Anthony And Cleopatra by Adrian Goldsworthy

The remains of much of the Alexandria known to Auletes and Cleopatra now lies under the sea and archaeologists are only beginning to unravel some of its mysteries. In some ways this is appropriate. Alexander the Great chose the site because it was on the coast. The old capitals at Memphis and Thebes had good access to the Nile, but were far from the sea, reflecting the priorities of the pharaohs. Alexander was more interested in securing good communications to his newly won territory. The Ptolemies also wanted their power to be centred on the Mediterranean. In better days their territories had stretched far across the sea. Culturally and ideologically they always looked back to Greece and Macedonia. Economically, they grew rich from trade, as the great surpluses from Egypt’s harvest were sold abroad and luxury goods from Arabia, India and beyond were sent further west. Alexandria was a port and, with Lake Mareotis to the south of the city, almost surrounded by water.

It was no coincidence that the greatest monument of the Ptolemies looked out to sea. On an island called Pharos, which lay offshore and sheltered the anchorage, stood the great lighthouse. It was at least 328 feet high and built of white stone in three levels. Commissioned by Ptolemy I Soter and completed under his son, the tower was topped by a colossal statue of Zeus Soter. It was visible a long way out to sea and at night a beacon was kept burning – there is even talk of mirrors to increase the light – ensuring that it still served as a landmark. Not as high as the great pyramids, it was still the tallest structure built by the Greeks or Romans. In the late eighth century the highest storey collapsed, but much of the rest survived until the fourteenth century.7

There were two great harbours, separated by a mole almost a mile long connecting the shore with Pharos Island. To the east was the main harbour, sections of which were divided into smaller quays. To the west was the second harbour of ‘Happy Return’ (Eunostos in Greek), which had an inner section known as ‘the Box’ (Kitotos), linking with a canal leading eventually to a branch of the Nile. Shipping, warehouses and commerce provided occupations for far more Alexandrians than the royal bureaucracy. There were plenty of very rich families in the city, whose grand houses occupied street after street near the harbour.8

A separate quarter, walled off from the houses of the wealthy and probably further subdivided, contained the royal palaces. Quite a few of the Ptolemies had chosen to build their own grand houses, although Strabo’s claim that every king constructed a new palace may well be an exaggeration. Other buildings – a theatre is mentioned and was probably dedicated to Dionysus – may have been associated with them to perform a role in ceremonies. Colonnaded courtyards linked the individual palaces and the whole complex was grand in scale and lavish in materials. The Museum complex was also in this area, as was the Sema, the grand tomb containing Alexander’s mummified remains and the corpses of the Ptolemies. Originally, Alexander the Great’s corpse had been housed in a golden coffin – possibly in the familiar style of an Egyptian sarcophagus, although we cannot be sure. However, Ptolemy XI in his desperate need for funds had melted this down and replaced it with one of glass or crystal.9

Alexandria was a consciously Greek city, but its large population was always mixed. It included the biggest Jewish community outside Judaea. There were also many Egyptians, since from the start there were never enough Greek settlers to meet all the demands for labour. Laid out on a grid pattern of streets, the city was divided into five regions named after the first five letters of the alphabet, and the various nationalities seem to have lived separately – the Jews, for example, lived mostly in the region called Delta. On a day-to-day basis there was doubtless much more interaction. In later periods we read of periodic friction between the communities, especially between Jew and Gentile, but this is less clearly attested under the Ptolemies.10

Strabo tells us that all the roads in Alexandria were wide enough for ‘horse-riding and chariot driving’. There were two main streets at right angles to each other, each far wider and fringed with colonnades. The more famous of the two was the Canopic Street. Altogether, the houses of the wealthy and the royal palaces made up between a quarter and a third of the entire city. There were plenty of other grand buildings, especially temples. A complex system of canals and underwater channels brought the water needed by the city’s vast population.

There was work in Alexandria and a good deal of wealth. Successful merchants lived in great houses, as did many landlords whose estates were worked by tenant farmers. For the well-off, life was comfortable, with luxuries and entertainments readily available. It is hard to tell how much or little interest these took in the cultural and intellectual pursuits encouraged by the Museum and Library. For the very poor, life may well have been grim and squalid, as it was for the poor anywhere else in the ancient world. The population of Alexandria was large and volatile, dependent on a constant supply of food and water from outside. We do not know precisely who or how many of its inhabitants took part in the rioting and protests that at times drove out or killed the kingdom’s rulers. Ptolemy Auletes could not rely solely on force in Alexandria, and maintaining an adequate food supply was essential. Other parts of Egypt could suffer from shortages without posing anything like so severe a threat.11

Memphis was the second largest city of Egypt and remained the centre for a number of important traditional cults. Unlike Thebes, it had never been involved in a rebellion against the Ptolemies and so had not suffered accordingly. In 76 BC Auletes had been crowned there in a traditional ceremony by the fourteen-year-old priest of the cult of Ptah. These priests were important figures, but their status reflected the dominance of the monarchy. The post of high priest was effectively hereditary, but the actual appointment had to be made by the king. Similarly, the cults and priests were supported by great estates, but did not actually own the land. Instead, the king allocated the revenue from specific properties to them, but the levies passed through the hands of the royal bureaucracy first. In this way, the Ptolemies gained the loyalty of important Egyptians, who in turn helped to keep the wider population content.12

For all their patronage of the native cults, Ptolemy XII, like his predecessors, showed far more personal enthusiasm for Hellenic deities. The self-styled ‘New Dionysus’ had particular reverence for his namesake. Music and dance were ways of worshipping Dionysus, and this as well as taste and pride in his own skill help to explain his staging of musical competitions and his own performances. Luxury, drinking and feasting were central to his version of the cult. The extravagant indulgence of the king and his court mixed religious devotion with symbols of wealth and plenty for the whole kingdom. They were also opportunities for Ptolemy to enjoy himself. One inscription survives in which several Egyptian men claim to have been Auletes’ catamites. Each gave himself a suggestive pseudonym and even if they were really erotic dancers rather than actual lovers – the Greek could mean either – then it still gives a flavour of Ptolemy XII’s court. Auletes does not appear to have been a very active ruler, except when it came to regaining his throne. He was a survivor, but there is little sign of energy in government, especially after his restoration. The king feasted, performed and indulged himself in pleasure and opulence. Even if this all had an aspect of worship, it was indulgence none the less.13

Cleopatra grew from a child into a young woman in these years. We know nothing of her life at this time or how closely she was involved in the daily life and banquets of her father’s court. The Greeks and Macedonians as a rule did not grant as much licence to women as to men. Her education may well have continued, but whether her experience of Alexandria in these years had more the flavour of her father’s court or of the sober education of the Museum and Library, or indeed more innocent indulgences of the young and rich, is simply impossible to know.

At some point Auletes made a will, one copy of which was sent to Rome. This may have been during the disruptions of 53 and 52 BC, for we are told that it was not forwarded to the Senate’s keeping and remained with Pompey. The Romans were asked to guarantee the implementation of the king’s wishes ‘in the name of all the gods and the treaties which he had made at Rome’. Strikingly he did not leave his kingdom to them, and instead Cleopatra, his oldest remaining daughter, and his oldest son Ptolemy were to become joint rulers. The boy was some seven or eight years her junior and too young to be made sole ruler. He would also need a consort and for the Ptolemies a sister was always a likely choice.14

It would not have been safe for Auletes to ignore his oldest surviving child, since this would have invited a challenge to the succession. Nothing is known about the relationship between Cleopatra and her father, and whether or not he sensed promise in her. Perhaps there was genuine affection, especially if she had accompanied him during his exile, but we simply do not know. Similarly, there is no way of knowing if efforts were made to prepare her for the task of ruling. Auletes does seem to have publicly promoted all of his children, who were referred to as ‘the new sibling-loving gods’ in an inscription from 52 BC. The experience of the past never stopped the Ptolemies from proclaiming family harmony.15

By this time, Auletes’ health may have been failing. On a frieze from the temple at Dendera, Cleopatra is depicted behind the figure of her father, both making offerings to the Egyptian gods. Some scholars see this as an indication that he had already made her co-ruler with him. If true, then Auletes may have wanted assistance in the task of ruling and perhaps to smooth the succession after his death. On the other hand, Cleopatra was now the most senior female member of the royal family and it may simply be in this capacity that she was shown supporting the king. No source actually claims that she ruled jointly with her father. Some official documents list them both, but these may have come from the early months of her reign and maintained a fiction that her father was still alive – something not uncommon at the beginning of a new reign.16

By 51 BC Cleopatra was about eighteen, but it should already be clear that we know very little indeed about her life up until this point or what she was like. Beyond her extensive education and clear intelligence, almost everything else about her character remains conjecture. Declared a goddess and the daughter of a self-declared god, her family had been royal and divine for centuries. The self-confidence of someone born to rule was mixed with the uncertainty and fear of her own family as potentially deadly rivals.

Whether or not she had actually travelled outside Egypt and visited Rome, the young Cleopatra was aware of the overwhelming power of the Roman Republic. She may also have had some understanding of the unpredictability of the new world power and the dominance of individuals like Pompey. Cleopatra’s later career suggest ambition and ruthlessness. It is hard to believe that she did not know from a young age that there would always be people eager to use her to gain power themselves. She was the king’s daughter, accepted by him as legitimate, whatever the precise details of her birth. The choices were between being controlled by others or trying to be in control herself. In either case there was a considerable risk of a sudden and violent death.17

We can do little more than guess at Cleopatra’s character at this stage of her life, but what of her appearance? The question inevitably arises in a way that it simply does not for male figures from the ancient world, or indeed for many women. In part, this is because images are plentiful for most famous names such as Alexander the Great and Caesar. The attitude to Cleopatra is always different, for it is more than simple curiosity. Imagined and reimagined so often over the ages, people have a far more emotional desire to picture the real Cleopatra. Quickly, the question becomes not what she looked like, but whether or not she was beautiful. Even this tends to be almost a simple binary decision, making her either beautiful or ugly — a standard that few people would care to have applied to themselves.18 The literary sources are of limited help. According to Plutarch,

Dio wrote more than a century after Plutarch and claimed that Cleopatra ‘was a woman of surpassing beauty, and at that time, when she was in the prime of her youth, she was most striking; she also possessed a most charming voice and a knowledge of how to make herself agreeable to every one’.19

The passages are less different than tends to be claimed. It is important to note that Plutarch does not say that Cleopatra was not beautiful, simply that she was not the most beautiful woman in the world and that her looks were one part of her considerable attractiveness. Dio does not claim that her beauty surpassed all other women, but that she was very beautiful and also charismatic.

Ideals of beauty change from age to age and culture to culture, and are anyway subject to individual taste. Artistic representations are subject to conventions and vary in their purpose as well as the talents of the artist. The reliefs carved on Egyptian temples were part of a truly ancient tradition and individuals are recognisable only because they are named in the inscription. A young Cleopatra appeared on coins minted in Ascalon. The face on these does not seem especially attractive to modern eyes, but we need to remember that coins were not pin-ups or equivalent to the cover of modern fashion magazines. They were statements of power, and in this case carried a message of the legitimacy of a young queen faced with a serious challenge to her throne and life. The aim was to show power and legitimacy, emphasising that Cleopatra was the rightful heir to the throne of the Ptolemies. The head on coins did not have to be strictly accurate. The Ascalon coins show a prominent, slightly hooked nose and large eyes, both features strongly associated with the Ptolemies.

Later busts of a more mature Cleopatra present even more problems. Identification is almost never secure, and some might easily represent other members of her family, including one of her daughters. Even if they are intended to be Cleopatra herself, they may also have been made long after her death. Most suggest a face that was pleasant, if not exceptionally striking. Many ancient sculptures were originally painted, which would have brought them much more to life. Even so there were limits to the medium and it would be hard to convey vivacity in such a portrait even if this was thought desirable. Both Dio and Plutarch emphasised Cleopatra’s voice and charm. Charisma is not readily conveyed in marble or bronze.

Cleopatra clearly had a strong, somewhat hooked nose. Given the tendencies of her family and her lifestyle, she may well have been a little inclined to plumpness, especially in her teenage years. Excessive thinness as an ideal of feminine beauty is a very recent phenomenon, in spite of its fervent promotion by the fashion industry and media. No evidence suggests that she was as obese as some of the other Ptolemies. She was certainly pretty and probably, by most standards, beautiful. A full figure readily becomes voluptuous, and a hooked nose could be hawk-like if we search for more flattering words. She was not necessarily more beautiful than other women, but her real beauty was combined with wit, sophistication, charm and a lively personality. All of this was reinforced by the simple fact that she was a princess and then a queen. Glamour surrounded Cleopatra, magnifying the force of her real beauty and personality. Given our own age’s obsession with celebrity, we should have no difficulty in understanding this.

The poet Lucan is the only ancient author to make any reference at all to the queen’s complexion. It comes in a scene emphasising the ambition of the queen, the decadent luxury of her court and overpowering ambition of Julius Caesar. He depicts Cleopatra wearing a dress of silk, the material brought originally from China having been rewoven to make it finer and semi-translucent. Such a filmy garment is reminiscent of Ptolemy Physcon. In this case Lucan talks of it revealing much of Cleopatra’s ‘white breasts’ (candida pectora). Lucan wrote in Rome some ninety years after the queen’s death and it is hard to know whether or not he had seen accurate images of her appearance, let alone her colouring. Much of his poem is highly fanciful. In addition, candida normally means white or fair – and in the case of hair can mean blonde – and this begs the question of white or light in comparison to what? Earlier in the same passage he talks of the variety of slaves attending to the guests, contrasting blondes with ruddy complexions (or just possibly red hair) from northern Europe, with dark slaves with curly hair from Africa. This could perhaps imply that Cleopatra was not like either of these in her own appearance, but that is surely pushing the evidence too far. The whole passage is a slender reed on which to rest confident assertions about Cleopatra’s appearance.20

Apart from this, there is not a shred of evidence about Cleopatra’s complexion or the colour of her eyes or hair. This is worth stating bluntly, because so many people keep trying to deduce these or claim to have discovered evidence. At the time of writing two separate TV documentaries have presented reconstructions presenting her as relatively dark-skinned and with brown eyes and black hair. This is all conjecture. As we have seen, there is uncertainty about the identity of Cleopatra’s mother and grandmother (or indeed grandmothers if her parents were not siblings).21

The Ptolemies were Macedonians, with an admixture of a little Greek and via marriage with the Seleucids a small element of Syrian blood. (There is no evidence to make us question the paternity of any of the line and suggest that they were the product of an illicit liaison between the queen and a man other than her husband. This remains possible, if not very likely, but an uncertain basis for any argument.) The Macedonians were not an homogenous people and seem to have varied considerably in appearance and colouring. Alexander the Great was fair-haired, although it is always difficult to know precisely what this meant. A Roman copy of an earlier mosaic shows him with medium-brown hair. Fair might simply mean not black or very dark brown. On the other hand, several of the early Ptolemies were blond and comparisons of their hair to gold suggest this was more than simply not black-haired.

For most of the Ptolemies, including Auletes, there is no mention of the shade of their hair or the colour of their eyes. It is unclear how common blond hair was in the family. (If Cleopatra’s mother was a mistress then we know nothing at all about her appearance or ethnic background, although the probability would always be that she was from the Greek or Macedonian aristocracy.) A painting from Herculaneum in the Bay of Naples, which shows a woman wearing the headband of a Hellenistic queen, has sometimes been identified as Cleopatra. She has dark, distinctly red hair. This is not impossible, but there is actually no very strong reason to believe that the image is supposed to be Cleopatra.22

Absolutely nothing is certain. Cleopatra may have had black, brown, blonde, or even red hair, and her eyes could have been brown, grey, green or blue. Almost any combination of these is possible. Similarly, she may have been very light skinned or had a darker more Mediterranean complexion. Fairer skin is probably marginally more likely given her ancestry. Greek art traditionally represented women and goddesses as very pale, and a fair skin seems to have been part of the ideal of beauty. Roman propaganda never suggested that Cleopatra was dark-skinned, although this may simply mean that she was not exceptionally dark or simply that the colour of her skin was not important to her critics.

At no point will we need to consider Antony’s appearance at similar length and this should remind us that the obsession with Cleopatra’s looks is unusual, and not entirely healthy. Not only is there no good evidence, but also there is something disturbing about the desire to base our understanding of her first and foremost on her appearance. Cleopatra was not another Helen of Troy, a mythical figure about whom the most important thing was her beauty. She was no mere passive object of desire, but a very active political player in her own kingdom and beyond.

Cleopatra was born and raised in the real and very dangerous world of the Ptolemaic court in the first century BC. When her father died early in 51 BC, she became a queen. Auletes had planned for his son and daughter to rule jointly. Cleopatra had other ideas.

When Mark Antony returned to Rome in 50 BC his first goal was to enter the priesthood by becoming an augur. This was not from a sudden outbreak of piety, but another step up the political ladder. There were fifteen members of the college of augurs, and along with the pontiffs they were the most prestigious of Rome’s priests. They were always from senatorial families and, once elected, the post was held for life. This meant that vacancies were rare and hotly contested when they did occur.

In this case the appointment was prompted by the death of Quintus Hortensius Hortalus, consul in 69 BC and Cicero’s rival as the greatest orator of the age. The other members of the college had to choose two nominees. It was common to select men from families who had held the priesthood before, but this was not compulsory. Being selected was a sign of prominence and the ability to call in political favours. Pompey was an augur, and Julius Caesar the senior pontiff or Pontifex Maximus — a title now preserved by the pope. The choice between the two candidates was then made by a special assembly consisting of seventeen tribes chosen by lot out of the thirty-five. As in any election, all means from canvassing to outright bribery were pursued to convince the voters. Caesar himself decided to go to Cisalpine Gaul to ‘speak in the towns and colonies … and support his bid for the priesthood. For he was happy to use his influence in favour of a man who was very close to him … and especially against the small, but powerful faction, who hoped through the defeat of Mark Antony …’ to weaken Caesar’s own prestige.1

The main priesthoods at Rome were not associated with any particular deities. Augurs had a special role in interpreting messages sent by the gods to show their attitude towards a planned course of action. This might take the form of examining a sacrifice or often simply observing the skies and interpreting the future on the basis of the flights of birds. Cicero was an augur, and although he wrote a book dismissing divination in general, he made an exception in the case of his own college. However, there is absolutely no indication that candidates were judged at all on their knowledge of such things.2

Antony was picked as one of the candidates and ran against Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, an ancestor of Emperor Nero. The latter was older and much more experienced, having been consul in 54 BC when he had tried and failed to replace Caesar as governor of Gaul. Domitius was also Cato’s brother-in-law, which was another reason for him to dislike Caesar and anyone associated with him. Well connected, and from a successful and distinguished family, he could expect to win against his much more junior rival. In the event, Caesar’s influence and Caesar’s money were lavished through intermediaries to give the victory to Antony. The news of this success reached Cisalpine Gaul before the proconsul had arrived there and begun to canvass. Instead, Caesar toured the communities thanking them for supporting his former quaestor and encouraging them to back Antony in the autumn’s election for the tribunate.3

There were ten tribunes of the plebs each year and it was a post that a man of Antony’s age and experience could reasonably expect to win at this stage in his career. The tribunate was not compulsory and its duties were restricted to Rome itself and never extended to service in the provinces. Yet its powers were considerable. Actively, a tribune could summon the Concilium Plebis and propose a bill that the Assembly could then make into a law. The tribunate had been created to protect citizens from the abuse of power by senior magistrates and especially patricians. They possessed the right of veto – literally, ‘I forbid’ – which allowed them to block any decision or action in the Senate or an assembly. This was not a collective thing and the veto of just one tribune was enough to stop a motion in its tracks.4

Caesar’s money and backing helped again and Antony was comfortably elected as tribune for 49 BC. Amongst his colleagues were several other men from well-established families. Not all of the candidates Caesar backed were so fortunate. One of his former legates, Servius Sulpicius Galba, tried and failed to win the consulship.5

Caesar was coming to the end of his tenure in Gaul. Since 58 BC he had expanded Roman territory on a grand scale, defeating tribes most Romans considered as traditional enemies. His victories were celebrated by a succession of public thanksgivings and plans were under way to commemorate them by rebuilding on a grand scale the saepta voting area on the Campus Martius at Rome. Caesar had been voted his initial command and its five-year extension in bills proposed by tribunes and passed in the Popular Assembly. This was legal, since the People could legislate on anything. In the past, Pompey had benefited in the same way, but it broke the tradition that provinces should be first allocated and then renewed or reassigned by the Senate.

There had been worries about what Pompey would do when he returned to Italy from his eastern campaigns and widespread fear that the successful commander would seize control of the state by force. In the event he had disbanded his army and entered politics as a private citizen in the proper way, which allowed other senators to block him, until in frustration he allied with Crassus and Caesar. Crassus had died in Parthia in 53 BC, unbalancing the alliance. Another very personal connection between Pompey and Caesar had also been removed a year before. In 59 BC Pompey had married Caesar’s daughter Julia, his only legitimate child. Caesar’s new son-in-law was six years older than he was and yet the marriage proved genuinely happy. Pompey craved adoration, whether from his soldiers, the wider population or a wife, and Julia seems to have been as charming as her father.6

Then, in August 54 BC, Julia died in childbirth, and the baby followed her a few days later. Caesar had searched around for another female relation to renew the alliance, but instead Pompey had married into a well-established senatorial family, wedding the daughter of Quintus Caecilius Metellus Pius Scipio Nasica. This man’s lengthy name was the product of successive adoptions, which had combined the fortunes of several famous lines. His daughter was simply Cornelia, the feminine form of his name before his own adoption. Scipio himself never gave any evidence of sharing the talent of his famous ancestors, but he was extremely well connected. This encouraged Pompey to marry his daughter and make Scipio his colleague in the consulship of 52 BC. Cornelia was also a remarkable woman and, once again, the marriage to a bride at least thirty years his junior proved extremely happy.7

Pompey did not need Caesar as much as he had done in 59 BC. With Crassus gone, there was now no single senator who could match his wealth and importance. In spite of Caesar’s new-found glory and great fortune from the conquest of Gaul, Pompey did not yet consider him to be his equal. From at least 52 BC many senators sensed that the two men were becoming much less close. In that year Pompey was made sole consul – dictator in all but name – and his command of the Spanish provinces was renewed. Although he never had any intention of going to the Iberian Peninsula, the provinces gave Pompey control of an army and the immunity from prosecution of a serving magistrate. Once Caesar’s command expired in Gaul, then he would have neither of these things. Back in 59 BC he had forced measures through against stubborn opposition. The Roman system allowed acts in the past to be attacked even when they were legal at the time.

Caesar had charisma, which he displayed in his courting of other senators and his frequent seduction of their wives. Anyone who felt that he had seen past this charm tended to loathe him with a hatred that was almost visceral. Cato was one of his bitterest opponents, but there were other men who resented being overshadowed by Caesar’s glory and achievements. Several boasted that as soon as Caesar returned home he would be put on trial in a court surrounded by soldiers and condemned.8

Simply being brought to trial was a major blow to a senator’s prestige, even if he was not condemned. No one had ever thought of prosecuting Crassus, or indeed of charging Pompey with anything. Caesar refused to risk such an insult to his auctoritas. He was equally reluctant to trust for his defence to the friendship of Pompey, both because this would have admitted that the latter was the more important man and because his past record of supporting friends was patchy. Instead, Caesar wanted to go straight from his command into a second consulship in 48 BC, which would give him immunity from prosecution during that year and then the option of taking a province. All ten tribunes of 52 BC were persuaded to pass a law permitting him to stand for election without actually leaving his province and returning to Rome.9

The question of how Caesar would return home from Gaul overshadowed public life for more than two years, although this was not to the exclusion of everything else. Individual senators still pursued their own ambitions and agendas, joining in the struggle over this when it suited them. The men who knew themselves as the boni (the good) or even the optimates (the best) were almost all hostile to Caesar and determined that he should come to Rome as a vulnerable private citizen. They were all from well-established families, who were reluctant to see so much fame, honour and profit from service to the Republic go to someone other than themselves. Many, including Scipio, were heavily in debt and desperately in need of lucrative provincial commands to restore their fortunes. Most had in the past been deeply hostile to Pompey, but now came to believe that they could use him against Caesar.

The dominance of a few old families was well illustrated by consecutive consulships of three men called Claudius Marcellus – two brothers and a cousin. All of them attacked Caesar’s position, encouraged by the shift in Pompey’s attitude, who had backed the tribunes’ law in 52 BC, but over time seemed first ambiguous and then increasingly unsympathetic towards his former son-in-law and ally. One suggestion was to recall Caesar, since after suppressing the rebellion of 52 BC the war in Gaul was clearly over. Pompey did not support this, but wanted the Gallic command to end as soon as the full term expired. There was a divide over precisely when this was and whether the five years granted to him in 55 BC had begun immediately or was in addition to the original five-year term. Pompey was repeatedly questioned over this. In October 51 BC. Cicero’s correspondent Caelius Rufus reported the following exchange: ‘“What if,” someone else said, “he wants to be consul and still retain his army?” To this Pompey responded mildly, “What if my son wants to attack me with a stick?” These words have made people suspect that Pompey is having a row with Caesar.’10

Caesar could not legally leave his province without laying down his command, so was unable to talk to Pompey or represent his own interests directly. Instead, he had to work through others, and the profits of conquest were again freely spent to win allies. A massive gift to Lucius Aemilius Lepidus Paullus, one of the consuls in 50 BC, secured his support. He was busy restoring the Basilica Aemilia et Lepida on the edge of the Forum and needed money to pay for the renewal of this monument to his ancestors. In the past he had not been close to Caesar, but had good reason to dislike Pompey, who had executed his father after his unsuccessful coup in 78 BC. It was rumoured that he received 9 million denarii from Caesar.

Another newly purchased ally at first kept the association secret. This was Curio, Antony’s friend from youth and now tribune for 50 BC. His open criticism of the triumvirate in 59 BC had been followed by periodic attacks since then, which had often been popular. Everyone expected his tribunate to see more hostility towards them, especially against Caesar. Yet this time there was little enthusiasm outside the self-styled boni for attacking Caesar and this would not be the road to popularity.11

Curio’s father had died some years before, removing one, albeit limited, restraining influence on his son, who marked the event with spectacular funeral games. These included two semi-circular wooden theatres, which were able to rotate and join together forming a single amphitheatre to stage gladiatorial fights. In this period such extremely popular shows could only be staged as part of a funeral. The cost of all this was enormous, adding to the already huge debts that came from Curio’s extravagant lifestyle. It was a fragile position. His creditors gambled on his future success, just as they did with other up and coming men, and as with them this gave a desperate edge to his need to reach the very top of public life or face utter ruin.

Caesar is said to have paid Curio 2.5 million denarii by one source, and no less than 15 million by another. The money was vital, but it was not the whole story. Curio had clearly decided that he had other things to gain by allying with Caesar. There was no particular advantage for him in backing Caesar’s opponents, since the most ardent of these were as likely to block his own legislation. Curio had married Clodius’ widow Fulvia and in other respects was doing his best to cultivate the dead man’s former followers. Just like Clodius, Curio was an independent senator with aims of his own and not simply Caesar’s puppet. However, Clodius’ older brother Appius Claudius Pulcher was tied by marriage to Cato and was now one of Caesar’s more enthusiastic critics. Not all members of a family necessarily followed the same line in politics.

