"The Caesariad"
- Thread starter EdT
- Start date
Good update, as per usual.
One thing I'd love to see in any Rome TL is an early construction of Tiber embankments. That alone would be a huge, long lasting change to the fabric of Rome
One thing I'd love to see in any Rome TL is an early construction of Tiber embankments. That alone would be a huge, long lasting change to the fabric of Rome
Cyrenaica is under control of Octavian according to map of chapter 4.
Could we see the opening of a front in this region?
Could we see the opening of a front in this region?
This is awesome, keep it coming.
Now I just got to read your other TL's... all 500 pages...
Now I just got to read your other TL's... all 500 pages...
Chapter 8
_______________________________________________
Antioch
Syria, February 35BC
“He wasn’t Caesar, of course…”
The letter said, and Decimus Brutus smiled at the credulity of his cousin,
“…but it took me a good few moments to realise. For a start he is just a boy. Big for his age though; I assumed he was fifteen or sixteen, and that the whole thing was a practical joke, but the Queen assures me that he is actually twelve, and just unnaturally mature. If this is the case, then I have to admit that the dates all fit perfectly; he was conceived when Caesar made his tour of the East prior to marching on Mesopotamia. But in truth, one look is all you need to be sure that he really is Caesar’s son. The likeness is quite incredible, cousin- even the voice and mannerisms are identical! A very good-natured person he is too.”
Brutus’ smile faded as his eyes scanned paragraph after paragraph describing the youth Caesarion, and his mother, whom his cousin was evidently quite taken by. Enough gossip, but what about the money? It’s not like you to neglect the bottom line, cousin, he thought. Then his eyes alighted on something hopeful, and he relaxed.
“But you will have a chance to see all of this yourself, cousin, because the Queen and her son intend to come and pay attendance to you in Antioch! I was astonished at how eager Cleopatra was to support your endeavors- and well she can afford to, for I have never seen such incredible opulence as in Alexandria. I am preparing a full inventory for you as I for my return. You will have a chance to see some of this wealth first-hand, as the Queen intends to travel in the barge built by her ancestor, Ptolemy Philopator. I can scarcely credit it, cousin, but I have seen this vessel first-hand and it must be the largest thing that has ever taken to the water- more than 400 ft long and with 7000 crew! We think of a “Twelve” as an impressive ship- the barge is a “Forty”, no less!
It seems then, cousin, that all Egypt is at your disposal; all that the Queen asks (and it seems a fair concession to me, given what you get in exchange) is that she be given joint command over the enterprise. I think she harbours hopes for her son to be made a Roman citizen- and given his looks, I can’t see anyone being able to prevent the plebs from granting it him!”
Brutus’ smile abruptly vanished again. Trust Brutus not to understand that it was bad enough to share command with a foreigner, let alone a woman. The sheer gall of it! But then again, he thought, frowning, if it’s the way that I can afford to continue the campaign… Rome is a prize for which it’s worth swallowing my pride. Isn’t it?
Sighing, he realised that he had very little choice. All the work I have done here in the past months settling the East will be pointless if I run out of money. But what an imposition. Antonius- he suppressed a wave of genuine grief over the needless death of his oldest friend and rival- Antonius would never have approved. Oh, what a waste!
With an effort, Brutus stopped himself dwelling on the past. “Trebonius!” he called, “it looks like we’re going to have royal company. We’ll need to prepare to impress!”
As he began to bark orders and orderlies began to run back and forth to put the preparations in train, a thought struck Brutus and he smiled. Oh Neptune, a well-timed storm getting rid of this futatrix and putting Egypt into chaos would solve an awful lot of my problems in one fell swoop!
The Capitoline Hill
Rome, February 35BC
Sextus Pompeius looked out onto the Campus Martius, and thought of the last time he had stood on the same spot. I told you that you were over-confident, brother, he thought, and look what happened. Standing next to him, Gaius Octavianus sensed his sadness and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I know how you must feel, Pompeius,” he said gently, “but celebrate at least the fact that you are now Senior Consul. And now affairs in Rome have been set in order in a properly constitutional manner, you are free to take command of the legions in Capua and gain justice- not only for your brother, but for all those who have died thanks to this conspiracy. Agrippa tells me that the men are drilled to within an inch of their lives and desperate for the chance of battle.”
