Antony arrived at the port accompanied by a couple of gladiators, who remained at a distance.
A plank was lowered from the ship and he began to walk up it. The still water in the basin gave off a putrid stench and made Antony feel nauseous. The ship was about to set sail, the Queen on board, about to make her escape. The whole world was breaking up.
Cleopatra suddenly emerged from the aft cabin.
Regal even in this situation, she stood haughty, garbed in a pleated, transparent linen gown, her forehead crossed by a fine gold-leaf diadem, her arms bare, her lips red, her eyes lengthened with shadow nearly all the way to her temples.
‘Thank you for coming to bid me farewell,’ she said. She spoke softly, but in the silence of the night her voice rang out clearly nonetheless.
They were alone. There was no one else to be seen on the deck. And yet the ship was ready to set sail.
‘Where is he now?’
‘At home,’ replied Antony. ‘Watched over by his friends.’
‘Friends? Caesar had no friends.’
‘We were taken by surprise. No one could have imagined it would happen that day, in that way.’
‘But you were prudent, as I had asked.’ The Queen s voice was calm but ironic, like that of any powerful person satisfied at having corrupted a man, or brought him to his knees. ‘What will happen now?’
‘They are in trouble already. They have no plan, no design. They are dreamers and fools. I am the surviving consul. I’ve convened the Senate for tomorrow and I’ve urged them all to show up. Before his ashes are placed in the urn, they’ll be reduced to impotence. There will be a new Caesar, my queen.’
‘When that happens, come to me, Antony, and you will have everything you’ve always desired.’
Light as a dream, Cleopatra turned and vanished.
Antony went back to the shore.
The ship pulled away from the harbour and was soon swallowed up by the night. All that could be seen, for a short time, was the sail being raised at the helm, fluttering in the dark air like a ghost.
21
Rome, the Temple of Tellus, 16 March, seven a.m.
The atmosphere at the beginning of the session, which was presided over by Mark Antony, consul in office, was tense and decidedly cold. There were plenty of drawn faces and hostile looks. Caesar’s supporters were still shaken, indignant and seething with resentment. The conspirators and their friends could not mask a certain arrogance. Cicero was among the first to take the floor. He had been absent the day of the plot but someone, in the confusion of the attack, had called out his name.
He was proud of having put down Catiline’s conspiracy in the past, so although he was not technically one of these conspirators he didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity of playing a leading role this time as well.
He spoke as the consummate orator he was. He who not so long ago had proposed that the senators shield Caesar with their very bodies should he be threatened, and had even had his proposal approved with a
They had had every right to murder him; the despot had been justly punished according to the laws of the state. They should thus be immediately absolved of any criminal charges, since they had acted — at their own risk and peril — for the common good. He proposed, therefore, an amnesty for all those involved, and despite some disappointed grumbling, a vote was taken and this was approved.
But it was not enough to satisfy him. After exchanging a few words in an undertone with Cassius, Cicero said, ‘This unhappy time, this dark age of the republic, must be forgotten as soon as possible. The body of the tyrant must be buried as soon as possible, in private and at night. Such a burial should be considered an act of piety towards a dead man and nothing more.’
A murmur of protest rippled around the room.
It was the turn of Caesar’s supporters to speak now and Munatius Plancus took the floor.
‘We shall allow posterity to judge whether what happened at Pompey’s Curia was an act of justice. Those of us who were friends of Caesar are grieving and living a moment of bitter sorrow, but we are prepared to disregard these emotions so as not to fuel an endless round of hatred and revenge.
‘I would like to draw attention to the courage and generosity of consul Mark Antony. Distressed and saddened as he is over the death of a friend he loved deeply, he has refrained from taking revenge and has even offered his own sons as hostages, so that all quarrels and conflicts may come to an end, so that no more Roman lives are taken, so that the menace of a disastrous new civil war may be averted. I move that he be paid public tribute and that he be invited to make his thoughts known, here and now, within these sacred walls.’
Plancus’s proposal won a large majority of votes. Everyone was terrified at the prospect of a new civil war. Antony thus took the floor and began to speak.
‘Conscript fathers! I thank you for having recognized my efforts and my commitment. I myself voted in favour of your request that amnesty be granted to Brutus, Cassius, Trebonius and their companions. But I cannot accept that Caesar be buried at night and in secret, as if he were a criminal. He did make mistakes, although his hand was forced at times. He sought to solve Rome’s problems through negotiations and dialogue on innumerable occasions and he did all he could to prevent Roman blood from being spilled.’
A burst of indignant protest rose from the group that supported Brutus, Cassius and Cicero, and Antony swiftly changed his tactics.
‘If you don’t want to believe this, how can you not believe in what the man accomplished? He expanded the borders of the Roman Empire all the way to the waves of the Ocean. He subjugated the Celts and Germans, and he dared to raise the Eagle on ground never before trodden by Roman feet: the remote land of Britannia. He defeated Pharnaces and added the kingdom of Pontus to our dominions. He approved a great number of laws to help and sustain the populace. He filled our coffers with immense treasures pillaged in the territories he conquered. He promulgated measures to defend the provinces but also to punish local governors who were incapable or corrupt. Do you believe that the tomb of the man who will be forever remembered for having carried out such glorious enterprises should be hidden in some obscure site, his funeral kept a secret?
‘No, conscript fathers! You must grant me this. Allow me to celebrate his funeral and to read his will in public. His testament, at least, will help us to understand if we have acted justly or if the last honours I wish to attribute to him are undeserved.’
Upon hearing these words, Cicero hissed at Cassius, ‘What did I tell you? If you allow him to celebrate Caesar’s funeral and read his will, your undertaking will have been in vain! You must absolutely prevent him from doing so.’
But Brutus disagreed. As Antony continued with his fervent plea, he replied, ‘No, you’re wrong, Marcus Tullius. Antony has always been a man of his word. He left his sons in our hands, he dispersed the hostile crowd that had formed on the Capitol and he voted in favour of our amnesty. We are men of honour and we must behave as such. Antony is brave and valiant. We must not turn him into our enemy. We shall convince him to join us, in order to restore the authority of the republic and the liberty of the Roman people. Trust me. If he were not well meaning, he would already have unleashed the legion camped outside the walls on us. It would have been easy for him to do away with us in no time. But he didn’t. All he’s asking for is a funeral and we have to allow it.’
Brutus was adamant, and if Brutus voted in favour of the motion, the others could not vote against it.
Cicero, outraged and impotent, snapped at Brutus, ‘You will see! This will be no ordinary funeral!’
But the proposal was approved and the session ended.