Curio did his job well throughout 50 BC, vetoing any senatorial decree that threatened Caesar’s right to go straight from his provincial command into the consulship. In April, Caelius described some of this to Cicero:

Cicero was at the time a reluctant proconsul of Cilicia and was determined to remain there no longer than the minimum term of a year. Caelius noted earlier in the same letter that he and Curio had helped to prevent an extension of his term. Again, this is an indication that many other issues were fiercely contested as part of, or just alongside, the wider struggle. Cicero had little sympathy for Curio’s support for Caesar, but welcomed his aid in his own case. Pompey remained outside the city, since he, too, could not enter and retain his provincial command. The Senate obligingly met outside the formal boundary (pomerium), of Rome.13

On 1 December there was a major debate, at which Curio cleverly scored a point against his opponents. The Senate voted by a large majority to recall Caesar from Gaul, while a similar motion to end Pompey’s term as proconsul of Spain was defeated by just as big a margin. Both decrees were vetoed by tribunes, and Curio then asked the Senate to divide on the proposal that both men should lay down their commands simultaneously. No fewer than 370 senators backed this and only 22 voted against. If few men actively favoured Caesar, and most were sympathetic to Pompey, the overwhelming majority dreaded the civil war that seemed so very likely if the dispute was not resolved peacefully. The consul Marcellus ignored the outcome and dismissed the meeting, bawling out, ‘If that is what you want, be Caesar’s slaves!’14

By the end of the year Curio had ensured that Caesar remained as proconsul of Gaul, but his direct attacks on Pompey had only fed the tension. All of the issues were carried over into 49 BC. Curio hurried to confer with Caesar and returned early in January with a message from him. By this time Antony had become tribune and taken over the role of defending Caesar’s position, aided in this by one of his colleagues, Quintus Cassius Longinus. Both of the consuls were vehemently opposed to Caesar who claimed that one boasted of becoming a second Sulla as the only way of surviving his staggeringly large debts. Men on both sides were desperate and more than a few thought they would benefit should civil war break out. There was also mutual suspicion, not helped by the inability of the main protagonists to meet face to face. On top of that was a deep-rooted confidence that the other side would back down.15

Curio brought a letter from Caesar, but Antony and Curio had to insist before this was read out in the Senate. It contained a restatement of his services to the Republic and claimed that he should only have to lay down his command if Pompey did the same. Cicero had now returned from Cilicia and was waiting outside Rome in the hope of being awarded a triumph. To him the letter’s tone was ‘fierce and threatening’. A motion was passed demanding that Caesar immediately lay down his command, but Antony and Cassius vetoed it. There were still attempts at private negotiation, Caesar writing to many leading senators and offering concessions, for instance that he give up Transalpine Gaul and Illyria, keeping only Cisalpine Gaul and a single legion. This way he would be safe from prosecution, but too weak to risk fighting a civil war. Some of his opponents saw this as weakness, confirming their belief that he would give in if they refused to compromise.16

Antony had grown into a big, barrel-chested and thick-necked man. While in Greece he had studied oratory and adopted the flamboyant Asiatic style. He had huge force of personality and threw all his energy into defending Caesar, but he was not a man to whom subtlety came naturally. He was also highly inexperienced politically, having spent little time in Rome since becoming a senator. In later years, Cicero talked of Antony ‘vomiting his words in the usual way’ when he made a speech. Like Curio, he decided now to attack Pompey’s career and especially his third consulship and use of force to restore order. Political exchanges at Rome were often strong, but this was seen as particularly vitriolic and included repeated threats of war. At one public meeting late in December, the tribune elect Antony had been so aggressive that Pompey complained, ‘What do you reckon Caesar himself will be like, if he gets to control the Republic, if now his weak and worthless quaestor acts like this! ’17

On 7 January the Senate passed its ultimate decree, suspending law and calling on ‘the consuls, praetors and tribunes, and all the proconsuls near the city to ensure that the Republic comes to no harm’. It was obvious that ‘the proconsuls’ first and foremost meant Pompey. Attempts by Antony and Quintus Cassius to veto this decree were ignored and one of the consuls told them that he could not ensure their safety if they remained in Rome. There does not seem to have been an actual attack on them, but the two tribunes disguised themselves as slaves and were carried out of the city in a hired cart.18

Caesar was at Ravenna, just inside his province of Cisalpine Gaul. With him he had the Thirteenth Legion supported by some 300 cavalry. It was a small force, and it was also very unusual for armies to go on campaign in the winter months. Pompey and the hard-line senators opposing Caesar did not think that he could begin the war quickly. They may even have still thought that he would back down, seeing this final proof of their determination.

They were wrong. On the night of the 10/11 January 49 BC, Caesar led his men from Ravenna to Ariminum (modern-day Rimini). When he crossed the River Rubicon – so insignificant a stream that we cannot now be sure of its location – he left his province, where he could legally command troops, and entered Italy, where he could not. He is said to have used a gambler’s tag when he did so, the famous ‘the die is cast’ (iacta alea est). Later he would place the blame for the civil war squarely on his enemies, saying that ‘They wanted it; even after all my great deeds I, Caius Caesar, would have been condemned, if I had not sought support from my army’ Whatever the rights and wrongs of the conflict, the simple fact was that crossing the Rubicon turned him and all his supporters into rebels.19

It is unclear whether Antony, Cassius and Curio joined Caesar at Ariminum or earlier at Ravenna, but the former seems more likely. In either case, the Thirteenth was paraded and the proconsul addressed them and explained how he had been forced to act by the bitter and illegal hostility of his enemies, who had lured Pompey away from him. The two tribunes were still dressed as slaves when they were brought before the soldiers to underline the way that his opponents had trampled on the laws. The persons of the tribunes of the people were sacrosanct and yet these representatives of the people had been threatened with violence. All Romans had a deeply emotional attachment to the idea of the tribunate and by the end of the parade the legionaries and their officers were shouting that they were ready to set things right.20

Antony was a few days short of his thirty-fourth birthday. Years later Cicero would blame him for starting the civil war. That was a huge exaggeration, for it is hard to see enough trust on either side to have made a peaceful resolution possible. It is fair to say that Antony was an active participant in the actual events that sparked the war. He also showed no reluctance about taking part in an invasion of Italy.21

Caesar did not linger, but pressed on. His opponents were unprepared and had no reliable troops to oppose even the small invading army. Town after town opened its gates to Caesar’s men. Antony was sent with a force of five cohorts from the Thirteenth to occupy Arretium (modern-day Arezzo). There was no fighting. A little later Curio led another column to Iguvium. The Pompeian commander fled, his soldiers deserted and the townsfolk welcomed the cohorts. From the beginning, Caesar maintained very strict discipline and forbade his soldiers from looting or indiscriminate acts of violence. They were to fight only when actively resisted.22

Absolutely no one had anticipated Caesar’s strategy. Even men like Cicero who knew Caesar personally and had hoped to avoid the war, expected him to advance like Sulla or Marius, plundering and slaughtering all his opponents. Instead, he paraded his clemency. When he surrounded a large force at Corfinium under the inept leadership of Domitius Ahenobarbus, the town surrendered after a brief siege. Ahenobarbus — Antony’s rival for the augurate — and all of the senior officers were allowed to go free, taking their possessions with them. His soldiers nearly all changed sides and joined Caesar, who proclaimed that this was ‘a new way of conquest — we grow strong through pity and generosity’.23

Early on Pompey had decided that it was impossible to defend Rome. He had very few trained and reliable soldiers. Levies were held, but the raw legions raised in this way would take many months to be trained. Everything had to be improvised and for the moment he and his supporters were weak. Hotheads like Ahenobarbus tried to force him to fight, refusing to obey orders and retire to join him. Attempts at negotiation continued, some involving Antony’s cousin, the son and namesake of Lucius Julius Caesar. Both sides repeated their desire for peace and much of this may have been intended to win support from the undecided. The bulk of the Senate, let alone the wider population, felt no strong commitment to either side and tried to remain out of the conflict.24

Pompey retreated to Brundisium in the south and began transporting his men by sea across to Greece. There he planned to assemble and train a great army, drawing on the resources of the eastern provinces he himself had organised. Once he was ready, he would return and crush Caesar. As he put it, ‘Sulla did it, so why can’t I?’ Caesar pursued and tried to prevent his escape, but failed to close the harbour. Brundisium fell, but only after Pompey and his forces had escaped.25

Caesar had won the first campaign, but he remained a rebel with many strong enemies at large. He lacked the ships needed to follow Pompey, so instead decided to march by land to Spain and defeat the Pompeian legions there. First he needed to make arrangements for the governance of Italy. He returned to Rome, but at first did not enter the city itself. Antony and Cassius as tribunes summoned a meeting of the Senate to a spot outside the pomerium on 1 April. Few attended, and only two of these were former consuls. Nevertheless, Caesar took the opportunity to address the meeting and later an Assembly of the Roman people to lay out his case. The Senate decreed that an embassy should be sent to Pompey and his allies in the hope of agreeing a peace. No one was willing to serve on the delegation, however, and so the whole matter was dropped. Needing funds to pay his soldiers, Caesar took money from the Republic’s Treasury, in spite of the opposition of another of the tribunes. This was only a few months after proclaiming his willingness to fight on behalf of the rights of the tribunate.26

Caesar then left for the campaign in Spain. Antony’s brother Caius Antonius was given command of two legions and sent to Illyricum, nearest to the massing enemies in Greece. Curio received the legions that had defected at Corfinium and was sent to Sicily, with orders to proceed to North Africa once this was secured. On his way, the young aristocrat visited Cicero and spoke with his usual freedom, claiming that Caesar’s clemency was a sham and that soon he would reveal his true and far more cruel nature, becoming another Sulla.27

As well as generals, Caesar needed administrators. Rome was put under the charge of the praetor Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, the younger brother of the consul of 50 BC and a man who would later play a major role in Antony’s life. Antony himself was given special propraetorian imperium to add to his office of tribune and was tasked with overseeing the rest of Italy. Both men were appointed because they were already properly elected magistrates and also because they came from well-established families. It was still an unprecedented responsibility for a tribune. Antony revelled in the power.28

Cleopatra was about eighteen when her father died in 51 BC, the oldest of Auletes’ four surviving children. Her sister Arsinoe was younger by one or more years and the older of their two brothers was just ten. Their father had intended Ptolemy XIII and Cleopatra to rule jointly. It is normally assumed that they were quickly married in accordance with the family tradition, but no source explicitly tells us this, and it was unusual for a Ptolemaic king to take a wife who was so much older. On the other hand, if Ptolemy XIII had subsequently married then friction would always have been likely between his wife and his sister and co-ruler, so in many respects marriage between the royal siblings encouraged stability. It is also possible that a marriage was planned, but did not actually take place.

We do not know how Auletes died and whether his death was sudden or long anticipated. This means that it is uncertain how far he prepared the way for the succession. There were problems from the beginning. Ptolemy XIII was a minor who could not rule himself and so required some form of regency. There was a long tradition amongst the Ptolemies of giving important courtiers the status of ‘friends’ or the even greater honour of ‘kinsmen’, in keeping with Macedonian tradition, which had surrounded Alexander and other kings with ‘companions’. A number of important men were associated with the boy and formed a loose faction around him. The dominant figures were his tutor Theodotus of Samos and the eunuch Pothinus. There does not seem to have been any formally appointed regent or regency council, merely a group of prominent men able to influence and effectively control the young prince. All had ambitions of their own and were united only in a desire to increase the importance Ptolemy XIII and so gain power themselves.1

Cleopatra also had her advisers and allies, although we know next to nothing about them. This is because she was older, confident enough to assert herself and unwilling to let anyone else rule through her. From the beginning this created tension. Her favourites doubtless gained prestige and power within the court, but these were inevitably a minority. Other men saw their rivals doing well, as their own influence and importance declined or at best remained the same. If they were unable to ingratiate themselves with the young queen, then the natural alternative was to turn to her brother. Increasing his power would benefit all those who surrounded and supported him.

The teenage queen made her intentions clear very quickly. Ignoring her father’s will, Cleopatra made herself sole monarch of his kingdom. Official documents from 51 BC make no mention of Ptolemy XIII. They refer instead to ‘Year Thirty, which is also Year One’. The Egyptian system of dating inherited by the Ptolemies was based around the years of rule of each monarch. Year Thirty was the final year of Auletes’ reign – tactfully ignoring the period of his exile. Therefore the year marked the end of one era and the start of the new reign of the sole queen. She styled herself the ‘father-loving goddess’ (Thea Philopator), at once stressing her connection with Auletes and ignoring his declaration that his children were ‘sibling-loving’.

Her sole rule was also reflected in less official sources. A priest of an association dedicated to the worship of the goddess Isis seems to have prepared a statue to dedicate to Ptolemy XII. When the king died, this man had the inscription altered to celebrate ‘Queen Cleopatra Thea Philopator’ instead. Time, cost or lack of concern meant that the statue was still of an obviously male figure in the traditional garb of a pharaoh. There is no mention on the inscription of Ptolemy XIII.2

On the 22 March 51 BC a grand ceremony was held at Hermonthis in Upper Egypt to enthrone a new Buchis bull, the focus of one of the great animal cults of Egypt. Whenever a Buchis bull died, it was carefully mummified and buried, while the priests searched for a replacement of suitable type, size and colour. The Buchis bull was supposed to change colour during the course of each day. The animal cults of Egypt often attracted the scorn of Greek and Roman observers, but that did nothing to prevent their popularity, which extended beyond the indigenous population to many settlers from outside. Most famous was the Apis bull whose shrine was at Memphis, but there were others. The Buchis bull was believed to be in some way the physical manifestation of Montu, a god of war, and was also sacred to other deities. Hermonthis lay on the opposite bank of the Nile to the Upper Kingdom’s capital city of Thebes and had immense prestige.

An inscription from Hermonthis, recording the burial of this Buchis bull more than twenty years later, stated that:

Such inscriptions were formulaic, so that we need to be cautious about reading too much into the details. ‘He was installed by the king himself was a traditional formula and did not usually mean that the king was in fact present. We do not know if it anyway refers to Auletes, or less probably Ptolemy XIII, or is simply used vaguely to mean Cleopatra herself, in this traditional religious role of the pharaoh.

Many historians chose to take the description of her participation literally. If this is correct, then it would be striking that the new queen was willing to travel to the south of her realm so early in her reign, removing her from Alexandria and the court for a period of a least a few weeks. Ptolemy Auletes was generous to the temple cults, and this can be seen as an extension of his patronage, taken a stage further by a young queen able to speak the Egyptian language. Upper Egypt does seem to have been consistently loyal to both father and daughter, which could suggest that this attention was rewarded. Cleopatra certainly continued to build temples and fund the cults. Another inscription records that she gave money to pay for the ceremonial feasts accompanying the instalment of a new Apis bull. However, in this case the sum involved was no more than 421 silver coins, making the gift generous, but not on an especially grand scale.4

It is certainly possible that the eighteen-year-old Cleopatra actually did go down the Nile and play a role in the rituals of the Buchis bull. She does seem to have enjoyed theatre, perhaps felt a genuine religious commitment to the cult and may also have wanted to show herself as queen in a very public role. The ‘rowing’ would never have to be more than symbolic. Extending this to a deep commitment to traditional Egyptian religion and culture remains a very large step even beyond this, as does the claim that ‘she was indeed queen of Egypt’ in contrast to earlier Ptolemies. We do have to remember that her participation may have been entirely symbolic, consisting of financial support and official words of approval issued from distant Alexandria. It was obviously in the interests of the priests of the cult to portray royal involvement as direct and true, in an ideal rather than literal sense. Once again we simply do not know, making this a flimsy piece of evidence on which to base sweeping statements about Cleopatra’s policies and attitudes.5

There was no tradition of a Ptolemaic queen ruling alone for any length of time. Cleopatra was intelligent, capable and ambitious, but she was also young and inexperienced. Perhaps she believed that she could be the exception to this, but her position was always precarious and it was difficult to keep enough of the court and wider aristocracy satisfied. The Roman attitude was almost as vital, but remained unclear. Although news of Auletes’ death had reached Rome by the summer of 51 BC, the Senate took no action to recognise the new queen or to enforce the terms of her father’s will. There were plenty of other matters occupying the senators’ minds and a general indifference to Egypt’s affairs. It had after all taken Auletes more than a decade and concerted lobbying and bribery to gain the formal acceptance of the Roman Republic.6

Crassus’ unprovoked and disastrous invasion of Parthia was followed by a series of heavy Parthian raids into the Roman provinces. In 50 BC, the Roman proconsul governing Syria was Marcus Calpurnius Bibulus, son-in-law of Cato. Bibulus had the misfortune to be Julius Caesar’s contemporary, and in a succession of magistracies was overshadowed by his far more charismatic and able colleague. In 59 BC the two men were consuls and after vain attempts to block Caesar’s legislation, Bibulus had retired to his house. He produced a stream of scurrilous attacks on his colleague, whilst all the time proclaiming that public business was invalid because of bad omens. People joked that the year was the consulship of Julius and Caesar rather than Caesar and Bibulus.7

Like Cicero, Bibulus had only reluctantly gone out to govern a province, but once there he seems to have tried to do the job to the best of his limited ability. With only the remnants of Crassus’ army at his disposal, he sent two of his sons to Alexandria to summon the Gabinian troops. This does suggest that these were still seen as part of the Roman army, although it is just possible that he simply saw them as Roman citizens and so obliged to serve the cause of the Republic. Whatever Bibulus’ view, the Gabinians and their officers did not recognise his authority. Not only did they refuse to answer to leave Egypt, but they also promptly murdered the proconsul’s sons.

Cleopatra had the ringleaders arrested and sent in chains to Bibulus for punishment. As one source puts it, ‘No greater favour could have been offered to a mourner. But when offered it, he made grief yield to moderation and had the slaughterers of his flesh and blood returned to Cleopatra immediately unharmed, saying that the power to punish them should be the Senate’s, not his.’8

The young queen had demonstrated her loyalty to Rome and asserted some degree of control over the Gabinians, who formed such a major part of the royal army. It is not known what happened to the prisoners once they were returned to her by Bibulus. Cleopatra had been able to arrest these men, but had not been able to get the Gabinians to go to Syria, assuming that she wanted this. The queen’s willingness to hand these officers over for execution can scarcely have endeared her to their colleagues.

Much of Auletes’ unpopularity in 58 BC came from his fawning attitude to Roman power. Many Alexandrians, and in particular many of the well-off and influential, seem to have resented this. It is more than likely that Cleopatra’s actions following the murder of Bibulus’ sons caused a similar reaction, but we should be careful not to push this too far. It was not a simple question of pro- and anti-Roman factions at court. Instead, any perceived weakness or mistake made by the queen was bound to be exploited by the faction surrounding her brother. Discontent amongst army officers weakened Cleopatra and aided men like Pothinus and Theodotus.

At some point in 50 BC the queen’s sole rule ended and she was forced to acknowledge her brother as co-ruler. For a while there seems to have been co-operation between the two, at least officially. There are relatively few formal documents from this period, but Ptolemy XIII more often than not is named first. This may simply be because a king would normally be considered the dominant partner, but perhaps reflects the real balance of power. On 27 October a decree was issued in the name of the king and queen forbidding any excess from the harvest being stored locally and commanding that all of this was to be transported to Alexandria. The death penalty was to be imposed on anyone violating this decree and ‘whoever wishes shall inform … about contraventions of this order, on the understanding that he shall receive a third part of the property of the person found guilty, or, if he be a slave, shall be freed and in addition receive the sixth part’. Harsh penalties for violating royal decrees were not unusual.9

In this case, the harvests seem to be have been bad for several years in succession as the annual inundations were low. At the same time the royal bureaucracy pressed hard to levy taxation on what was produced. Other documents from this period hint at widespread hardship and shortages. In some cases the peasants took the traditional route of protest by fleeing from the lands they were supposed to work.

Alexandria was large and had a volatile population. Food shortages there were likely to cause rioting, which could quickly destabilise any regime. Therefore the royal decree may simply have been intended to make sure that however bad the situation was, the inhabitants of the great city were adequately fed. Yet there may be more to it than this. Some scholars have suggested that Cleopatra had already left the city and gone to Upper Egypt to rally support against her brother. If so, then the law was designed to deny her the food supplies she would need to feed any army she raised.10

More probably, the relations between brother and sister had not yet broken down into actual conflict. The measure could just as easily have been intended to keep all resources under the close supervision of Ptolemy’s supporters and so deter Cleopatra from resorting to open resistance. It is more than possible that for a year or so there was the same sort of uneasy truce that had at times operated between Ptolemy Physcon and his two queens.

By the end of 50 BC the official dating system spoke of‘ Year One, which is also Year Three’, and the former clearly referred to the reign of Ptolemy XIII. Cleopatra may still have been in Alexandria when Pompey sent his elder son Cnaeus Pompey to the royal court in 49 BC. Having evacuated Italy, Pompey and his allies were busy organising the great army that was intended to smash Caesar, either in Macedonia or by returning to Italy itself. Therefore envoys were sent to gather men and resources from all the provinces and allied kingdoms of the eastern Mediterranean. Pompey’s past connection with Auletes may well have encouraged him to send his son to the Ptolemaic court, although it is more than likely that he also visited other regions. Cnaeus got at least some of what he requested. Five hundred Gallic and German cavalry drawn from amongst the Gabinians were despatched to join Pompey’s army, which included many contingents of allied troops to support the legions. In addition, he received sixty oared warships, apparently fully equipped and crewed. Egypt also sent wheat to feed the Pompeian forces.11

Plutarch claims that Cleopatra – now about twenty – seduced Cnaeus Pompey, but none of our other sources mentions this and it is highly unlikely that Octavian and his propagandists would not have thrown such a charge at the queen. She may or may not have met the Roman envoy, but he clearly was left in no doubt that Ptolemy XIII’s advisers were in charge of the kingdom. The senators who were with Pompey’s army considered themselves the legitimate governing council of the Republic even though they were far from Rome. When Cnaeus Pompey returned they met and formally recognised the rule of the young Ptolemy XIII. Absolutely no mention was made of his sister. There is also no hint that Ptolemy’s aid to the Romans made him in any way unpopular with his subjects, highlighting the fact that it is wrong to see this as a simple struggle between pro- and anti-Roman factions.12

At some point in late 49 or early 48 BC, Cleopatra left Alexandria and went to raise an army. Arsinoe went with her. A much later source claims that they went first to Upper Egypt, seeking support in the Thebaid. Perhaps not enough men rallied to the queen’s cause or her brother’s control of the food supply was simply too tight. For whatever reason, Cleopatra and her sister fled to Syria. In just a few years she had gone from queen to exile.13

Her father was only the most recent of the Ptolemies to be driven from their kingdom, only to regain power at a later date. Cleopatra was not resigned to her fate, but determined to build up her strength until she could either defeat, or at least negotiate with, her brother and his advisers. She received an enthusiastic welcome from the city of Ascalon on the coast of Palestine. Originally one of the five main Philistine cities from the Old Testament period, it was now a bustling port. Alliance with the Ptolemies had allowed the city to break away from the kingdom of Judaea and become independent. In gratitude they had on several occasions minted coins bearing the Ptolemies’ eagle symbol. Now a series was produced carrying Cleopatra’s head. These are the images emphasising family traits such as the large eyes and prominent hooked nose to prove the legitimacy of her claim to power.14

Why Ascalon’s leaders chose to support Cleopatra against her brother is unclear. Assistance may also have come from other quarters, and she may have hired or been given troops by the Nabataean kingdom, the capital of which was at the famous city of Petra. By the summer of 48 BC Cleopatra had an army and was ready to return.

Ptolemy XIII and his ministers knew that his sisters were coming back. The royal army was mustered under the command of a general named Achillas, who now joined Pothinus and Theodotus as part of the inner circle controlling the young king. Julius Caesar says that:


It was a strong force, better trained and more experienced than the army Cleopatra had managed to assemble. It was always important in a civil war to show supreme confidence, since caution would readily be interpreted as weakness and so might make people wonder whether to change sides. Ptolemy XIII was still in his early teens, but was dressed in splendid armour and the royal cloak to lead his soldiers in person. The faction surrounding him were unlikely to have wanted to let the boy out of their sight and close control; they are also unlikely to have trusted each other.16

Achillas did not wait at Pelusium to meet the invaders, but marched the army another 30 miles or so to the east to wait at Mount Casius. It was a strong position and the forward move was another expression of confidence. Cleopatra’s army arrived and took up a position facing them. For days the two armies stared at each other. Such stand-offs were common in ancient warfare; battle usually required the consent of both sides. If an army remained in a strong position, then its opponents were rarely willing to attack it at such a disadvantage. Probably Ptolemy’s army was much stronger than that of his sister. Her invasion of Egypt had bogged down before it had really begun.

Then Pompey the Great arrived in Egypt for the first time in his long career.

​

-XII-
CIVIL WAR​

Pompey ought to have won the civil war, for he had far greater resources at his disposal and appeared to have much wider political support. He had lost Italy, but that was principally a blow to prestige and did not seriously reduce his capacity to fight. By the summer of 49 BC Caesar had outmanoeuvred the Pompeian armies in Spain and forced them to surrender. The leaders were permitted to go and duly returned to Pompey. The junior officers and soldiers switched sides or were demobilised. The legions in Spain had been the most experienced under Pompey’s command, but they were trapped in a strategic backwater and the campaign decided nothing. If Caesar had been beaten, then the civil war would have been over, for the rebel could not afford to lose even once. To Pompey the defeat was of only minor significance and, more importantly, the campaign had given him time to prepare for the real confrontation. Organisation had always been Pompey’s forte and the fifty-eight-year-old seemed rejuvenated as he gathered and trained his army in Greece.1

There was also encouraging news from other theatres, as Caesar’s subordinates failed to match his successes. Caius Antonius led one and a half legions into Illyricum, but was overwhelmed and captured. Curio at first did well against weak opposition and had enjoyed a bloodless victory in Sicily – a minor reverse for Pompey’s cause. The Pompeian commander of the island was Cato, but he had no significant forces and decided not to waste citizens’ lives in a futile defence, so left and went to Greece. Curio then took two of his four legions over to North Africa. Lack of transport ships severely restricted the Caesareans, just as it had prevented Caesar from following Pompey across the Adriatic, and the invasion was a gamble. At first the risk paid off and his legions of recently captured Pompeians proved remarkably loyal, with only a handful of desertions. One enemy army was routed at the cost of only a single fatality. Curio had very little military experience, but was bold and charismatic. He was also fighting against an opponent with hastily raised soldiers and inexperienced officers. In the early campaigns of the civil war, both sides contained a high proportion of unskilled amateurs.

Then things started to go wrong. King Juba of Numidia was a staunch ally of Pompey – not least because while on an embassy to Rome he had been insulted by both Caesar and Curio. Acting on false intelligence, Curio force-marched his men in the hope of ambushing the king’s vanguard. He won a minor victory, but then realised that the entire Numidian army was closing on his position. Impulsively, Curio chose to fight. He was killed and only a handful of his men escaped. There was panic and chaos when these survivors reached the troops left back at the Caesarean base camp on the coast, a horde of fugitives swamping the boats trying to take them off. The historian Asinius Pollio was one of the few who managed to get away by ship to Sicily. Juba executed all those who surrendered, in spite of the protests of his Roman allies.2

By the end of 49 BC one of Antony’s brothers was a captive of the enemy, and the severed head of his old friend Curio had been triumphantly presented to King Juba. His cousin, the younger Lucius Julius Caesar, was with the Pompeian forces in Africa and would lose his life during the course of the war. The boy’s father remained a Caesarean. The Roman aristocracy was close knit and everyone had some connections in the opposing camp.

The split in the senatorial class was not even and its more distinguished members – including nearly half of the former consuls – actively supported Pompey. This gave him a deep political strength and an impression of legitimacy, which Caesar could not match. In spite of his victories in Italy and Spain, Caesar was a rebel and the Pompeians could still make a better claim to be defending the Republic. Only a handful of ex-consuls actively supported Caesar and these included three discredited men recalled from exile. One was Gabinius, and another was Antony’s uncle, Caius Antonius, although the nephew was later accused of having done little to encourage Caesar to recall him. Cicero was contemptuous of the Caesareans, dubbing the ones he saw accompanying their commander in March 49 BC as a ‘rabble’.3

Like Antony and Curio, quite a few Caesareans came from noble families, but they were generally young, had reputations for wild living and radical politics, both of which had drained away their inheritances. The older men who followed Caesar were the failures and the desperate, descendants of the men who had backed Marius and paid the price, survivors of Catiline’s rebellion or those who had fallen foul of the courts. Caesar had a well-proven record for generosity, saying that he would reward even bandits if they served him well. Some had simply taken a pragmatic judgement of who was likely to win the conflict. Cicero’s correspondent Caelius believed that Pompey had the better cause, but Caesar the better army, and so became a Caesarean.4

The Pompeians had little to offer men like Antony. Not only did Caesar promise lavish reward once victory was won, but also there was the chance of important commands and responsibilities in the meantime. There were plenty of Pompeians who had been consul or praetor, and who had governed provinces and led armies. Such men expected to receive tasks in keeping with their status. Had he been a Pompeian, there were no imaginable circumstances where the thirty-four-year-old Antony would have been given such an important task as the supervision of Italy.