Pompeius nodded gravely. “You are right, of course. Actually, my first act as Consul is probably going to be the hardest- I shall have to tell Quintus that he will not be joining our campaign in Illyria. Gods, you’ll be able to hear the wailing and gnashing of teeth in Seleucia!”
He turned to his colleague. “Are you sure that it might not be a better idea to find my brother an inconsequential campaign to fight somewhere? I’m sure he would cause less trouble pacifying the Lusitani or the Segestani than he will kicking his heels in Rome.”
Octavianus pursed his lips. “No, Pompeius. I don’t want him anywhere near a legion! All he’ll do is win his little war and then demand a triumph- and then we’ll be back to marching on Rome all over again. I won’t have it! I’m sorry, but your brother will have to learn that a successful Roman does not spend his entire life on the battlefield. I will keep an eye on him- and who knows, perhaps with time I can turn him into the new Cicero!”
The last comment earnt him a chuckle from Pompeius. “If you say so, Octavianus, if you say so! But I shall not hold my breath.”
The Barge of Ptolemy Philopater
The Eastern Mediterranean, April 35BC
The Mediterranean stood perfectly still as the huge bulk of the Pharaonic barge ploughed through the waters towards Antioch. Cleopatra had waved away the fears of her more courageous advisors that the great vessel, which had been designed for the Nile, would not be seaworthy, and the Queen had been proved utterly correct. Sailing conditions had been perfect, and even the wind had blown favorably to speed their passage.
“It is the will of the Gods”, she murmured, as she stood with her son on the great canopied foredeck, looking out at the dusty Phoenician coast on the eastern horizon.
Caesarion, hearing her speak, glanced down at his mother; how big you are for your age! the Queen thought proudly. “Did you say something, mama?” he asked, in a voice that still made her shiver to hear, so similar to Caesar’s once it had broken.
She smiled, indulgently. “I was just thinking about when you are crowned King of Rome, darling” she cooed.
Caesarion’s handsome face creased in confusion. “Rome? But Mama, Rome does not have a King. I do not think, from what my tutors have told me, that Rome wants a King, either.”
Cleopatra’s eyes narrowed. That fat Greek pedagogue needs a whipping, she thought. “They will want you to be their King,” she replied, happily, “because the Gods will it, and you have the best blood in the world. You have Caesar’s blood- what more can any Roman want?”
He inclined his head. “I am perfectly happy being Pharaoh, mama.”
The Queen clenched her fists. “Who has been talking to you for you to speak this way? You will be King of Rome and that is that!”
Sudden courage spurred Caesarion on. “My father would not want Rome to have a King, mama,” he said stubbornly, and then howled as she slapped him hard.
“You ungrateful little wretch!” Cleopatra screamed, eyes blazing. “You will be King of Egypt, and of Rome, and of the World! It is not your choice, it’s that of the Gods! Listen to your mother, you won’t be a very good King of the World if you keep being such a naughty and vile little boy!”
A cowed Caesarion fell to the deck sobbing as the servants studiously averted their gaze. After leaving him for a few moments, Cleopatra knelt by him and cradled him tenderly, cooing into his ear. Poor, confused boy, she thought, smiling, but he will learn to accept his destiny eventually.
Near Dyrrachium
Illyricum, May 35BC
Titus Labienus looked down at the vast fleet assembling in the harbour below and grimaced. This was exactly why that inepte Servilius Casca should have held them off at sea, he thought, but since when was he ever able to organise an orgy in a whorehouse? That fool Brutus should have put a competent naval man in charge, not an arse-licker like him. He spat on the ground at the thought of his colleague, who had apparently fled to one of the Dalmatian harbours after seeing his fleet sent to the bottom of the Adriatic, and resumed his scrutiny of the military landings.
“There must be twelve legions disembarking down there. The cunni are better organised than I thought.”
Next to him, Publius Ventidius pursed his lips in relief. “You see now why I retreated, Labienus? I could never have held the city with the couple of cohorts that you had sent me.”
Labienus glared at his subordinate’s back. And you would have done us all a favour by trying to hold anyway and being overrun, you pathetic mentula, he thought. Why must I constantly be surrounded by such wailing children? With an effort, he concealed his anger, and gave his best attempt at a gracious smile. “Quite so, Ventidius, you were right to seek to preserve your men. They would have been no use to me trapped in Dyrrachium.”
