The October Horse: A Novel of Caesar and Cleopatra by Colleen McCullough
“He must be declared hostis!” roared Cicero.
Lucius Caesar objected. “That’s not a word we should bandy about lightly,” he said. “To declare a man hostis is to deprive him of his citizenship and offer him up as sword fodder to the first patriotic man who sees him. I agree that Marcus Antonius was a bad consul, that he did many things that disadvantaged and disgraced Rome, but hostis? Surely inimicus is punishment enough.”
“Naturally you’d think so! You’re Antonius’s uncle,” Cicero retorted. “I won’t permit the ingrate to retain his citizenship!”
The argument raged on into the next day, Cicero refusing to back down. Hostis it must be.
At which moment two of the three ambassadors returned; Servius Sulpicius Rufus had succumbed to the freezing weather, and died.
“Marcus Antonius refuses to meet the Senate’s conditions,” said Lucius Piso, looking pinched and worn, “and has issued some of his own. He says he will give up Italian Gaul to Decimus Brutus—if he can retain Further Gaul until after Marcus Brutus and Gaius Cassius have been consuls four years hence.”
Cicero sat stunned. Marcus Antonius was stealing his thunder! He was proclaiming to the Senate that he was switching sides, that he acknowledged the entitlements of the Liberators, that they must have everything Caesar had given them before they killed him! But that was his, Cicero’s, ploy! To oppose Antonius was to oppose the Liberators.
Cicero’s interpretation was not the only one. The Senate chose to see Antony’s ploy as a repeat of Caesar’s before he took the fatal step and crossed the Rubicon. Therefore it opposed Antony and ignored his references to Brutus and Cassius. For the choice was the same as with Caesar: to accede to Antony’s demands was to admit that the Senate couldn’t control its magistrates. So the House declared a state of tumultus, which meant civil war, and authorized the consuls Pansa and Hirtius to meet Antony on a field of battle by passing the Ultimate Decree. It refused, however, to declare Antony hostis. He was inimicus. A victory for Lucius Caesar, albeit a Pyrrhic one. All Antony’s laws as consul were invalidated, which meant that his praetor brother, Gaius, was no longer governor of Macedonia, that his seizure of the silver in Ops was illegal, that his land allocations for the veterans fell by the wayside—the repercussions went on and on.
Just before the Ides of February a letter came from Marcus Brutus to inform the Senate that Quintus Hortensius had confirmed him as governor of Macedonia, and that Gaius Antonius was now shut up in Apollonia as Brutus’s prisoner. All the legions in Macedonia, said Brutus, had hailed him as governor and their commander.
Dreadful news! Horrific! Or—was it? By this, the Senate was in total disarray, didn’t know what to do. Cicero advocated that the House officially confirm Marcus Brutus the governor of Macedonia, and asked the Antonians why they were so against the two Brutuses, Decimus and Marcus?
“Because they’re murderers!” Fufius Calenus shouted.
“They’re patriots,” said Cicero. “Patriots.”
On the Ides of February the Senate made Brutus the governor of Macedonia, gave him a proconsular imperium, then added Crete, Greece and Illyricum to his provinces. Cicero was ecstatic. Now he had only two things left to do. The first, to see Antony a beaten man on a battlefield in Italian Gaul. The second, to see Syria taken off Dolabella and given to Cassius to govern.
* * *
The first anniversary of Caesar’s assassination brought a new horror, for it was on the Ides of March that Rome learned of the atrocities committed by Publius Cornelius Dolabella. En route to Syria, Dolabella had plundered the cities of Asia Province. When he reached Smyrna, where the governor Trebonius was residing, he entered the city by stealth at night, took Trebonius prisoner, and demanded to know where the province’s moneys were stored. Trebonius refused to tell him, even after Dolabella resorted to torture. Not the worst pain Dolabella could inflict had the power to loosen Trebonius’s tongue; Dolabella lost his temper, killed Trebonius, cut off his head and nailed it to the plinth of Caesar’s statue in the agora. Thus Trebonius became the first assassin to die.