Caesar had far fewer distinguished men to call upon. Antony was an elected magistrate, and was also an Antonius, both of which made him more qualified for this task than most of the other Caesareans. It is also clear that Caesar had confidence in his ability to do the job, although interesting that for the moment he did not choose to employ him in a more overtly military role. As we have seen, Antony’s military experience was still relatively modest and it is quite possible that he had been as much or more an administrator as a soldier during his years in Gaul. Caesar did take his fellow tribune Cassius Longinus with him on the Spanish campaign, and left him behind as provincial governor. Cassius had both a brother and a cousin fighting for Pompey, but the appointment was to prove a bad one for other reasons.

Antony did a better job as tribune with propraetorian power in Italy. The peace was kept, with no upsurge of Pompeian resistance. In the meantime, progress was made in preparing the army and fleet for crossing to Macedonia. How much either of these things was a direct result of Antony’s personal involvement is impossible to know, as we have very little information about these months. Plutarch claims that he was energetic in organising and training the troops, and popular with the soldiers for his generosity. In contrast, he was supposed to have shown little energy when it came to receiving petitions from civilians. He does seem to have travelled widely, visiting many of the towns of Italy. People noticed Antony, and this was not always a good thing for the Caesarean cause, because he paraded his power. Cicero claimed that:

This description comes from a speech made years later, but although the orator may have exaggerated a little, there is evidence from the time that he was not inventing the whole story. In May of 49 BC he mentioned in a letter that Antony carried his mistress ‘about with him in an open litter just like a second wife, and had seven other litters with male and female friends’.6

At some point in the last few years Antony had married for the second time. We do not know what happened to his first wife, but he may have divorced her because of her undistinguished family. Instead, he married his first cousin, the daughter of Caius Antonius. This connection made it seem all the more strange that he did little to encourage Caesar to recall Antonius, but the marriage seems not to have been a happy one. A year later he would divorce Antonia amidst rumours that she had taken a lover. Gossip claimed that Antony had affairs with the wives of several other men, but Roman society did not grant the same licence to a wife as it did to a husband.7

Antony himself reserved his passion for his mistress in a relationship that lasted several years. She was a freed slave, and the name Volumnia was the feminine form of her old master’s name. Professionally she was known as Cytheris. Taking a mistress was common for Roman aristocrats and there existed a distinct class of courtesans, some of whom became famous. These women were usually foreign, and often freed slaves, but were educated and witty, stylish and in many cases able to sing, dance and play musical instruments. Quite a few, like Cytheris, had first won fame on the stage in the mimes — stories told through dance and music in which women took part, unlike drama where female parts were generally performed by male actors.8

Such a mistress could not be taken for granted. Suitors competed to win her favour, offering gifts and ultimately providing a house or apartment for the lover to live in. Both parties knew that the affair would not be permanent, and a mistress could end the relationship if she found a more appealing protector. Able to flatter and flirt in a way that would have been socially unacceptable for a wife, expensive mistresses offered exciting and glamorous company in affairs that were spicy, but without long-term commitment. Cytheris had already had an affair with Servilia’s son Brutus, a man whose philosophical leanings and sober nature seem so opposite to Antony’s character. Considerable licence was allowed to senators’ sons during their adolescence — a period that the Romans felt lasted into the late thirties. Yet they were expected to show at least some discretion, and this was something Antony seems never to have mastered or even thought necessary. A story circulated that he had a chariot pulled by a team of lions rather than horses. Whether or not such an absurdly impractical and dangerous experiment was actually made, it gives an idea of what people were willing to believe about him.9

He paraded his power in a way that was both blatant and vulgar, giving the impression of enjoying himself in luxurious debauchery instead of labouring diligently. For Cicero, this confirmed his worst fears that Caesar would eventually throw off the façade of clemency and preside over a bloodbath. The orator believed the war to be unnecessary and had tried to encourage a negotiated settlement. He had been shocked by the militancy of many leading senators, then dismayed by the evacuation first of Rome and then of Italy itself. Yet he was still drawn to Pompey and more comfortable siding with him and his allies than Caesar and his ‘rabble’. For a while he stayed in Italy, avoiding taking part in the meetings of the Senate at Rome or committing himself in any way to Caesar. His protégé Caelius Rufus and several friends who were with Caesar repeatedly encouraged him to take this step, or at the very least maintain his neutrality. Another voice came from his son-in-law Dolabella, but Cicero despised the man. The marriage to his daughter had been arranged by his wife while he was away in Cilicia and without his approval.10

Antony kept an eye on Cicero, for it was obvious that the famous orator was tempted to leave the country and join the Pompeians. In early May, Cicero mentioned that he had repeatedly written to the tribune, assuring him that he planned nothing rash, but expressing a desire to go abroad, perhaps to Malta, and avoid all involvement in the war. Antony had replied:

Again, Cicero assured Antony of his resolution to remain neutral and asked permission to leave Italy and go somewhere peaceful. Antony was unhelpful:

Some of this may have been a smokescreen, for Cicero had secretly arranged some time before for a ship to be ready to transport him. When he finally slipped away, it was to go directly to Pompey.

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MACEDONIA​

Caesar came back from the Spanish campaign in the autumn of 49 BC. En route he had to deal with a mutiny amongst the Ninth Legion encamped in northern Italy. The soldiers complained that they had not yet received the rewards he had promised them, but the real cause was said to be the tight discipline that prevented them from plundering. Boredom during a lull in the fighting fostered the discontent. Caesar arrested the ringleaders and executed a proportion of them, restoring order very quickly.13

There was no consul to preside over the consular elections for 48 BC. Caesar suggested that the praetor Lepidus be allowed to perform this task, but the college of augurs refused to accept this. Presumably Antony had voted in favour, and Pompey and Cicero were both in Macedonia, but there must have been enough other members of the priesthood to block this idea. Instead, Caesar had Lepidus declare him dictator and held the elections himself. It was common for a dictator to be appointed to oversee voting when a consul was unavailable, but never before had one been named by a praetor. The legality was questionable, but there was no other obvious solution. The senators with Pompey did not presume to hold elections of their own and instead simply extended the command of all elected magistrates on their side.14

Caesar was elected to a second consulship, with Publius Servilius Vatia Isauricus as his colleague and, that task done, then resigned the dictatorship. After eleven days he left Rome and went to the army mustering at Brundisium, eager to press on with the war. Antony and his other subordinates had gathered a considerable number of transport ships, but there were still nowhere near enough to carry the entire army and only a dozen warships to escort them. Cutting baggage to the bare minimum, Caesar managed to cram 15,000 legionaries and 500 cavalry into the available ships. On 4 January 48 BC he set sail, reaching Epirus and disembarking without meeting the enemy.

Antony does not seem to have been elected to any magistracy for this year, but continued to wield imperium either as an extension of his extraordinary tribunate or now as one of Caesar’s legates. He did not go with the expedition to Greece, but was one of those left behind with instructions to bring more soldiers as soon as possible. This proved longer than expected. Caesar had sneaked across because the Pompeians had not expected him to risk the voyage and begin a campaign in winter. Now they were waiting, with a fleet of some 500 warships under the overall command of Bibulus.15

For a while it was impossible to break the blockade and Bibulus showed himself an especially ruthless opponent, burning captured ships with their crews still on board. Some of this was deliberate atrocity intended to terrify the enemy. There was also the long years of jealousy and loathing for Caesar himself, and perhaps the bitterness of a father whose sons had been murdered. Oared warships carried a very large crew of rowers in proportion to their size and there was little space for food and fresh water. This meant that a navy was heavily dependent on land bases. Caesar tried to break the blockade by seizing the ports and coastline suitable for landing. It was a tough campaign and at some point the exhausted Bibulus fell ill and died.16

The blockade continued unabated, preventing news as well as supplies and men from reaching Caesar. As the weeks dragged on, he is said to have decided that the only way to get things moving was to return to Italy himself. Sneaking out of camp, he secretly set sail in a small boat accompanied by a handful of slaves. In spite of his immense self-confidence – as the storm grew worse he assured the captain of the vessel that everything would be fine because he carried ‘Caesar and Caesar’s good fortune’ – the weather proved too bad and they had to turn back. Another story claims that he then sent messengers to give orders summoning the rest of the army. The order was to be given first to Gabinius, and if he did not instantly obey, they were to give it next to Antony, and finally to a third officer if Antony failed to act.17

The last story is probably an invention, for there is no good evidence that the loyalty of his subordinates was ever in question. It is possible that Caesar became nervous, although as usual his Commentaries present a picture of perfect assurance in his ultimate success. In fact, Antony does seem to have worked hard to get across the Adriatic, because the Pompeian squadrons not only patrolled the sea, but also raided Brundisium itself and tried to close the port altogether. On one occasion Antony set up an ambush, luring the enemy ships close into the harbour and then overwhelming them with a swarm of small rowing boats packed with soldiers. After this success, and finding it difficult to land on shore and fetch water without falling prey to Caesarean cavalry patrols, the Pompeian squadron withdrew.18

Antony finally broke the blockade and led some 10,000 legionaries and 800 cavalry to land at Lissus in the north of Greece on 10 April. It was the largest independent command of his career so far and he handled it competently, but it was short-lived. Caesar managed to hear of his arrival and the two halves of the Caesarean army were united before Pompey could intervene. They were still heavily outnumbered by the Pompeians, especially in cavalry, but had the advantage that most of their legionaries were veterans confident of victory. Caesar offered battle and, when Pompey declined to risk an engagement, he decided to strike at the Pompeians’ main supply depot at Dyrrachium on the coast. His opponent swiftly realised what was happening, and managed to get there first.

A surprise attack having failed, Caesar turned instead to blockade, trying to hem the Pompeians in against the sea by building a line of fortifications on the high ground. Pompey responded by ordering his men to construct their own fortified line, aiming to build it quicker and so prevent the enemy from completely encircling them. Caesar’s men toiled just as they had done at Alesia. Antony was now in command of the Ninth Legion, the same veteran formation that had mutinied the previous year. The tough old soldiers – the formation had been raised before Caesar arrived in Gaul in 58 BC and had seen constant service since then, being described as ‘veterans of exceptional courage’ – once again laboured and fought hard.19

There was a series of small-scale engagements to control key ground on which to build the fortifications. Early on the Ninth seized a hilltop position and began to fortify it, but were soon under a hail of missiles from enemy skirmishers and artillery. As casualties mounted Caesar ordered a withdrawal, but when the legionaries pulled back they were hard-pressed by the enemy. Troops were brought up to cover the retreat. Then Caesar decided that he did not want the enemy to think they had chased his men away. Antony was ordered to charge back up the hill, which he did, the Ninth routing their pursuers and inflicting heavy losses. After this, they were able to retreat unmolested.20

Pompey had a large force of cavalry, and in the confined plain outside Dyrrachium there were limited supplies of forage and so the horses began to suffer. Yet overall his men had more food than Caesar’s soldiers, who were making do with minimal rations. Some gathered a local root called charax and baked it into a substitute for bread. Pompey had far more men, and since he was on the inside, these had a shorter distance of fortified line to build. It was a race Caesar’s men could not win and it soon became clear that they would not be able to complete the encirclement. Even so, they repulsed a succession of Pompeian assaults on sectors of the line. Three cohorts of the Ninth managed to hold one fort for an entire day, although in the process almost every man was wounded. Caesar claims that 30,000 enemy arrows were collected from within the fort and the shield of one centurion was struck by no fewer than 120 missiles. This man lost an eye during the fighting, but remained on his feet and kept fighting. Antony led up the reserves, which finally drove the attackers away.21

Yet the pressure continued and, after a lull when Pompey’s men strengthened their line, he launched another assault that finally punched a hole in a vulnerable section of Caesar’s line. Caesar countered with an attack of his own on what seemed to be an isolated enemy camp containing a single legion. The Ninth was part of a force of thirty-three cohorts sent to overwhelm this position, but after initial success the attackers got lost and the attack bogged down. Failure turned to panic when the enemy rushed reinforcements to the spot and drove the Caesareans back. Casualties were heavy — 960 soldiers and thirty-two tribunes and centurions. The Pompeians also captured thirty-two standards as well as some prisoners, who were subsequently executed.22

It was a serious setback and forced Caesar to acknowledge that he had failed in his objective. There was little point remaining where he was and allowing the soldiers to suffer with no prospect of success. Under cover of darkness he sent away his baggage train and his wounded under the guard of a single legion. The main part of the army followed later, leaving only a rear-guard, which managed to convince the enemy that nothing was amiss. After a while these, too, followed on. At last Pompey realised what was happening and sent his cavalry in pursuit. Caesar’s horsemen were outnumbered and their mounts probably in as poor a condition as those of the enemy cavalry. However, they were closely supported by a strong force of legionaries and able to drive off the pursuers.23

Caesar’s men now marched through country untouched by the recent campaign and found it much easier to gather supplies. The town of Gomphi refused to let them in, so he stormed the place and allowed his men to sack it in a drunken orgy of looting and destruction that was credited with restoring both their morale and health. It was also a dreadful warning that persuaded other communities in the path of the army to be more welcoming.24

Pompey followed. Dyrrachium had been a clear victory and vindicated his strategy of avoiding battle and slowly wearing down the enemy army. Caesar had left the coast to march inland and was now cut off from Italy and any reinforcement or supply convoy. Pompey had twice as many legionaries, and many more cavalry and allied soldiers. Some of the senior senators in his camp urged him to ignore Caesar and return to Italy, but he was reluctant to leave the campaign unfinished and permit his enemy to escape. Therefore the main question was whether to continue to avoid battle and harass the Caesarean army, whittling it away until it withered from lack of food or was forced to surrender. This would take time, but seems to have been Pompey’s own choice. The other option was to rely on his advantage in numbers and crush the enemy in battle.

That was the view of most of the senior senators and some whispered that Pompey only wanted to prolong the campaign because he revelled in exercising supreme command. Confident of success and eager to enjoy its spoils, they put steady pressure on the commander to risk a battle. This was the great disadvantage that came with the political benefits of having so many distinguished men in one camp. Cato was sent off on detached duty largely because Pompey became tired of his acidic comments. Cicero was equally unpopular, for he found himself almost as disgusted by the leading Pompeians as he had been by Caesar’s followers. Unlike his opponent, Pompey did not have a completely free hand. His character was also different, for he craved popularity. For whatever reason, he chose to give battle. Caesar readily accepted the offer.25

The Battle of Pharsalus, first phase

On 9 August 48 BC, near the small town of Pharsalus, Pompey formed his 45,000 legionaries into three lines of cohorts, each one ten ranks deep. His right flank rested on the River Enipeus, but the left was on an open plain and it was here that he massed most of his 7,000 cavalry, placing them under the command of Labienus, Caesar’s old legate from Gaul. Caesar matched the frontage of the enemy infantry, forming his 22,000 legionaries in three lines of cohorts, each of which was in a shallower formation. Mark Antony was given command of the left flank, resting on the river. On the very left of the formation his Ninth Legion was so depleted in numbers that it was merged with the Eighth Legion to form a more viable unit. Caesar had about 1,000 horsemen to face the massed enemy cavalry.

The Battle of Pharsalus, second phase

Caesar took six cohorts from the third line of cohorts and stationed them behind his mounted troops. In the dust thrown up by so many marching feet and hoofs, and with the cavalry screening their front, the Pompeians do not seem to have noticed this deployment.

Pompey relied solely on the great cavalry attack to sweep Caesar’s horsemen away and then roll up the right flank of his army. It was not a subtle plan, but it could well have worked. Instead, his inexperienced cavalry had merged into one great un-manoeuvrable mass by the time they drove back the Caesarean horse. Suddenly the cohorts of the fourth line advanced through the clouds of dust and stampeded the Pompeian cavalry into a panicked flight. In the centre the Pompeian infantry had not charged to meet the Caesarean legionaries. They were slowly driven back, and when the fourth line swung round against the flank left exposed by the rout of the cavalry, the entire army began to dissolve.


We know little about what Antony did during the battle, but it is safe to say that he performed well, and Plutarch claims that his valour was conspicuous throughout the campaign. His role was not one that required any great tactical decision making, for all the key moves were made on the right flank under Caesar’s direct supervision. Nevertheless, the flanks were considered places of honour and it was a mark of trust that Caesar gave him this major responsibility. It marked him out as one of Caesar’s senior subordinates. Later, there was criticism that he was overly bloodthirsty during the pursuit, killing men Caesar had wanted to capture, but this may simply be propaganda. Ahenobarbus was one of the most conspicuous Pompeians to be killed and Cicero later blamed Antony for his execution, but the majority surrendered or escaped.26

Pompey was one of the first to flee the battle. When his grand cavalry attack failed, he does not seem to have had an alternative plan. He had been reluctant to fight in the first place, and now despaired. He made his way to the coast, gathered his family and a small force and set sail. For a while he was uncertain of where to go, but determined to rebuild his strength and continue the struggle. Soon he thought of Egypt, remembering his past support for Auletes and his family, the presence of the Gabinians as the basis for a new army and the country’s wealth and resources.27

When Pompey the Great came to Egypt it was not as conqueror, but a fugitive.

​

-XIII-
CAESAR​

Pompey’s small flotilla of ships reached the coast near Mount Casius on 28 September 48 BC, just a day short of his fifty-ninth birthday. Ptolemy XIII’s army was waiting for him, the boy king splendidly attired as a commander, but the faction that controlled him had already decided how to welcome the visitor. Pompey’s friendship no longer seemed so attractive in spite of his long connection with Auletes. He was coming to Egypt in the hope of rebuilding his power, which meant that he must take from the kingdom and had little to give in return. He would want money, grain and men, and some of the king’s advisers feared that the Gabinians might well be willing to join him. Ptolemy XIII’s government risked being stripped of the very resources that guaranteed its power. Even then, Pompey was more than likely to be defeated again and his conqueror would scarcely be well disposed towards them. Instead, there was an opportunity to win Caesar’s favour.

A small boat put out carrying a welcoming party consisting of the army commander Achillas and two Roman officers from amongst the Gabinians – one of them the tribune Lucius Septimius, who had served under Pompey back in the 60s. It was a small delegation in an unimpressive craft and scarcely a mark of honour, but they claimed that the conditions made it impossible to employ a more dignified vessel or to permit Pompey to bring his own ship to the shore. Instead, they invited him to climb down and join them, so that they could take him to be properly greeted by the king.

Pompey agreed. He and his companions may well have been suspicious, but it would have destroyed what little prestige he had left to seem frightened by the representatives of a mere client king. His wife Cornelia and most of his staff watched as Pompey climbed down into the boat and was rowed ashore. On the way, he spotted something familiar about Septimius and, addressing him as ‘comrade’, asked whether they knew each other.

The tribune’s response was to stab his old commander in the back. Achillas joined in the attack, as presumably did the centurion. It was a brutal, clumsy murder and afterwards Pompey’s head was hacked off and taken to the king. Another senator was taken prisoner and later executed. Ptolemy’s warships then launched an attack on the Roman flotilla and several ships were destroyed before the rest managed to escape. (Thirteen centuries later, Dante would consign the boy alongside Cain and Judas to the circle of hell reserved for traitors.)1

Caesar arrived in Alexandria a few days later. Ptolemy’s court must have been aware that he was on his way, because Theodotus was waiting for him and triumphantly produced Pompey’s head and his signet ring. These did not prompt the hoped for reaction. Pompey had been Caesar’s enemy, but before that he had been his ally and son-in-law; he was also a Roman senator of immense prestige and fame who had been cut down on the whim of a foreign king and his sinister advisers. It is arguable whether or not Caesar could have extended his vaunted ‘clemency’ to his most powerful adversary, and in any case unlikely that Pompey could have brought himself to accept it.

Caesar refused to look at the severed head and wept when he saw the familiar ring. His horror and disgust may or may not have been feigned. Cynics said that it was very convenient for him, since his enemy was now dead and yet someone else would take the blame for the crime. His emotions were probably mixed, with relief that his opponent could not renew the struggle mingled with a sadness at the loss of a rival and a former friend. With Crassus and Pompey now both dead, there was really no other Roman left with whom it was worth competing.2

If the boy king’s advisers were disappointed at Caesar’s reaction, they were dismayed at what he did next. For the Romans disembarked and then marched in a column to take up residence in part of the complex of royal palaces. Caesar was consul and he proceeded in full pomp, with twelve lictors carrying the fasces walking ahead of him. It was a blatant display of Roman confidence and authority, suggesting the arrival not of an ally, but of an occupier. The Alexandrians had a fierce sense of their own independence. Some of the royal soldiers left to garrison the city immediately protested and crowds soon gathered to jeer the Romans. Over the next few days, several legionaries wandering on their own were attacked and killed by mobs.

Caesar was not at the head of a large army and had only two legions with him. One, the Sixth, was a veteran formation, but after years of heavy campaigning it now mustered fewer than 1,000 soldiers. The Twenty-Seventh had about 2,200 men, which meant that it was below half its theoretical strength. Its legionaries were far less experienced and the formation had originally been raised by the Pompeians, but had been renumbered when it was captured and the men swore a new oath to Caesar. To support these Caesar had 800 cavalry, who may well have been the bodyguard unit of Germans he usually kept with him. Horses are far more difficult to transport than soldiers and there is a fair chance that most or all of these men were transported without their mounts.3

It is tempting to criticise Caesar for tactlessness in parading through the city and antagonising the Alexandrians, especially since he had so few soldiers and could not hope to dominate a population numbering hundreds of thousands. Some would see this as habitual Roman disdain for the feelings of other nations and unthinking arrogance reinforced by his own recent victories. It was more likely calculation. Caesar had no particular reason to expect hostility when he came to Egypt, but knew he had only a small force actually with him. The murder of Pompey was intended to please him, but could also be seen as a threat. Had he slipped quietly through the streets of Alexandria the impression would have been one of fear. This is unlikely to have made the population less hostile, for they had a long tradition of resenting Roman influence, and it could easily have made them more aggressive.

There were several reasons for him to stop in Egypt. Although eager to pursue Pompey, he had already paused in several communities, raising money, dealing with local problems and also placating and pardoning those who had supported the Pompeians. He needed the eastern provinces to accept his supremacy and to be stable, for confusion would more easily provide opportunities for his remaining enemies to continue the civil war. Above all else, Caesar needed funds. The Republic had been massively disrupted by two years of conflict and he needed to find the money to ensure that everything kept running. One major expense was paying his army, which had swollen massively in size as Pompeian soldiers surrendered. It would have been unwise to demobilise these men, and even more dangerous if they were not regularly paid and provided for. The Ptolemaic kingdom was wealthy, offering grain to feed soldiers and revenue to pay them – the same things that had attracted Pompey. Caesar needed to be sure that these resources were kept under his own control and did not fall to recalcitrant Pompeians.

Caesar decided to stay, and soon the decision was reinforced when a change in the weather made it impossible for his ships to leave. Soon after landing he had sent orders for more legions to join him, but this would inevitably take time. At some point, Ptolemy XIII himself and much of his court including Pothinus also arrived in Alexandria. Achillas and the main army of 22,000 men remained to the east for the moment, watching Cleopatra’s forces.4

The Roman consul informed the king and his court that he and his sister must disband their forces ‘and settle their dispute through law rather than weapons with himself as judge’. There was also private business. Caesar declared that the heirs of Auletes still owed him 17.5 million denarii according to the agreement of 59 BC and also the loans to Rabirius Postumus, which he himself had underwritten. He demanded 10 million of this to be paid to him immediately to support his army.5

Pothinus was by now the king’s dioecetes – the same post held by Rabirius Postumus until he had fled from Egypt – and so the finances were his direct responsibility. Caesar’s very presence was unwelcome, his interference in a civil war that seemed virtually won was appalling and his demands more than could readily be met. It may also have been politically dangerous for the regime that controlled the king to be seen to give in to Roman pressure. Pothinus suggested to Caesar that he ought to leave Egypt for he must have more pressing business elsewhere. For a while – perhaps for weeks – there was an uneasy truce. Caesar occupied part of the royal palaces and brought the king and his courtiers under his control to show the people that the violence was provoked by ‘a few private individuals and gangsters’ and not by the boy himself. Pothinus met Caesar’s demands to feed his legionaries, but gave them the poorest grain he could find. Feasts in the palaces were served on old tableware in direct contrast to the normal opulence of the Ptolemaic court. It was a double message, telling Caesar that his demands could not quickly be met and suggesting to the locals that the Romans were bleeding the kingdom dry.6

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THE LOVERS​

At some point, Cleopatra arrived. Caesar barely mentions her in his own brief account of his time in Alexandria and the fuller narrative written by one of his officers adds very little information about her. Neither suggest she played any important role in events and do not even hint at intimacy between the Roman consul and the Hellenistic queen, but this is in keeping with the generally impersonal style of Caesar’s Commentaries. Plutarch and Dio both say that the two had been in contact for some time by messenger, although they differ over who initiated this.7
If Caesar was to arbitrate in the dispute between brother and sister, then it was natural that he should want to speak to both of them. Even if he chose to back Ptolemy XIII, he would need to deal with Cleopatra or risk the civil war between them continuing and thus leaving Egypt unstable and a source of potential trouble in the future. There was actually little to recommend such a full endorsement of the boy king and the men who controlled him. These had so far failed to deliver properly the supplies and money he wanted, and the attitude of Pothinus was scarcely that of a loyal and suitably subservient ally. Wherever he had gone, Caesar issued judgements as he saw fit, usually emphasising his clemency, but always making clear that this was something he could give or withhold. Backing Ptolemy XIII could easily have seemed to be giving in to coercion. It would also have aligned him very closely with Pompey’s murderers. At the very least, he needed to make sure that Ptolemy and his court worked hard to win his approval.

Until Caesar’s arrival, Cleopatra’s bid to regain power had stalled and looked likely to end in failure. She clearly lacked the military power to defeat her brother’s army and there is no trace at this stage of major political defections to her cause. Caesar had relatively few soldiers with him, but he represented the power of the Roman Republic in an especially real sense, since he was victorious in Rome’s civil war. His public disgust at Pompey’s murder, his refusal fully to endorse her brother’s regime and, most of all, his willingness to talk to her all suggested that he might be persuaded to favour her. In a way now traditional for the Ptolemies, Cleopatra quite naturally wanted to harness Roman power to support her own ambition.

The twenty-one-year-old exiled queen left her army. It is not heard of again, suggesting that the soldiers dispersed. Perhaps the money to pay them had run out or, since she did not have enough strength to win, Cleopatra decided it would be better to appear as the pitiful exile preferring to rely on Roman justice rather than force. Caesar may have formally summoned her to Alexandria, and is certainly likely to have known that she was coming. That did not mean that he could ensure her safe arrival. The Romans controlled only a small part of the city. Outside that area were many soldiers from the king’s army. Pothinus, Theodotus and indeed the young Ptolemy himself are unlikely to have welcomed his older sister. Given the past willingness of the Ptolemies to slaughter their own family, the more or less discreet murder of a sister was not only possible, but likely.

There is no good reason to disbelieve the stories that Cleopatra sailed secretly into the harbour at Alexandria, using stealth or bribery to avoid her brother’s guards. Only Plutarch tells the famous story that she was then taken across the harbour in a small boat and into the palace by a single faithful courtier, Apollodorus of Sicily. They waited until night fell, so as not to be seen, and the young queen was concealed in a bag used for carrying laundry – not the oriental carpet so beloved of film-makers. Apollodorus carried the bag into the palace where Caesar was staying and brought her to his room. Once there, he could undo the tie fastening at the top of the bag, so that the material dropped down as the queen stood up, revealing herself almost like a dancer popping out of a cake.