Oblivious to his superior’s contempt, Ventidius squinted at the reflection of the setting sun on the water. “So what are your orders?” he asked.
Labienus cracked his knuckles. “Both Octavianus and Pompeius will want a quick, decisive victory so they can get on with the job of falling on each other. So, they’ll secure the coast and then march eastwards in force, hoping to bring Brutus to a decisive battle. I’m not taking on a dozen legions with four, not at the same time anyway! So we’ll use Fabian tactics. I want every field from here to Pella burnt to the ground and all the food in my hands. We’ll force them to split their forces to keep them from starving- and then we’ll harry them constantly.”
Ventidius widened his eyes. “Should we not be calling for reinforcements?”
Inwardly, Labienus groaned. This is one campaign I need to win without Brutus, he thought, if I am to show him to be the ineffectual fool that he is. “I would hate to bother Brutus unless it is absolutely necessary,” he replied, smiling, “so while I shall warn him about the landings, I think we only need to keep his forces in reserve for now. I can handle this one myself.”
The Barge of Ptolemy Philopater
Antioch, May 35BC
“Nebti! Nebti!” Cleopatra screeched, until her handmaiden and private augur dashed into the dressing room.
“Yes, my queen?” Nebti asked, with a worried expression on her face.
“Remind me, Nebti, what did you see in the lotus petals in Alexandria, before we came here?” she said, in a deceptively mild tone.
The servant thought for a second. “The petals told me that to obtain a wife for Caesarion, you must be quickened by a brutish foreigner, of Caesar’s line. Given the rumours about his parentage, and his name, it seemed that Decimus Brutus the Triumvir was the man picked out by the gods.”
Cleopatra nodded, placidly. “Then tell me, Nebti, if Decimus Brutus is the man picked out by the gods to provide me with a daughter and Caesarion a wife, why,” she said, her voice growing into a scream, “doesn’t he fancy me one little bit?”
“Every night for the past two weeks,” she raged, storming around the room while Nebti tried to find an inconspicuous corner, “The two of us have had dinner. And every night, I have got absolutely nowhere. Oh, he’s perfectly pleasant and polite! He wants my money, and a military alliance. I can see that! But not enough, Nebti, not enough! Last night I even asked him openly- a Queen with my blood asking a filthy Roman! And do you know what he did? Do you know what he did?”
She collapsed on a nearby couch and slapped it with her hand. “He laughed! And after he stopped laughing, he said that he’d enjoy himself far more conquering my country than conquering my body!”
Cleopatra shot the handmaiden a venomous glare and the servant shuddered. People died when the Queen was in this mood. “I thought you could read the will of the Gods, Nebti. Or are your bowl and lotus petals merely a sham designed to lead me astray?”
Nebti swallowed, and successfully concealed her rising panic. “I can assure you, mistress, the Gods do not lie! If the signs appear wrong, it must be because they are interpreted in a mistaken fashion.”
She thought for a second, trying to find inspiration. Then a revelation struck her, and shuddering, she mouthed a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. “Mistress, it occurs to me… there is more than one Brutus.”
Cleopatra looked up, sharply. “The acne-scarred one? But how does that help? The father must also be Caesar’s son!” Then she paused, thinking, and suddenly gasped.
“Nebti! Oh, you are right! I will never doubt you again. I have been pursuing the wrong Brutus after all! Caesar often told me of his favourite mistress in Rome- a lady called Servilia. She is the mother of this lesser Brutus.”
She made a mental calculation. “He would have to have been very young when he fathered the boy, but I have heard that as a youth he cuckolded half the Senate.” Cleopatra laughed. “Yes, Marcus Brutus must be the one who is Caesar’s son - and oh, he likes me, sure enough!”
She embraced the handmaiden, who was doing her best not to look highly relieved. “Nebti, I shall need my Aphrodite dress, the same one I wore for the other Brutus, the ungrateful eunuch. And send an invitation to Marcus Brutus; I will dine with him tonight.”
“So, tell me about the treasure of the Pharaohs,” Marcus Junius Brutus asked his dining companion eagerly, as they reclined on the petal-strewn foredeck of the great royal barge. He sipped on his cup of wine, grimacing slightly at the odd grittiness of the liquid, but too afraid of causing offence to mention it to the host.