The news devastated the Antonians. How could they defend him when his colleague had behaved like a barbarian? When Pansa called the House into immediate session, Fufius Calenus and his cronies had no choice other than to vote with the rest that Dolabella be stripped of his imperium and declared hostis. All his property was confiscated, but it amounted to nothing; Dolabella had never managed to clear himself of debt.
Then a fresh wrangle broke out, thanks to the fact that Syria was now a vacant governorship. Lucius Caesar proposed that Vatia Isauricus be given a special commission to take an army east and deal with Dolabella. This peeved the senior consul Pansa greatly.
“Aulus Hirtius and I have already been given the East for our provinces next year,” he told the House. “Hirtius is to govern Asia Province and Cilicia, I am to govern Syria. This year our armies are committed to fighting Marcus Antonius in Italian Gaul, we can’t fight Dolabella in Syria as well. Therefore I recommend that this year be devoted to the war in Italian Gaul, and next year to war in Syria against Dolabella.”
The Antonians saw this proposal as their best bet. Antony still had to be beaten, and they were convinced he couldn’t be beaten. Pansa’s proposition would keep the legions already in Italy there for the rest of the year, by which time Antony would have thrashed Hirtius, Pansa and Octavian, and the legions would all belong to him. Then he could go to Syria.
Cicero had a different answer. Give Syria to Gaius Cassius to govern! Now, right this moment! As no one knew whereabouts Cassius was, this proposal came as a shock. Did Cicero know something the rest of the Senate didn’t know?
“Don’t give this job to a slug like Vatia Isauricus, and don’t pop it in the cellar to store for Pansa next year either!” said Cicero, forgetting protocol and manners. “Syria has to be attended to now, not later, and by a young, vigorous man in his prime. A young, vigorous man who already knows Syria well, and has even dealt with the Parthians. Gaius Cassius Longinus! The best and only man for this governorship! What’s more, give him the power to make military requisitions in Bithynia, Pontus, Asia Province and Cilicia. Give him unlimited imperium for five years. Our consuls Pansa and Hirtius have their work cut out for them in Italian Gaul!”
Of course from there it was on to Antony. “Do not forget that this Marcus Antonius is a traitor!” Cicero cried. “When he handed Caesar a diadem on the day of the Lupercalia, he showed the whole world that he was Caesar’s real murderer!”
A look at the faces of his audience showed him that he hadn’t hammered Cassius home enough. “I judge Dolabella as Antonius’s equal in barbarity! Give Syria to Gaius Cassius immediately!”
But that Pansa was not about to allow. He forced a motion through the House which gave him and Hirtius command of the war against Dolabella as soon as the war in Italian Gaul was over. He was now absolutely committed to the war in Italian Gaul and had to get it over and done with quickly so he at least could leave for Syria during this year, not next. So Pansa handed the care of Rome over to the praetors and took more legions to Italian Gaul.
The day after Pansa left, the governor of Further Gaul, Lucius Munatius Plancus, and of Nearer Spain and Narbonese Gaul, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, sent letters to the Senate that said they would deeply appreciate it if the Senate would come to an accommodation with Marcus Antonius, a Roman as loyal as they were. The message was implicit: the Senate ought not to forget that there were two big armies sitting on the far side of the Alps, and that these two armies were under the command of governors who favored Marcus Antonius.
Blackmail! said Cicero to himself, and took it upon himself to sit down and write to Plancus and Lepidus, though he had no authority to do so. With eleven speeches delivered against Mark Antony, he had entered a state of exaltation that forbade his climbing down in any way, so what he said to Plancus and Lepidus was injudiciously arrogant—stay out of things you’re too far away to know about, mind your ow
2
After March came in, the weather in Italian Gaul improved a little; Hirtius and Octavian pulled up stakes and moved closer to Mutina, forcing Antony, who had control of Bononia, to abandon that city and concentrate all his legions around Mutina.
