He acted with his usual impetuosity and lack of scruple. Instead of waiting for my reply, he patched up an agreement with Sextus Pompey and Ahenobarbus (one of Caesar's killers who had a pirate fleet), and the three of them sailed to Italy. Naturally I commanded my garrison at Brindisi to forbid them the harbour. His response was to blockade the port and land his legions at Sipontum a few miles up the coast. I hastened south, heavy-hearted at the thought that Antony's folly should once again expose Italy to war.
Maco said to me, 'The men don't like it. Their hearts won't be in any battle.' 'Nor will mine. I don't like it either.'
That night I wandered through the camp. There was a straw summer moon and the mountains of Apulia loomed over us like jagged and angry bears. I had pulled a rough woollen cloak round me and half over my head and when I crouched down beside a group of legionaries (keeping in the shadows, just out of the firelight), none recognized me. Their mood was sullen and nervous.
One said, 'You, Gaius, like all the rest of old Caesar's soldiers, can't think of anything but the next bloody battle. You're hooked on it, you're drugged by war…'
'That's what you think,' was the reply, 'you don't know a thing. Old sweats like me like war least of all. It's one thing bashing up Gauls, there's some sense and satisfaction in that, but I've been a soldier now twenty years, I've been decorated ten times, I've fought in more than fifty battles and skirmishes and I've wounds to show for it, and I never knew any good come from fighting other Romans.'
'Why do we do it then? Why do we let the bosses muck us about? Why don't we bloody tell them to get on with it hand-to-hand, if they're so effing keen?' That raised a laugh. 'Can you see our wee general get in the arena with Antony?'
'It would be…' the speaker left the outcome open and shut in one sentence. 'He's too fly for that, is our wee Caesar.'
I said, 'Well, what do you think he wants? Nothing but power and blood, would you say?'
'Friend,' said the veteran called Gaius, 'I don't know who you effing are but you know eff all about the world.'
'Come off it,' I said, 'these politicians are all the same. They don't care what happens to their men as long as it helps them to power. And, if you ask me, young Octavian's the worst.'
'Friend,' Gaius said, 'would you like a taste of my sword for an early breakfast?' 'Just saying what I think,' I said: 'You tell me why I'm wrong.'
'In the first place,' Gaius said, 'have you any idea how much land he has already handed out to the boys?'
'Oh, that,' I said, 'that don't signify anything to me. That's just a politician building up a group of clients, if you ask me.'
'Nobody's asking you. You're too effing ignorant to ask. I'm telling you,' Gaius said.
'If you're so clever,' I said, 'tell me why you think we're here. Tell me why we're lined up to fight Antony, when just a few months ago we were all bosom chums engaged in common butchery. Tell me that, you grey- bearded know-all.' 'Listen, shithead,' he said, 'we don't want to fight Antony.' 'Too bloody right we don't,' said another. 'Hear, hear, I've got two brothers with Antony.'
'I only like to fight when I'm sure of winning,' said a fourth, 'and I'd never back our boy against Antony.' 'Oh, generalship,' I said, 'generals don't matter that much. All this talk of generalship is horse-piss. It's how us men feel that counts. What they call morale.'
'I don't know who the hell you effing are,' Gaius said, 'and indeed I'm beginning to wonder if you're a spy sent in to our camp by Antony, in which case I'll hand you over to the senior centurion and volunteer to nail you to a cross myself…' 'Thought you said old sweats never volunteered…'
'This time it would be a pleasure. Still, what you say is true enough, up to a point. It's what men feel that decides battles, decides whether they stand their ground or run away. But you see, one of the things that decides which they do, is what they feel about their general. Not just about their general but about the legion and the whole army. If they don't trust them, they run away. It's that simple, it's why Julius won all his battles… we would always stand our ground for him…' 'And what about the cause?' I said.
His voice had grown gentler in the last speech, as he began to think. I have often noticed how the crudity of the spontaneous and regular speech of soldiers gives way to something more admirable when they begin to reflect.