Not the most romantic of conversational openings, Cleopatra thought, as she nibbled on a morsel of quail’s breast stuffed with dates, and he hasn’t even noticed the pearls I had crushed in the wine! But the lesser Brutus is clearly not a conventional man. She swallowed delicately, and giggled.
“Oh, my dear Brutus! You clearly only want me for my money!”
Behind his badly-clipped beard Brutus blushed deeply, and Cleopatra’s coquettish smile suddenly became genuine. You can reach the hearts of some men through their cocks, and others through their stomachs, she thought, but in Brutus’ case, I reach him through his wallet.
As the quail was taken away and a course of roast crocodile dressed in papyrus was served, she told her guest of the great secret treasure-rooms of the Pharaohs, how only a few knew of their real location, and of how their builders were all executed after construction to preserve the secret. She spoke of mountains of buried gold and gems, pearls from Taprobane and ivory from Kush. And when Brutus started to ask her about how all this wealth was administered, she did not roll her eyes and change the subject as she desperately wanted, but instead dredged up what information she could remember from the interminable state councils presided over by her steward P’Tah, and talked about the grain dole, interest rates and stipends.
He has none of Caesar’s other gifts, Cleopatra thought to herself as she contrived to look fascinated by Brutus’ monologue on tax-farming in Cyprus, but he does have his obsessive eye for detail. What more proof do I need that he is the one whose seed I require?
Opposite her, Brutus beamed at the Queen’s interest, and was even more delighted when she responded with a series of pertinent observations on the inefficiency of contractors. She’s actually interested! he thought happily, thinking of how his wife never even pretended to conceal her complete incomprehension of his business affairs, and how even his beloved Julia had politely changed the subject as quickly as she was able. Women never normally want to talk about such things, he wondered, but unlike the others, she actually understands!
Eventually the conversation moved away from finance, and to the past. When Brutus told Cleopatra that he had adored Caesar and had loved him as a father, she smiled shyly and put her hand on his. And Marcus Junius Brutus, somewhat to his own surprise, fell utterly in love.
_______________________________________________
(Taken from Book 2 of the Caesariad)
”Caesar Brutus spoke; and mix'd his speech with joyful cries,
And fruitless tears came streaming from his eyes.
“Oh Caesar!” he cried, “You have returned!
Your soul, the pleasures of Elysium spurned,
Rendered youthful, as a child,
When every soul your beauty beguiled!
I cannot speak or move for joy,
When I behold this glorious boy,
What divine mission brings you here,
As the answer to every Roman’s Prayer?”
But unknownst to him, beneath the face,
Of golden beauty and Caesarian grace,
Lay something twisted, evil and scarred,
Its body with boils and pustules marred.
And while Brutus praised the Egyptian youth,
(not suspecting at all the dreadful truth),
His mother Cleopatra worked her art,
To fire with love the Roman’s heart.
With incantations and charms she began to bind
The chains of love, and fix them on his mind…”
”Caesar Brutus spoke; and mix'd his speech with joyful cries,
And fruitless tears came streaming from his eyes.
“Oh Caesar!” he cried, “You have returned!
Your soul, the pleasures of Elysium spurned,
Rendered youthful, as a child,
When every soul your beauty beguiled!
I cannot speak or move for joy,
When I behold this glorious boy,
What divine mission brings you here,
As the answer to every Roman’s Prayer?”
But unknownst to him, beneath the face,
Of golden beauty and Caesarian grace,
Lay something twisted, evil and scarred,
Its body with boils and pustules marred.
And while Brutus praised the Egyptian youth,
(not suspecting at all the dreadful truth),
His mother Cleopatra worked her art,
To fire with love the Roman’s heart.
With incantations and charms she began to bind
The chains of love, and fix them on his mind…”
****
Antioch
Syria, February 35BC
“He wasn’t Caesar, of course…”
The letter said, and Decimus Brutus smiled at the credulity of his cousin,
“…but it took me a good few moments to realise. For a start he is just a boy. Big for his age though; I assumed he was fifteen or sixteen, and that the whole thing was a practical joke, but the Queen assures me that he is actually twelve, and just unnaturally mature. If this is the case, then I have to admit that the dates all fit perfectly; he was conceived when Caesar made his tour of the East prior to marching on Mesopotamia. But in truth, one look is all you need to be sure that he really is Caesar’s son. The likeness is quite incredible, cousin- even the voice and mannerisms are identical! A very good-natured person he is too.”