Some reject the story as a romantic invention, pointing out that Caesar would scarcely have permitted a stranger carrying a mysterious burden to come into his room. Yet their earlier correspondence makes it likely that he knew that either the queen herself or a message was on its way and so demolishes this objection. Apollodorus’ arrival would not then have been so unexpected. Others would modify the story, suggesting that instead of hiding in a bag, the young queen wore a long hooded cloak, throwing this back to show herself when brought into Caesar’s presence. This is possible, but there is no direct evidence for it. The appearance of a story in just a single source does not automatically mean that it is an invention, especially since the accounts describing Caesar and Cleopatra in Alexandria are quite brief. It was in the best interest of the king and his advisers to prevent his sister from reaching Caesar and beyond the latter’s power to guarantee her safety until she was actually with him. That she came without any ceremony and with at least a degree of stealth makes perfect sense.8

Cleopatra was staking everything on winning Caesar’s favour. It was a desperate gamble, but her invasion had been blocked and this was her last resort. It was also a courageous move, for there was a real risk that she could fall into her brother’s hands and, even if she did not, there was no assurance that her pleas would be successful. Perhaps Dio was right and she had recognised Caesar’s ‘disposition, which was very susceptible, to such an extent that he had his intrigues with ever so many women – with all, doubtless, who came his way’ and so ‘trusted in her beauty for all her claims to the throne’. Both Plutarch and Dio see her as deliberately planning the encounter, doing everything to attract the Roman consul. In this context, suddenly revealing herself from an opened sack was dramatic and flirtatious. Dio claimed that she had carefully dressed and made herself up to appear at once attractive, regal and distressed. It was a performance, but just because it was calculated does not mean that it was not also exciting for both of them.9

She was twenty-one, had already been driven from her realm and was now hoping to return. The affair with Cnaeus Pompey is unlikely to be more than gossip, and the marriage to her brother may not have happened and could certainly not have been consummated. While many of the Ptolemies took mistresses and other lovers, the same licence was not granted to their wives and daughters. It is more than likely that Cleopatra was a virgin when she met Caesar, and that he and Mark Antony were the only two lovers she ever took. It was no coincidence that each was the most powerful man in the world at the time. Inexperienced perhaps, Cleopatra was clever and self-confident in her own beauty and charm. It really does not matter which of these was the more powerful, they combined to make her extremely attractive. She hoped to win Caesar’s backing and probably felt that seducing him was the best way.

Caesar was fifty-two, more than a decade into his third marriage and with a long series of extramarital affairs behind him. He was a serial seducer of other senators’ wives – as we have seen, Pompey, Crassus and Gabinius were amongst the many he had cuckolded – and was supposed to have slept with plenty of chieftains’ daughters and wives during the years in Gaul. Behind his womanising was more than a simple desire to have sex with lots of attractive women. His longest affair was with Servilia, a woman as ambitious, intelligent, witty, well educated and attractive as he was himself. Caesar liked excitement, perhaps even an element of danger. Cleopatra was a lot like him in so many ways, and like Servilia was much more his equal. She was also a queen and there is an added appeal to the idea of royalty, especially in a member of a dynasty who could claim a connection to Alexander the Great.10

In spite of the big age difference, Caesar was still considered a handsome man, even if his hairline was rapidly receding. He was a dandy, very fussy about his appearance and a man who set the fashions at Rome, and was lean and fit after long years spent on campaign. His charm was very difficult for anyone to resist. He was experienced, utterly self-confident and now controlled the most powerful state in the world. There was a lot to attract the young Cleopatra.11

The tendency then and now is to see this encounter as the seduction of the Roman by the eastern queen. Sometimes this is painted in damning moral terms, with Cleopatra as little more than a whore. More recently, fashions have changed and, instead, historians emphasise an empowered woman taking control of her own life. Each of these views contains an element of truth, but neither is fair either to the queen herself or the situation. Cleopatra certainly used her charm and her body to get what she wanted. She really had nothing else left.

Yet for all that the twenty-one-year-old hoped to seduce, it was Caesar who was far more experienced and was used to taking what he wanted. Cleopatra was young, physically very attractive, lively and charming. He would have wanted to bed her even if she had not been so desperate to gain his support. Politically – and people like Caesar and Cleopatra would never entirely forget politics – she would be a useful asset, showing her brother and his advisers that he had other options than supporting their regime. Both Caesar and Cleopatra wanted something from the other, and were willing to seduce and manipulate to get this. He was no doubt fully aware of this and, given her intelligence, there is a fair chance that so was she. Physical attraction was no doubt there and very probably on both sides, for in spite of his age Caesar’s success with women shows that his charm was very real. Passion seems certain and genuine love most likely developed. The politics added extra spice and gave the whole affair an excitement that was probably exhilarating to both of them.

Cleopatra arrived in the evening and spent the night in Caesar’s bed. There is no record that she knew Latin and they presumably spoke Greek to each other, for Caesar was fluent in the language. The next morning Ptolemy XIII and his advisers discovered that his exiled sister had returned to Alexandria. It must quickly have sunk in that she was offering the Roman consul something that they could not match, still less surpass.

The boy king rushed out of the palace, tore off his royal diadem and shrieked of betrayal to the crowd that rapidly gathered. Caesar had him brought back inside, which only turned the crowd into an angry mob, but the people calmed for a while when the Roman made a speech to them. Soon afterwards he announced that Auletes’ will would be fully enforced. Ptolemy XIII and Cleopatra would rule Egypt jointly. In addition, their younger brother Ptolemy XIV and their sister Arsinoe were to rule Cyprus. The latter was clearly in the palace by this time, although there is no evidence for when and how she arrived. Ptolemy XIV may also have been with the court, but none of our sources says anything about him at this time and he was still only eleven or ten years old.12

This was a major concession, returning to the family territory annexed by Rome a decade earlier. It is possible that Caesar was readier to do this because the province had been set up by Cato, serving on the special commission created for him by Clodius. Alternatively, his concern may have been more practical. Cyprus had been an extra burden to the governor of Cilicia, was difficult for him to supervise and there had been cases of severe misbehaviour and extortion by Roman businessmen operating there. Throughout his career Caesar showed concern for protecting provincials from mistreatment, or he may simply have thought this was an effective way of keeping the island stable and secure.13

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THE ALEXANDRIAN WAR​

At a stroke Ptolemy XIII was expected to accept as co-ruler the sister who had tried to exclude him from power altogether. Pothinus and the other inner circle of advisers stood to lose even more. To strengthen his own hand he sent messengers to Achillas and summoned the royal army to Alexandria. It was a provocative move, and Caesar arranged for two senior courtiers, who had in the past gone on Auletes’ behalf to Rome, to go to the army. Achillas was in no mood for talking and had the men attacked. One was killed and the other badly wounded, but carried away by his attendants.14

Caesar did not have enough men to risk battle outside the city and could not respond to this provocation. When Achillas arrived in the city he launched an assault almost immediately. Caesar’s men were able to hold their own after heavy fighting, largely because the restricted space made it difficult for the enemy to take advantage of their numbers. In the harbour were some seventy Ptolemaic warships. These included the squadron of fifty that had been sent to support the Pompeians. For much of the time these had been led with great success by Cnaeus Pompey himself, but when news of the defeat at Pharsalus had arrived they had abandoned him to return home. Now, Achillas was eager to seize them and then use them to prevent Caesar from retreating or getting reinforcements by sea.

The Romans struck first. After heavy fighting, Caesar’s men were able to secure control of the warships long enough to burn them. In the confusion the fire spread to the buildings near the harbour. Several were destroyed, including a warehouse used for storing scrolls from the Library. Achillas quickly threw a cordon round the areas occupied by the Romans. He raised a militia from the Alexandrians and seems to have found plenty of willing volunteers. The buildings in this part of Alexandria were large and strongly built of stone. Both sides built stone ramparts across the streets to block enemy attacks and also fortified the houses themselves, knocking down interior walls with battering rams where necessary. Achillas left the bulk of the labouring and guard duty to the militia, keeping his own soldiers in reserve for major assaults and to meet any Roman counter-attack. For the moment Caesar’s men held their own, but the pressure steadily mounted.15

Throughout the early stage of the fighting, Cleopatra, Ptolemy, Arsinoe, Pothinus, Theodotus and other courtiers all lived together with Caesar in the beleaguered palace. Caesar supervised the fighting by day and in the evenings returned to dine. At night he had the twenty-one-year-old queen as lively companion and lover. In spite of this prospect, for the first time in his life he took to staying up late, drinking and feasting with his friends and companions, although it was claimed that this was through fear of assassins. His barber overheard Pothinus plotting murder, and this and other reports were enough for Caesar to order the eunuch’s execution. That did not mean, however, that Caesar had no more enemies within the palace.16

Caesar and Cleopatra were lovers, but in spite of this he maintained his decision that she should rule jointly with her brother. Perhaps this was simply politic, but since he was already besieged and the royal army and most of the city were hostile there was no obvious reason for such caution. It is an indication that although he was fighting a war against supporters of Ptolemy, he was not so besotted with his new mistress that he was happy to give her everything. In any case, Cleopatra no doubt was confident that she could dominate her younger sibling. We do not know how she spent her days, whether she watched as her lover went out to fight. Many of the combats during these days would have been readily visible from the higher buildings.

Arsinoe had been offered joint rule of Cyprus, but clearly decided that there was an opportunity for far higher things. She slipped away from the palace accompanied by her tutor, the eunuch Ganymede, and perhaps other advisers, and joined Achillas. There was some friction as the general resented taking orders from a teenage girl and her teacher. This problem was solved in the traditional way for the Ptolemies when Achillas was murdered. Ganymede took his place and Arsinoe was proclaimed queen. No mention seems to have been made of a consort, but perhaps it was simply assumed that she would rule with her brother, Ptolemy XIII.17

The eunuch tutor probably had no military experience, but in the event prosecuted the siege well. Seawater was diverted to run into the cisterns used by the Romans, rendering their water supply undrinkable. Caesar set his men to digging new wells, and fortunately they were able to find them. He had now been reinforced by the Thirty-Seventh Legion, another former Pompeian formation, which managed to sail into the harbour, bringing supplies of food, as well as military equipment including artillery.

Ganymede decided that he must cut Caesar off from the sea. Considerable ingenuity was exercised in assembling a fleet. Patrol boats from the Nile were brought to the city and old, half-forgotten warships resting in various royal dockyards were found and repaired. Beams were taken from the roofs of major buildings including gymnasia and reshaped into oars. Yet it was easier to gather ships than it was to train the crews that would operate them to the peak of efficiency. In a series of battles fought in and around the great harbour, Caesar’s outnumbered vessels – many of them manned by Rhodians and other Greek allies – more than held their own.18

Caesar decided that controlling Pharos Island was the key to holding the harbour and keeping access open to further reinforcements. His men had seized a small foothold on the island early in the siege. Now he launched an attack, landing ten cohorts of legionaries and capturing a larger area. On the next day a follow-up attack to secure the long bridge began well. Then a group of sailors were panicked and the confusion and fear spread to the legionaries, who fled back to the boats from which they had landed. Caesar was already on board one vessel when a stream of fugitives swarmed over the side. He dived into the sea and swam to the safety of another boat. Some sources say that he left his reddish-purple general’s cloak behind and that this was carried off as a trophy by the enemy. Suetonius denies this, but most accounts agreed that the middle-aged commander showed remarkable nonchalance, swimming with his left hand above the water to protect some important documents.19

Whether or not Cleopatra watched this encounter – and at such a distance she could anyway have seen little detail – she must have known fear over the fate of her lover. If Caesar died, then the Romans would be defeated and she was unlikely to survive. The siege continued into the first weeks of 47 BC. At this point a deputation of leading Alexandrians came to Caesar and begged him to send Ptolemy to them, since they were weary of the tyranny of Arsinoe and her tutor. Perhaps they were genuinely unpopular, although it is equally likely that the men involved were simply out of favour with the new queen and hoped for better from her brother. The struggle for power amongst the royal family and the elite who hoped to manipulate them never slackened for a moment during the fighting with the Romans. There was never any question of uniting against the foreign occupier.

Caesar let the boy go, even though the lad pleaded not to be sent from his presence. Once free, and his sister removed or at least made subordinate, Ptolemy readily urged his army on to fight against the Romans. Ganymede disappears from our sources and may have perished in the power struggle. Some of Caesar’s officers are supposed to have mocked his naivety in being fooled by a child. The author of the Alexandrian War instead believed that he had cynically let Ptolemy go to divide the enemy command.20

Things were turning in Caesar’s favour, and soon he heard of the approach of a relief army, which had marched overland and stormed Pelusium. This force may not have included a single Roman and was led by Mithridates of Pergamum – the child of one of Mithridates of Pontus’ generals and, rumour said, the bastard son of the king himself. Once again, Antipater led a Jewish contingent on behalf of Hyrcanus II the High Priest. Ptolemy ‘led’ the bulk of his army away from Alexandria to meet them. Caesar followed. In the street fighting in the capital, the Gabinians and the rest of the royal soldiers had performed well. In such situations the burden of command falls mainly on junior leaders. In the more open country of the Delta, they were quickly outmanoeuvred and out-fought. The successive changes of high command were unlikely to have helped.

Caesar won a rapid victory. The royal army was destroyed and the young Ptolemy XIII drowned in the Nile as he fled. Arsinoe was taken prisoner; Pothinus and Achillas were already dead. Theodotus, the remaining man held most responsible for the murder of Pompey, somehow managed to escape to Syria.21


Cleopatra had gambled and won. She had gone to Caesar, becoming his ally and his lover. Now he confirmed her as queen, but a marriage was arranged to Ptolemy XIV because it was against tradition for a woman to rule alone. He was young, and she would make sure that no faction of manipulative courtiers would coalesce around him. The king and queen were given Cyprus as well as Egypt, restoring something of the glory of the kingdom in past years.

Caesar spent longer than he needed in Egypt after the war was won. For a time, perhaps even for months, he and Cleopatra took a long cruise down the Nile. The Ptolemies were famous for their vast pleasure boats, but enough other vessels crammed with soldiers accompanied them to turn this into a grand procession. It was a statement of the power and legitimacy of the queen – and to a lesser extent her brother.22

Yet Caesar did not have to go in person to make such a statement. He would leave behind three legions to ensure that his nominee remained in power and she did not become too independent. There was a political dimension to the cruise, but it would be a mistake to see that as its sole, even main purpose. Caesar had been almost constantly on campaign for more than a decade. Weary, facing a world in which he must single-handedly sort out the problems of the Republic, which no longer contained rivals worth competing against, the appeal of a pleasure cruise is obvious. In Alexandria he had seen the tomb and corpse of Alexander. Now he could view the antiquities of ancient Egypt, which intrigued Greeks and Romans alike. All the while he had the company of his
clever, exciting and beautiful young lover, helping him to forget his age and his cares. In hindsight, the months Caesar spent in Egypt were a serious mistake, allowing the surviving Pompeians time to recover and renew the civil war. Yet in the circumstances it is hard to blame him.

Cleopatra was pregnant by the time her lover left, called away to deal with a new war in Asia Minor.

​

-XIV-
MASTER OF HORSE​

Antony had done well at Pharsalus, but in its aftermath Caesar once again preferred to employ him in an essentially political rather than a military role and he was sent back to Italy. Definite news of Pompey’s defeat took some time to reach Rome. Caesar seems to have been reluctant to boast of triumphing over such an illustrious Roman or perhaps wanted to delay the news until Pompey himself was taken or killed. Reports came slowly and were mingled with plenty of rumour, so that the Senate’s initial response was cautious. Antony landed in Brundisium in the autumn of 48 BC, bringing with him a substantial part of the army from Macedonia. By this time the scale of Caesar’s victory was evident and the senators were desperate to show their loyalty by voting him honours.

Caesar was given a range of powers, including the right to declare war and peace, and to deal as he chose with captured Pompeians. He was also named dictator for the second time. This was not a short-term expedient, allowing him to hold elections, but a means of making legal the supremacy that he already in fact possessed. The traditional six-month limit to the dictatorship was extended to a year. Sulla had had no time limit to his dictatorship so this was marginally more moderate.1

The decision to become dictator was presumably made by Caesar himself and then tactfully suggested to a willing Senate. Equally, he must have selected Antony to be his subordinate or Master of Horse (Magister Equitum). Strangely, this proved more controversial than the dictatorship itself. Some of his fellow augurs questioned whether it was legitimate for anyone to be Master of Horse for longer than six months. At thirty-five, Antony was also young for such a senior position, especially since he had so far only been quaestor and tribune. The objections were brushed aside.2

In the absence of the dictator, his Master of Horse was effectively the most powerful man in the Republic. There was a lot for Antony to do. The legions returning to Italy needed to be kept occupied and content to prevent any repeat of the mutiny of the previous year. There were also all the normal tasks of government to keep going. When a dictator was appointed, the imperium of other magistrates lapsed. Elections for the most senior magistrates for 47 BC had in any case been postponed until Caesar returned, and only those such as tribunes, who were selected by the Concilium Plebis, campaigned and were elected.

Antony now had even greater power and responsibilities than in the previous year and, once again, showed little restraint in enjoying them. Cicero later claimed that Cytheris rushed to greet him at Brundisium when he landed. This does seem to have been much more than a casual affair and Antony was happy to be seen in public with his mistress. He also continued his friendships with other actors and performers, spending a good deal of time in their company. Back in Rome, he attended the wedding celebrations of the actor Hippias and the next day appeared in his official capacity considerably the worse for wear. Presiding over a meeting of the People’s Assembly, he was obviously badly hung over. Suddenly nausea overtook him and he vomited into the cloak held out by one of his companions – or into his own lap in Cicero’s probably exaggerated version. Antony does not appear to have cared. Years later when attacked over his heavy drinking, he replied with a pamphlet called On his Drinking which boasted of his prowess. Rather than bow to convention he preferred to shock.3

There was a similar spirit in his choice of company. Loyalty to friends regardless of their social status may often be admirable, and Antony genuinely seems to have enjoyed the lively companionship of actors, dancers and musicians. Probably, much like today, the theatrical culture was one in which flattery was as warmly given as received. Yet no one could ever really forget that he was who he was, and none of his companions could forget that he merely deigned to spend time with them. Antony was utterly convinced of his high birth and how this and his own merit meant that he deserved to be one of the most important men in the Republic. He did not need the approval of other senators to confirm this, and no doubt enjoyed their dismay and disgust. Whatever they thought of him, he remained an Antonius. At the moment, he also effectively had supreme power and even the most disapproving of them must come to him to ask for any favour.

Antony summoned and presided over meetings of the Senate. This and other public business he tended to conduct with a sword at his hip. A Roman magistrate inside the city was supposed to be overtly civilian. Antony ignored the convention and was also frequently escorted by soldiers. Others had done the same during the civil wars, as had Pompey in his sole consulship of 52 BC, but it was not the way the Republic was supposed to be seen to function. Antony was blatantly a conqueror and keen to enjoy the fruits of victory.4

Cicero complained that many of Pompey’s supporters before Pharsalus had already been dividing up the spoils they planned to take from the Caesareans and anyone who had been neutral. Now Antony led the Caesareans in a similar race to profit from victory, although they did remain bound by Caesar’s refusal to treat neutrals as his enemies and his willingness to pardon those who surrendered. It did not matter too much, because there were plenty of wealthy, eminent and dead Pompeians whose assets could be seized. Antony confiscated a grand house to live in, as well as other spoils, and tended to make decisions favouring himself and his friends, including some of the actors and others considered disreputable.

The victory in Macedonia had also created other problems. Some Pompeians had surrendered directly to Caesar. He was said to have been especially pleased to welcome Servilia’s son Brutus, but the latter’s brother-in-law Cassius was also pardoned in this way. Cicero and some others had travelled back to Italy, assuming that Caesar would swiftly return and they could ask him in person for clemency. Instead, the newly named dictator had chased after Pompey and then become embroiled in the Alexandrian War.

Cicero’s status was unclear, especially since he had not yet formally laid down his imperium as proconsul of Cilicia, so was still accompanied by his lictors. Antony had been ordered by Caesar not to let former enemies come back to Italy without his specific approval. The Master of Horse therefore informed Cicero that he must leave and wait in the provinces somewhere or risk punishment. The latter responded by saying that he had been encouraged to return by his son-in-law Dolabella, a staunch Caesarean who had assured him of Caesar’s goodwill. Antony passed a decree exempting Cicero and one other by name from the ban on returning to Italy. The orator was less than pleased to be singled out so publicly. His nervousness only increased as the months wore on and Caesar did not return from Egypt, while news came that the Pompeians were raising strong forces in North Africa.5

Antony was neither subtle nor tactful in the way he wielded power and this did nothing to make Caesar’s new regime popular. There were also very many problems to deal with and, even if he had not spent so much energy in feasting and pleasure, it is quite possible that he would not have been able to cope. As it was, discontent was allowed to fester and only needed a spark – or the appearance of an ambitious leader – to turn into violent disorder. Festivals were given, mostly in Caesar’s name and generally at his expense, but this did nothing to resolve the deeper unrest.6

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DEBT, PROPERTY AND LAND​

Antony was one of many on both sides who went into the civil war massively in debt. It was not just a problem restricted to the aristocracy. Life was expensive, especially in Rome itself where most people lived in rented accommodation. In the past, leaders such as Catiline had rallied many to their cause with the cry of ‘new tablets’ (novae tabulae), promising to abolish all existing debts. Plenty of debtors had hoped for the same from Caesar, but in 49 BC he proved moderate. Debts were to be paid, but property valued at pre-war prices to make this easier.

Caelius Rufus had joined the ‘worse cause’ with the ‘better army’, but after his return from Caesar’s Spanish campaign had steadily come to regret his decision. Elected praetor for 48 BC, he felt that he had been wrongfully denied the prestigious position of urban praetor in spite of earlier promises and his own opinion of his worth. In his last surviving letter to Cicero he claimed to be sickened by the other followers of Caesar and spoke of their unpopularity amongst the wider population. Hoping to exploit the discontent, he proclaimed a sweeping relief of debt. Servilius, Caesar’s consular colleague for 48 BC, acted swiftly and the Senate passed its ultimate decree, just as they had done in 49 BC against Caesar and at other times of crisis. Caelius was stripped of office and fled from the city. He tried to join Milo, whom Caesar had refused to recall from exile, but who had in fact returned and was raising rebellion in Pompey’s name. Milo was killed in some of the initial fighting. Caelius tried to bribe some of Caesar’s auxiliary soldiers to defect, but was arrested and executed.7

This brief rebellion had occurred before Antony left for Macedonia, but he was already busily preparing at Brundisium. As far as we can tell he was not involved in its suppression in any active way. Yet in 47 BC he would be at the heart of a new crisis sparked by the same issues. Coincidentally, the leader was again an associate of Cicero’s, this time his wild son-in-law Dolabella, who had returned early from the Macedonian campaign on the grounds of illness. Once back in Rome, he copied Clodius and had himself adopted by a plebeian so that he could stand for election as tribune for 47 BC. He was successful, but soon began to quarrel with one of his colleagues, Lucius Trebellius, and the two men’s supporters grew increasingly violent.

Dolabella announced that he would abolish existing debt. Since he had borrowed on a scale far greater than his capacity ever to repay, cynics suggested that the move was mainly for his own benefit. Even so, there were plenty of other people who welcomed it. Dolabella was willing to intimidate the rest, and there were soon fatalities in the clashes between his men and the followers of Trebellius. Antony was away from Rome dealing with unrest amongst the legions and his ban on individuals carrying weapons in public inside the city was ignored. In an unprecedented move, he had named his uncle, Lucius Julius Caesar, as urban praetor, but the now ageing former consul proved ineffectual. When the Senate once again passed the senatus consultum ultimum, he was unable to marshal enough force to deal with the problem and, apart from the tribunes, there were no other magistrates to assist him in seeing that the Republic came to no harm. Dolabella and his gang occupied the Forum to make sure that the People’s Assembly would pass his debt relief bill.

Antony may initially have been close to Dolabella, and the two men must certainly have known each other well. The latter was popular and at first it seemed wise to support him. However, other important Caesareans advised him to resist the tribune and a personal hatred developed when Antony became convinced that his wife Antonia was having an affair with Dolabella. The Master of Horse brought a strong force of soldiers to the city and stormed the Forum. There may have been little bloodshed, although a few executions occurred. Dolabella survived, but was forced to abandon his programme.8

The whole episode had echoes of Clodius and Milo, and all the other violent disputes that had disrupted public life for so many years. Antony had restored order by force, just as Pompey had done in his sole consulship in 52 BC. Nevertheless, the way that he had done this made the Master of Horse unpopular. It also gave people little confidence in the stability of Caesar’s regime. Twice in as many years the Senate had had to pass the same ultimate decree that it had used against Caesar himself, initiating the civil war in the first place. The propertied classes feared that radical measures to abolish existing debts were still likely. If Caesar failed to return from Egypt and the east, then no one could be sure just how his followers would behave. That was assuming that the recovering Pompeians were not able to turn the tide in the civil war and return vengefully to Italy.

The problems amongst Caesar’s army only added to the sense of nervous uncertainty. Armies that are busy tend to remain under control. Mutinies usually occur in periods of rest and idleness, when resentment over real or perceived grievances has time to grow. The disorder amongst the Ninth Legion in 49 BC had come during a lull in campaigning. After Pharsalus, most of Caesar’s veterans had been shipped back to Italy. Once there, they were left in Campania with little to do apart from wait for new orders, and it was more than a year before Caesar returned. The same discontent that had provoked the earlier mutiny again came to the fore. Men remembered Caesar’s promises to give them discharges as well as money and land to allow them to support themselves and a family. They had so far received nothing and yet the war seemed to be over.

This time the trouble was centred around the Tenth Legion, a unit which Caesar had specially favoured from the time of his arrival in Gaul. In battle, this legion was normally deployed in the place of highest honour on the right flank of the line and often Caesar himself chose to stay with it. Yet many of its men were long overdue for demobilisation, felt that the war was already won and wanted to settle down and enjoy the rewards deserved by their long and faithful service. Many of the tribunes and centurions were sympathetic, for their own promised bounties were very generous indeed. Sticking together, the Tenth and other legions refused to accept orders from some of the more senior Caesareans sent by Antony to calm them. The need to suppress the violence caused by Dolabella and restore order at Rome had prevented the Master of Horse from confronting the mutineers in person.

Caesar finally landed in Italy in September 47 BC and hurried to Rome. Along the way, he met Cicero, and reassured the nervous orator of his goodwill. At Rome he appointed magistrates for the remainder of the year, giving the consulship to two of his loyal supporters. Caesar acted quickly, replacing the confusion of the last year with definite action and continuing his generally moderate approach to major problems, including the burden of debt. When the dictator was actually present, his regime seemed a good deal more stable and less repressive than when government was left to his subordinates.

The mutiny took a little longer to resolve. Caesar sent Sallust – the future historian – to the legions, but he was attacked and barely escaped with his life. The legions then marched on Rome to demand that their grievances were met. Caesar rode into their camp himself. He unnerved the mutineers by his calm, and then broke their spirit by addressing them not as ‘comrades’ (commilitones) in his normal way, but as ‘citizens’ (Quirites) – not soldiers at all, but mere civilians. In Gaul he had once shamed the army into advancing, by telling them that he would go on alone with just the Tenth Legion if the others refused to follow. Now he singled out the Tenth in a different way, saying that he would accept all the others apart from them back into his service. In the end, the veterans of the Tenth were begging him to decimate them – executing one soldier in ten – just so long as he would take them back into his service. Caesar graciously granted the request, did not execute anyone and would soon lead the Tenth to Africa where it would again fight with great distinction.9

Antony did not accompany Caesar when he set off to fight the Pompeians in Africa, nor was he given any formal role to perform in his absence. In contrast, Dolabella did go with the army, although it is possible that this was to ensure that he got up to no more mischief. Caesar had decided not to extend his dictatorship, and instead became consul for the third time for 46 BC. The Senate had granted him the right to ignore the usual restriction and hold consecutive consulships. As a colleague he took Lepidus, the man who as praetor had looked after Rome in 49 BC.10

By December Caesar was in Sicily, waiting to embark with his army for the crossing to Africa. Before he left Rome he began the public auction of the property of dead Pompeians. Antony was one of the most enthusiastic bidders, so that he was still sharing in the spoils of victory even if for the moment he held no office. Amongst his purchases were Pompey’s grand house in the newly fashionable region known as the Carinae(literally, ‘keels’), which led off from the Via Sacra, and several of his country estates. Dolabella also purchased a good deal of property during these auctions.11

Both men were greatly surprised when Caesar insisted that they must actually pay the high sums they had bid, since they had clearly expected either to pay less or nothing at all. Antony paid grudgingly, and we do not know enough about his personal fortunes to say whether he was now able to do this from his own funds or again needed to borrow, but the latter seems likely. Antony continued to live well beyond his means, trusting to future success to stave off creditors. Pompey’s house and country villas became the scenes of wild feasts and celebrations, as the great man’s wine cellars were consumed or given away to friends by their new owner. Cicero no doubt exaggerated when he attacked Antony for his excesses, but it is doubtful that he had to invent very much.12

Another person to benefit from the auctions was Caesar’s mistress Servilia, who purchased several estates at a knock-down price. Gossips claimed that around this time she had arranged for Caesar to sleep with her daughter, who after the Roman fashion was simply called Tertia, or ‘third’. Cicero joked that there was a ‘third’ off the price. Her husband was Cassius, who at the moment was relieved simply to have been pardoned by Caesar, although it is possible that this encouraged his later resentment of the dictator.13

Antony divorced his wife Antonia around this time and publicly alleged that she had betrayed him with Dolabella. He still had Cytheris as his mistress and remained happy to be seen in public with her. Marriage for a senator was normally a political act, where any emotional attachment either came later or was coincidental. In the case of Antony’s third marriage there may have been more to it than this, for he seems quickly to have taken a new wife as well and, at least on his side, the passion was genuine. This was Fulvia, the widow of Clodius and Curio, and the match made sense politically. She was also clearly a formidable character and accounted one of the great beauties of her day. Perhaps Antony had been infatuated with her for years and the rumours that this had caused his split with Clodius were genuine.14

Caesar may have wanted to give the impression that Antony was out of favour as a way of distancing himself from the excesses that had occurred while his Master of Horse was in charge. Perhaps he also wanted to let Antony know that his approval could not be taken for granted. However, it is also worth noting that there were other loyal supporters to reward, and it is possible that even as a private citizen Antony continued to work informally on Caesar’s behalf. Since he held no office, we hear little about Antony’s activities in 46 BC. Caesar defeated the Pompeians at Thapsus in April, and was back in Italy by June, and Rome by July. However, Cnaeus Pompey, along with Labienus and other die-hard Pompeians, had raised another army in Spain, and by November Caesar had set out for war once again.15

Dolabella went with Caesar to Spain and was wounded during the fighting that led to the victory at Munda. Antony remained behind, but in 45 BC he journeyed through Gaul to greet Caesar on his victorious return. If there had been a breach between the two men, then it was now healed, for Caesar treated Antony with great honour, letting him ride in the same carriage. More was to come. Caesar would once again be consul in 44 BC and this time he chose Antony as his colleague, even though at thirty-nine the latter was still several years below the legal age for the office.

