Caesar

'The immediate concern is Antony,' I said. 'He's your enemy and mine. He's ordered me to surrender my province, and you to surrender your legions.'

'Oh, you know that, do you? All the same, I can work with Antony, once I've taught him to fear me.'

'And how will you do that?'

'Any way that's necessary. That's something I learned from my father.'

'Caesar, you mean?'

'Yes, Caesar, of course. I call him my father now, you know. It goes down well with the men…'

The shadow of dead Caesar fell on the table between us. Octavius turned away. His profile, chiselled against the distant hills, held my gaze. I remarked what I had never seen before: the set of his jaw.

'He's a god now, you know. I had that officially decreed. His altars rise all over the Empire, even in your province, I'm told.'

'Yes,' I said. 'Foolery. Caesar would have laughed himself.'

'I don't think so. He was prepared for deification. You call it 'foolery', Mouse, but I have legions to support it. And the Senate approves me; I was elected consul two weeks ago. Has that news reached you?'

'Quite an occasion,' Maecenas said. 'My dear, you should have seen it. Twelve vultures flew overhead as the dear boy took the auspices. Well, you can imagine how that delighted the crowd, especially since there were those quick to remind them that Romulus himself had been greeted in the same way.'

'Foolery,' I said again. 'Who released the birds?'

'Does that matter?' Octavius said. 'They flew.'

'Something else you should know,' Agrippa spoke for the first time. 'We're going to rescind the amnesty offered Caesar's murderers. You've had it. Your number's up.'

'More wine?' Octavius pushed the jug towards me, and smiled.

'You know what else Cicero said?' Maecenas laid his hand on my arm, resisting my effort to shake it off. 'He asked, 'What god has given this godlike youth to the Roman people?''

'So you see,' the godlike youth smiled again, 'the game is going my way, Mouse. I don't think you have anything to offer me.'

Hope all but left me then, but I struggled on. Antony marched against me, forced me into Mutina, where we withstood a terrible siege that winter. His success alarmed Octavius, who persuaded the Senate to declare him a public enemy. In his alarm he made a new overture towards me. I responded as if I trusted him. But trust had died in the early autumn sunshine in the hills above Orvieto. Yet an alliance was constructed, an alliance of shifting interest, nothing more. The consuls-elect, Hirtius and Pansa, marched against Antony, compelling him to raise the siege. My ragged, half-starved soldiers emerged from the city where we had waited for death.

If I had had cavalry, if my poor legions had not been so weakened by their privations, if, if, if… Then I would have pursued Antony, and might still have snatched victory. But all I could do was urge Octavius to cut off Antony's jackal, Publius Ventidius, as he marched from Picenum with three veteran legions; but the boy failed, or chose to fail…

My last hope was to effect a union with Lucius Munatius Plancus, governor of Gallia Comata. I knew him for a time-server, but he had written to me deploring the state of the Republic and describing Antony as 'a brigand'. I pushed north over the pass of the Little St Bernard. At every stage of the march deserters slipped away. Food was in short supply, likewise money. A courier came from Cicero, addressing me as the last hope of the Republic in the West. He inveighed against Antony, against Octavius, against Fate. I read his missive as hope tumbled from me like the rocks that clattered down the Alpine hillsides.

I reached Grenoble and found Plancus there. He received me with smiles and soft words. His troops were fat; they looked on my scarecrows with wonder, horror and contempt. Plancus smiled as he insulted my enemies. 'Young Caesar was a monster of odious ingratitude and ambition; Antony an unprincipled scoundrel; Lepidus a vain buffoon whose word was as worthless as a Greek whore's.'

Or as Plancus' own. How can you rely on a man who will speak well of no one but himself?

On the eighth day trumpets sounded. They heralded the arrival of Caius Asinius Pollio with two legions. Pollio was an old comrade. He had been with me when we crossed the Rubicon, had fought by my side in Spain. When I greeted him, he said:

'I come from Antony.'

'Oh,' I said, 'and Plancus has been waiting your arrival.' 'Just so.'

'I am sorry,' Plancus said, 'but I really have no choice but to ally myself to Antony and Octavius.'

I tried to argue my case. They would have none of it. When I said that Antony and Octavius had come together in a criminal conspiracy against the Republic, Pollio said:

'That's enough.'

I withdrew to my camp, surprised that they permitted me that liberty.

That night, I slipped away, under cover of darkness, wind and rain. Only two centuries would follow me. The rest received my orders with dumb insolence and I was powerless to punish them.

My remnant of a plan was to make a wide circuit through the Alps and then head for Macedonia where Cassius was assembling an army. You know how it ended. Unable to deploy scouts (for I feared they too would desert) we were surprised, encircled, taken. The Gauls, when they learned who I was, looked on me with amazement.

Chapter 25

And so night closed upon me. I have written to both Antony and Octavius, but am reconciled to death. My last wish is to avoid dishonour; therefore I have penned this history of my engagement in the death of Caesar. Should it survive, I am confident that posterity will judge me a true servant of the Republic.

I warned Antony to beware of Octavius. 'The boy will be your master,' I said, 'and you only his accomplice in the destruction of liberty which alone gives meaning to life.'

My last flicker of hope is to sow dissension. Accordingly I reminded Octavius that Antony had described him as 'a mere boy who owes everything to a name'.

If only it were true… but the boy is no shadow of Caer ' More careful, more judicious, he will exceed him in tyranny. We thought to save liberty; we leave Rome threatened with a closer confinement, a more degrading slavery.

I have had no word from Longina. I do not even know whether our son lives.

It does not matter how a man ends. What matters is how he has lived, and I have lived honourably.

I have charged Artixes with the safekeeping of this memoir. I do not think he will fail me, though he cannot understand the importance I attach to it.

This morning he ushered in a messenger whom I recognised as one of Lepidus' men. I experienced a surge of hope, which was grotesque: how could a thing like Lepidus offer hope?

His master, he said, had come together with Antony and Octavius. They were convening on an island in the river near Bologna. There they would arrange matters of State. There would be no clemency. All were agreed that Caesar's policy had been mistaken. Instead they would draw up a list of proscribed persons.

So I received my death warrant. I asked Artixes for wine. 'I take it,' I said, 'that your father has received the same message.'

He nodded, unable to speak.

'Tell him,' I said, 'that I understand and accept my fate.' He looked at me with horror and admiration.

Fa rewell to my few fait hful attendants. I have given th e most trusted a letter for Longina, assuring her of my love, and thanking her…

E ven as I wrote it I wondered if she had not already found a l over. Yet I feel her lips on mine.

Artixes brought me a case containing my own jewelled dagger. He brought also a message from his father. I have till dawn. This is more honourable conduct than I had expected from a barbarian. But then I know he has been impressed by the dignity with which I have borne my misfortunes. There is something in the barbarian soul which responds nobly to nobility.

Death is the extinction of a candle; nothing more.