Brutus’ smile faded as his eyes scanned paragraph after paragraph describing the youth Caesarion, and his mother, whom his cousin was evidently quite taken by. Enough gossip, but what about the money? It’s not like you to neglect the bottom line, cousin, he thought. Then his eyes alighted on something hopeful, and he relaxed.
“But you will have a chance to see all of this yourself, cousin, because the Queen and her son intend to come and pay attendance to you in Antioch! I was astonished at how eager Cleopatra was to support your endeavors- and well she can afford to, for I have never seen such incredible opulence as in Alexandria. I am preparing a full inventory for you as I for my return. You will have a chance to see some of this wealth first-hand, as the Queen intends to travel in the barge built by her ancestor, Ptolemy Philopator. I can scarcely credit it, cousin, but I have seen this vessel first-hand and it must be the largest thing that has ever taken to the water- more than 400 ft long and with 7000 crew! We think of a “Twelve” as an impressive ship- the barge is a “Forty”, no less!
It seems then, cousin, that all Egypt is at your disposal; all that the Queen asks (and it seems a fair concession to me, given what you get in exchange) is that she be given joint command over the enterprise. I think she harbours hopes for her son to be made a Roman citizen- and given his looks, I can’t see anyone being able to prevent the plebs from granting it him!”
Brutus’ smile abruptly vanished again. Trust Brutus not to understand that it was bad enough to share command with a foreigner, let alone a woman. The sheer gall of it! But then again, he thought, frowning, if it’s the way that I can afford to continue the campaign… Rome is a prize for which it’s worth swallowing my pride. Isn’t it?
Sighing, he realised that he had very little choice. All the work I have done here in the past months settling the East will be pointless if I run out of money. But what an imposition. Antonius- he suppressed a wave of genuine grief over the needless death of his oldest friend and rival- Antonius would never have approved. Oh, what a waste!
With an effort, Brutus stopped himself dwelling on the past. “Trebonius!” he called, “it looks like we’re going to have royal company. We’ll need to prepare to impress!”
As he began to bark orders and orderlies began to run back and forth to put the preparations in train, a thought struck Brutus and he smiled. Oh Neptune, a well-timed storm getting rid of this futatrix and putting Egypt into chaos would solve an awful lot of my problems in one fell swoop!
****
The Capitoline Hill
Rome, February 35BC
Sextus Pompeius looked out onto the Campus Martius, and thought of the last time he had stood on the same spot. I told you that you were over-confident, brother, he thought, and look what happened. Standing next to him, Gaius Octavianus sensed his sadness and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I know how you must feel, Pompeius,” he said gently, “but celebrate at least the fact that you are now Senior Consul. And now affairs in Rome have been set in order in a properly constitutional manner, you are free to take command of the legions in Capua and gain justice- not only for your brother, but for all those who have died thanks to this conspiracy. Agrippa tells me that the men are drilled to within an inch of their lives and desperate for the chance of battle.”
Pompeius nodded gravely. “You are right, of course. Actually, my first act as Consul is probably going to be the hardest- I shall have to tell Quintus that he will not be joining our campaign in Illyria. Gods, you’ll be able to hear the wailing and gnashing of teeth in Seleucia!”
He turned to his colleague. “Are you sure that it might not be a better idea to find my brother an inconsequential campaign to fight somewhere? I’m sure he would cause less trouble pacifying the Lusitani or the Segestani than he will kicking his heels in Rome.”
Octavianus pursed his lips. “No, Pompeius. I don’t want him anywhere near a legion! All he’ll do is win his little war and then demand a triumph- and then we’ll be back to marching on Rome all over again. I won’t have it! I’m sorry, but your brother will have to learn that a successful Roman does not spend his entire life on the battlefield. I will keep an eye on him- and who knows, perhaps with time I can turn him into the new Cicero!”
The last comment earnt him a chuckle from Pompeius. “If you say so, Octavianus, if you say so! But I shall not hold my breath.”
