Read Online The Triumph of Caesar by Steven Saylor - Free Book Online
Authors: Steven Saylor
Tags: Historical fiction
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the execution of Vercingetorix in the Tullianum."
"I'm sure they can manage to strangle the wretched Gaul without me. Do you know, Cytheris, I think we'll hold the auction that day, right here in the street outside the house. Let's see if we can lure any of the revelers away from the parade route to come gawk at Pompey's pinky rings and bedroom slippers."
"But surely Caesar himself will insist that you take part," I said.
"Caesar is a selfish, ungrateful—" Antony caught himself. "For months, after Pharsalus, I was left on my own, in charge of this unruly city, without any instructions from Caesar."
"To be fair, Caesar was trapped inside the royal compound at Alexandria, with no way to send word," I said.
"For part of that time, yes. But once he'd broken out, and defeated Ptolemy, did he hurry back to Rome? No, he took a leisurely trip up the Nile with Cleopatra. While he was sightseeing and doing who knows what else with the queen, I was facing an angry mob here in Rome, not even knowing whether Caesar was alive or dead! The situation was quite precarious, let me tell you! And Dolabella deliberately made it worse. It wasn't enough that the boy was sleeping with my wife—from whom I am now divorced, thank the gods. Oh, no! Dolabella insisted on promising wholesale debt relief to the poor, saying it was just what Caesar would have wanted. He raised the hopes of the rabble, whipped them to a frenzy, and pitted them against me. Do you know what he called that gathering he organized in the Forum? A demonstration. I called it a riot. If I hadn't ordered my men to restore the peace, there would have been a complete breakdown of order in this city, utter chaos, with looting and murders everywhere. I did what I had to do. But when Caesar finally returned, and heard all the complaints, did he thank me? Did he praise me, reward me? No! He scolded me in public—humiliated me!—and embraced Dolabella, saying what a good, clever boy he was to show such sensitivity to the needs of the poor."
This was just the kind of spontaneous response I was hoping for. How might I goad him to further candor? I frowned and feigned surprise at his vehemence. I clucked my tongue. "Dolabella, that naughty fellow, sleeping with your Antonia! Presumably he did so behind the back of his own dear wife?"
"The pathetic Tullia, Cicero's whelp? Dolabella divorced her—after finally getting her pregnant. But don't trick me into saying that cursed name again."
"What name?" I ventured.
Antony narrowed his eyes and glared at me, suspicious now that I was deliberately taunting him.
"Ah, you mean Cicero," I said. "I realize that the two of you have been bitter enemies for a long time. But Caesar saw fit to pardon Cicero, did he not?"
Antony gritted his teeth. "Yet another example of Caesar's outrageous—" He caught himself. He pinched the bridge of nose, grimaced, turned around, and left without another word.
"Oh, dear," said Cytheris. "I'm afraid you set him off."
"I hadn't realized the situation between Antony and Caesar was so delicate."
"It's not as bad as it sounds, truly." She shook her head. "These headaches he's suffering—they worry me. It's not what you think. It isn't the drinking that causes them. It's the pressure he's under."
"A man like Antony must have much on his mind."
"Not enough, these days. That's the problem! These headaches never plague him when he's in the thick of things, having to contain a riot or lead a cavalry charge. It's the idleness afterward that brings them on. It's as if he's still releasing the pressure, after all those months of stress, running the city as Caesar's surrogate, facing one crisis after another, not knowing if Caesar would ever come back. It took a toll on him. Who can blame Antony if all he wants now is to throw parties and drink and sleep until noon?"
"Who can blame him, indeed?" I said.
V
As Rupa and I departed from the House of the Beaks and made our way back to the Palatine, I experienced a
"I'm sure they can manage to strangle the wretched Gaul without me. Do you know, Cytheris, I think we'll hold the auction that day, right here in the street outside the house. Let's see if we can lure any of the revelers away from the parade route to come gawk at Pompey's pinky rings and bedroom slippers."
"But surely Caesar himself will insist that you take part," I said.
"Caesar is a selfish, ungrateful—" Antony caught himself. "For months, after Pharsalus, I was left on my own, in charge of this unruly city, without any instructions from Caesar."
"To be fair, Caesar was trapped inside the royal compound at Alexandria, with no way to send word," I said.
"For part of that time, yes. But once he'd broken out, and defeated Ptolemy, did he hurry back to Rome? No, he took a leisurely trip up the Nile with Cleopatra. While he was sightseeing and doing who knows what else with the queen, I was facing an angry mob here in Rome, not even knowing whether Caesar was alive or dead! The situation was quite precarious, let me tell you! And Dolabella deliberately made it worse. It wasn't enough that the boy was sleeping with my wife—from whom I am now divorced, thank the gods. Oh, no! Dolabella insisted on promising wholesale debt relief to the poor, saying it was just what Caesar would have wanted. He raised the hopes of the rabble, whipped them to a frenzy, and pitted them against me. Do you know what he called that gathering he organized in the Forum? A demonstration. I called it a riot. If I hadn't ordered my men to restore the peace, there would have been a complete breakdown of order in this city, utter chaos, with looting and murders everywhere. I did what I had to do. But when Caesar finally returned, and heard all the complaints, did he thank me? Did he praise me, reward me? No! He scolded me in public—humiliated me!—and embraced Dolabella, saying what a good, clever boy he was to show such sensitivity to the needs of the poor."
This was just the kind of spontaneous response I was hoping for. How might I goad him to further candor? I frowned and feigned surprise at his vehemence. I clucked my tongue. "Dolabella, that naughty fellow, sleeping with your Antonia! Presumably he did so behind the back of his own dear wife?"
"The pathetic Tullia, Cicero's whelp? Dolabella divorced her—after finally getting her pregnant. But don't trick me into saying that cursed name again."
"What name?" I ventured.
Antony narrowed his eyes and glared at me, suspicious now that I was deliberately taunting him.
"Ah, you mean Cicero," I said. "I realize that the two of you have been bitter enemies for a long time. But Caesar saw fit to pardon Cicero, did he not?"
Antony gritted his teeth. "Yet another example of Caesar's outrageous—" He caught himself. He pinched the bridge of nose, grimaced, turned around, and left without another word.
"Oh, dear," said Cytheris. "I'm afraid you set him off."
"I hadn't realized the situation between Antony and Caesar was so delicate."
"It's not as bad as it sounds, truly." She shook her head. "These headaches he's suffering—they worry me. It's not what you think. It isn't the drinking that causes them. It's the pressure he's under."
"A man like Antony must have much on his mind."
"Not enough, these days. That's the problem! These headaches never plague him when he's in the thick of things, having to contain a riot or lead a cavalry charge. It's the idleness afterward that brings them on. It's as if he's still releasing the pressure, after all those months of stress, running the city as Caesar's surrogate, facing one crisis after another, not knowing if Caesar would ever come back. It took a toll on him. Who can blame Antony if all he wants now is to throw parties and drink and sleep until noon?"
"Who can blame him, indeed?" I said.
V
As Rupa and I departed from the House of the Beaks and made our way back to the Palatine, I experienced a
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