TW11 The Cleopatra Crisis NEW (3 page)

As a career officer in the Observer Crops, Travers would spend most of his adult life stationed in this time period, in the 1st century before the birth of Christ. Volunteers for Long Term Observer posts did not receive antiagathic treatments to retard the aging process. (Had Travers come from a family that could have afforded buying those treatments for him at an early age, he would not have qualified for L.T.O. posting. Otherwise how could he explain remaining youthful while everyone around him aged normally?) The hazardous nature of his assignment meant that he could easily lose his life at any time. Few people would have volunteered for such a post, but Travers was one of a unique group of scholar adventurers who eagerly accepted such risks and hardships in return for the opportunity to spend their lives in intensive, close-up study of important historical figures—observing history as it was being made and safeguarding it, as well.

Though he would be an old man when Travers returned to the 27th century, he would not have traded this opportunity for anything. When he clocked back to Plus Time, assuming he survived to complete his tour of duty, Travers would receive his antiagathic treatments. (Though they would not then be as effective as they would have been had he received them as a younger man.) They would not return his lost youth, but they would nevertheless extend his life beyond the normal span. He would be able to retire on a government pension, with all of its attendant perks, to either teach or write about his experiences. Travers hoped to produce the definitive life of Julius Caesar as written by a man who had witnessed most of it firsthand.

The preparations for his assignment had been exhaustive. Qualification as an L.T.O. placed him among the elite of the Temporal Corps, second only to the agents of Temporal Intelligence. Only those with the very best educational backgrounds were selected and they had to be in peak physical condition, as well. (Once they graduated from the grueling training course, they were given implant conditioning, programmed through a biochip surgically implanted in the cerebral cortex with the knowledge and the behavior modification patterns that would enable them to blend in with the time period and the society within which they would have to function.) Cosmetic surgery was performed when necessary. They had to look the parts they were to play.

Travers had an outstanding classical education and a gift for languages. He was fluent in Greek and Latin, but that was not enough. He had to be conditioned not only to speak, but to think in Latin and behave as a Roman would. Being well versed in history could also be a liability. It would hardly do for him to quote Cicero in casual conversation before Cicero had actually said what he was quoting! The Time Wars had rendered the continuity of history fragile enough without endangering it further, especially now that insurgents from the parallel universe were seeking to disrupt the timestream. Not only did Travers have to pass as a Roman and survive long enough to complete his dangerous assignment, he had to be on the alert for temporal anomalies. He also had to watch his step, to make sure he did not cause any himself.

It had been necessary for him to have become an expert on the life and times of Julius Caesar, but even that was not enough. There was no escaping the Principle of Temporal Uncertainty. It was impossible to determine absolutely any degree of deviation from the original historical scenario because of the lack of total historical documentation. There was always room for error. No one could possibly document any historical period down to the most minute detail. In any given period of time, things had occurred that history had no knowledge of. It was also possible that the mere fact of Travers' presence could affect events in some way. Every moment Travers spent in Minus Time was dangerous. Yet that was part of the intoxicating thrill. To Travers, the risk was worth it. He already knew more about Julius Caesar than anyone living in his own time period. With each moment he spent in Minus Time, he was learning more.

He found Caesar to be brilliant, innovative, an extremely versatile commander. He was completely fearless and his opponents found him totally unpredictable. A skillful swordsman and horseman, he often led his legions on foot, marching like an ordinary soldier rather than riding like a general. He lived life at a much faster pace than those around him. His tremendous powers of endurance allowed him to cover over a hundred miles a day in light carriages, traveling over the worst of roads at twice the pace of the average traveler. He often dictated letters and reports to his secretaries en route, sometimes as many as four or five simultaneously. He also composed scholarly works or poems while he traveled, or worked on his famous
Commentaries,
in which he dispassionately, even modestly, but clearly with a thought for history, chronicled his military campaigns in Gaul.