****
The Barge of Ptolemy Philopater
The Eastern Mediterranean, April 35BC
The Mediterranean stood perfectly still as the huge bulk of the Pharaonic barge ploughed through the waters towards Antioch. Cleopatra had waved away the fears of her more courageous advisors that the great vessel, which had been designed for the Nile, would not be seaworthy, and the Queen had been proved utterly correct. Sailing conditions had been perfect, and even the wind had blown favorably to speed their passage.
“It is the will of the Gods”, she murmured, as she stood with her son on the great canopied foredeck, looking out at the dusty Phoenician coast on the eastern horizon.
Caesarion, hearing her speak, glanced down at his mother; how big you are for your age! the Queen thought proudly. “Did you say something, mama?” he asked, in a voice that still made her shiver to hear, so similar to Caesar’s once it had broken.
She smiled, indulgently. “I was just thinking about when you are crowned King of Rome, darling” she cooed.
Caesarion’s handsome face creased in confusion. “Rome? But Mama, Rome does not have a King. I do not think, from what my tutors have told me, that Rome wants a King, either.”
Cleopatra’s eyes narrowed. That fat Greek pedagogue needs a whipping, she thought. “They will want you to be their King,” she replied, happily, “because the Gods will it, and you have the best blood in the world. You have Caesar’s blood- what more can any Roman want?”
He inclined his head. “I am perfectly happy being Pharaoh, mama.”
The Queen clenched her fists. “Who has been talking to you for you to speak this way? You will be King of Rome and that is that!”
Sudden courage spurred Caesarion on. “My father would not want Rome to have a King, mama,” he said stubbornly, and then howled as she slapped him hard.
“You ungrateful little wretch!” Cleopatra screamed, eyes blazing. “You will be King of Egypt, and of Rome, and of the World! It is not your choice, it’s that of the Gods! Listen to your mother, you won’t be a very good King of the World if you keep being such a naughty and vile little boy!”
A cowed Caesarion fell to the deck sobbing as the servants studiously averted their gaze. After leaving him for a few moments, Cleopatra knelt by him and cradled him tenderly, cooing into his ear. Poor, confused boy, she thought, smiling, but he will learn to accept his destiny eventually.
****
Near Dyrrachium
Illyricum, May 35BC
Titus Labienus looked down at the vast fleet assembling in the harbour below and grimaced. This was exactly why that inepte Servilius Casca should have held them off at sea, he thought, but since when was he ever able to organise an orgy in a whorehouse? That fool Brutus should have put a competent naval man in charge, not an arse-licker like him. He spat on the ground at the thought of his colleague, who had apparently fled to one of the Dalmatian harbours after seeing his fleet sent to the bottom of the Adriatic, and resumed his scrutiny of the military landings.
“There must be twelve legions disembarking down there. The cunni are better organised than I thought.”
Next to him, Publius Ventidius pursed his lips in relief. “You see now why I retreated, Labienus? I could never have held the city with the couple of cohorts that you had sent me.”
Labienus glared at his subordinate’s back. And you would have done us all a favour by trying to hold anyway and being overrun, you pathetic mentula, he thought. Why must I constantly be surrounded by such wailing children? With an effort, he concealed his anger, and gave his best attempt at a gracious smile. “Quite so, Ventidius, you were right to seek to preserve your men. They would have been no use to me trapped in Dyrrachium.”
Oblivious to his superior’s contempt, Ventidius squinted at the reflection of the setting sun on the water. “So what are your orders?” he asked.
Labienus cracked his knuckles. “Both Octavianus and Pompeius will want a quick, decisive victory so they can get on with the job of falling on each other. So, they’ll secure the coast and then march eastwards in force, hoping to bring Brutus to a decisive battle. I’m not taking on a dozen legions with four, not at the same time anyway! So we’ll use Fabian tactics. I want every field from here to Pella burnt to the ground and all the food in my hands. We’ll force them to split their forces to keep them from starving- and then we’ll harry them constantly.”
Ventidius widened his eyes. “Should we not be calling for reinforcements?”
Inwardly, Labienus groaned. This is one campaign I need to win without Brutus, he thought, if I am to show him to be the ineffectual fool that he is. “I would hate to bother Brutus unless it is absolutely necessary,” he replied, smiling, “so while I shall warn him about the landings, I think we only need to keep his forces in reserve for now. I can handle this one myself.”
