The Memoirs of Cleopatra (119 page)

He was pleased, having just reviewed the troops. We were now at full strength; nineteen Roman legions, with the Asian light infantry and cavalry, brought our total forces to about a hundred thousand men. We outnumbered Octavian. Our only possible weakness was that about a third of the legionaries had no battle experience, having been recruited after the conquest of Armenia.

Our attempt to place spies in Octavian’s camp had been unsuccessful. Theirs was a close-knit and loyal bastion.

Now, in the lull before we joined battle, we would gather in the dining pavilion for a feast with our commanders and allies. It was an ancient tradition in the east, and seemed fitting.

Charmian had brought some of my ceremonial clothes in the trunks from Patrae, and she proceeded to dress me, choosing a modest gown of the richest material—embroidered brocade trimmed with pearls. I had wanted to wear what I referred to as my commander’s uniform—it had a silver breastplate with a red cape fastened to the shoulders, and a silver helmet in the shape of a vulture’s wings—but she emphatically pronounced it unsuitable.

“The Romans will be wearing their ceremonial uniforms, but that is because they have nothing else. The eastern kings will be attired sumptuously; wait and see.”

She was right, of course. As Antony and I took our stand on the dais, before the standards of the legions and the emblems of the other contingents, and watched the monarchs and admirals and generals parade past us before taking their places, it was appropriate that Antony, as supreme commander, be in his most glorious military attire and that I be less conspicuous. His gold breastplate, richly ornamented with symbolic scenes and figures, enhanced his heroic proportions and made him seem to tower above the others, to differ in his very substance.

Each man was announced. There was Prince Amyntas of Galatia, the man Antony had elevated to his present position, tall and graceful, his robes flowing. “I present my two thousand cavalrymen,” he said proudly. He was right to be proud of them, for they were reputed the best to be had.

Archelaus of Cappadocia followed, a short man going bald, a distant cousin of my suitor from long ago. He described his contribution and then passed by to take his seat below us. There was Deiotarus of Paphlagonia, as bulky as a Cretan bull, bowing and declaring his loyalty. Next came Tarcondimotus of upper Cilicia, a dark, nervous man, who pledged his utmost support and slid away. There was something snakelike about him.

Following him was Mithridates of Commagene, a jolly, round man with billowing robes that hung in folds from his ample girth, whose men were said to be fierce fighters. Then Rhoemetalces of Thrace, with a lumpy nose but beautiful earrings, and another Thracian prince, Sadalas, slick as a sacred cat of Bast. Behind them was Iamblichus of Emesa, stately and staid.

In addition, representatives of Malchus of Arabia, Polemo of Pontus, and the King of Media passed before us and recited their countries’ contributions.

Our generals presented themselves—Canidius Crassus and Quintus Dellius and their tribunes—followed by the admirals: Gellius Publicola, Marcus Insteius, Ahenobarbus, Gaius Sosius, Quintus Nasidius, and Decimus Turullius. Sosius was still in command at Zacynthus, and Nasidius at Corinth. Turullius had incurred our displeasure when, in his zeal to help our shipbuilding efforts, he had cut down the sacred grove of Asclepius in Cos. It gave a bad name to our cause and was impious besides. We did not need any gods to be out of sorts with us just now.

The senators filed in, walking with slow dignity, and took their places. Somehow they had managed to have fresh white togas on hand for the occasion, lending an air of Roman
gravitas
to balance the gaudy eastern costumes.

It was now mid-April, and the nights had lost their deep midnight cold. The flimsy wooden pavilion, with its low roof, was more than warm enough with all these people crowded in. The industry of the junior officers had fashioned temporary dining couches, tables, and serving stands, draped with blankets and colorful spreads for the kings, generals, admirals, and leading senators. The rest had to make do with saddle blankets and military cloaks hung over the wood. Antony had, as a roguish prank, set out a place for his fellow Consul Octavian, which would remain empty.

“After all, are we not serving together?” he had joked to me.

“Not to his knowledge,” I replied. But I was glad Antony boldly claimed the position from which Octavian had tried to dislodge him. Show, it was all show…but legality, constitution, all did not matter now. What mattered were the army and the ships.

The field conditions meant that the normal Roman seating arrangements of three-person couches had to be replaced by the eastern expedient of longer tables and couches; many more people were crowded close together. Antony and I were at the head of one very long table, with “Octavian’s” place between us, and Canidius Crassus and Amyntas of Galatia on either side.