He possessed great personal charm and a wit that infuriated his rivals in Rome when he turned it against them. Yet, for all his gifts, he looked incredibly ordinary. He was tall and very fair, with a broad, scholar's face and melancholy dark brown eyes. He was also very vain. He kept his face and head carefully trimmed and often depilated his body hair with tweezers. He had started balding at a very early age and was in the habit of trying to disguise it by combing what little hair he had forward over his high forehead. Later, when the Senate voted him the privilege of wearing a laurel wreath on all occasions, he was almost never seen without it. He was somewhat eccentric in his dress. He had added fringed sleeves to his purple-striped senatorial tunic, an affectation that caused his enemies to refer to him as a woman behind his back and added fuel to the numerous rumors of his alleged bisexuality. He suffered from bouts of epilepsy, but sought to fight them off with exercise and moderate diet.

His legions loved him. A naturally gifted speaker who had studied rhetoric in the school of Apollonius of Rhodes, he would often address them in the field, and always on the eve of any action, speaking to them warmly and with great emotion, man to men. He always saw to their welfare first and had forged a unique and powerful bond with his troops. They would have followed him to hell.

In the morning, when they crossed the Rubicon, they would follow Caesar where no commander had ever taken his troops before—to Rome itself.

The Senate was alarmed at his successes, terrified of his legions. They were well aware of his immense popularity. He had staged gladiatorial shows for the people and sponsored lavish public banquets. He distributed grain to his troops at the slightest excuse and gifted them with Gallic slaves. He sent slaves and presents to prominent aristocrats, made loans to people who found themselves in debt, collected vast amounts of tribute from conquered territories, and sought favor with kings and allied tribes by sending them prisoners or lending them troops, all without even bothering to seek authorization from the Senate. He helped people with legal difficulties and sympathized with those he could not help. It had been reported that he told them, "What you need is a civil war."

Even his old ally, Pompey, had grown apprehensive about Caesar. The ties between the two men had been weakened by the death of Caesar's daughter, Julia, who had been Pompey's wife, and of Crassus, who was killed in Parthia. As a newly elected consul, Pompey had become the most powerful man in Rome. He saw Caesar as a threat. His legions seemed invincible, their loyalty to him was absolute.

On his return to Rome, Caesar still faced charges of irregular conduct from when he had served as consul. He had incurred tremendous debts and made many promises that would be difficult, if not impossible, to keep. In his time as governor-general of Gaul, he had acquired a taste for power, and nobody believed that he would easily give it up. Consequently, as "a matter of public interest," the Senate had decided that since the Gallic Wars had ended and peace had been restored, Caesar should be relieved of his post before his term expired. They had also directed him to disband his legions. Caesar's response was to march on Rome.

Travers alone knew what would happen when Caesar crossed the Rubicon. He would wage a bloody civil war, crush Pompey's forces, and seize absolute power, bringing to an end the days of the republic. His name would become synonymous with the title that he would assume:
imperator
. But on the night before he was to cross the Rubicon—a phrase that would go down in history as signifying facing the greatest trial and passing the point of no return—Caesar was keyed up and nervous.

He always looked for omens and was in the habit of consulting soothsayers. Word had reached him of a local "oracle” with great spiritual powers, who was said to have the ability to see into the Future. He had sent for this oracle and was anxiously awaiting his arrival. He had grown impatient and sent a messenger to Travers, ordering him to have the oracle brought to him as soon as he arrived. And as Travers stood outside the entrance to the
praetorium
and waited, he saw the detachment of men that Caesar had sent out approaching down the
via praetoria
. With them was a tall and slender figure carrying a staff and dressed in a hooded black cloak.

Travers hurried to meet them. The centurion in charge gave him a salute.

"You are the oracle?" Travers asked the hooded figure. He could not make out the man's face.

"I am."

"The general is expecting you. He is most anxious to hear your prophecy."

