gaul is peaceful. Let me remind you, the Triumvirate is still in force, and it is we who decide the disposition of the army. Antony’s instructions are perfectly clear. Two of those legions are mine.
– Circumstances have changed. The Republic is in chaos. I am Antony’s wife. Lucius is his brother. In his absence, we speak for him. Those legions stay in Gaul. If you object to our decision, take the matter up with him.
– How can I do that? He is in Egypt – no doubt forging a close relationship with Cleopatra even as we speak.
That blow landed. Her mock solicitude disappeared.
– Listen to me, you little shit. Everyone knows you ran away at Philippi. You are no soldier. You are barely a man – just a sickly creature hiding behind a famous name.
– But at least I am a man, whereas you are merely a woman, meddling in matters that are none of your concern and which you do not understand. You are very quiet, Lucius. Has she cast a spell on you?
– You need to treat Fulvia with greater respect, young man. I would remind you she is still the mother of your wife.
– My wife? Clodia is not my wife in any proper sense! I shall send her back immediately, with a certificate to say she’s still a virgin.
– If you do that, you will start another civil war.
– So be it.
And with that, Caesar turned away and the meeting ended.
As soon as he was home, Caesar sent one of his doctors to examine Clodia and attest that her hymen was intact, then gave orders for her to be escorted back to Fulvia with a note to that effect, as if he was returning unused goods to a shopkeeper. He did not even say goodbye.
Despite his bravado, his position was perilous in the extreme.
Six of the legions he had been awarded after Philippi were on their way to his Spanish provinces, under the command of Salvidienus.
He sent a message ordering him to return at once with the army to Italy.
He had another four legions stationed at Capua.
Lucius, on the other hand, controlled six as consul, to which could be added the eleven commanded by Calenus in Gaul.
In short, we were heavily outnumbered.
Caesar could not decide whether Lucius and Fulvia were acting on their own initiative, or if they were colluding with Antony to destroy him.
But as Maecenas pointed out, it did not matter.
Even if Antony had had no warning of their insurrection – even if in private he disapproved of it – he was hardly likely to take up arms against his own wife and brother to rescue a partner he did not like. We were on our own.
Nevertheless, Caesar wrote to Antony asking him to stand by their pact and repudiate the actions being taken by his family. Then he began to make plans to head south and raise more soldiers.
Despite all this, my mind was constantly full of thoughts of Caecilia.