****
The Barge of Ptolemy Philopater
Antioch, May 35BC
“Nebti! Nebti!” Cleopatra screeched, until her handmaiden and private augur dashed into the dressing room.
“Yes, my queen?” Nebti asked, with a worried expression on her face.
“Remind me, Nebti, what did you see in the lotus petals in Alexandria, before we came here?” she said, in a deceptively mild tone.
The servant thought for a second. “The petals told me that to obtain a wife for Caesarion, you must be quickened by a brutish foreigner, of Caesar’s line. Given the rumours about his parentage, and his name, it seemed that Decimus Brutus the Triumvir was the man picked out by the gods.”
Cleopatra nodded, placidly. “Then tell me, Nebti, if Decimus Brutus is the man picked out by the gods to provide me with a daughter and Caesarion a wife, why,” she said, her voice growing into a scream, “doesn’t he fancy me one little bit?”
“Every night for the past two weeks,” she raged, storming around the room while Nebti tried to find an inconspicuous corner, “The two of us have had dinner. And every night, I have got absolutely nowhere. Oh, he’s perfectly pleasant and polite! He wants my money, and a military alliance. I can see that! But not enough, Nebti, not enough! Last night I even asked him openly- a Queen with my blood asking a filthy Roman! And do you know what he did? Do you know what he did?”
She collapsed on a nearby couch and slapped it with her hand. “He laughed! And after he stopped laughing, he said that he’d enjoy himself far more conquering my country than conquering my body!”
Cleopatra shot the handmaiden a venomous glare and the servant shuddered. People died when the Queen was in this mood. “I thought you could read the will of the Gods, Nebti. Or are your bowl and lotus petals merely a sham designed to lead me astray?”
Nebti swallowed, and successfully concealed her rising panic. “I can assure you, mistress, the Gods do not lie! If the signs appear wrong, it must be because they are interpreted in a mistaken fashion.”
She thought for a second, trying to find inspiration. Then a revelation struck her, and shuddering, she mouthed a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. “Mistress, it occurs to me… there is more than one Brutus.”
Cleopatra looked up, sharply. “The acne-scarred one? But how does that help? The father must also be Caesar’s son!” Then she paused, thinking, and suddenly gasped.
“Nebti! Oh, you are right! I will never doubt you again. I have been pursuing the wrong Brutus after all! Caesar often told me of his favourite mistress in Rome- a lady called Servilia. She is the mother of this lesser Brutus.”
She made a mental calculation. “He would have to have been very young when he fathered the boy, but I have heard that as a youth he cuckolded half the Senate.” Cleopatra laughed. “Yes, Marcus Brutus must be the one who is Caesar’s son - and oh, he likes me, sure enough!”
She embraced the handmaiden, who was doing her best not to look highly relieved. “Nebti, I shall need my Aphrodite dress, the same one I wore for the other Brutus, the ungrateful eunuch. And send an invitation to Marcus Brutus; I will dine with him tonight.”
****
“So, tell me about the treasure of the Pharaohs,” Marcus Junius Brutus asked his dining companion eagerly, as they reclined on the petal-strewn foredeck of the great royal barge. He sipped on his cup of wine, grimacing slightly at the odd grittiness of the liquid, but too afraid of causing offence to mention it to the host.
Not the most romantic of conversational openings, Cleopatra thought, as she nibbled on a morsel of quail’s breast stuffed with dates, and he hasn’t even noticed the pearls I had crushed in the wine! But the lesser Brutus is clearly not a conventional man. She swallowed delicately, and giggled.
“Oh, my dear Brutus! You clearly only want me for my money!”
Behind his badly-clipped beard Brutus blushed deeply, and Cleopatra’s coquettish smile suddenly became genuine. You can reach the hearts of some men through their cocks, and others through their stomachs, she thought, but in Brutus’ case, I reach him through his wallet.
As the quail was taken away and a course of roast crocodile dressed in papyrus was served, she told her guest of the great secret treasure-rooms of the Pharaohs, how only a few knew of their real location, and of how their builders were all executed after construction to preserve the secret. She spoke of mountains of buried gold and gems, pearls from Taprobane and ivory from Kush. And when Brutus started to ask her about how all this wealth was administered, she did not roll her eyes and change the subject as she desperately wanted, but instead dredged up what information she could remember from the interminable state councils presided over by her steward P’Tah, and talked about the grain dole, interest rates and stipends.