When news came that Pansa was on his way from Rome with three legions of recruits, Hirtius and Octavian elected to wait for him before offering Antony battle. But Antony also knew that Pansa was approaching, and struck at Pansa before he could join forces with his two co-commanders. The engagement took place at Forum Gallorum, some seven miles from Mutina, and the decision went to Antony. Pansa himself was badly wounded, but managed to get a message to Hirtius and Octavian that he was under attack. The official dispatches to Rome later said that Hirtius had ordered Octavian to remain behind and defend their camp while he went to Pansa’s aid, but the truth was that Octavian had come down with asthma.
What kind of general Antony was he demonstrated very clearly at Forum Gallorum. Having trounced Pansa, he made no attempt to form up his ranks and march to shelter; instead he let his men run wild, ransack Pansa’s baggage train, scatter in all directions. Coming up without warning, Hirtius caught him in no condition to fight, and Antony went down so badly that he lost the better part of his army, extricated himself only with great difficulty. So the overall honors of the day went to Aulus Hirtius, Caesar’s beloved clerkly marshal.
Some days later, the twenty-first one of April, Hirtius and Octavian tricked Antony into a second battle and defeated him so decisively that he had no choice other than to evacuate his siege camps around Mutina, flee westward on the Via Aemilia. It had been Hirtius in command, Hirtius’s battle plan Octavian followed, but even so, he divided his share of the legions into two and put Salvidienus in charge of one half, Agrippa of the other. He had not lost sight of the fact that he was no general, but he also had no intention of putting legates in command of his legions who had the necessary birth and seniority to claim his half of the victory for themselves.
Though they had won—and the assassin Lucius Pontius Aquila, fighting for Antony, was killed—Fortuna was not completely on Octavian’s side. Supervising the battle atop a horse on a mound, Aulus Hirtius was felled by a spear and died on the spot. The next day Pansa died of his wounds, which left Caesar Octavianus the only commander the Senate and People of Rome retained.
Except for Decimus Brutus, liberated from the siege of Mutina, and very upset that he hadn’t had a chance to fight Antony himself.
“The only legion Antonius managed to save unharmed is the Fifth Alauda,” Octavian said to Decimus Brutus when they met inside Mutina, “but he has some stray cohorts from the remainder of his forces, and he’s moving westward very swiftly indeed.”
For Octavian, this was an unpleasant encounter; as the Senate’s lawful commander, he was obliged to be friendly and cooperative in his relations with this murderer. So he was stiff, reserved, cold. “Do you intend to follow Antonius?” he asked.
“Only after I see what develops,” Decimus answered, liking Octavian no better than Octavian liked him. “You’ve come a long way since you were Caesar’s personal contubernalis, haven’t you? Caesar’s heir, a senator, a propraetore imperium—my, my!”
“Why did you kill him?” Octavian asked.
“Caesar?”
“Who else’s death would interest me?”
Decimus shut his pale eyes, put his pale head back, and spoke with dreamy detachment. “I killed him because all that I or any other Roman nobleman had was by his grace and favor—at his dictate. He took upon himself the authority of a king, if not the title, and deemed himself the only man capable of governing Rome.”
“He was right, Decimus.”
“He was wrong.”
“Rome,” said Octavian, “is a world empire. That means a new form of government. The annual election of a group of magistrates won’t work anymore, nor even five-year imperiums to govern in the provinces, which was Pompeius Magnus’s answer. Caesar’s too, in the beginning. But Caesar saw what had to be done long before he was murdered.”
“Aiming to be the next Caesar?” Decimus asked maliciously.
“I am the next Caesar.”
“In name, that’s all. You won’t be rid of Antonius easily.”
“I am aware of that. But I will be rid of him, later if not sooner,” said Octavian.
“There will always be an Antonius.”
“I disagree. Unlike Caesar, I will show those who oppose me no clemency, Decimus. That includes you and the other assassins.”
“You’re a cocksure child in need of a spanking, Octavianus.”
“I am not. I am Caesar. And the son of a god.”
“Oh yes, the stella critina. Well, Caesar is far less of a danger now he’s a god than when he was a living man.”
“True. However, as a god he’s there to be made capital out of. And I will make capital out of him—as a god.”
Decimus burst out laughing. “I hope I live long enough to see Antonius administer that spanking!”