Antony was excited by his return to favour and rushed back to Rome, where he celebrated in a tavern. When it was dark, he came to his own house – once Pompey’s – in an exuberant mood. He came in disguise, posing as one of his own slaves with a message for Fulvia from her husband, and was promptly ushered in to her presence. She was worried, fearing that he wrote because something bad had happened – a natural fear, made all the more powerful since she had already been widowed twice. Cicero claims it was actually a passionate letter in which he promised at long last to be devoted only to her and to give up Cytheris, but there is no way of knowing whether there was any basis for this. As Fulvia started to read, the ‘slave’ suddenly took her in his arms and kissed her.16

​

-XV-
NOT KING, BUT CAESAR​

Cleopatra’s first child was a boy. We do not know when he was born, although some time late in 47 BC seems most likely. Inevitably, the baby was given the name Ptolemy, and in later years this was extended to ‘Ptolemy called Caesar’. From quite early on the Alexandrians nicknamed him Caesarion (‘Little Caesar’).

Caesar never formally acknowledged the baby as his son – there would have been little point. Cleopatra was not a Roman citizen and the child was illegitimate, so by Roman law he could have no official status or inherit any of Caesar’s property. On the other hand, Caesar does not seem to have done anything to prevent the informal use of his name. After his assassination there would be debate over whether or not he was actually the boy’s father. Antony claimed that Caesar had said in front of witnesses that the child was his and some people claimed a strong physical resemblance. Others were equally vehement in denying his paternity and both sides had a vested interest in proving their case. One of Cicero’s letters written just months after Caesar’s death makes it clear that wider opinion saw the child as his.1

In the course of three long marriages, Caesar had fathered just one child – his daughter Julia, born back in the early 70s BC. He does seem to have been eager for more children, especially a son to continue the family line, but was disappointed. On top of this, his numerous affairs produced no certain illegitimate children, although a century later at least one Gaulish aristocrat boasted that he was the product of an illicit liaison between his great-grandmother and the proconsul Caesar.2

This has led some scholars to question whether Caesar was capable of having children by the time he met Cleopatra. Such things are inherently hard to prove and not entirely predictable, even in this day and age. Apart from this there could easily be other explanations for the failure to produce more than one child – even assuming there were not other pregnancies that ended in miscarriage or a stillborn baby, which went unrecorded in our sources. The second marriage ended in divorce and may well have been unhappy. Caesar and Calpurnia were married for fourteen years, but after the first few months he left for Gaul and they were apart for a decade, and afterwards only reunited during his brief visits to Rome. Quite simply the couple had little opportunity to conceive.

As far as we can tell, Caesar did believe himself to be the boy’s father and was most probably right to do so. Absolute certainty would require the sort of intimate knowledge that is rare enough for the recent past, let alone the ancient world. Apart from those who denied the boy’s paternity, none of our other sources hints that Cleopatra took another lover at this time. Once again, it is worth stressing that there is no good evidence for any men in her life apart from Caesar and later Antony.3

Caesar first saw the boy when his mother brought him to Rome late in the summer of 46 BC. Suetonius tells us that he had summoned the queen to the city, but it is unlikely to have been primarily from a desire to see his son. Nor was the main reason romantic. Cleopatra also brought her brother and husband, Ptolemy XIV, with her. The whole royal party was accommodated in a villa in Trastevere owned by Caesar and technically outside the boundary of the city. This was well within the traditions of Roman hospitality. Ptolemy Auletes had stayed in one of Pompey’s villas during his visit to Rome.4

Arsinoe was also in Rome at this time, but as a prisoner. Between 21 September and 2 October, Caesar celebrated four triumphs in succession – one more than Pompey in his entire career. The second of these was over Egypt and the Nile, and amongst the floats carrying paintings of the campaign and trophies of victory was a statue of the Nile as a river god and a flame-belching model of the Pharos lighthouse. Amongst the prisoners was Cleopatra’s younger sister. At the end of his Gallic triumph, the chieftain Vercingetorix, held captive since his surrender at Alesia eight years before, was ritually strangled. The death of the enemy leader confirmed Rome’s total victory in a conflict.

Dio tells us that the Roman crowd was overwhelmed with sympathy for the teenage Arsinoe. It is most unlikely that Caesar had ever considered having her executed. Women had been included amongst the famous prisoners in earlier triumphs, but had never been executed as part of the ceremony. Arsinoe was kept as a prisoner – as was the four-year-old son of King Juba, who had been part of the triumphal procession for the victory in Africa. She was soon sent to live as an exile in the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. Cleopatra’s attitude towards her sister at this stage is not recorded, but later events suggest that it was scarcely warm. During the triumph, Caesar’s soldiers enjoyed the traditional entertainment of singing ribald songs about their commander. Some of the verses joked about his affair with Cleopatra. We do not know whether she ever heard about this.5

Caesar did not live in the villa with the royal party, but that is not to say that the affair was over. He doubtless spent time with the queen whenever he could, as before enjoying her wit, intelligence and companionship, as well as making love. Yet he was exceptionally busy and as usual drove himself hard, drawing up new plans and legislation, and responding to petitions, as he strove to deal with the great backlog of public business. There was little time for pleasure. Caesar was also no more faithful to his mistresses than he was to his wives. During the months in Africa he had bedded another queen, this time Eunoe, the wife of King Bocchus of Mauretania.6

Cleopatra’s rule was based on Rome’s approval. The royal army had overwhelmingly supported her brother. Many died or were dispersed during the Alexandrian War and those who survived were of questionable reliability, so that the legions left behind by Caesar were the main insurance for her rule. Their commander Rufio was a man Caesar trusted, but interestingly he was the son of a freedman. The appointment may purely have been made on merit, but it is also likely that Caesar wished to avoid having a more senior subordinate stationed in Egypt, given the Alexandrians’ reaction to his own symbols of office. The troops were there, but some illusion was preserved that they were controlled by the monarch and not the other way around. Another reason for appointing Rufio to command the garrison may have been that he was not prominent enough to be dangerous.7

In 46 BC the Roman Senate formally recognised Cleopatra and Ptolemy XIV as rulers and friends of the Roman people. Caesar had arranged for Auletes to be granted the same status in 59 BC for precisely the same reasons. According to Suetonius, he also lavished presents on the queen, but the most important gain she made was this confirmation of her rule. It was not too long ago that prominent Romans, including Caesar, had talked of annexing Egypt as a province. Cyprus had actually been taken, and although Caesar had given this back to her, there was no absolute assurance that he would not change his mind.8

He and the queen had been lovers in Egypt, at a time when both were threatened by forces loyal to her brother. It would have been only natural if she were worried that his support would not necessarily continue more than a year later. If she had heard the stories about Caesar’s other affairs, then Cleopatra’s concern would naturally have grown. Perhaps she felt that Caesarion would help to confirm the bond between them, although if she understood Roman law and society to any extent then this would have been less reassuring. In the event, she must have been more than satisfied with the visit to Rome. On a personal level it was clear that strong affection – perhaps genuine love – remained. This could well have been deeply important to the twenty-three-year-old queen. Yet in the end the most essential thing was the political endorsement and assurance that her rule would continue with the full backing of Rome.

In return, Caesar gained a stable Egypt, unlikely to rebel or to let its resources fall into the hands of a Roman rival. No doubt Caesar also enjoyed having the queen near him again. The months spent with her after the Alexandrian War represented the only real rest he had had for well over a decade. In addition, Cleopatra brought with her specialist assistance for some of his projects. Rome’s lunar-based calendar of 355 days relied on adding an extra month on alternate years, but the system had been neglected and abused for a long time and was now hopelessly out of tune with the natural seasons. Caesar replaced it with the Julian calendar – the month of his birth was renamed July in his honour. Apart from a minor readjustment, this is the calendar of 365 and a quarter days that we still use today. Much of the work on this project was carried out for him by Sosigenes, an astronomer from the Museum at Alexandria. Inspiration, and perhaps actual assistance, came from Alexandria for another project, namely the creation of grand public libraries, one containing Latin and the other Greek literature, in Rome.9

Caesar left in November for the Spanish campaign. Cleopatra and the royal party may already have begun the journey home before this. If not, then they left soon afterwards, for there was no reason for them to stay in Rome in the absence of the dictator. There is no evidence for the frequent assumption that she remained in the city for eighteen months and it seems highly unlikely that she would have been willing to be absent for so long from her own realm. Perhaps the party visited Cyprus on their way back, but this is pure conjecture.

​

THE IDES OF MARCH​

Caesar returned from Spain late in the summer of 45 BC, but did not enter Rome itself until October, when he celebrated a fifth triumph. In the past these ceremonies had at least nominally been over foreign enemies – for instance, the African triumph was over King Juba rather than his Pompeian allies. This time it was blatantly a celebration of the defeat of other Romans. Even so the crowds turned out to cheer. The Senate had decreed no less than fifty days of public thanksgiving, something never before openly given for a victory in a civil war.10

More and more honours were voted to Caesar. He was made dictator for ten years in 46 BC, and for life in 45, and allowed to be consul simultaneously for ten consecutive years. On top of formal powers there were monuments and statues, creating a status that seemed more than human and came close to divinity. Caesar is supposed to have refused some of the most sycophantic awards, but still accepted many others. Most were well within the traditions of honouring successful generals and statesmen, but in combination these were on a massively greater scale. There were also generous rewards to his followers. Two of his legates were granted triumphs for the Spanish campaign, and there was no precedent for anyone apart from the army commander receiving such an honour. In addition, Caesar resigned his sole consulship for 45 BC and had two of his followers elected as replacement or suffect consuls for the remaining months of the year. One of these men died on 31 December and Caesar held a fresh election to elect another replacement for the remaining hours of the day. Cicero joked that this man was so vigilant that he did not even sleep during his term of office. Privately, he and others were outraged at such cavalier treatment of the senior magistracy.11

Caesar had little patience with formality and tradition, in part because of his temperament and the habit of commanding an army and issuing orders, but also because there was so much to do in very little time. There was an enormous programme of land settlement to provide for his discharged veterans and the unemployed and impoverished citizens living in Rome itself. Caesar was determined to carry this out without the confiscation and upheaval of Sulla’s colonisation programme. Few people objected to what Caesar was doing, and most of his reforms were seen to be sensible and for the good of the Republic. Yet they did resent the way he rushed everything through. Cicero found himself being thanked by cities in the provinces whose petitions had been granted in Senate meetings at which he had supposedly been present, but which as far as he could tell had never occurred.12

Caesar once said that the ‘Republic is nothing, merely a name without body or shape’, and his behaviour in these months did show a lack of concern about appearances and convention. He possessed supreme, personal and permanent power. So far he had studiously avoided the name and symbols of Rome’s ancient kings, but he had accepted the right to dress in the manner supposedly adopted by the kings of nearby and long-vanished Alba Longa, from whom he claimed descent. On 26 January 44 BC, he celebrated the festival of the Latin games, much of the ceremony being performed on the Alban Hills outside the city. As he processed back, the crowd hailed him as ‘king’. Rex was a family name as well as a title, so he simply responded by saying that he was, ‘Not king, but Caesar.’13

Yet incidents continued that made many people unsure — especially if they were senators who resented his power. On 15 February came the Lupercalia festival in which his fellow consul Mark Antony played a key role. On that day he acted as the leader of the priests of Lupercal, who according to the ancient rite raced through the heart of the city clad only in a leather loincloth, and flicking a goatskin whip at anyone they passed. This was considered lucky, especially for women, increasing the chances of pregnancy and making a safe and easy birth more likely. Caesar was sitting on a raised platform in the special ornate chair awarded to him by the Senate and at the end of the ceremony Antony ran up to him. The almost naked consul was holding a royal diadem, which he offered to the dictator. Caesar refused, prompting cheers from the watching crowd. Antony offered the crown again and the cheering increased when the dictator once again refused to accept kingship. Afterwards, he had the diadem placed in the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill, because the god was Rome’s only king.

It was a strange episode, and while almost everyone agrees that it was deliberately staged, there is less consensus over its purpose and inspiration. Most are reluctant to believe that Antony acted on his own initiative and suspect that Caesar knew at least in broad outline what was going to happen. Even at the time, no one seems to have been sure whether the whole thing was intended to reassure people that he did not want to be king or, as cynics would see it, was testing the water to see whether or not public opinion would approve. If it was intended to convince public opinion that Caesar had no ambition to be king, then it certainly failed.14

The year had started well for Antony and his family. His brother Caius was praetor, having survived his captivity during the civil war, and his other brother, Lucius, was tribune. The Antonii were doing well with the promise of more to come. Antony and Caius could both expect to go out to govern provinces after their magistracies. It is possible that the dictator had already allocated the important province of Macedonia to his fellow consul. Caesar himself also planned to leave Rome and expected to be away for three years. He would go first to fight the Dacians on the Danube, before going east to lead a grand invasion of Parthia and finally get revenge for the defeat of Crassus.15

Caesar planned to lay down his consulship before he left, allowing a suffect consul to replace him. He had already nominated the consuls and half the praetors for the next two years. Caesar’s choice for suffect consul was Dolabella, showing his renewed faith in him. It was probably also no coincidence that this would mean that two of his most distinguished supporters would hold office after he left. However, to set against this, the consuls for the next year were loyal Caesareans, but by no means distinguished in family or personality. Although the dictator nominated the consular candidates he still went through the formality of letting the people vote for his choices. When the Popular Assembly filed into the saepta to sanction Dolabella’s election, Antony used his powers as augur to see a bad omen in the heavens and halt the proceedings. Caesar could not fully control Antony, who was an important man in his own right, and was determined to continue his vendetta against his adversary from 47 BC.16

Rivalries still continued between Roman senators, but the normal rhythm of public life was suspended. Cicero despaired of a Republic where the courts barely met and the Senate fawned on a dictator who privately made virtually every key decision with his advisers. Many could understand such a suspension of normality if it was temporary. Servilia’s son Brutus had met Caesar on his way back from Spain in 45 BC and had then hoped that ‘he was going over to the good men’. Cicero did not believe this, and Brutus soon changed his mind.17

It did not matter that Caesar ruled well, or that he spared and promoted his opponents – both Brutus and Cassius were praetors for 44 BC and could realistically expect the consulship in a few years’ time. The most fundamental principle of the Republic was that no one individual should hold permanent supreme power. Caesar now blatantly possessed this and showed no sign at all of resigning – in fact, he called Sulla a ‘political illiterate’ for retiring from the dictatorship. His title did not really matter. Many Romans, especially amongst the propertied classes, loathed the name of king, but Caesar had monarchic powers whatever his title and they hated this even more.18

Marcus Junius Brutus – technically, after his adoption by his uncle he was named Quintus Caepio Brutus, but his earlier name is more usually used – was the son of the formidable Servilia and had long been recognised as one of the up and coming men of the new generation of senators. His father had been executed by Pompey in 78 BC as one of the supporters of Lepidus – the father of Caesar’s consular colleague in 46 BC. Brutus refused even to speak to Pompey until he joined him at the start of the civil war. He was much closer to Caesar and was to have married his daughter Julia until the betrothal was severed and the girl married to Pompey instead. Brutus was a year or two older than Antony. His character was sober and overtly respectable, although it is claimed that he also had an affair with Cytheris before she became Antony’s mistress. Caesar said that ‘Whatever Brutus wants, he wants badly’, and an incident during Cicero’s term as governor of Cilicia confirms this. Having loaned money to the city of Salamis on Cyprus at 48 per cent interest – four times the legal rate of 12 per cent – he badgered a succession of governors to give his agent troops and let him extract the payment by force.19

Brutus idolised his mother’s half-brother Cato, pursuing a similar dedication to stern philosophy. Cato not only refused to surrender and accept Caesar’s mercy after the defeat of the Pompeians in Africa, but also took his own life in a spectacularly gruesome manner. He tried and failed to stab himself to death with a sword, and his son brought a surgeon and had his wounds treated and bound up. Left alone to sleep, Cato ripped the stitches apart and pulled out his entrails with his own hands.20

In contrast, Brutus surrendered after Pharsalus, was welcomed by Caesar and subsequently given office. Guilt fuelled his adulation of his uncle. He wrote a book praising Cato and persuaded Cicero to do the same. Caesar made no attempt to restrain them, but did reply with his own Anti Cato, which took the form of a vicious attack on his character in the most scurrilous tradition of Roman invective. Brutus also divorced his wife and married Cato’s daughter – and his cousin – Porcia, the widow of Bibulus. Nagged by the years of gossip about Caesar and his mother, and driven by the stern example of his uncle and the family boast that an ancestor had forced out the last of Rome’s kings almost five hundred years before, Brutus began to want badly’ to remove the dictator.21

He had three sisters, married respectively to Cassius, Lepidus and Servilius Isauricus, Caesar’s colleague in the consulship in 48 BC. This reinforced his mother’s closeness to Caesar and suggested that his future was bright. Cassius was also doing well, although he was said to have been bitter because Brutus was preferred to him for the office of urban praetor in 44 BC. He had been Crassus’ quaestor in the invasion of Parthia and had led the survivors of the disaster back to Syria and then repulsed an enemy raid that reached Antioch. Cassius had made a good deal of his own leadership at this time of crisis.22

Brutus and Cassius were the leaders of a conspiracy of some sixty senators. These included other former Pompeians, but also some disillusioned Caesareans: Caius Trebonius had been suffect consul in 45 BC, and Decimus Brutus – Marcus Brutus’ cousin – was promised the consulship for 42 BC. Both had served Caesar loyally and well in Gaul and the civil war and had been rewarded accordingly. Their motives were mixed, but all of the conspirators had a deep sense that it was wrong for the Republic to be dominated by one man. Most genuinely believed they were acting for the good of Rome. They would not have been Roman senators had they not also been aware that the men who killed the tyrant could expect to be amongst the leaders of the Republic in the immediate future.

Trebonius had cautiously sounded Antony out in the summer of 45 BC when the latter was going to meet Caesar, hoping that he might join the conspiracy. Antony refused, but said nothing to the dictator. Perhaps he misunderstood or felt that it was just an old friend complaining and letting off steam, uttering threats that were never fully serious. Brutus was adamant that no one apart from Caesar should be killed and forced those who wished to murder Antony as well to give in. If only the dictator died, then perhaps everyone would realise that this was necessary for the Republic and no new conflict would result.23

The conspirators knew that they had limited time before Caesar left the city to begin his campaign. He was readily accessible, for early in the year he had dismissed the bodyguard of Spanish soldiers that had protected him since his return from the Munda campaign. Caesar either did not take the reports of plots seriously or no longer cared very much, and most probably felt that showing supreme self-confidence at all times was the best way of preserving his regime.24

After his death rumours would circulate of various things he had planned to do, as the dispute between his supporters and killers escalated into a new civil war. One of the more bizarre was the claim that he wanted to be allowed to marry as many women as he liked for the purpose of producing children. Cleopatra, Caesarion and presumably Ptolemy XIV had come to Rome for a second visit some time late in 45 or early in 44 BC. Caesar had drawn up a new will after returning from Spain, which made no mention of Caesarion, which does not suggest that he was planning such a break with Roman law and tradition. Perhaps he wanted to spend time with his lover, but once again the main reason was doubtless political. For the planned Parthian expedition, grain from Egypt would be a major source of supplies for the Roman army –just as Auletes had helped to support Pompey during his eastern campaigns.25

The presence of the queen, once again installed in Caesar’s villa across the river, may have made the dictator seem even more like a Hellenistic king. It was an extra provocation, but a minor one and, even if she had not been in Rome, the conspirators would surely have acted in the same way. Suggestions that Cleopatra was a major influence on Caesar’s thinking and policies make little sense, and even in the propaganda war after his death were a minor thread. Appian tells us that he had a statue of her placed next to the one of the goddess Venus in the Temple of Venus Genetrix and that it was still there a century and a half later. This building was the centrepiece of the new Forum Julium and Caesar had vowed to build it before the Battle of Pharsalus if his ancestor the goddess brought him victory. The Forum was not actually complete in 44 BC and Dio tells us that Augustus brought at least one statue of the queen back to Rome thirteen years later, so it may be that Appian was confused. On the other hand, the statue may have been one of the goddess, or of Isis, who was often equated with her, and simply been modelled on Cleopatra, rather than formally an image of her.26

While in Rome, Cleopatra seems to have copied her father’s example and cultivated important Romans with gifts. Cicero went to visit her, but never received the books he was promised and bitterly resented having to pay court to a foreign queen. Perhaps senators also felt that they could gain Caesar’s favour through her, although how far this was true is impossible to say.27

On 15 March – the Ides in the Roman system – Caesar attended a meeting of the Senate in one of the temples forming part of Pompey’s huge theatre complex. Antony had gone to his house to accompany him, as had Decimus Brutus. After some reluctance, caused by some unfavourable sacrifices and the nervousness of his wife Calpurnia, Decimus persuaded Caesar to go to the session. The conspirators were waiting, having gathered early in the day, using Cassius’ son’s coming of age as a pretext. They were supported by a group of gladiators owned by Decimus Brutus and stationed near by, but were determined to do the deed themselves. They greeted Caesar as he got out of his litter. Trebonius drew Antony aside for a private word, delaying him outside the temple, while the others went in. They did not want the burly consul to be in his proper place sitting beside Caesar, rightly judging that his instinctive reaction would be to fight.

Antony must have heard the noise. Perhaps Trebonius then told him what had happened. The other conspirators had clustered around Caesar to petition him. Then they struck, producing knives and all trying to reach and stab at him. Caesar was wounded twenty-three times, although it was thought later that only one wound would have been mortal. In the confusion, some of the conspirators accidentally struck each other and Brutus was wounded in the thigh. The dictator seemed surprised, then angry and stabbed back with his sharp stylus pen. When he fell, it was to collapse beneath a statue of Pompey.

The watching senators were stunned, then terrified. They fled, streaming out of the temple to reach the sanctuary of their homes because no one knew what would happen next. Antony fled with them.28

Antony spent much of the Ides of March barricaded inside his house. He had thrown off his consular robes and disguised himself as a slave when he fled – the latter an ironic repeat of his flight from Rome at the beginning of 49 BC. In the past, Roman politicians who resorted to violence had never stopped with the death of just one man and there was no reason to expect anything else now. Apart from the conspirators, as yet no one else knew of Brutus’ insistence that only Caesar be killed. Like Caesar’s own clemency to his defeated opponents, this attitude was surprising. Antony was Caesar’s fellow consul and political ally and knew himself to be an obvious target. Lepidus, Caesar’s Magister Equitum, similarly took refuge in his own house, as did the vast majority of the Senate, anticipating a bloodbath. Some may have feared death at the hands of the conspirators and their supporters, others at the hands of Caesar’s vengeful supporters. All were nervous that mobs of looters would take advantage of the chaos.1

The news of the murder would have taken longer to cross the River Tiber and reach Cleopatra. No doubt she was stunned, probably grief-stricken and certainly nervous, but she was in no real danger unless Rome descended into total anarchy. Politically she was irrelevant, and she may already have known enough about Roman public life to realise this and that the conspirators would have no reason to think her worth the trouble of killing. Whatever new regime emerged following the death of the dictator, it would be formed by Romans. The queen could not play a part in this process and could only hope for an accommodation with the leaders who emerged. She had lost her political protector and her lover. It was impossible to know how Rufio and his legions would react to the news of Caesar’s death and whether she would be able to cling on to power without her Roman backer. Cleopatra did not flee from Rome as soon as she heard of the assassination, fearing for her own life or that of her child. She remained there for several weeks, watching events.2

An already depleted Senate had suffered a further cull of its leading members during the civil war. Caesar had enrolled hundreds of new senators, but few of these men had much prestige or political influence. His enlarged Senate of some nine hundred members was very light at the top. When Caesar lay dead, Brutus had called out Cicero’s name, for he was one of the very few distinguished former consuls who might now lead a restored Republic. The sixty-two-year-old orator had not been aware of the conspiracy and ran away in the general panic.

The conspirators had wound themselves up to stab the dictator to death in a flurry of wild blows. They do not seem to have prepared well for what would happen next, and were taken by surprise by the stampede that left them alone in the temple. They raised a freedman’s cap on a pole as a sign that citizens had gained their freedom once more, just as a slave put on this headgear on the day his master granted him liberty. (The French Revolutionaries would one day adopt the same symbol.) Then, joined by Decimus Brutus’ troop of gladiators, they climbed up on the Capitoline Hill, Rome’s ancient citadel, and waited to see what would happen next. Three of Caesar’s litter-bearers returned and carried his body home.3

Caesar’s supporters did not appear seeking vengeance, nor did citizens of all ranks rush to cheer the men who had heroically killed the dictator and restored liberty. Rome was stunned, and only slowly and tentatively did it begin to stir again. A trickle of senators made their way up to the Capitoline to congratulate the conspirators. Cicero was one, and he was warm in his praise, but neither he nor any of the others stayed very long. Dolabella was another visitor, and either then or in the next days he assumed the garb and status of a consul. Warm in his praise for the assassins, he saw no reason not to take the office allocated to him by the dictator. Brutus and Cassius addressed the thin crowds now milling about in the Forum. There was no great enthusiasm for their justification of the murder and even the money they distributed failed to produce an outburst of support. Appian noted the irony of men who expected their fellow citizens to embrace liberty at the same time as they bribed them.4

Later in the day, Antony must have realised that no attack was imminent. Like any Roman senator, he sought council from family, friends and political associates. He met with Lepidus and other prominent Caesareans such as Aulus Hirtius, the man nominated as one of the consuls for 43 BC. Given her strong character, and no doubt a reluctance to mourn a third husband, it is likely that Fulvia played a very active part in encouraging Antony. Lepidus commanded the only legion in Italy. At least some of his troops were near Rome and on the 16th he brought them into the city. Technically, now that the dictator was dead, the power of his Magister Equitum ought to have lapsed, but the soldiers responded to Lepidus’ orders and that was all that really mattered for the moment. Antony and Hirtius restrained him from using the troops to launch an immediate attack on the conspirators, and the former went to Caesar’s father-in-law, Calpurnius Piso, and with his support obtained the dictator’s will from the Temple of Vesta.

In the meantime, Brutus made a speech to a crowd that had gathered on the slope of the Capitoline, but once again failed to fire their enthusiasm. Most people had not seen Caesar as a tyrant and could see no advantage to themselves from his death. There were large numbers of discharged veterans in Rome, waiting to be allotted farms, and these now feared that a Senate led by the conspirators would end the dictator’s colonisation programme. Brutus vainly tried to reassure them that they would receive their land. There was growing hostility towards the conspirators and the house of a senator who had publicly supported them was menaced by a mob.

On 17 March, Mark Antony as consul summoned a meeting of the Senate. It was convened in the Temple of Tellus, not far from his house and away from the Capitoline. Lepidus’ soldiers, supported by veterans, stood on guard outside. Most senators, including Cicero, attended, and whatever their attitudes to Caesar, the universal hope was for stability and peace. The conspirators remained where they were, still guarded by their gladiators and depressed by their failure to recruit citizens as supporters.