He has none of Caesar’s other gifts, Cleopatra thought to herself as she contrived to look fascinated by Brutus’ monologue on tax-farming in Cyprus, but he does have his obsessive eye for detail. What more proof do I need that he is the one whose seed I require?
Opposite her, Brutus beamed at the Queen’s interest, and was even more delighted when she responded with a series of pertinent observations on the inefficiency of contractors. She’s actually interested! he thought happily, thinking of how his wife never even pretended to conceal her complete incomprehension of his business affairs, and how even his beloved Julia had politely changed the subject as quickly as she was able. Women never normally want to talk about such things, he wondered, but unlike the others, she actually understands!
Eventually the conversation moved away from finance, and to the past. When Brutus told Cleopatra that he had adored Caesar and had loved him as a father, she smiled shyly and put her hand on his. And Marcus Junius Brutus, somewhat to his own surprise, fell utterly in love.
Outstanding EdT! Well worth the wait.
I admit I laughed when Brutus thought how Anthoius wouldn't approve of his endeavor with Cleopatra.
I admit I laughed when Brutus thought how Anthoius wouldn't approve of his endeavor with Cleopatra.
Awww... Caesarion is such a decent boy.
Don't you dare to ruin his live, Ed.
Don't you dare to ruin his live, Ed.
Awww... Caesarion is such a decent boy.
Don't you dare to ruin his live, Ed.
I like Caesarion and I don't like Cleo for publicly beating him because he doesn't want to be a king.
One of the best lines of AH I've ever read...
All seems to be going a bit pear-shaped though now, for the Octavian/Pompeian alliance. Then again, I suppose, Octavian came out on top through controlling Rome IOTL, so perhaps not. If Sextus has twelve legions, just how much of the total armed might of the "Western Empire" has he taken to Illyria?
And how're Agrippa and Cicero getting on in 35BC so far?
A good update EdT.
Nice reference to Anthony & Cleopatra,
And the Life of Brian if I'm not mistaken
Nice reference to Anthony & Cleopatra
,And the Life of Brian if I'm not mistaken
Cuāuhtemōc
Banned
Cleopatra is such a horrible mother to Caesarion. If he ever does become King of Egypt, maybe he can get back at her for all the crap he had to put with as a child. Or maybe he kills her instead and takes the throne.
EdT
Great to see this back and yet more twists and turns. Cleo as the villein of the piece [or at least another one squabbling for the throne]. Caesarion as something of a simpleton, berated and bullied by his mother. Although he does have the sense to be cautious about combining the words Rome and king. Not to mention does she seriously think than even if the Romans would accept a king they would also tolerate the Egyptian practice of incest?
Also I wonder if Sextus isn't being a bit too trusting of Octavian? At the least leaving his brother could mean he becomes an hostage. More dangerous might be Octavian using his immaturity to manoeuvre him into some disaster that taints the Pompeyian position and hence boost his own status.
Furthermore it sounds like the two Brutii will become rivals. Which could cause complications. Although it could also become moot if Titus is too overconfident and mucks up his attempts to stop Sextus. he's being very rash relying on doing it himself although it sounds like he's adopting the wisest policy in facing superior forces. [Does however sound suspiciously like what Pompey tried OTL and that didn't work out].
Steve
Great to see this back
and yet more twists and turns. Cleo as the villein of the piece [or at least another one squabbling for the throne]. Caesarion as something of a simpleton, berated and bullied by his mother. Although he does have the sense to be cautious about combining the words Rome and king. Not to mention does she seriously think than even if the Romans would accept a king they would also tolerate the Egyptian practice of incest?Also I wonder if Sextus isn't being a bit too trusting of Octavian? At the least leaving his brother could mean he becomes an hostage. More dangerous might be Octavian using his immaturity to manoeuvre him into some disaster that taints the Pompeyian position and hence boost his own status.
Furthermore it sounds like the two Brutii will become rivals. Which could cause complications. Although it could also become moot if Titus is too overconfident and mucks up his attempts to stop Sextus. he's being very rash relying on doing it himself although it sounds like he's adopting the wisest policy in facing superior forces. [Does however sound suspiciously like what Pompey tried OTL and that didn't work out
].Steve