adversaries would subvert. Let me remind you that I offered to lay down my arms if Pompey would do the same. Let me remind you that I offered to surrender all my commands save Cisalpine Gaul and a single legion. Let me remind you that force was used against the tribunes who legitimately cast their veto against the Senate's decree that would have compelled me to disband my army without receiving any assurances of my personal safety. I did not seek this war. It was forced on me by my enemies. They wanted it, not I. I am only glad that it has provided me with the opportunity to number my friends. You here are chief among them, and I thank you with all my heart for your loyalty and courage. Our position is perilous, but we have known danger before. I trust in audacity, and in the justice of my cause.'
Mark Antony led the cheering in which we all joined. There was relief that the period of uncertainty was over, that we had arrived at the moment when all was put to the test.
I confess that my own cheers were all the louder because of the fear I felt. It will be difficult for future generations to understand the awe which Pompey inspired. But it was natural. He had been the great man in Rome all my life. His achievements in Asia were unprecedented. Even Caesar's conquest of Gaul, in which I had been proud to participate, seemed a small thing in comparison. The Gauls were no better than brave barbarians, ignorant of the art of war. But Pompey had defeated great kingdoms and brought them under the yoke of Rome. Our Empire was his creation, rather than that of any other individual. For years he had overshadowed Caesar. I knew that when they first came together, Caesar was the least of the Triumvirate he formed with Pompey and Marcus Crassus. He lacked the former's reputation and the latter's wealth.
Our party had nothing to compare with Pompey's renown; it had nothing to compare with the wealth of his supporters. When I looked round that dinner-table, I saw few men whom the world had learned to respect, some — Casca, Antony, chief among them — whom it was accustomed to despise. I knew that many of Caesar's adherents were as insolvent as Casca, desperate to repair their fortunes in the wreck of the State.
I was not among them; nor was I, like others, an adventurer of no breeding. I came from one of the greatest Patrician families; I could boast a dozen consuls among my ancestors. I was rich. My estates alone could support me in luxury, when I came to inherit them — and my father was old. I had nothing to gain, for I lacked neither wealth, reputation nor standing, and much to lose. Yet I held to Caesar.
If any ask why, I cannot well answer. When I read historians, I am amazed by the certainty with which they assure us of the motive of actions. It is curious that they know such things, when few could tell us with equal certainty why they fall in love with a woman or a boy. I was attached to Caesar's staff as a young officer in Gaul. It might be natural to suggest that this determined my allegiance. But Labienus, who was much closer to him, deserted his cause, though Caesar had never spoken of Labienus anything but warmly. Some said it was because he came from Picenum, Pompey's stronghold, and so owed a prior allegiance. I do not believe this. Something in Caesar's manner offended him. Was it perhaps the very same thing which held me to the General?
I perplex myself with these questions, now, when it can scarcely matter, when it may be that nothing matters. I do not believe I have long to live. I am kept here by the Gauls as a pawn, a bargaining-counter. I foresee an ignominious end. This morning I asked the youth who has been assigned to me, and who speaks tolerable Latin, if there was any news. I deduced the worst from his silence. But it may be he is only ignorant. After all, why should he be acquainted with affairs of State?
Yes, I confess. I am apprehensive. I do not fear death. No Roman nobleman does. I should like only to be certain that I may die in a manner worthy of my ancestors. It is my fear that this will not be permitted me. A knife in the dark is more likely; then my head sent to my enemies as token of a good deed. That was Pompey's fate. Caesar pretended to be disgusted; inwardly he was relieved. He wouldn't have known what to do with Pompey, who had not been a suitable subject for his famous clemency.
I run ahead of myself, here where I am held still.
Caesar's charm, Caesar's famous charm. He had a habit of putting his arm round you, and taking the lobe of your ear between his thumb and forefinger, and playing with it while he confided, or seemed to confide, his secrets to you. I wouldn't have tolerated this from any other man. When Caesar held me thus, I felt a thrill of pleasure. Does that admission demean me?
My perplexity is all the greater, because unlike Antony and Curio, I had no certainty of victory.
When Caesar retired that night, Antony stretched himself on the couch and called for the slaves to bring another flagon of wine.
He smiled at me.
'You'll stay and drink? You'll share this gaudy night, won't you?'
'The General suggested we should retire early. There's a war to be fought,' I said, taking the next couch and reaching for the wine.
'There will be no fighting, not for a long time,' Antony said. 'It's a picnic, a holiday excursion.' 'How can you be so sure?'
The smile that charmed and seduced men and women, that smile I so envied, spread across his face. There were always moments when Antony seemed like the god Apollo.
'They'll run like hares,' he said. 'You forget,' he added, 'I've just come from Rome. I know the calibre of our enemies. Nothing but wind. You heard I had to disguise myself as a slave? That meant that for a couple of days I congregated with slaves. Slaves talk among themselves in a way their masters never credit. Did you know that?'
He poured more wine, and waved the slaves who were in attendance away.
'Do you know what they said? They said that the Optimates — you know that's what Cicero calls the collection of elderly boobies arrayed against us? They said they were shit-scared. I could believe it.'
'Pompey?' I said.
'Pompey is finished. He may have been a great man once. Now…' he turned his thumb down. 'You've been in Gaul. Have you seen Pompey lately?'
'I was in Rome last winter. I saw him being carried in a litter through the Forum.'
'In a litter… The Great One is now a great lump of lard. He never knew much, except — I grant this — how to draw up an army. But in politics he was always a baby. He's been outmanoeuvred by Caesar's enemies, who were his enemies not so long ago, most of his life in fact. They've imprisoned him, and all he has left is his reputation. Reputation. I don't give a fiddler's fart for reputation. No, dear boy, the campaign before us will be like nothing you have seen in Gaul. They fight there. This time it will be a battle of flowers. And words. You can count on Cicero for words. What do you suppose the women are like in this town?'
So I accompanied Antony to a brothel, and went drunk and sated to bed as the sun rose. That was how I began the great Italian campaign.
CHAPTER 2
It is not my intention to describe our campaign in Italy or the civil war that followed. For one thing, I do not know how much time I shall have to write this memoir; for another, I have too painful memories of the later wars so disastrously completed. Completed, that is, as far as I am concerned.
Some will see my detention here as justice. Ironic, or poetic, justice perhaps. How do I see it?
Well, let me say this. Caesar boasted of his clemency. He confined it to Roman citizens. He forgot clemency when it came to foreigners.
Take the case of the Gallic leader, Vercingetorix, for example. He was chief of the Arverni, a man of great beauty, courage and guile. I took part in that terrible campaign of Alesia. It was my first experience of total war. I rejoined the army while we were laying siege to the Gallic stronghold of Avaricum. It was winter. The snow lay knee-deep on the mountain roads. One of my fingernails fell off on account of the cold. Vercingetorix destroyed granaries and storehouses in an attempt to deny us food. Our legionaries were near despair. Caesar rallied them with insults and affection. We made a direct assault, and took the town. Caesar ordered or permitted — I have never been certain which — a general massacre.
'Why not?' Casca said. 'There is food here for an army, but not for the civilian population.' He was commanding a detachment sent to guard the corn-stores to prevent looting. Half the town was ablaze. The confusion was terrible. Women were raped before having their throats cut. Only a fortunate few were able to attach
