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.