The fundamental question was whether the murder had been justified. If Caesar was a tyrant then it was, and everything he had done was illegal. The problem with this was that he had done so much. Many senators owed office and privilege to the dictator. Brutus and Cassius were praetors, and Decimus Brutus was named as proconsul of Cisalpine Gaul for the following year and consul in 42. If Caesar’s acts were declared invalid then they had no right to these offices and nor were Antony or Dolabella consuls, nor any other provincial governor or magistrate entitled to hold power. Caesar’s decisions spread far beyond the Senate, to the colonists and the many provincial communities granted status or rights by his decisions. Individuals had a lot to lose, but as importantly there was the risk of plunging all of government into chaos. It would take time to hold new elections and their outcome would be uncertain. Many of Caesar’s appointees were below the legal age to hold a particular office – Dolabella by more than a decade. Even when this was not the case, launching an electoral campaign would have been expensive and its outcome uncertain. Yet if Caesar was not a tyrant, then the conspirators were murderers and deserved to be punished. A good number of senators sympathised with Brutus, Cassius and the others. More were simply afraid that condemning them would provoke the bloodbath and perhaps civil war, which they had feared on the Ides itself.

Antony advocated a compromise. Cicero was willing to support him and the vote was actually taken on the proposal made by the orator. The conspirators were not to be prosecuted or held responsible in any way. At the same time, all of Caesar’s acts were confirmed, and on the following day he was granted the right to be given a public funeral and his will was formally recognised. It was illogical, but for the moment it was enough to keep the peace. Cicero later claimed that it was the best that could be hoped for once it was clear that the conspirators were not to be formally vindicated and Caesar condemned, but at the time he may have been more optimistic. That evening Antony and Lepidus sent their sons as hostages up to the Capitoline and entertained Brutus and Cassius to dinner with every sign of goodwill. Cassius’ and Lepidus’ wives were sisters, both daughters of Brutus’ mother Servilia.5

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TRUTH AND RECONCILIATION​

In describing the months that followed it is especially important to avoid any sense of inevitability or view things as a simple conflict between the conspirators and the Caesareans. The latter were not a coherent party or even faction with common policies, but a loose collection of people who had chosen for various reasons to support him. Caesar’s position in the state had been personal, his powers awarded to him individually. He was dictator for life and controlled an enormous army of soldiers who had taken an oath of loyalty to him – as had the Senate not long before the Ides. There was no heir waiting to assume his powers and lead his army, nor even any indication that either Caesar or anyone else assumed that there should be.

Antony was Caesar’s fellow consul and a distinguished supporter, but he lacked Caesar’s wealth, reputation and auctoritas, and the network of clients who were tied to him by past favours. The dictator’s status and importance were the product of years of effort, as well as civil war, and could not readily be taken over by anyone else. What the legions would do was hard to predict. Many were composed of soldiers originally recruited by the Pompeians. On the whole, these men had responded well to Caesar’s rewards and promises and had proved loyal to him. That did not mean that they would automatically obey someone else, simply because they had also served Caesar. In 44 BC Antony commanded no troops, although he had been allocated a province containing legions for the next year. Brutus and Cassius could similarly expect provincial commands after their year as praetors, but at the moment none of the conspirators commanded any soldiers. Decimus Brutus was due to govern Cisapline Gaul, which had an army well placed to intervene in Italy, but he had not yet left Rome to take up his post. Lepidus had just the one legion and that was not really enough to dominate Rome for very long. If political rivalries became violent and civil war broke out, none of the key players could be confident of victory.6

Caesar was dead, and if no one could expect to replace him as the overwhelmingly dominant man in the Republic, then there were still new opportunities. Antony was consul, but he was also an Antonius, something he would stress repeatedly in the coming months. He expected to be one of the leading men in the state and win office and honours accordingly. He also still needed money, for although he had done well from the civil war, he had not yet acquired the wealth to finance either his lifestyle or his career. Barely forty, he could expect to be active in public life for decades. He wanted further honours, and perhaps eventually the sort of dominance Caesar had shown to be possible. He had much to be grateful to the dictator for and had liked Caesar as a man, but a Roman aristocrat with his background was never fully anyone else’s man. His own success, and the success of his family, came first. Avenging Caesar’s murder would not in itself make Antony’s own position stronger or more secure, at least for the moment.7

Similarly, the conspirators wanted acceptance and not conflict. Success and security for them would come only if senators and the majority of all other classes approved of their action. They, too, were mainly young men by the standards of Roman politics. Brutus and Cassius were in their late thirties and few of the others were much older. One of the reasons they wanted their ‘free’ Republic was so that they could advance further in public life, unrestricted by a dictator. Dolabella was younger still, probably no more than thirty, and although one of Caesar’s supporters, it can have seemed no bad thing to the conspirators that Antony’s new consular colleague was a man he detested. Bitter personal rivalries were a very traditionally Roman way of restricting the power of individuals. Apart from that, the restoration of liberty could not very well have begun with attacks on the consuls. Brutus in particular hoped that the willingness of Antony to meet was an indication that he too saw that the Republic could not function as it should while there was a permanent dictator. This did not mean that he and the others did not watch Antony as warily as he watched them. All of them were looking to advance their own position in the new Republic.

Cassius is said to have argued against permitting Caesar a public funeral and allowing Antony to conduct it, but allowed himself to be overruled by Brutus. This proved to be a mistake, although it is possible that refusing the dictator this honour would have produced even greater resentment. The simple truth was that Caesar had been popular with many citizens. On 20 March the funeral was held in the Forum itself, witnessed by a large and volatile crowd. Details of the dictator’s will had already been released and it was known that he had left his extensive gardens in the city to become a public park. Valued in itself, it was a reminder of Caesar’s generosity to many and what little support there had been for the conspirators ebbed even lower. Shakespeare’s version of the speech Mark Antony made on this occasion is justly famous and gives a good flavour of the power of an orator to move the Roman crowd. However, our sources are divided over what he actually said. Caesar’s body was displayed, dressed in his regalia and laid on an ivory bier. The bloodstains on his official cloak were clearly visible.

Antony seems to have begun by listing some of the many honours voted to Caesar by the Senate, leading up to the oath to support and protect him that all senators – including the conspirators – had taken. The irony was as heavy as the Shakespearean repetition of Brutus as an ‘honourable man’. From this he moved on to speak of some of Caesar’s great deeds and gradually became more emotional. He pulled the cloak off the corpse and held it up to show the tears made by the assassins’ knives. Someone shouted out a famous line from an old tragedy – ‘to think that I saved those men so that they could destroy me!’ The terms of the will were read out. There was dismay that Decimus Brutus was mentioned as one of the lesser heirs, showing once again how fond Caesar had been of the men who killed him. Apart from the gift of the gardens, each citizen living in Rome was to receive a gift of 300 sesterces. A wax effigy of the body had been made and was now raised into the air on a crane of the type used in the theatre or games. It was slowly rotated, displaying all twenty-three wounds, which were graphically marked on the model.

Emotion spilled over at the sight. Helvius Cinna, a loyal supporter of Caesar and a respected poet, was mistaken for another man named Cinna who had supported the conspirators and was beaten to death. Angry mobs went to the conspirators’ houses – as prominent senators, many will have lived on the slopes of the Palatine edging the Forum – but they found none of them and after a while came back to cluster around the corpse. The cremation was to have occurred outside the city in the Campus Martius, but now the crowd hastily heaped up a pyre on the spot, dragging anything wooden from the Forum and its shops. Like Clodius, Caesar was burned in the heart of Rome. Veteran soldiers threw their decorations onto the burning pyre and women threw their jewellery. Amongst the crowd were many non-citizens from all over the empire. For nights to come some of Rome’s Jewish community went to the spot, publicly mourning the man who had been generous to their people.8

Antony had helped the wider population’s simmering resentment to boil over into rage. The conspirators feared for their lives – they never appeared in public, never once felt safe enough to attend a meeting of the Senate. Over the next month all of them slipped away from the city. Antony had the Senate grant Brutus and Cassius special dispensation to leave, because normally as serving praetors they were expected to remain in Rome. Decimus Brutus and Trebonius soon set out for the provinces allocated to them by Caesar. From now on, the conspirators could only hope to influence politics through friends and family who remained in Rome. The self-proclaimed ‘Liberators’ had been forced to leave Rome, making it much harder for them to challenge Antony’s current dominance.9

Hatred of the conspirators did not mean a wave of popular enthusiasm for Antony’s leadership. Soon after the funeral, an altar was set up on the spot where Caesar had been cremated. There was no official sanction for this, and the main leader was a man called Amatius, who claimed to be Marius’ grandson and so Caesar’s relation. Dolabella dispersed the crowd and removed the altar. Amatius and his followers set it up again and this time it was Antony who took action and had the man executed. The deep affection for Caesar and anger against his murderers was sometimes useful, but both consuls wanted to keep it under control.10

On the 17th the Senate had agreed to ratify all of Caesar’s acts, including those that had been announced, but not yet implemented. It was obvious that the allocation of land to veterans had to continue if the large numbers of the latter were to be kept in order. Brutus and Cassius had tried to win these men over by getting them granted the right to sell their new farms if they wanted, something that Caesar had forbidden since he wanted the men to settle permanently. Antony had taken possession of Caesar’s papers from his widow Calpurnia and presented to the Senate a steady stream of the dictator’s decisions to be put into force.11

Soon, he was announcing things that had not been mentioned in Caesar’s lifetime and Cicero and others believed were his own inventions. The dictator had granted Latin status to much of the population of Sicily and now Antony had them made full Roman citizens. King Deiotarus of Galatia had supported Pompey in the civil war and had his kingdom substantially reduced in size by Caesar. Now the lost power and territory was restored. There were rumours of a bribe and Cicero claimed that Fulvia had done much to arrange the business. It was felt a bad thing for a Roman senator to be influenced too much by his wife, so this may be no more than routine denigration of Antony. Yet many aristocratic women were influential behind the scenes of public life so there is nothing inherently implausible about it.12

To Cicero it seemed that although the tyrant was dead, tyranny continued, as one man issued a stream of arbitrary decisions. This was a little unfair. Antony wrote him an ostensibly courteous letter in April, asking his permission to recall from exile one of the orator’s old enemies, an associate of Clodius. Cicero accepted as politely as he could, believing that Antony would have gone ahead anyway. There was certainly a poorly veiled threat in the consul’s letter: ‘Though I know your fortune, Cicero, is above any danger, yet I think you would rather enjoy old age with peace and honour rather than anxiety’13

Antony was determined to get his way, but he was also very busy and this no doubt fed his impatience. There was a great deal of business to be done, for Caesar had had so little time and the government of the Republic had not functioned well for many years. Especially in the provinces, there were communities and individuals pressing for recognition, appealing for favours or seeking arbitration in disputes. While it may have been preferable to Cicero that the Republic function more traditionally, this would have meant these delegations waiting patiently until the Senate had time to consider their cases. The delays would have been long, without any certainty that the matters would be decided at all, let alone in a way satisfactory to those involved. Most provincials had readily taken to dealing with a single supreme individual, in preference to the slow and tortuous securing of favours through the Senate.

As consul, Antony therefore busied himself addressing a long series of different issues. It was simply quicker to assert that each decision had actually been made by Caesar, since this ensured approval. There is no doubt that he was also exploiting the situation to strengthen his own position. Favours granted to Romans and provincials brought him bribes, but also placed the individuals and communities in his debt for the future. There was a new land bill, extending the colonisation programme. Former centurions – Cicero maliciously claims also veteran rankers from the V Alaudae Legion raised from Gaul's – were to be included in the juries for major trials, which represented a substantial growth in their importance. The centurions were the single most influential group within each legion and well worth cultivating. Caesar had portrayed them in an heroic manner in his War Commentaries for the same reason.14

Antony effectively wielded immense patronage and used this as any Roman would to gain more clients. He became richer and more influential. His consulship would only last until the end of the year. At the moment he had more power than anyone else, and he needed to do enough with this to improve his position when the office lapsed. Potential rivals and enemies were for the moment weak, but there was no guarantee that they would stay that way. Antony needed wealth, connections and prestige to both compete in the future and make himself safe from attack. There was no assurance that Brutus’ reluctance to kill anyone other than Caesar would last forever.

Antony won over Lepidus by ensuring that he became Pontifex Maximus in place of Caesar. He also betrothed his daughter to Lepidus’ son to reinforce the alliance, although the children were too young for the wedding to take place. Antony had accepted Dolabella’s assumption of the consulship because it was both better than any alternative and a well-known decision of Caesar. He helped him to secure the province of Syria for a five-year proconsulship. Syria was wealthy and contained a substantial army as part of the preparations for Caesar’s Parthian War. Dolabella had the prospect of leading this expedition and successful eastern wars were always lucrative. For a man whose debts were still vast — he had been unwilling and unable to repay the dowry when he divorced Cicero’s daughter — this was very attractive.15

The spring of 44 BC was a time for new alliances and arrangements, as individuals strove to build up their own power and connections. They acted through a mixture of ambition and fear, so familiar to Roman politicians of the last generation or so. The renewal of civil war and violence was a real possibility, perhaps almost inevitable. Antony and everyone else hoped to make themselves safe and strong enough to profit from the opportunities to come. Caesar’s murder had radically shifted the balance of power within the Roman state and the readjustment to the new reality took time.

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CAESAR’S SON​

Cleopatra may well have waited in Rome to receive formal recognition of her power, and perhaps confirmation of her status as a friend of the Roman people. Cicero mentions that she had left Rome in a letter dated 16 April 44 BC. Later, there would be false rumours that she had perished on the journey home, and some have interpreted a later letter written by Cicero to mean that she was pregnant, presumably with another child of Caesar. This seems unlikely, since it is not mentioned in any other source and a more natural reading would make this a reference to Caesarion. Nervous about her hold on power in Alexandria, it was sensible for the queen to return as soon as she had made some effort to secure approval from Rome.16

Soon after Cleopatra decided to return to her own kingdom, an eighteen-year-old youth arrived in Rome. His name was Caius Octavius and he was the son of Caesar’s niece Atia. His father had died some years before, but had held the praetorship and been expected to rise further. Atia had then married Lucius Marcius Philippus, who was consul in 56 BC. Octavius was Caesar’s closest male relative and at the age of just twelve the boy had given the oration at his daughter Julia’s funeral in 54 BC. The dictator had taken an interest in the boy, enrolling him in the college of pontiffs in 47 BC, and he had joined the campaign against Pompey in Spain, although illness had prevented him playing a very active role. At the start of 44 BC he was in Apollonia on the Adriatic, waiting to take part in Caesar’s Parthian War.17

The first report of Caesar’s death brought with it news that he had made Octavius his principal heir and also adopted him as his son, which meant that he was to inherit his name. The Romans took adoption very seriously, and it was a common means for childless men to perpetuate the family name and ambitions. There is no indication that he knew of the provisions of the will before this and they were certainly not common knowledge in the dictator’s lifetime.

It is important to remember how young and inexperienced Octavius was in 44 BC, for only then can we hope to understand the amazement at his immediate acceptance of the legacy and his determination to take not only Caesar’s name, but also his political dominance. His stepfather Philippus advised him to decline the legacy, and for some time refused to address him as Caesar. Antony was even less welcoming when the youth arrived in Rome in April and came to see him. He would not hand over Caesar’s papers or private funds, which he was employing to great effect. Later in the year he would dub Octavius a boy ‘who owes everything to a name’, but at this stage Antony was reluctant even to acknowledge that name in any formal way.18

Some of Caesar’s former supporters were more enthusiastic, impressed by the ‘boy’s’ immense self-confidence. A group of wealthy men, including Rabirius Postumus, provided him with the funds to go to some of the colonies set up for Caesar’s veterans and begin recruiting soldiers. Borrowing from these men, and selling some of his own property, he also began to pay citizens the gift Caesar had promised in his will. Generous bounties, combined with the appeal of Caesar’s heir and anger that the conspirators had gone unpunished, soon produced hundreds of volunteers from amongst the veterans. Caius Julius Caesar Octavianus – scholars conventionally call him Octavian to avoid confusion – started to become a political force. For the moment his power was still minor, but his swift rise was remarkable and unsettling.19

Brutus was still in Italy, but did not risk returning to Rome. As praetor he was responsible for the games that formed part of the festival of Apollo, the Ludi Apollinares. Afraid to go, he had agents arrange the spectacles and spent a lot of his own money and effort in the hope that this would win him more support. Octavian personally presided over the Ludi Victoriae Caesaris, voted to commemorate the Battle of Pharsalus, again paying for this with borrowed money. A comet appeared during the celebrations, and normally such things were seen as a bad omen. Octavian, however, persuaded people that it was a sign of Caesar’s ascent into heaven to become a god. Now the youth, who turned nineteen in August, was not simply Caesar, but the son of the divine Julius. A statue of Caesar with a star on his head was placed in the temple he had built to Venus Genetrix. An altar was again set up in the Forum, and in time would be the site of a temple to the new cult.20

Brutus and Cassius finally left Italy. At Antony’s bidding the Senate had allocated them unimportant provinces without troops, but they ignored these tasks. Brutus went to Athens, ostensibly to study. Decimus Brutus was in Cisalpine Gaul and controlled the closest army to Italy itself. Antony had been allocated the province of Macedonia, which contained six well-trained and numerically strong legions, most of which were destined for Caesar’s projected campaigns. At the start of June he carried a bill through the Popular Assembly that granted him for five years both Cisalpine Gaul and the extensive province of ‘long-haired Gaul’ conquered by Caesar. Decimus Brutus’ command was to be terminated and Caius Antonius would be sent to Macedonia as its governor. Antony would take over Decimus Brutus’ legions and also bring most of the troops from Macedonia across to his new province, although one of these six legions was given to Dolabella. Such a move was unorthodox, but the Roman people could vote for anything and so it was not technically illegal. This did not mean that Decimus Brutus was willing to accept his replacement.21

Antony had already recruited his own force drawn from Caesar’s veterans and employed them as a bodyguard in Rome itself. As consul he had imperium, but the small private army raised by Octavian was illegal in every way, comparable to the legions Pompey had once enrolled from his family estates. In Spain, his surviving son Sextus Pompey still led the Pompeian forces that had survived the defeat in 45 BC. Attempts by Cicero and others to have him rehabilitated after the Ides of March had failed. Soon, Brutus and Cassius would also assume command of armies without any authority to do so. All of the key players had decided that only the control of legions gave them any real security. Civil war was brewing and threatened once more to plunge the whole Mediterranean world including Egypt into conflict and chaos. For monarchs like Cleopatra, there were severe risks of backing the wrong side or simply that the wealth of their kingdom would draw Roman leaders desperate for funds to support their armies. Caesar had given the Republic brief stability. For a few months after his death there had been uneasy peace. Now even this was breaking down.22

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-XVII-​

‘ONE OF THREE’​

To curb the rise of Octavian, Antony had made some public offers of compromise with Brutus and Cassius, but this alienated many of his supporters who were staunch Caesareans and loathed the assassins. It was a difficult, probably impossible balancing act. In August Calpurnius Piso criticised Antony in the Senate. Cicero, who had planned to go abroad, was sufficiently encouraged to return to Rome, but failed to attend a meeting on 1 September, pleading fatigue from his journey. In his absence Antony attacked him and then proposed fresh honours for Caesar. The next day Antony was not in the Senate, but Cicero did go and delivered a speech that would later form the basis for his First Philippic. The original Philippics had been delivered by the famous Athenian orator Demosthenes, warning his fellow citizens of the danger posed by King Philip II of Macedon, the father of Alexander the Great. Cicero’s first speech was fairly moderate, but still represented a concerted attack on Antony’s position and actions.

The consul responded angrily, although it was not until 19 September that he lambasted the orator in a speech. Antony blamed him as the real instigator of the Ides of March, criticising him for his ‘ingratitude’ to a man who had treated him generously in 48 BC and, in true Roman fashion, freely damning his character and politics. Cicero retired to the country and wrote his Second Philippic. This was never delivered as a speech, but took the form of a pamphlet, and copies were sent out to a few associates, although opinion is divided on how widely it was circulated. The text replied in kind, liberally slinging invective at Antony’s whole life and career.1

About this time, Antony had a statue of Caesar erected on the Rostra in the Forum, which referred to him as ‘father and benefactor’. Such a statement made it harder to agree any compromise with the conspirators. Then he accused Octavian of sending an assassin to murder him. Cicero was deeply suspicious of the ‘young Caesar’, but was cheered by this news and slowly began to wonder if the boy might be useful. It was probably no more than a rumour. Octavian had little to gain by killing Antony and could not yet risk an open confrontation. A few weeks later, his hand became stronger.2

Three legions of the Macedonian army arrived at Brundisium, and a fourth was soon to follow. By the vote of the people, these soldiers were placed under Antony’s command and their officers had obeyed the summons to come to Italy. They were well trained, and it is reasonable to think that they were strong in numbers and perhaps even close to their full strength. Antony had no prior connection with these units, which had been training in Macedonia since they were formed in 48 BC. Their officers had all been appointed by Caesar and both they and the men were loyal to his memory. They did not know Antony and he did not know them. When he went to meet them in October 44 BC there were angry complaints that he had done nothing to avenge Caesar’s murder.

Antony promised the soldiers a special bounty of 100 denarii apiece, less than half of a legionary’s annual pay of 225 denarii. Octavian’s agents had already visited the camps and promised the men 500 denarii, and ten times as much on the eventual discharge, and so the legions were unimpressed, jeering the consul. It is always worth remembering that officers received far larger sums, so that the centurions and tribunes stood to become very wealthy indeed. Caesar had broken the spirit of the mutinous Tenth Legion with supreme self-confidence and a single word, backed by limited punishment. They were his ‘comrades’, men he had led to victory after victory for twelve years, with whom he had shared hardships and on whom he had lavished rewards, decorations and praise. The bond between soldier and commander was deep and not to be shattered by one disagreement.

Antony and these legions were strangers to each other. On top of that he had no great victories of his own to show and there were no stories of his rewards to his own soldiers. He lacked Caesar’s experience and his gifts, as well as his charisma, and when the soldiers jeered, he lost his temper and tried to bully them into submission. Demanding the names of malcontents from the officers, he ordered executions, although he may have stopped short of a full decimation. Cicero claimed that the victims of this purge included centurions as well as ordinary soldiers, and he seems unlikely to have invented such a detail. It is a lot less likely that the men were killed in front of Antony and his wife, so that their blood spattered onto Fulvia, who was egging her husband on. She may well have been with Antony and possibly urged him to take strong action, but the rest will have come readily to Cicero’s imagination and such invective was rarely expected to restrict itself to the actual truth.

The punishment made the troops angry and resentful, and that was a mistake when Octavian’s agents were still promising far more attractive service under Caesar’s son. The discontent and Antony’s wrath had fallen mainly on the Fourth Legion and the Martia Legion, whose number has not been preserved and seems to have preferred being known as the war god Mars’ own. As these troops marched north from Brundisium both of these units deserted Antony and marched under discipline to join Octavian. They brought with them some supplies, including a number of war elephants.3

The young Caesar had already gathered some 3,000 volunteers from amongst the veterans and had led these to Rome earlier in November. Few of them had proper weapons and equipment, and they showed a reluctance to back him against Antony. They were also disappointed that he was taking no immediate action to punish the conspirators. Caesar’s heir had yet to prove himself and his strength and connections were still modest, so he left Rome and began recruiting again. When the fully equipped and trained Fourth and Martia legions joined him, he at last had the basis for a proper army. Alongside them he formed new versions of Caesar’s old Seventh and Eighth, as well as a praetorian cohort of picked troops to act as bodyguard and an elite reserve. The young Caesar now had more than ‘just a name. He had an army.4

One legion remained faithful to Antony and another soon arrived at Brundisium and joined him. These were the Second and Thirty-Fifth. Their loyalty was helped at the end of November when he gave them a bounty of 500 denarii, matching Octavian’s promise. He also had a substantial force of auxiliaries, including light infantry and Moorish light horsemen. At some point, he reformed Caesar’s old V Alaudae, the ‘Larks’, originally recruited from Gaul's and then given citizenship. There was little to be gained by fighting Octavian at the moment, nor was there any pretext. Instead, Antony decided to march to Cisalpine Gaul and occupy the province allotted to him by the Popular Assembly. Before he went, he made those senators who gathered to see him take an oath of loyalty to him. His soldiers did the same and could probably be relied on more readily to keep it. Given time, Antony had the knack of getting troops, and especially officers, to like him. He now had a force of perhaps 10,000–15,000 men. It would be his first campaign as overall commander.5

Italy

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CONSUL OR PUBLIC ENEMY?​

Decimus Brutus refused to give up Cisalpine Gaul. Earlier in the year he had led the provincial garrison on an expedition against the Alpine tribes. He won some small victories, sharing the rigours of a campaign with his men and rewarding them with plunder to ‘make them firm for the defence of our concerns’. He told Cicero that he thought he had ‘succeeded; for they have practical experience of my liberality and spirit’. There were two legions already in Cisalpine Gaul and soon after his arrival Decimus Brutus began raising another two. Antony also continued to recruit, forming three new legions by the beginning of 43 BC. These new units were inexperienced and needed intensive training before they would become effective. All seem to have been quite small in size, far below their theoretical strength. The normal practice was to establish a cadre, appointing officers and setting up the structure for the entire legion, and then allocate recruits as these became available. This made practical sense, but there was also a propaganda element. An army of four or six legions sounded impressive, even if in reality most of these units were mere shadows of their normal size.6

Decimus was determined to retain the province and the army, although it is probable that his command was supposed to expire at the end of 44 BC. He was unwilling to face Antony in the open and perhaps still hoped that fighting could be avoided. Slaughtering his baggage oxen and smoking the meat to bolster his store of food, he took his army into the town of Mutina and prepared to defend it. Antony established a blockade, but does not seem to have attempted a direct assault. He, too, was reluctant to begin an open war, and anyway it was winter, with poor weather and difficult conditions for foraging. Brutus’ men were doubtless happier to be billeted in a town rather than camping in siege lines outside.7

From late in 44 BC Cicero lobbied hard to have the Senate name Antony as a public enemy and formally declare hostilities against him. Most senators were reluctant to take this step, and Fulvia and Antony’s mother Julia were very visible expressing their dismay that a consul of Rome should be condemned in his absence and without trial. Some senators had connections to Antony, although his two uncles, Caius Antonius and Lucius Julius Caesar, were never more than lukewarm in their support and at times hostile. Many had no particular sympathy for Decimus Brutus or the other conspirators; almost all feared the return of civil war and felt that any compromise would be preferable. To Cicero’s disgust, the Senate sent a delegation of three former consuls – Caesar’s father-in-law Calpurnius Piso, Octavian’s stepfather Philippus and Sergius Sulpicius Rufus – to negotiate with Antony.

The fear of civil war was the most powerful emotion, made worse because it remained so uncertain what the sides would be and who was likely to win. Lepidus was now proconsul of Transalpine Gaul and Nearer Spain, and Asinius Pollio governed Further Spain. Both were Caesareans, but that did not mean they would automatically ally themselves with Antony, and the latter was in any case busy enough trying to contain the resurgent Sextus Pompey. On 1 January 43 BC, the new consuls Hirtius and Pansa took office. They were also Caesareans, although they had not been especially close to Antony in recent months.8

Antony’s brother Caius had gone out to Macedonia, but the legion left there had been subverted by Brutus. Caius was placed under arrest and Brutus took his place as governor and was soon recruiting more soldiers. More violent confrontations had already erupted in the eastern provinces. On his way to Syria, Dolabella had visited Asia, the province allocated by Caesar to Trebonius. Feigning friendship, Dolabella had taken the proconsul by surprise and had him killed. Cicero claimed that Trebonius was tortured first and there were grisly stories of his severed head being thrown about like a ball until the face was unrecognisable. While Dolabella enthusiastically plundered Asia, Cassius went to Syria and brought the army there under his control. He and Brutus now led armies and governed provinces without any authority to do so. At Rome, Cicero struggled and eventually succeeded in getting this recognition for them.9

Sulpicius died on the way back from meeting Antony. The other two delegates returned in February and reported that the latter was willing to give up Cisalpine Gaul, as long as he kept the other Gaul and retained command of his six legions for five years. Antony was insistent that before this period lapsed, Brutus and Cassius must have given up their own commands, tacitly accepting that they held them. He also demanded formal recognition of all his acts as consul and, in due course, discharge bonuses for his soldiers equal to those promised by Octavian.10

Since the beginning of the year, the consuls had led the Senate in making preparations for war. Both gathered armies and Octavian was awarded propraetorian Imperium, although he was still a private citizen. A man with his own fiercely loyal army simply could not be ignored. Decimus Brutus was also confirmed in his command. The Senate rejected Antony’s terms, but only after a fierce debate. Lucius Caesar blocked the move to name Antony as a public enemy. The senatus consultum ultimumwas passed, but rather than a formal declaration of war, the crisis was termed a tumultus – something closer in sense to a state of emergency. In many ways the situation was similar to the build-up to war in 49 BC. Both sides were reluctant to commit themselves irrevocably and still hoped that the other would make concessions. There was another attempt to form a delegation to go to Antony, but this came to nothing. Lepidus sent letters urging compromise. Yet while all this went on, Decimus Brutus’ army was steadily consuming its stocks of food and would starve or surrender if not relieved within a few months.