After the silver trumpet sounded and before the procession of dishes began, Antony stood and cried, “Welcome all! We expect you to eat full and drink deep, and not stand on ceremony, since we are in the field. When you want something, reach! When you wish to speak to someone far down the table, yell! And anyone having anything to say to me—why, just come right up! My heart swells to look out and see you, and before we part I shall speak of our campaign. But until then—I am pleased to tell you that there is Chian wine for all, as the ship just landed here at Leucas this afternoon.” Feet stamped and people applauded. “The nets have hauled in fish and prawns all day, so you can eat till bursting. Neptune has seen to it!” He flourished his cup and took a swallow. “Let us enjoy his bounty!”

He sat back down and nodded to Octavian’s place. “Pity you cannot join us,” he said.

“If he did, we could stab him,” said Amyntas eagerly. He brandished his dagger, which appeared gleamingly out of nowhere. It was curved and had some sort of engraving on its blade.

Antony looked appalled. “No,” he said. “I swear that if my brother Triumvir were to walk in and take his place here tonight, I would welcome him and treat him courteously.”

Yes, he probably would. That was both his flaw and his nobility.

“I don’t think he’s likely to show up,” said Canidius. “For one thing, we didn’t invite him, and I don’t think he’s succeeded in placing any spies in our camp to tell him.”

The first of the dishes, bass cooked in wine and thyme, began making its way around. In my treasure brought from Egypt were gold platters, enough to serve the highest-ranking, and the fish was ladled out onto them. There were also gold knives and spoons, as well as cups. Always carry a limited gold service with you, was my motto.

Ahenobarbus, seated beside Amyntas, eyed the dagger. “You may sheath that now,” he said coldly. Ahenobarbus did not care for most of our allies, and did not bother to hide it. “I trust your horses all made the journey safely,” he said, tasting his wine. “It is a long way from Galatia, especially with two thousand horses.”

“It was difficult,” said Amyntas. “But now they are here. I trust they will be able to eat well enough. Little grows here, even for horses. Only goats can find anything tasty on the hillsides.”

Amyntas was reported a most skillful horseman.

“I hope you will show me your favorite horse,” I told him. “I would like to see you ride.” I always liked seeing the best, whether it was a moneychanger or an orator.

“Indeed.” He nodded and gave a thin-lipped smile.

Beside Canidius, the blocky Deiotarus had heaped his platter so full there was no room for the next dish, boiled prawns with figs. The server sighed and passed him by. No wonder the man was so muscle-bound. He kept eating, silently.

“Do you have the same type of fish in the Black Sea?” I asked. His kingdom of Paphlagonia lay along the southern coast of the Black Sea.

“Eh?” He looked up sharply, his mouth full.

I realized his Greek was probably shaky. So I switched to Syriac instead, but he did not understand that. I had better luck with Aramaic when I repeated the question.

“Oh yes,” he said. “And many more besides; we have the best fish in the world.” He chewed. “Turbot, bluefish, tuna!” His eyes lit up. “Mackerel, and—anchovy!”

He had also contributed cavalry, but not many.

Sosius beside him was eating sparingly, and there was ample room on his platter for the honey-roasted duck that followed the prawns. He indulged in a bit more wine, tasting it appreciatively. “An impressive gathering of forces,” he said. “I salute you. I feel remiss, remaining at the outpost of Zacynthus when the action will be here.”

“But it is of vital importance that we keep Zacynthus and its channel in our hands, after having lost Methone,” I assured him. And it was.

The kindly admiral smiled and said, “We will keep it.”

Across from him, Tarcondimotus of upper Cilicia was nibbling nervously at the pieces of duck, holding the crisp shreds in his long, bony fingers. The way his wrists stuck out of his shiny bejeweled sleeves like serpents emerging from a dark cave, and his eyes, so close-set in his narrow face that they looked slightly crossed, all strengthened my first impression of him as a snake. I half expected to see a forked tongue dart out of his mouth as he savored the duck. Even his robe was banded and mottled, albeit in silk and jewels.

“How many men have you brought?” I asked.

“Ships,” he said. “I have brought ships. Twenty of them.”