As, in fact, was Travers. He hoped that he would be allowed to stay and listen. He did not really expect to hear anything surprising. Oracles and soothsayers knew what was expected of them when they were brought into the presence of a famous general and found themselves surrounded by an army. Under such circumstances, it would not be wise to read "unfavorable portents." The man would doubtless give a reassuring reading in the most general terms, promising success and power and the favor of the gods, pocket his "offering" and hurry home. However, Travers thought it might make for an interesting scene in his book.

"You've searched him, of course?" Travers said to the centurion.

"Of course, Praetor. The man was carrying no weapons."

"Good. Come with me."

Travers led the way to Caesar's tent, with the
vexillum
, the general's standard, a white banner inscribed with red letters giving Caesar's name and identifying his army placed outside it. The tent was made of leather, with two upright poles and one ridge pole. When on the march, Caesar did not avail himself of any luxuries, which endeared him to his men. He lived as they did, ate as they ate. He was pacing back and forth, nervously, attired simply in his tunic and sandals. He looked up eagerly as they entered.

"Ah Septimus! You have brought the oracle?"

"This is the man, Caesar."

Travers beckoned the hooded figure forward.

"Pull back your cowl," he said.

The man pulled back his hood. He was completely bald, with a prominent, hooked nose and deep-set dark eyes that gave him a sepulchral look. His face was long, with a pointed chin and pronounced cheekbones.

"What is your name'?" asked Caesar.

"I am called Lucan, General," the man said softly.

"You know who I am?"

A brief nod.

"They tell me that you can see into the future."

"I have that gift."

"I would have you look into my future and tell me what you see."

Lucan nodded. "Please, sit down," he said.

They sat down at the table.

"Do you require an augury?" asked Caesar

"No. That is not the nature of my gift. Give me your right hand," said Lucan.

Caesar held out his right hand, palm up. Lucan took it in his own right hand and covered it with his left, then closed his eyes. Nothing terribly dramatic, so far. Travers thought. An oracle without much imagination. Caesar looked slightly disappointed.

"You are a man of great ambition," Lucan said without opening his eyes. "You have made many enemies. Some who were once your friends."

A safe assumption to make about a famous general, thought Travers, though not the sort of flattering beginning that he had expected.

"That is true," said Caesar.

"Please," said Lucan, opening his eyes. "I do not wish to offend, but I must ask you to remain silent until I have finished."

Caesar nodded.

Lucan shut his eyes once more and remained silent for almost thirty seconds. He was frowning slightly.

"I see that you are about to embark upon undertaking a great risk. Old friends will become your bitter enemies. There shall be great conflict, yet you shall succeed, though not without cost."

Caesar smiled.

"But this undertaking . . . this war . . . will be only the beginning for you. I see that you aspire to greatness and you shall achieve it, as did Alexander, whom you so much admire."

Travers raised his eyebrows. The man must have been briefed by someone.

Probably he had asked questions about Caesar from the men who had been sent to fetch him. Caesar's admiration of Alexander was hardly a secret.

"I see great power in your future," the oracle continued, speaking softly. "Absolute power. And your fame shall last throughout the ages. You shall have many conquests, both martial and romantic. I see that you will fall in love with a wise and ambitious foreign woman who will smite you with her beauty. A young queen who shall bear you a son."

Travers stared at the oracle intently. This was unusually specific. And also uncannily true. He was talking about Cleopatra. No, he thought, don't be ridiculous. How could he possibly know that? It was just flattery that happened to be coincidence. Caesar had several queens as mistresses at one time or another. It was not an unusual assumption to make about a famous Roman general and a provincial governor who had regular contact with local royalty.

"I also see violent death in your future," Lucan said. "There will be portents and warnings. You must not ignore them. For if you do, I see the image of your body bleeding, pierced with many wounds. You will not fall in battle, but at the hands of those you think your friends. Beware the Ides of March, Caesar. Beware the names of Casca, Brutus, Cassius, Cimber . . ." His eyes fluttered open. "I am sorry. I can see no more."