By the start of spring, Hirtius, Pansa and Octavian were ready to.11 move – two former Caesareans and Caesar’s son marching against Antony to save one of the dictator’s murderers. Cicero had decided that the dangers of recognising Octavian were outweighed by his usefulness. He provided three of the seven legions marching to relieve Mutina, the only experienced troops in an army that otherwise was formed of levies. For the moment he placed the Fourth and the Martia under Hirtius’ command, but the soldiers remained loyal to him. Brutus and Cassius both felt that Cicero and the Senate were unwise to trust the young Caesar, but as was so often the case they did not suggest any practical alternative. Three veteran legions could not be ignored and had a fighting power far greater than their numbers. Cicero felt the nineteen-year-old could be used, saying, ‘we must praise the young man, decorate him, and discard him’ (laudanum aduluscentem, ornandum, tollendum).12

Hirtius approached Mutina first, but on his own did not have the strength to attack Antony, and this remained true even when he was joined by Octavian. To let Decimus Brutus know that relief was on the way, they tried lighting beacons, but in the end the news was carried by a man who sneaked through the lines and then swam a river. The same method was used to reply and in the coming days Decimus also employed carrier pigeons with some success. In April, Pansa led the four newly raised legions to join them.13

Antony had word of his coming and saw an opportunity to destroy these inexperienced troops before the enemy forces combined. It was similar to the bold attacks he had led in Judaea and Egypt, if on a much larger scale. He decided to take the Second and Thirty-Fifth legions, along with two elite praetorian cohorts (one his own and the other raised by one of his supporters), and some of his enrolled veterans, as well as supporting cavalry and light troops. Yet unlike Judaea and Egypt, this time his opponents were a lot more capable. Hirtius and Octavian moved first, sending the Martia and their own praetorian cohorts to rendezvous with Pansa’s column.

The Battle of Forum Gallorum


On 14 April the combined force advanced towards the town of Forum Gallorum, moving along the Via Aemilia, which at this point ran on a causeway through patchy marshland. Patrols spotted some of Antony’s cavalry and then noticed the gleam of helmets and equipment amongst the long reeds.

Remembering the executions of the previous summer, the men of the Martia boiled over with rage and attacked immediately, supported by the two praetorian cohorts. As yet they had only spotted Antony’s cavalry and skirmishers, for the Second and Thirty-Fifth were concealed in Forum Gallorum itself. It was a confused, unplanned engagement and the broken terrain produced several separate combats. Pansa sent two of the raw legions up in support, but the battle was already well advanced before these arrived.

The commander of the Martia was another of Caesar’s former officers named Servius Sulpicius Galba, and he later reported that they had formed the ten cohorts of the Martia and the two of praetorians in a single line – an unusually shallow formation for a Roman army. On the right, he led eight cohorts of the Martia and drove back the Thirty-Fifth no less than half a mile. This left his flank exposed and Antony’s cavalry led by the Moors began to envelop the line. In the confusion of this fluid combat, the general found himself riding amongst Antony’s soldiers. Antony himself was some distance behind him, for a Roman commander was expected to direct and encourage from just behind the fighting line. Galba was spotted as he fled back to his own troops. Chased by the Antonians, he had to sling his shield behind him to stop himself being killed by his own side when the recruits coming up in support mistook him for a bold enemy leader.

The veteran soldiers of the Macedonian legions fought each other with a grim and, according to Appian silent, savagery. Octavian’s praetorians were ground down as they stubbornly held the Via Aemilia itself. On the left side of the road, there were only two cohorts of the Martia and Hirtius’ praetorians. Before long Antony’s cavalry was threatening their flank. They were forced to retreat and soon the whole line was giving ground. Pansa was wounded by a missile, but the resistance of the experienced troops permitted the whole army to withdraw to its camp without suffering catastrophic losses. Antony pressed them and tried to make the victory decisive by storming the camp. His men were now weary and the enemy still numerous and determined enough to repulse them.

Antony led his men back to their camp some miles away. They were cheered by their success, but physically tired, emotionally drained and hungry after hours of waiting, marching and fighting. Caesar would probably have camped on the spot and brought supplies to them. Antony saw no danger and as the column marched carelessly along, Hirtius led the Fourth and the Seventh in a surprise attack. The Antonian soldiers fled, surrendered or were killed. The eagle standards of the Second and Thirty-Fifth were captured, along with half of their other standards, and the two effectively ceased to exist as units. The survivors spent the night in the houses of Forum Gallorum.14

The blockade of Mutina was still intact, but Octavian and Hirtius moved the combined army closer. A week later they tried to break through the siege lines. A battle developed and Antony was defeated, making him abandon the siege and retreat. When news reached Rome, the Senate was finally persuaded to declare him a public enemy. Yet control of events was slipping away from Cicero and the others eager to prosecute the war against Antony. Hirtius had been killed as he led his men into the Antonian camp. Pansa succumbed to his wounds soon afterwards. Octavian was left in command of the entire army and this was clearly very convenient for him. There need not have been anything suspicious about the consuls’ deaths and neither is it certain that he would not have found them sympathetic to him if they had lived. Neither had shown much enthusiasm for the conspirators.

Octavian asked the Senate for a triumph. Cicero tried and failed to get him the lesser honour of an ovation. Caesar’s triumph after the Munda campaign in 45 BC had shocked people for blatantly commemorating a victory in a civil war. Less than two years later it seemed much easier to discuss such things. On the whole, the Senate was relieved to see Antony defeated, but was not inclined to be generous. Rewards to the soldiers of the Fourth and Martia were reduced and Octavian was not included in the commission tasked with providing land for the soldiers on discharge. It was a sign that moves were now under way to discard the young Caesar.15

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ALLIANCE AND PROSCRIPTION LISTS​

Antony had been outmanoeuvred and out-fought during the campaign. Once again, it is worth emphasising that this was his first campaign in sole command and his military experience of large-scale operations was limited to Italy in 49 BC and Macedonia in 48 BC. The civil wars were fought by improvised armies containing many inexperienced amateurs. Yet he was at his best during the retreat, sharing the same poor rations as his men, even drinking stagnant water and eating wild fruit and roots scavenged during the march into the Alps. There was encouragement when he was joined by Publius Ventidius Bassus with three legions recruited from the colonies set up for Caesar’s veterans. Ventidius had himself served Caesar in Gaul and the civil war, which probably made it easier for him to re-enlist these old soldiers.

Octavian’s veterans were bitterly opposed to serving under Decimus Brutus, whom the Senate now appointed to overall command of the forces in Cisalpine Gaul. The young Caesar himself was scarcely any more enthusiastic. The victors were divided amongst themselves and this prevented any concerted pursuit, helping Antony to escape into Transalpine Gaul, where Lepidus controlled a powerful army that included many experienced soldiers and officers. The former Magister Equitum had proclaimed his loyalty to the Republic on numerous occasions, but Cicero and many others found it difficult to trust him. It did not help the situation that around this time Cassius received formal recognition of his command, while even Sextus Pompey was finally appointed to a naval command instead of being simply a rebel. Caesar’s enemies seemed to be growing strong and little incentive was being offered to former Caesareans to support the Senate. The veterans were frustrated by the failure to punish his assassins. For Lepidus, as for the other leaders at this time, power and security depended ultimately on control of his army. His men struggled to see Antony as the real enemy and his best troops were re-enrolled veterans, for Lepidus had reformed several of Caesar’s legions including the Tenth.

The two armies camped near each other. Antony made no hostile moves, and no doubt encouraged his men to fraternise with those of Lepidus. Plutarch tells us that he had not shaved since the defeat at Mutina — a mark of mourning Caesar himself had employed until he avenged the massacre of fifteen cohorts at the hands of rebels in 54–53 BC — and that he wore a black cloak. Within days, the army defected to Antony en masse. Lepidus claimed to have been forced to follow his men, but it seems more likely that he preferred to join Antony as he had little to gain from fighting him. One of Lepidus’ legates committed suicide, but everyone else seems to have been happy at the change. In Spain, Pollio protested his loyalty for a little longer, but also eventually aligned himself with Antony. Joined by all the governors of the western provinces, Antony and his allies controlled something like eighteen or nineteen legions. Many were small in size, and not all could be safely deployed in the civil war, but the quality of the troops was high. Within months of his defeat, Antony had grown far stronger militarily.16

Decimus Brutus was in no position to confront them. Some of his troops defected and he fled, only to be captured and held prisoner by a Gallic chieftain. Octavian had command of his own and most of the legions of Hirtius and Pansa – with new recruits, some eight legions. He sent some of his centurions to Rome, demanding that he be elected to the now vacant consulship. There was a rumour that Cicero would be his colleague. The orator had vainly tried to persuade Brutus to bring his army from Macedonia to Italy and provide forces to face Antony and his allies. The Senate refused to consider a man who was still weeks short of his twentieth birthday. In response, Octavian marched his army south from Cisalpine Gaul, this crossing of the Rubicon no more than incidental.

Pansa had left one legion behind to protect Rome. Three more were summoned from the province of Africa. All of them defected to Octavian when he camped outside the city. Reluctantly – Cicero most reluctantly of all – the senators went out to greet him and agree to his terms. He was elected suffect consul on 19 August 43 BC, with Quintus Pedius as colleague. The latter was also a relative of Caesar and had been named as a secondary heir in the will. Octavian’s adoption was also officially confirmed. Both Antony and Dolabella had finally been condemned as public enemies in the previous months. Now this was repealed and, instead, the surviving conspirators as well as Sextus Pompey were outlawed. There were rewards for the soldiers, each of whom received immediately 2,500 denarii from state funds – half of what they had been promised on discharge.17

Octavian took his army north again. He was not marching to war, but the military basis of power was blatant when he met with Lepidus and Antony for three days on an island near Bononia. Finally, all of Caesar’s associates joined in alliance against the conspirators and anyone else who opposed them. They agreed to form a ‘board of three to restore the state’, the tresviri rei publicete constituendae. Unlike the informal alliance between Pompey, Crassus and Caesar, this was formally established in law when they reached Rome and their powers voted to them for five years. Antony and Lepidus retained the provinces already under their control, and Octavian was given Africa, Sicily and Sardinia. Between them the triumvirate soon led more than forty legions, although many of these formations were small in size and some consisted mainly of untested recruits.18

The law creating the triumvirate, the Lex Titia after the tribune who proposed it, was passed by the Concilium Plebis on 27 November 43 BC. It granted the three men power to make law without consulting either Senate or people, and made them the supreme judicial authorities. Elections were controlled as they had been under Caesar’s dictatorship. Antony and his two colleagues publicly rejected Caesar’s policy of clemency, since his mercy had spared the men who subsequently murdered him. More urgently, their army was now vast and the soldiers had been promised generous rewards. The triumvirs needed money to pay and the quickest way to get this was to take it from the wealthy. Instead of Caesar, they chose to copy Sulla and began a new set of proscriptions. Enemies were to be killed and so, too, were many men whose chief crimes were to be rich and not to have sufficient ties to the triumvirate.

A connection to just one of them was not always sufficient. Octavian is said to have wanted to spare Cicero, but Antony was determined that he should die and had his way. In return he sacrificed his uncle, Lucius Julius Caesar. Lepidus allowed – some claimed that he inspired – the addition to the lists of his brother Lucius Aemilius Lepidus Paullus, the man whose loyalty Caesar had bought during his consulship in 50 BC. It is not clear how many people died in these purges. Appian claims that as many as 300 senators and 2,000 equestrians were killed, but these might equally be the overall number of names on the proscription lists. Lucius Caesar went to his sister Julia and Antony’s mother protected him. Plutarch claims that she confronted the men who came to kill him, blocking the doorway and said repeatedly, ‘You shall not kill Lucius Caesar without first killing me, the mother of your commander!’ They gave up and Antony later granted his uncle a pardon after his mother had accosted him in the Forum. Lepidus’ brother escaped to Miletus and lived on in exile.19

They were not the only survivors. Many of the proscribed were hidden or managed to escape abroad and take refuge with Sextus Pompey or one of the conspirators. Yet many did die, and there were even more stories of savagery and betrayal. Cicero calmly faced his executioners on 7 December. His brother and nephew had already been killed, but his son was in Greece and joined Brutus’ army.

The proscription lists consisted solely of men. Their children did not suffer, unless they had sons already come to manhood. No women were included or deliberately harmed, and their own property was untouched. They did run risks if they protected proscribed husbands or children, although there is no record of any actually being killed. Women were credited with both saving and condemning. Julia was able to save her brother; Fulvia was said to have cajoled Antony into adding names to the list. The sources are hostile to her, but a woman who had lost two husbands might well have scores to settle. For all the savagery of the civil war and proscriptions, a measure of restraint remained. Julia certainly spent time in Rome when her son was declared as a public enemy, and Fulvia may also have been there. Servilia, her daughters and Brutus’ wife were similarly able to live in the city and lobby on behalf of the conspirators when Antony was dominant, and later when the triumvirs arrived and Brutus and Cassius were now enemies of the state. Struggles with a rival politician did not require the death or exile of his family and only adult male relations were at all likely to be attacked. Despite the brutality of the civil war, some conventions were still respected. All sides purported to be fighting for the Republic against its enemies; ideology played no major part, and it was only men who could hold power, so only men who were both acceptable to fight and worth killing.

The overwhelming majority of all classes had hoped to avoid a renewal of civil war after the Ides of March. The conspirators were too young and not yet of sufficient status and influence to take control of the Republic. Brutus wanted to emphasise that they had acted reluctantly to remove a tyrant and restore the Republic and the rule of proper law. Yet even if he and his colleagues had wanted to take charge of the state, it is unlikely that they could have done so. Dislike of the dictatorship, and sometimes of Caesar personally, did not automatically transfer into enthusiastic support for Brutus, Cassius and the others. Most senators had no appetite for going to war to protect the conspirators or to destroy Antony. Cicero tried to rally support for this cause and never really succeeded, but in many ways the conspirators were a liability, permanently resented by Caesar’s veterans and many of his more senior associates. The orator may have made things worse, forcing a crisis and demonising Antony, provoking a war that he failed to win. Civil war might have broken out anyway. Fear and the difficulty of trusting political rivals contributed as much to this conflict as they had to the struggle between Caesar and Pompey. Once again, policy played little or no part, and the essence of the struggle was personal rivalry.

On the 15 March 44 BC, Antony was consul, but had no troops under his command. By the end of 43 BC, he shared supreme power far greater than the consulship and was joint leader of the most powerful army in existence. None of this would have come if he had simply completed his term as consul and then become proconsul of an enlarged Gallic province. Antony had taken advantage of the opportunities offered as order broke down and the Republic lurched towards civil war, and he had survived the dangers that accompanied them. There is no reason to suggest that he followed a planned path. Like any Roman aristocrat, he was determined to rise to the top of public life, to gain as much power, influence, wealth and glory as he could. It should also be emphasised that he was legally elected consul and allocated a province and command of an army. The conspirators had a far weaker constitutional position.

This was even more true of Octavian, who had been similarly opportunistic. His rise was even more spectacular than Antony’s and could not have happened so quickly had he not been ‘praised’ and ‘decorated’. Neither he nor Antony had much reason to respect the traditions of a Republic that they had never seen working properly. What both men planned for the future, other than a general desire to excel, is unlikely to have been very clearly developed even in their own minds. There was still a war to be fought and vengeance to be exacted for the death of Caesar.

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-XVIII-
GODDESS​

In May 44 BC Cicero passed on a rumour that Cleopatra and ‘that Caesar of hers’ had died on the way back to Egypt, which he hoped was true. A month later he would write baldly, ‘I hate the queen’ (Reginam odio in the pithy Latin) and also complained about the behaviour of a courtier of hers called Ammonius. This had not prevented him from visiting the queen during Caesar’s lifetime and accepting the offer of gifts ‘that had to do with learning and not derogatory to my dignity’. That these presents had never materialised did much to feed his dislike and he railed at the ‘arrogance of the queen herself’. Cleopatra left agents behind in Rome to look after her interests and the outburst seems to have been prompted by a question of whether or not he would assist them. Rome was always full of men lobbying on behalf of rulers and communities and trying to persuade senators to support them.1

This short paragraph in a long letter dealing with many other things is the fullest mention of Cleopatra in all of Cicero’s correspondence or other writings. It rather misses the point to expound on the orator’s difficult relationships with women, as if explanation needs to be found as to why he did not like her. Far more significant is the fact that he mentions Cleopatra only briefly and on just a handful of occasions in 44 BC, and never again after that. If the queen had played any role in the developing power struggle at Rome, she would have figured far more prominently, even if the comments were hostile. For the moment, neither she nor Caesarion mattered enough to attract much concern, or even hatred, from leading Romans.2

Perhaps the journey back to Alexandria was eventful. Sea travel often proved dangerous in the ancient world and the threat of disease was ever present. If there were perils en route, then Cleopatra and her son survived them. So did her brother and consort, Ptolemy XIV, assuming that he had been with them in Rome, which seems most likely. Yet by the end of August 44 BC the teenage boy was dead. The Jewish historian Josephus, writing a century later, says that Cleopatra had him poisoned. His attitude to the queen was generally hostile, but in spite of this there is little reason to doubt the story. Most of the Ptolemies who met violent deaths did so at the behest of their own family. Still, it is just possible that the youth died of natural causes.3

If so, then the death was very convenient for Cleopatra. Serious rivals for the throne could only come from within the family, most of all from siblings. Caesar had confirmed brother and sister as joint rulers, perhaps because he understood that the sole rule of a queen was unlikely to be accepted and perhaps also to honour the spirit of Auletes’ will. With her Roman lover and protector alive, Cleopatra could be confident of controlling her consort. Now that Caesar was dead and Ptolemy XIV was growing to maturity – he was fifteen or sixteen – this was far less certain. There was a very real threat that influential courtiers and Alexandrian aristocrats would coalesce around the king and see increasing his power as the path to wealth and influence for themselves. Cleopatra had narrowly survived and prevailed in the struggle with Ptolemy XIII and can have had no wish to repeat the experience.

There would be nothing particularly unusual for the Ptolemies – or indeed any of the other Hellenistic dynasties and in later centuries Rome’s emperors – about the use of assassination in dynastic politics. His removal left Cleopatra and Arsinoe as the only surviving children of Auletes. The younger sister remained in comfortable captivity in the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. She was a threat, and had already once proclaimed herself queen back in 48 BC, but for the moment a distant one, and anyway beyond Cleopatra’s reach. Arsinoe would need powerful backing to attempt a return to the kingdom and such support could only come from a Roman. This made it all the more important for Cleopatra’s agents to continue courting influential men at Rome, just as her father had done throughout his life. There were no doubt others there willing to speak and bribe on behalf of Arsinoe as well. In 44 BC Antony appears to have announced that the younger sister should be released and made ruler of Cyprus, although it is unclear whether anything had been done to implement this before his acts were abolished.4

Cleopatra knew that only Roman support could secure her own rule, and that nothing could guarantee this, especially as the Republic began to descend into civil war. Antony dominated, then seemed to fall, before emerging once again to control the Republic with the other triumvirs. Their power was based upon their military strength and the only thing that would supplant them would be superior force. This made the legions left in Egypt by Caesar a valuable asset to any ambitious Roman leader. At some point a fourth unit had joined the three stationed there in 47 BC, and Aulus Allienus had taken over command from Rufio, who disappears from our sources. Probably this was part of the preparations for the projected Parthian campaign. In the past these troops had bolstered Cleopatra’s rule. Now their very presence was a danger, risking direct involvement in Rome’s civil war.5

When Dolabella sent a messenger to Alexandria asking the queen to send the legions to him, it may almost have been a relief and she readily obeyed. This was probably early in 43 BC. Dolabella had taken a long time before going to his province of Syria, and the delay allowed Cassius to get there first and rally support. Fighting had already broken out following a mutiny of some of the legions stationed in the province, which two of Caesar’s governors had struggled to suppress. Both sides now buried their differences and joined Cassius. Allienus had not heard of this when he led his army into the province. Taken unawares, and faced with eight legions to his own four, he surrendered and his troops defected to Cassius. There seems to have been very little enthusiasm for serving under Dolabella, as well as a desire to be on the strongest side, even if it was led by one of the conspirators. When he finally arrived, Dolabella was besieged in Laodicia, but could not hold out and committed suicide before the garrison surrendered in the summer of 43 BC.6

Cleopatra had obeyed the instructions of a consul of the Republic and quite probably had been glad to assist a man fighting against one of Caesar’s murderers. Yet the latter had won and was unlikely to be well disposed towards her. The legions gone, she had only a small force of mercenaries left under her control. This might be sufficient to control minor internal unrest, but would be pathetically inadequate to meet any invasion by a Roman army.7

Fortunately, Cassius was busy, as he and Brutus prepared for the inevitable confrontation with the triumvirs, and had no time to go to Egypt. Instead, he demanded support in the form of money, grain and warships. Cleopatra stalled, pleading a succession of bad harvests that made it impossible for her to give him what he wanted immediately. Soon, she would have heard of the emergence of Antony, Octavian and Lepidus at Rome, of the declaration of Brutus and Cassius as public enemies, and the triumvirate’s pledge to avenge Caesar. All of this must have been welcome and convinced her that it was better to resist Cassius and support the triumvirs. This made sense if she expected them to win, since she would want the victors to confirm her in power. The pragmatic politics of survival probably combined with natural hatred of the men who had murdered her lover. For the moment, she could not openly declare her allegiance and continued to promise to aid Cassius, just not at that time.

The conspirator soon grew suspicious and directly sent instructions to Serapion, Cleopatra’s governor of Cyprus – and just possibly the same man used as an ambassador by Caesar in the Alexandrian War. This official readily obeyed, independently of the queen. Cassius controlled Ephesus and he seems to have decided to make use of Arsinoe, perhaps giving her back nominal rule of Cyprus itself. This was a threat to Cleopatra and might force her to agree to his demands. If not, then in due course she could be replaced by her more pliant sister.

Cleopatra prepared a squadron of warships just as Cassius had requested. However, in 42 BC she led them in person, not to help the conspirators, but to join up with the triumvirs, who had at last launched their offensive. It was a bold move, unusual for a female monarch, although in some ways less surprising from the woman who had in 48 BC raised an army and invaded Egypt to seize back her throne from her brother. Yet courage and confidence do not in themselves bring fortune or success. Her earlier invasion of Egypt had bogged down into stalemate. This time the weather took a hand and many of the warships were wrecked in a storm. Cleopatra herself fell ill. Perhaps it was seasickness, but since she had travelled by sea before, most likely it was something more serious.

The battered remnants of the expedition eventually trailed back to Alexandria. Undaunted, Cleopatra ordered the construction of new warships to replace the losses. In the event, the war was decided before she could take part. The contribution of Egypt was a tiny, almost insignificant part of the struggle between the huge armies led by the conspirators and triumvirs. Yet the cost to Cleopatra was considerable at a time of economic hardship and once again the silver content of her coins was reduced. Standing aside would not have endeared her to whoever won, and Arsinoe was there as a viable alternative to be imposed by Roman force. Cleopatra needed to gamble on doing enough to win the favour of the victors, without provoking their opponents so badly that she did not survive the war.8

Surviving, and still more profiting from the struggles within the Roman Republic was a delicate balancing act, made harder as alliances changed. At different times both Antony and Cassius were willing to take power from Cleopatra and give it to Arsinoe. It was not until the end of 43 BC that the civil war became more firmly a conflict between Caesar’s supporters and the conspirators.

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ISIS AND HORUS​

As well as coping with the unpredictable threats and opportunities offered by Rome’s internal conflict, Cleopatra had the ever-present task of maintaining her rule in her own kingdom. After the death of Ptolemy XIV, she did not attempt to reign as sole monarch, but straight away took Caesarion as co-ruler. Still an infant, the boy was completely under his mother’s control, a situation likely to last at least until he became an adult and married. For the moment, the kingdom had both a king and a queen, and there was no danger of separate and rival factions emerging around mother and son. Caesarion was sole heir, offering the prospect of long-term stability for the regime. Cleopatra had no husband, and as far as we can tell took no lovers, so that there would not be any other children and potential rivals. The aristocracy in Alexandria and the members of the royal court had little alternative but to accept the current regime, at least for the moment.9

The long years of disruption during Auletes’ reign and the disputes between Cleopatra and her siblings had badly damaged the administration and infrastructure of the kingdom. Royal projects, such as maintaining the irrigation systems, had been neglected. When the inundations were poor each year from 43 to 41 BC, this neglect made the situation worse. Cleopatra was being no more than truthful when she told Cassius that the harvests were bad. As usual, the royal administration attempted to manage the situation, employing the food stores from past levies and the current taxation. Hunger could readily prompt unrest. Like most administrations in the ancient world, Cleopatra’s government were especially careful to placate the wealthier classes and the populations of the main cities. Volatile Alexandria was not to go short of food, although Josephus claims that the Jewish community there did suffer. Significantly, royal officials were also warned not to extract too high a levy from the tenants of the great landowners.10

As far as possible, Cleopatra tried to keep all of the different communities living in her kingdom content to accept her rule. An inscription survives from this period confirming the right to asylum of fugitives taking refuge in a synagogue at Leontopolis, a town with a sizeable Jewish settlement. The text is in Greek, apart from the last line, which is in Latin and says, ‘The queen and king have given the order.’ Even after the legions had left, a good proportion of the mercenaries serving as soldiers and policemen were probably Romans, lured by comfortable conditions and generous pay, just as Gabinius’ men had been in the past.11

There is some suggestion that regional officials were given considerable freedom in these years, probably continuing the policy of Auletes. Inscriptions celebrate the achievements of Callimachus, a strategos in the Thebiad, and make only the briefest mention of the king and queen. Cleopatra’s government may also have introduced a new style of decree, the decision given royal approval by a simple ‘let it be so’ (ginestho in Greek). These were sent to senior officials, whose task it then was to copy them and send them round to all the relevant officials.12

Money was short, but just like her father, Cleopatra continued to be generous to the temple cults of the kingdom, cultivating the most important part of the native population. She completed work on the great temple of the goddess Hathor and her son Ihy at Dendera. Its southern, rear wall was covered in reliefs depicting Cleopatra and Caesarion in traditional regalia making an offering to the two deities of the temple and other important gods. ‘Ptolemy Caesar’ stands tall and in front of his mother, holding out a gift of incense, while she shakes the sistrum, the sacred rattle used in the rites of the goddess Isis. Artistically at least, traditions are maintained, the pharaoh and his female counterpart fulfil their roles as the representatives of the gods on earth, the direct link with heaven, ensuring that order prevails over chaos and Maat is preserved.

Temple building gave work to the construction force, honour and status to the cult involved and its priesthood, and provided grand monuments celebrating the regime. Soon after Cleopatra returned from Rome, work seems to have begun on a grand ‘birth-temple’ for Caesarion at Hermonthis. Such structures had a tradition stretching back into the distant past. This one was considerably larger than was normal, and was also unusual in that it does not seem to have been closely associated with an existing temple. Sadly, the structure no longer survives, having been demolished and replaced with a sugar processing plant in the middle of the nineteenth century, but fortunately a few photographs and more extensive drawings were made before this occurred.

