The Horse Changer (29 page)

That was when I took off at a sprint, heading for the spear at the end of the arena. He was on my left, three paces behind. I let him come within half-a-stride; he could not yet reach me with his pilum, but when I bent down to pick up the spear he would be on me, driving his weapon hard into my back. Still a few steps away from the undamaged spear, I broke stride, closing the gap between us. At the same time, I swerved into him, batting the pilum away with the sword in my left hand and rolling into his legs.

I hit the side of his knee with the weight of my entire body. I heard the crack of bone, a scream of pain. When he was down I rolled away and came back to my feet. Tossing both swords away I grabbed the good pilum and held the weapon over him, threatening him with it until he cried for mercy.

I turned from the Celt, still holding the spear, and looked at Antony, who sat within range of my weapon. I was seething in rage for having been played the fool, and I thought about challenging Antony himself, which would have been bad business. Then I thought about the money. Walking away from the giant I dropped my weapon, my arms extended overhead, as if a mob cheered me. In fact my training mates were crying out enthusiastically, for they had all been beaten by me and were happy to see there was a good reason for it. From the benches where Antony sat I heard only my friend Horace howling and clapping his hands. I didn’t know it, but he had just become a very rich man. The others in Antony’s entourage, all with heavy wagers against me, stared down at me with sullen faces. So, too, Antony.

Without a word of congratulations or a glance at the fallen Celt, Antony finally stood up and departed. His entourage followed until only Horace remained at the benches. He was still clapping his hands and shouting the salute one might offer a victorious gladiator. Finally, he left too, scurrying after the nobles like one of their servants. As for the fallen Celt no one came for the poor fellow. We had to summon a few legionary slaves to carry him off to a doctor – for all the good it would do; he would walk with a crutch for the rest of his life.

I went for a bath afterwards, long before the usual hour. I wanted no company; I was angry at Antony and at the Celt, whom I had been forced to cripple. It was better than getting run through by a spear, I can tell you, but I did not like hurting a man in the practice arena. Nor did I care to be treated like some low-rent gladiator.

I cooled down that evening when my fortune arrived. I expected a note of congratulations from Antony, but no, only the coins, a great mass of them of every description. Most of the money though came in the form of a letter of credit over Mark Antony’s signature.

A week or so later, Antony called me to his palace in the city. We met where Antony routinely received his clients each morning; I was first through the door. ‘Come in, Dellius.’ Antony left his chair and walked toward me. As he was my commander I stood to attention. He was then a very heavy man but still tremendously powerful and wonderfully handsome. He walked around me I think to compare his physique with mine, or perhaps he meant to compare my build with that which he had possessed at my age. I was no Hercules but I was strong enough to hold my own against one.

‘I thought we should have a talk about how you managed to lose four of Dolabella’s legions in Judaea.’

‘They were not Dolabella’s legions but mine, Imperator. They were a gift from Claudius Nero, on condition that Dolabella and you would arrange for Nero to be elected the urban praetor.’

‘Nero enjoyed his praetorship, but Cassius Longinus received the legions. Without a fight as I understand it. I want to know why that happened.’

‘I failed to act as Caesar would have done, Imperator. The real Caesar I mean.’

‘Don’t let our new Caesar hear talk about the real Caesar, Dellius. He’s rather touchy about his shortcomings.’

‘I only meant…’

‘I know what you meant. What happened? Did you lose your nerve? I’ve asked several people, but no one tells the same story.’

I began my tale with my arrival in Egypt. I hardly cared to confess to murdering Gaius Trebonius for the sake of taking his head to Allienus. From Egypt to Judaea and there my meeting with the sons of Antipater.

‘I had the Queen of Egypt waiting for me if I turned back and Cassius Longinus ready to oppose me in Syria. Once I had learned that Dolabella was dead and that your army had been destroyed, I sought to negotiate with Cassius through the auspices of Antipater. Antipater seemed ready to help me, but of course he was poisoned on the very night we met.’

‘And what do you imagine Caesar would have done in your place?’

‘With four legions ready to fight? He would have marched through Judaea, slowing down only long enough to persuade another two or three legions of auxiliaries from the Greek cities to join him. In fact, Cassius had nothing like the eight legions he advertised. What few legions he did have were spread across the whole of Syria and Asia Minor. Caesar would have understood that. He would have doubled the speed of his march and arrived at Antioch before Cassius could defend it.’

‘So why didn’t Quintus Dellius do that?’

‘I let the sons of Antipater deceive me with promises.’

I told him the full story of Phasael’s betrayal, how he let me imagine I might serve in Judaea and keep command of my legions. ‘Two weeks after leaving Egypt, Imperator, I could have been lord of Antioch had I only stopped for a moment to consider what Caesar would have done.’

‘You may be right. Then again Cassius might have defeated you as he did Dolabella.’

‘Better to go down fighting than lose four legions without lifting a sword.’

‘On that we agree, and I have to tell you my chief concern with respect to you is that you lost those legions without a fight. You see, I’d like to offer you a commission as a senior tribune in my guard. More to the point I want you to take command of those men closest to my person all recruited and trained by you. We will be travelling through Asia Minor and Syria next spring,’ he added. ‘There will be crowds and meetings with dignitaries, sometimes quite a tumult of bodies. I do not expect any trouble, but it is the perfect venue for an assassin to strike, and I cannot think of any man I should like to have closer to me than you.’