“You won’t,” said Octavian.
Though Decimus Brutus tendered the invitation with apparent sincerity, Octavian declined to move into his house in Mutina; he remained in his camp to hold the funerals of Pansa and Hirtius, return their ashes to Rome.
Two days later Decimus came to see him, very perturbed.
“I’ve heard that Publius Ventidius is on the march to join Antonius with three legions he’s recruited in Picenum,” he said.
“That’s interesting,” Octavian observed casually. “What do you think I ought to do about it?”
“Stop Ventidius, of course,” Decimus said blankly.
“That’s not up to me, it’s up to you. You’re the one with proconsular imperium, you’re the Senate’s designated governor.”
“Have you forgotten, Octavianus, that my imperium doesn’t permit me to enter Italy proper? Whoever stops Ventidius must enter Italy proper, because he’s traveling through Etruria and marching for the Tuscan coast. Besides,” said Decimus frankly, “my legions are all raw recruits who can’t stand up to Ventidius’s Picentines—his are all Pompeius Magnus’s old veterans Magnus settled on his own lands in Picenum. Your own men are veterans and the recruits Hirtius and Pansa brought are either veterans or blooded here. So it has to be you who goes after Ventidius.”
Octavian’s mind raced. He knows I can’t general, he wants me to get that spanking. Well, I think Salvidienus could do it, but that’s not my problem. I daren’t budge from here. If I do, the Senate will see me as another young Pompeius Magnus, indeed cocksure and overweeningly ambitious. Unless I tread carefully, I will be removed, and not merely from my command. From life itself. How do I do it? How do I say no to Decimus?
“I refuse to move my army against Publius Ventidius,” he said coolly.
“Why?” gasped Decimus, staggered.
“Because the advice has been tendered to me by one of my father’s assassins.”
“You’ve got to be joking! We’re on the same side in this!”
“I am never on the same side as my father’s assassins.”
“But Ventidius has to be stopped in Etruria! If he meets up with Antonius, we have it to do all over again!”
“If that be the case, then so be it,” said Octavian.
He watched Decimus stalk off in high dudgeon, sighing with relief; now he had a perfect excuse not to move. An assassin had told him what to do, and his troops would back him in his refusing to take Decimus’s advice.
He didn’t trust the Senate as far as he could throw it. Men in that body were hungering for a pretext to declare Caesar’s heir hostis, and if Caesar’s heir entered Italy proper with his army, that was a pretext. When I enter Italy
A nundinum later he received confirmation that his instincts had been correct. Word came from the Senate hailing Mutina as a wonderful feat of arms. But the triumph it awarded for the victory went to Decimus Brutus, who had taken no part in the fighting! It also instructed Decimus to take the high command in the war against Antony, and gave him all the legions, including those belonging to Octavian, whose reward was an ignominious minor triumph, the ovation. The fasces of the dead consuls, said the Senate, had been returned to the temple of Venus Libitina until new consuls could be elected—but it mentioned no date for an election, and Octavian’s impression was that no election would ever be held. To further rebuff Octavian, the Senate had reneged on paying the bonuses to his troops. It was forming a committee to dicker with the legion representatives face-to-face, bypassing their commanders, and neither Octavian nor Decimus was to be on this committee.
“Well, well, well!” said Caesar’s heir to Agrippa. “We know where we stand, don’t we?”
“What do you intend to do, Caesar?”
“Nihil. Nothing. Sit pat. Wait. Mind you,” he added, “I don’t see why you and a few others can’t quietly inform the legion representatives that the Senate has arbitrarily reserved the right to decide for itself how much cash my soldiers will get. And emphasize that senatorial committees are notoriously miserly.”
Hirtius’s legions were camped on their own, whereas Pansa’s three legions were camped with Octavian’s three. Decimus took command of Hirtius’s legions at the end of April, and demanded that Octavian hand over his own and Pansa’s forces. Octavian politely but firmly refused, stoutly maintaining that the Senate had given him his commission, and that its letter was not specific enough to convince him that Decimus really was empowered to take command and legions off him.