Yes, of course. His country had tall timbers. But it was not on the sea, and had no history of sailing. The famous pirates were from a different part of Cilicia. I wondered how competent his ships could be.

“Wonderful,” I said.

Next to him was the familiar Dellius, making the polite conversation at which he excelled. I watched him, remembering the first time I had met him, when Antony had sent him to summon me to Tarsus. His famous charm had failed him then, but never since. Antony employed him on delicate diplomatic missions, and had relied increasingly on him since Parthia, where he had written a flattering history of the campaign. (As flattering as facts would permit.) Time had done little to improve his looks, but I had got used to them now.

He lifted his cup and drank to “the Consuls,” nodding toward the Octavian seat. Antony laughed and drank with him.

Across from Dellius sat Iamblichus, a prince from the remote Arabian peninsula. He looked lost. I wondered if he had brought a corps of camels. But they would be of little use here.

“So it is to be a land war,” Canidius said smugly to Ahenobarbus. “In a few days we will be ready for our attack.”

“It’s foolish not to wait for the other squadrons and use the fleet,” insisted Ahenobarbus. “And we might ask ourselves what will happen to the Republic when all this is over. Haven’t we waited long enough for its restoration?”

Not this Republic talk again! Antony had made noises about promising to restore the Republic, and Octavian was claiming to represent the Republic. Enough about the Republic—it was beside the point!

“Antony will restore the Republic,” said Canidius.

“Not with
her
by his side,” said Ahenobarbus. Yes, he actually said that out loud. “She makes his position impossible.”

Canidius shrugged. “I am a commander, and my job is to win battles with the men I lead. I don’t worry about anything else.” He looked hard at Ahenobarbus. “I suggest you concentrate on your ships and let the rest sort itself out later. It always does.”

Ahenobarbus looked shocked. “What, don’t you care? Don’t you care what sort of government you live under? Have you become a slave, a slave like—like—”

“Stop before you say anything further,” said Canidius. “I must protect you from the folly of your own tongue.”

Grumbling, Ahenobarbus took an enormous swallow of wine, as if to drown his own words. He saw me looking, and frowned.

Hanging a few feet back was a server, little more than a boy, who looked hungry, and kept snatching pieces of food from the serving platters when he thought no one saw him. Then he would lick his fingers, smile, and graciously proffer the platter to the next guest. He must belong to one of the women who had just arrived. I found him amusing as well as resourceful.

That’s right, I thought, grab what’s passing and take it for yourself if you need it. Perhaps I would employ him; he had promise.

Now Antony had risen to address the gathering. He held up his hands, and silence fell instantly over the company. Above his purple cloak his well-muscled arms made a striking V.

“My friends, allies, comrades-in-arms, in the quiet before the unleashing of our might, I must tell you what I would have you know.” He looked around at the throng, gathered from Italy in the west to Arabia in the east. “All is prepared, all is in readiness!” he cried, and a cheer went up. “And in such a varied army, you have each brought the war skills of your own country, making the whole mightier than each of its parts. We have hoplites, cavalry, slingers, archers, mounted archers, catapults, most of which are not to be found in the enemy army.”

He lowered his arms and picked up a heavy gold pitcher, brandishing it to show our wealth. “Our enemy is poor and out of funds. He had to extort money from his unwilling people, which had the effect of making them prefer us! We, on the other hand, have each contributed so that no one land feels the burden.”

Well, that was misleading. Egypt was providing the funds to support the army and the fleet. I suppose he felt his wife didn’t count.

“And then we must consider another factor. I do not wish to speak of myself, but in this case the discrepancy between myself and their leader is glaring. Now I realize that you are the sort of soldiers that can win even without a good leader, but how much better to have a good one! And I may say, I could prevail even with poor soldiers. But with you I can do more than just prevail. Together we can triumph spectacularly. For I am at the age when commanders are at their very prime, both in body and mind, being hampered neither by the rashness of youth nor by the slackness of old age.”

The company gave a cheer of approval. Antony acknowledged it and continued. “I have spent my whole life acquiring military experience. I know everything, from the tasks of the lowest soldier to the demands of the highest Imperator. I have known fear, and I have known confidence; thereby I have schooled myself, through the one, not to be afraid of anything too readily, and through the other, not to venture on any hazard too heedlessly. I have known good fortune, I have known failure; consequently I am able to avoid both despair and excess of pride.”