I nearly jumped at the chance, but my instincts told me I could have more. ‘I will require a prefecture, Imperator. If I am responsible for your safety, I want to have your entire guard under my authority.’

‘I already have a prefect of the Guard, lad.’

‘Promote him.’

Antony blinked at my impertinence, then surprised me. ‘Done,’ he said.

‘I should like a bonus, as well.’

‘Count your five thousand denarii as quite enough bonus, Dellius. Don’t ruin good fortune with too much greed.’

‘I won that money at considerable risk to my skin, Imperator. I want the bonus as a courtesy.’

‘How much courtesy do you require?’

‘I should like to have the horse Cassius Longinus rode at Philippi, the tall red stallion with the narrow blaze and one white sock; you brought the animal to Athens and keep him presently in your stable.’

‘That horse and no other?’

‘That and no other.’

‘But I like that horse.’

‘No doubt you do, but the horse was mine before Dolabella stole him from me.’

‘Dolabella a horse thief? You can’t be serious.’

‘It was more of a prank, actually, but of course once Dolabella was dead, Cassius took the horse as his own. When I wrote to Cassius to say that the horse was my property and provided information on how he might confirm the sale of the animal to my father, Cassius ignored my letter. Now you have won the animal by right of conquest, but I want him as a gift from my new patron – that I may know you value me as you ought to do.’

Antony turned to one of his staff. ‘Draw up papers for the prefect’s command and get him that damn horse – the tall red one I call Cassius.’

At some point in the following days Horace found me in my new apartment inside Antony’s palace. He was anxious to give me my share of the winnings. This came in the form of a slave he had purchased on my behalf. As a prefect I would need someone to attend me, he said, and he feared I might be cheated at market, if I went looking on my own for an educated Greek. This one Horace had tested in Greek and Latin. I might trust his grammar as being nearly perfect, only a small issue with the Latin ablative, but he was working on that. I could also count on him to train me in Greek pronunciation, which, Horace told me as kindly as he could, I needed to improve. I was astonished by the generosity of my friend until I learned the amount he had won in his wager, two hundred thousand sesterces from Antony alone, and smaller though quite handsome sums from the others on Antony’s staff. Not a bad hour’s wage for sitting on a bench. Of course he had risked bankruptcy if I had lost; so I could not complain that he had assumed no risk at all.

Horace reported to me that he would be leaving Antony’s service at the first breath of spring, when the sea was open again to traffic. Antony had agreed to award him an honourable discharge owing to a non-existent injury. With this document my friend hoped to get secretarial work with the government in Rome and afterwards begin running in circles where his poetry might help him make a name for himself. He had money now and, possessing good relations with Antony, hoped for patronage either from one of Antony’s friends in Rome or, as it actually turned out, someone in Caesar’s circle.

I arranged to send money with Horace to give to the patriarch of the Tuscan family with whom I had lived when I first went to Rome. This gentleman, as I mentioned earlier in my history, had assumed responsibility for a debt I had foolishly incurred, and I was happy finally to discharge my obligations to him and even supply a bit of interest in my gratitude. As it turned out, the man had perished in the proscriptions, but the money I sent with Horace went to his heirs, who were understandably rather desperate for it.

A few weeks after Horace sailed for Italy, Antony’s court departed for the orient. Antony’s entourage moved through the very provinces that had opposed him only six months earlier, though it was impossible to imagine it by the way people turned out to receive him. One would have thought Bacchus himself had come back to life. Kings and nobles vied for his affection and bandied about the term ‘divine’ so often that Antony began to believe it. Standing close to him after these great shows of affection, I heard his drinking companions laughing at the oriental’s fondness for sycophancy. Antony laughed too, but a month into it one of these rude fellows made a mockery of the elaborate adorations Antony had lately received with a vague reference to one of their debauches in Rome. It was one of those occasions when Antony had ended up vomiting over something or someone of high repute. Antony laughed cheerfully at the memory, but when the fellow had departed he instructed his freedman that he wished never again to see the man.

Antony had come to Asia for money, but of course Cassius had robbed the land of its wealth. No matter: kings found something to give, even if they had to steal it from their neighbours. They wanted Antony happy, for no man, not even Pompey Magnus, excited more terror in the orient than Mark Antony in the wake of Philippi. There were chests full of money instead of the wagonloads of former times. When Antony took his gifts he did not fail to grumble at the miserly offerings. To compensate for their lack of fortune the potentates of Asia recruited fresh dolls from the mountains to play the bride of Bacchus for a single evening. For a season I believe Antony slept only with virgins, sometimes two or three at a go and sometimes only the solitary princess of a local monarch. Wives were offered when there were no suitable virgins available, even sons in a pinch. Theatre, banquets, lectures on the arts, and then a long night of drinking and debauchery. Dionysus himself could not have played the role with more gusto.

My duties were to arrange my men to best advantage and to worry even when there was obviously no danger. Antony let me go about my business as I pleased, but he was watching and judging my abilities. Of course he did not worry over my good opinion of him: he had not concerned himself with the opinion of his fellow senators; why bother with his lowly prefect of the Guard? I am sure, however, he assumed I was impressed by his magnificence. To be honest I found the man too pleased with himself to feel much admiration. I could not help recalling the manner of the divine Julius Caesar, who was sober and abstemious, lest he must begin a march at midnight. A lover of women, yes, but not as the satyr loves them. I could imagine Caesar had been interested in their conversation and quite charming in his seductions. With Antony it was the scream of a torn hymen, then the girl abruptly shoved from his bed.