'You always say it doesn't matter,' he said. 'That you fight for pay, because you're told to, because the centurion will flay you if you don't, and because you're afraid not to, and it is all true. And yet, underneath it all, there is something more. Men fight better when they are fighting for what they believe in. I'm old enough to remember Vercingetorix at Alesia. That was a battle of battles because the Gauls were fighting for everything that was theirs that we were going to take from them and change.'
His voice dropped. Someone threw a branch on the fire and flame spurted up, illuminating his set, scarred face. A flask was passed round. I was included in the circle as if the altered tenor of the conversation, the sense that we were all being made free of everything Gaius had come to know in his life of soldiering, dissipated the suspicion with which I had been viewed and made me part of the group.
Gaius waved the wine aside. He said, 'Our boy's cause is right. He stands for Italy and homes and farmlands and public order.'
'But this time,' another said, 'what is there to fight Antony about…?'
'Maybe nothing,' Gaius said, 'except that he's here. And it's got to be finished. If Antony insists, we have to stand our ground.'
I threw the hood back off my head and stepped forward so that they might see who I was.
'You are quite right, Gaius,' I said… 'No,' I smiled, seeing his consternation, 'don't apologize for having threatened to nail me to a cross. I have no wish for this battle, but, if it has to be, it has to be. You know what my father said after Pharsalus when he looked on the faces of the dead Pompeians. 'They wanted it this way', those were his words. And you are quite right too in saying what I stand for. I stand for the Republic, for farms for my soldiers, for decency and peace. We have come a long way and cannot hide from our destiny…'
'That's all right, General,' said one man, a thin-faced boy with a cauliflower ear, 'but destiny's a big word for us boys. I reckon destiny belongs to the likes of you.' 'What is your name?' I said, and sat down beside him. 'Septimus,' he said, 'being the seventh son, you understand.'
'Well, Septimus,' I said, 'if a seventh son doesn't understand destiny, who can? But you're wrong, you know, we all have a fate to work out. And let me tell you, I know, whether we have to fight Antony now or later or not at all, that my star is fixed. I shall achieve for you and all Italians just what Gaius has said I'm aiming at. Trust me in that. We're here, not just for ourselves, but for our children.' 'Don't have any,' said Septimus. 'You will have.'
'Not him, Caesar,' cried another, 'he's not up to it,' and the wine-flask flew faster amid ribaldry and good- humour… But I was still awake as dawn crept to us out of Asia, over the still grey Ionian, across the inland sea and the still silent marshes. Then the first birds called, sea birds and curlews and redshanks, and then, very slowly, the camp began to wake, horses shifted their feet, rattled their chains and snorted, voices were heard, cooks called to breakfast, and I woke a slave and sent him to fetch Maecenas.
It took him a long time to come and he was still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He wore a dressing-gown of gorgeous taffeta, yellow and deeper gold, adorned with red dragons. A slave attended him bearing a tray of breakfast meats, smoked peacock breast, scampi in a sauce of lemon and saffron, cold boiled lobster and a jug of iced wine.
'I know, Caesar,' Maecenas drawled, 'that you breakfast in too Spartan a manner for me. Very affected I call it, my dear, to eat soldiers' food.'
He yawned: 'What is it, ducky, that could not wait till a more gentlemanly hour?' 'It is,' I said, 'this absurdity.'
'Absurdity? You're naive,' he said. 'You have this strange fancy that Antony is a serious man in the same way we are. Antony is a bar-room type. He wants power and esteem. They make him feel good. It's no use talking to Antony of ideals, ducky. He don't know what you mean. Still, I agree in one respect. It's too soon to fight him. I'll see what I can do…' I fretted all day while Maecenas debated with Antony's envoy, Asinius Pollio. There is nothing more irksome than the position of a principal while his agents negotiate. It was very hot; I had my slaves three times prepare a bath for me, and on each occasion found some other little matter to distract me. I had made up my mind what must be done, and I felt guilty. I knew Antony too well to feel other than guilty, and I prepared myself to face my mother's reproaches.