One relief showed multiple scenes of childbirth, and some or all may represent Cleopatra herself. She is described in hieroglyphs as ‘The female Horus, the great one, the mistress of perfection, brilliant in counsel, the mistress of the Two Lands, Cleopatra, the goddess who loves her father’. Elsewhere, she is also named ‘the image of her father’, although on this section the cartouche was left blank and not filled in with her name. Being known as the female Horus was a clear indication of rule – for kings were the representatives of Horus on earth – and yet Cleopatra never receives all the titles of a pharaoh.13

At face value, tradition seems very much alive in the temple cults supported by Cleopatra. If anything, there seems to have been more revivals of very ancient practices, imagery and titles during her reign. It is also possible to see echoes of the ancient cults in the queen’s own life. Just as her father had been the ‘New Dionysus’, Cleopatra styled herself the ‘New Isis’; just as Dionysus had grown from a god of wine into a much more powerful and all-encompassing great god of victory and prosperity, so too the Egyptian goddess Isis had changed into an international cult. There was a temple to her at Athens in the fourth century BC and during Cleopatra’s lifetime there were determined, but unsuccessful attempts made to suppress her cult in Rome itself.

We know much more about Isis as a goddess worshipped by Greeks and other foreigners than in her Egyptian form. Plutarch, whose biography of Antony is such an important source for Cleopatra’s life as well as his own, elsewhere provided the longest account of the Isis story. Sister and wife of Osiris, they were children of the Sky goddess. Osiris and Isis ruled Egypt as king and queen, teaching the people how to grow crops and prosper, to follow laws and worship the gods. However, their jealous brother Seth murdered Osiris. After considerable adventures, Isis found her husband’s body in a distant land, but as she brought him back to Egypt, Seth stole it away, chopped the corpse into pieces and flung them to the winds. Helped by Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the dead, Isis found all the fragments – apart from the penis, which had fallen into the Nile and been consumed by fish. She sewed the pieces together, fabricated a new penis and breathed life back into her husband’s body. They made love and in due course she gave birth to their son Horus. Osiris then left the land of the living to rule the world of the dead. Isis protected the boy until he grew old enough and was able to overthrow his wicked uncle. Mother and son then ruled Egypt.14

It is hard to know how far Egyptians would have recognised Plutarch’s version of the story or, indeed, even be sure that most Greek worshippers of Isis believed the same myth. Few ancient religions had clearly developed and universally accepted theology or even traditions. Cults varied from region to region, and the same deity was often perceived and presented in very different ways although given the same name. Greek settlers in Egypt had equated the local divinities with familiar gods and goddesses, worshipping them in their own way, while the native population persisted in their traditional beliefs. In Egypt and elsewhere, for the Greeks Isis expanded to take on attributes of Athena, Demeter and Aphrodite –wisdom, fertility, law, as mother and as wife, as source of rebirth and resurrection with the promise of an afterlife. Finding Osiris a little too alien, the Ptolemies devised a new consort for her, in the god Serapis. Egyptians never seem to have adopted the new god, but his worship was common amongst the Greeks in Egypt and spread abroad through association with the popular Isis. The Isis cult seemed exotic to Greeks and Romans alike, with its shaven-headed priests, sistrum rattles, dramatic rituals and deeply emotional experiences. It had the appeal of ancient and faraway wisdom, even if it may well have borne little resemblance to the traditional cult of Egypt.

We cannot say whether Cleopatra chose to associate herself with Isis because it made practical sense to become the personification of such a powerful and popular deity or for more personal, emotional reasons. Perhaps it was a mixture of the two. To be born a Ptolemy set someone apart from the rest of humanity, for they were divine and successors to Alexander the Great. If she did genuinely feel herself to be Isis, it would surely have been in some variant of the Greek perception of the goddess. The traditional imagery at Dendera, Hermonthis and other shrines was conventional, changing little over the centuries. It did not mean an active participation in the cults by the monarch – something especially unlikely for the infant Caesarion. Temples were not churches regularly attended by great congregations, but sacred houses for the gods, entered only by the priests as part of the perpetual cycle of rites. If some very old formulae and images were revived under Cleopatra, the initiative is most likely to have come from the priestly cults, given money and royal favour and permitted to oversee the rituals as they saw fit.

The Isis story of a murdered husband and the infant son who needed protection until he matured and could face the killer had a parallel in Cleopatra’s own life. As she was Isis, Caesar could be the dead Osiris or Serapis, and Caesarion would be Horus. Yet apart from the name Ptolemy Caesar, there is no allusion to Cleopatra’s murdered lover in any of the monuments and iconography aimed at an Egyptian audience. These were far more concerned with stressing her own and her son’s legitimacy as rulers and their roles as divine representatives on earth. Horus, the good ruler of Egypt, is shown over the head of Caesarion in the form of a bird on the Dendera relief. The blessing of the gods who protect Egypt and ensure prosperity was the important thing. There is no place for a dead father or the need to avenge his death.

Perhaps there was a hint of this in the monument called the Caesareum, which Cleopatra devoted to Caesar in Alexandria, although it is not clear when work began on this, and it may well have been later in her reign. It is all too easy to forget that the monuments in the overtly Hellenic city have almost all been lost and focus only on the great and very Egyptian temples that survive. In Greek, Caesarion was titled ‘the father-loving and mother-loving god’ (Theos Philopator Philometor) and ‘Ptolemy called Caesar’. After the death of Ptolemy XIV, Cleopatra herself had dispensed with the title of ’sibling-loving’, perhaps aware of the irony, but remained the ‘father-loving goddess’ (Thea Philopator).

Caesar was honoured, but there was never any attempt to present him either to Greeks or Egyptians as Cleopatra’s husband or consort, still less as king or pharaoh. He was a distinguished father to Caesarion, but the boy was first and foremost a Ptolemy, and it was through and with his mother that he rightfully ruled. Even if Cleopatra had a strong desire to avenge her lover’s death, she lacked the capacity to achieve this. She could aid the triumvirs, and it is striking that she attempted to do so in person, but it was beyond her capacity to do more than assist one side in Rome’s civil war. At this stage there is absolutely no trace of friction between Octavian, Caesar’s adopted son, and the real, if illegitimate, son Caesarion. The latter had no status at Rome. On top of that he was still a small boy, ruling nominally in Egypt only through his mother’s need for a consort. The Romans took adoption very seriously, viewing the bond as effectively as close as a blood relationship. While it might be mildly embarrassing to have a foreign, bastard son of the dictator as a visible reminder of the human Caesar’s indiscretions, there was nothing to make Caesarion more of a concern to Octavian. In no meaningful way could he be a rival and assuming that anyone could have considered this at so early a stage is misguided.15

Cleopatra had regained her throne through Caesar’s intervention. Her priority after his death was to survive and remain in power. This she did, disposing of her brother, fending off her sister and keeping control of Egypt, if not of Cyprus, against ambitious officials and any other rival. At the same time she managed to avoid having her kingdom seized or plundered by a Roman leader eager to exploit its resources and tried to help those she hoped or guessed would win. She managed to avoid direct collaboration with any of Caesar’s murderers, although had this become unavoidable it is doubtful that she would have refused this at the cost of losing her kingdom for the sake of personal hatred. Cleopatra was a pragmatic politician and she managed to survive a difficult few years. She was queen and her son was king. Together they promised long-term stability, which in itself helped to deter any challenges to their rule. Cleopatra had done all that she could to achieve this and done it well. Yet in the truly long term, everything depended, as it always did, on Rome and its leaders.

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-XIX-
VENGEANCE​

On 1 January 42 BC Lepidus began a second consulship with Lucius Munatius Plancus as colleague. Being consul was prestigious, but he shared far greater power with Antony and Octavian as triumvirs. Together they made all important decisions, and neither magistrates nor the Popular Assemblies could contest them. The formalised murder of the proscription lists continued, a blatant warning of the cost of opposing the triumvirate.

Cicero’s killers took his head directly to Antony, who was said to have been at dinner when they arrived. In a story echoing the ones told about Marius and Marcus Antonius, he is supposed to have gleefully held the severed head in his hands. According to Dio, Fulvia was even more exultant, grabbing the grisly trophy and mocking the orator. She took pins from her hair – like every aristocratic Roman woman she affected a fashionably elaborate hairstyle – and jabbed them into the orator’s tongue.1

The story may be an invention, although it should be remembered that Cicero had been one of the bitterest opponents of her first husband, publicly accusing him of revolution and incest and later praising the man who ordered his murder. More recently, his Philippics had lambasted Antony, savaging his character and edging the Senate steadily towards declaring him a public enemy. Fulvia had lived in Rome during those months and had found herself under attack in the courts, as Antony’s enemies and plenty of opportunists sensed a chance to take her property. There were debts she and her husband had taken out and purchases they had made, which she now struggled to pay. Cicero’s long-time correspondent Atticus had helped the beleaguered Fulvia, appearing in court with her and loaning her funds to prevent bankruptcy.2

There is no evidence that Cicero had taken a personal role in the attacks on Fulvia, but more than anyone else he had shaped the climate in which they occurred. Antony and his wife had plenty of reasons to loathe the orator. Whether or not they actually toyed with his severed head over dinner, they certainly did carry out a very public form of revenge. Antony had ordered the officer in charge of the soldiers sent to kill Cicero to cut off the orator’s right hand as well as his head. Both head and the hand were then nailed to the Rostra at the heart of the Forum. The head that had uttered and the hand that had written the Philippics paid the price and served as an appalling warning of the cost of opposing Antony and the other triumvirs.3

Atticus went into hiding when the triumvirate occupied Rome, for as well as assisting Fulvia he had aided the families of Brutus and Cassius and been closely associated with Cicero and other opponents of the triumvirs. However, when Antony learned ‘where Atticus was, he wrote to him in his own hand, telling him not to be afraid but to come to him at once; that he had erased his name… from the list of the proscribed’. A friend who was hiding with him was also pardoned as a further gesture of goodwill. Antony sent a detachment of soldiers to escort the two fugitives, since it was night and it would take time for the news of their reprieve to circulate. Until then, they were at risk from anyone hoping to claim the bounty on their heads.4

On another occasion, Antony is supposed to have pardoned a certain Coponius, who was probably a former praetor. His wife had gone to the triumvir, sacrificing her honour for her husband’s life. Antony slept with her and in payment removed her husband’s name from the proscription lists. Dio claims that Antony and Fulvia were willing to accept money to remove a man’s name from the list, but that he always substituted another name to fill the gap. Otherwise there are no stories of Fulvia seeking pardon for anyone, and she was accused of getting one man proscribed so that she could buy up property he owned next to some of her own. Octavian was forced to pardon another man when the latter’s wife concealed him in a chest and had this brought into the triumvir’s presence at a performance in the theatre. The crowd was so obviously in favour of a pardon that the young Caesar was compelled to issue one.5

The massacre inaugurated by the proscriptions was a stain on the record of all three triumvirs. At the time, Octavian may have been hated more than the others, since such viciousness was even less becoming in a youth. Apart from that, it was felt that at his age he really ought not to have made too many political enemies. In later years, when he was the Emperor Augustus, there was a concerted effort to disassociate himself from the bloodstained triumvir and blame the cruelty on his two colleagues. This no doubt heightened the attention given in our sources to Fulvia as the angry harridan urging Antony on to ever greater savagery.

We need to be cautious about accepting all the stories told of these years, since many no doubt grew in the telling, and the roles of Antony, Fulvia and Lepidus were all emphasised to cover the guilt of Octavian. Yet the truth was savage enough and clearly scarred the Romans’ collective memory. Large numbers of books were written recounting tales of the proscribed and how they were saved or betrayed. These have not survived, but the traces in Appian and other later sources give a good idea of their flavour, focusing on the courage of some of the men who died and the loyalty and treachery of those who protected or betrayed them. Sextus Pompey was widely praised because he not only gave refuge to the proscribed, but also sent ships out looking for them along the coast of Italy.6

The proscriptions were meant to intimidate and succeeded in this – the exemplary punishment of Cicero made clear that no one was safe, no matter how distinguished. The triumvirs were hated, but also feared, and no voices spoke out against them in the Senate. They had also hoped to raise money and in this respect they were somewhat less successful. People were afraid to bid at the auctions of the property of the proscribed, worried that a display of wealth could be dangerous and lead to their own names being added to the lists. As importantly, some of the men who had profited from Sulla’s proscriptions had been publicly shamed in subsequent decades and in some cases forced to give up their purchases. Some of the confiscated property went as bounty to the killers and informants, and the revenue raised by the rest proved disappointing.7

Desperate for money, most of all to pay an army that now numbered more than forty legions, the triumvirate looked for other sources of revenue. One of the most unorthodox announcements was that 1,400 of the most prominent women in Rome would have their property publicly assessed and pay a levy based upon this. Women had never before been called upon to pay tax to the Republic, although during the worst crisis of the Punic Wars they had voluntarily donated their jewellery to the state.

The decree was deeply unpopular with the women affected. In a properly Roman way, they went first to the female relatives of the triumvirs, asking for them to bring their influence to bear. Fulvia is supposed to have turned them away. Once again, this may be mere propaganda, although it is worth remembering that she may have wondered why such solidarity had not been shown to her when she was being dragged through the courts and war waged against her husband. Led by the daughter of Hortensius – the man whom Cicero had supplanted as the greatest orator of the day – the women gathered in the Forum and appealed both to the crowd and the triumvirs. The former were sympathetic and, sensing this, the latter made no attempt to have their lictors and other attendants clear the demonstrators away by force.8

It is striking that only women risked open opposition to the triumvirate in Rome itself. This was a testament to the fear inspired by the proscriptions, but also the confidence that their violence would only be directed against men. One woman who had hidden her husband asked to be executed with him when he was arrested. The killers refused and so she starved herself to death. The triumvirate were not willing to be seen to attack women, but even so the protest was only partially successful. The number of women to be taxed was reduced to four hundred. Around this time similar levies were announced on the property of male citizens.9

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WARLORDS​

The triumvirate was established and maintained by military force, whatever veneer of legality was created around it. Public opposition from aristocratic women in Rome itself was spectacular, but no more than a minor nuisance. The only people capable of putting serious pressure on the triumvirs were their own soldiers. They needed to raise funds for many reasons, but the greatest was always to provide for their legionaries. The best of the triumviral legions consisted of Caesar’s veterans. These were loyal to the dictator’s memory and eager to avenge his murder, but were far less firmly committed to any of the current leaders. In 44 BC Octavian had outbid Antony for the loyalty of the Fourth and Martia Legions. As each of the competing leaders sought to outdo their rivals by promising ever more lavish rewards, the expectations of the troops grew. Aware of their own power, they had to be persuaded to serve. Standard pay was now dwarfed by the frequent gifts of substantial sums of money, backed by the promise of farmland at the end of their service. With more legions under arms than at any time in the past, the sums of money involved were colossal. The triumvirs occupied the centre of the Republic at Rome itself, but their control of the wider empire was more limited.

Sextus Pompey’s power was steadily growing, especially at sea, and he was able to threaten parts of Spain, North Africa, Sicily and the other major islands in the western Mediterranean. All of the provinces and allied states in the east were denied to them by Brutus and Cassius. Cleopatra managed to avoid supplying the conspirators with much active aid, but was lucky to escape retribution. Other leaders and communities who protested that, although loyal to Rome, they had received no instructions from the Senate to obey Brutus or Cassius, were brutally punished. Cassius invaded Rhodes, defeating its fleet and plundering the city itself. When some communities in Judaea refused to give him the money he demanded, he had their populations sold into slavery. Brutus stormed the city of Xanthus in Lycia (modern-day Turkey) and sacked it, although to some extent his victory was marred by the suicide and burning of their own property by some of the population. The liberty proclaimed by the assassins brought little comfort to the allies and subjects of Rome. Cassius also managed to avenge Pompey, when he arrested and executed Ptolemy XIII’s former tutor, Theodotus, who had persuaded the king’s council to murder the fleeing Roman back in 48 BC.10

Brutus and Cassius needed funds to provide for their own armies, which had grown to more than twenty legions. Many of these formations had once taken an oath of loyalty to Caesar, although some of the soldiers had before that served Pompey until his defeat at Pharsalus. Only a few of the units had actively campaigned under Caesar’s command, and most had been raised and trained for his planned Parthian War. The bond to Caesar’s memory was there, but it was less strong than in the legions formed from his veterans. They had rallied to the conspirators for various reasons, ranging from dislike of men like Dolabella and Caius Antonius, to some admiration for Brutus or Cassius, or perhaps simply a sense that momentum was on their side. They would remain loyal only if treated well and both commanders began to reward their troops every bit as lavishly as the triumvirs, and for this reason squeezed provincials and allies for revenue.

Cassius had been Crassus’ quaestor when he invaded Parthia in 54 BC. A year later, when most of the army was killed or captured at Carrhae, Cassius led the survivors back to Syria, and then staunchly defended the province, winning a few small victories against Parthian raiders. He still had something of a reputation in the east, and this no doubt helped him to recruit and win allies in the area, but ultimately both he and Brutus were successful because they controlled the strongest armies in the region. After his quaestorship, Cassius seems to have had no other military experience until 49-48 BC. Participation in the Macedonian campaign seems to have been the sum total of Brutus’ service with the army.

Neither man was an experienced commander. Their recent campaigns had been fought against other Romans or were one-sided conflicts against allied communities. Cassius rather dramatically celebrated his defeat of Rhodes by minting coins depicting the goddess of victory. Brutus’ coins bore the cap of liberty and the assassin’s dagger on the reverse, but he aped Caesar by having his own head shown on the face. Perhaps it was felt that his reputation and name needed to be emphasised to inspire support. Yet in some ways one of the most striking features of these years is how far the conspirators’ behaviour mirrored that of the triumvirs, although they did not stoop to the level of proscription. Caius Antonius was killed as a reprisal for the execution of Decimus Brutus, but otherwise they put to death few Roman citizens, although they did not show similar restraint with provincials and allies. Brutus perhaps showed some reluctance, but his seizure of power in Macedonia was clearly premeditated and once he had resolved to use violence he was determined to do so effectively. Had the conspirators won the war, it is a little hard to see how they could have restored the traditional Republic they revered.11

Both sides had a cause. Sextus Pompey’s power was growing, but the triumvirs knew that Brutus and Cassius were the more serious threat in the immediate future. They were older, politically more significant with more sympathisers in the Senate and had murdered Caesar. Brutus and Cassius claimed to be fighting to restore the Republic, which had now unlawfully been seized by three dictators instead of one. Political slogans were backed on both sides by immediate and promised rewards. For the triumvirs, Caesar’s veterans were enthusiastic to punish his assassins – not that this made them any less demanding of payment. For Octavian –‘who owed everything to a name’ and his connection with the great Caesar –the need to gain vengeance was personal and imperative, an aspect of pietas, the respect and duty owed to parents. Sextus Pompey similarly placed his dead and unavenged father and brother at the centre of his public image. He took his father’s name of Magnus and also called himself Pius. Such slogans meant a lot to many Romans and piety, whether of fathers and sons or slaves and masters, whether honoured or disgraced, figured heavily in the tales of the proscriptions. Octavian was accused of parading his own piety to his adopted father while scorning it in others, killing sons and fathers alike in the proscriptions and demanding that neither protect the other.12

The loyalty of the legions could be inspired by a cause, as long as this was backed by the soldiers’ trust that they would be rewarded. This faith was not in a side, but a personal bond, almost a contract, with their commander. Soldiers followed a general and they might leave him to serve another if they felt it was in their own interest. When Antony, Octavian or Lepidus offered rewards to their legionaries it was in their own name. The same was true of Brutus and Cassius. Brutus, not the Senate or the Republic, gave generous bounties to his legionaries and he personally guaranteed all future rewards. The soldiers were reluctant to trust that a commander allied to their own general would fulfil his promises. This meant that each side in the coming conflict consisted of more than one army. Octavian’s and Antony’s legions were distinct groups, as were those of Brutus and Cassius. This would have a major impact on the course of the war.13

Once again, the decisive campaign would be fought in Macedonia, just like the contest between Caesar and Pompey. Then, Caesar had fielded eight legions to Pompey’s eleven. In 42 BC Brutus and Cassius probably had seventeen legions, while Antony and Octavian brought no fewer than nineteen to the main battles. Both sides had several other units in supporting roles. If these were at full strength then the triumvirs ought to have had 95,000 legionaries to the conspirators’ 85,000. Appian says that the conspirators’ legions were under strength, but claims that Octavian’s – and perhaps by extension Antony’s – legions were full. Both sides are also credited with substantial numbers of cavalry, and this time the conspirators had the advantage, fielding 20,000 horsemen to the triumvirs’ 13,000.14

These are staggering figures. The Philippi campaign may have involved exceptionally large armies, although as an aside Dio actually claims that it was not the largest-scale encounter of Rome’s civil wars. It would be striking if Brutus and Cassius had been able to muster double the number of infantry and almost treble the total of cavalry gathered by Pompey in 49-48 BC. Neither Alexander the Great nor Hannibal had ever led so many horsemen. Logistically, feeding so many soldiers, mounts and baggage animals would have been a mammoth task, especially since the campaign was protracted and lasted well into the autumn months. Commanding such large forces – especially for relatively inexperienced generals and senior officers – would have been almost as difficult. Early in the next century, the future emperor Tiberius would find it too difficult to control an army of ten legions and so divided them into several smaller forces.15

As noted already, it added greatly to a commander’s prestige if he led a large number of legions. Having lots of units also created plenty of posts as officers, providing opportunities to reward followers. When ordinary soldiers received the equivalent of a decade or more of pay as a single bounty, a centurion stood to receive some five times as much, and a tribune double that total. Grants of land would also be on a similar scale. Many aristocratic young Romans who had been studying in Athens, including Cicero’s and Cato’s sons, as well as the poet Horace, were drawn to Brutus’ prestige and needed to be rewarded with suitable commissions.16

It is probable that the legions on both sides were well below strength. At Pharsalus, Pompey’s units had been at about 80 per cent strength and Caesar’s less than half the proper size for a legion, and yet both functioned effectively. Octavian’s and Antony’s legions may have been larger than the enemy formations as Appian claims, but an average size of 5,000 is very unlikely. Even if the total forces for both sides were halved, that would still mean that some 90,000-100,000 legionaries – the bulk of them Roman citizens, although the conspirators are known to have recruited some provincials as well – fought at Philippi, supported by substantial numbers of cavalry. This would still make it a significantly larger encounter than any of the battles in the civil war of 49-45 BC, and the armies far bigger than was typical for Roman field forces. None of the commanders, including Antony, had any experience of leading such substantial numbers, and very many of the officers and soldiers they led were inexperienced. This too would shape the campaign.

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PHILIPPI​

In 42 BC the triumvirs decided to leave Lepidus to watch over Italy, while Antony and Octavian went east to deal with the conspirators. It may have been for this reason that he was given the consulship. He loaned several of his legions to each of his colleagues and in the course of the campaign these would be integrated into their own armies, coming to see their new leaders as the source of rewards. Antony was the dominant figure in the triumvirate and Octavian could not be denied the opportunity to avenge his father and win glory, so Lepidus was the logical choice to leave behind.17

Like Caesar in 49 BC, the triumvirate faced an enemy who was much stronger at sea. Brutus and Cassius resolved upon essentially the same strategy adopted by Pompey, waiting to meet their opponents in the east. This gave them the chance to harass and intercept the enemy at sea. In late summer the triumvirs sent an advance force of some eight legions to Greece. These crossed without misadventure, but the conspirators’ fleet made it difficult for any convoy carrying supplies or reinforcements to reach them. Antony was effectively blockaded at Brundisium for several weeks. Octavian had begun building up a force of warships to deal with Sextus Pompey and it was only when these had sailed round southern Italy that the blockade was broken. Antony and Octavian with their main armies were able to cross to Macedonia.18

The Via Egnatia, built by the Romans in the second century BC, crossed the top of the Greek Peninsula from the Adriatic to the Aegean coast and was the natural path for an army to follow. The advance guard had pushed almost to the Aegean and occupied the most commonly used pass through the mountains. Brutus and Cassius ferried their combined army over the Dardanelles and, with the assistance of a local Thracian chieftain, found another pass that allowed them to outflank the position. The triumvirate’s advance guard withdrew to Amphipolis on the coast. Brutus and Cassius followed them as far as Philippi. Then their advance stopped and they took up a strong position outside the town, blocking the line of the Via Egnatia.19

Antony arrived at Apollonia some time in September 42 BC. Octavian’s army was lagging behind, for he had fallen seriously ill. In spite of this, Antony took his own legions and the advance guard forward and camped in front of Philippi. It was a gesture of confidence, which unnerved the conspirators. Although they had a temporary advantage in numbers, they do not appear to have made any effort to provoke a battle and Octavian was able to join Antony ten days later. The conspirators planned to wear the enemy down. Brutus and Cassius camped separately, but constructed a ditch and wall joining the two camps. They were well supplied, with ready communications to the coast and plentiful sources of water from the local springs. Brutus was in the north and Cassius in the south. Antony and Octavian constructed a single camp down on the plain and had to dig for wells, although these soon provided an adequate water supply. It was harder to draw enough food and fodder from the surrounding countryside. The Philippi campaign would more closely resemble Dyrrachium than Pharsalus or any of the other pitched battles of Caesar’s civil war.20

Antony and Octavian repeatedly formed their armies up in front of their camp. Brutus and Cassius did the same – and were indeed encouraged when the enemy held a lustration, a ceremony that ritually purified the army behind their own rampart, seeing this as a sign of caution. However, they were unwilling to advance any great distance in front of their own fortifications. This meant that their armies kept the advantage of the slightly higher ground, while the wall and towers behind could support them with missiles and offered a ready haven for retreating troops if things went badly. Antony and Octavian were unwilling to attack in these conditions, for that would risk failure and certainly involve heavy casualties. They continued to deploy and challenge the enemy, but apart from some skirmishing there was no serious fighting. Octavian’s army formed on the left of the line, facing Brutus, while Antony’s legions were on the right, opposite Cassius’ men.

Unable to provoke a battle, Antony decided to threaten the enemy flank, building a new line of fortifications reaching past Cassius’ camp and then at right angles to the conspirator’s position. If completed this would allow the triumvirs to cut the enemy’s lines of communication, forcing them either to withdraw or risk a battle. Work began in secret, with men detached from each unit while their colleagues formed line of battle as usual facing towards the enemy. The deception was helped because the work started in an area of marshland, where the tall reeds obscured what was happening. For ten days the fortified causeway progressed and it was only then that it became visible as soldiers openly garrisoned the new line. Yet it was far from complete and Cassius’ response to the threat was to set his own men working on a line extending south from his camp. His intention was to cut across Antony’s fortifications, preventing their extension and isolating any of the redoubts left behind his own line.

Greece and Macedonia

The Battles of Philippi

On 3 October Antony realised what was happening. It was about noon and the rival armies had deployed for battle as usual. It is possible that Brutus and Cassius had already decided to launch a demonstration or perhaps even a major attack to cover the construction work. Octavian was still seriously ill and was not with his army. He does not seem to have appointed anyone else to supreme authority, but even if he had done so, it would have been hard for that individual to inspire the same enthusiasm and obedience from his men, given the very personal bonds of loyalty and reward in these years.

Antony took the troops on the extreme right of his line and led them diagonally uphill, evading Cassius’ main line and striking at the new wall. Soon afterwards the main armies on both sides engaged and heavy fighting developed. In the meantime, Antony and his men stormed through the new line of fortification, which was not yet complete, and brushed aside a counter-attack by another part of the enemy work party. He then turned and assaulted Cassius’ camp itself. This was strongly fortified, but contained few defenders, since the bulk of the legions were either in the main line or had been working on the new wall. Antony, keeping the momentum of his attack going by personal example, broke into the camp. When news of this spread to the main fighting line, Cassius’ legions collapsed into rout. Roman troops were often made nervous by the fear of losing their possessions and that was no doubt a particular concern to legionaries so generously paid by their commanders.21

While this was going on, what was effectively a separate action was being fought to the north, where Brutus had launched an attack. His legions advanced in some confusion, several units moving off before they received the orders. It all suggests an inexperienced general with equally inexperienced staff officers trying to control an unusually large and not very well-disciplined army. (All of this would still be true even if, as suggested, the numbers involved were substantially less than is usually believed.)

In the event, it worked well, for Octavian’s men lacked the clear authority of a commander altogether and were not ready. It may have made things worse that for so many days they had deployed in battle order and yet nothing had happened. Brutus’ line was longer than that formed by Octavian’s troops, who were quickly outflanked. Octavian’s line collapsed, with three legions being badly cut up –one of them the Fourth. Brutus’ men swept on and broke into the triumvirs’ camp, which they proceeded to loot. Octavian was not there – he later claimed that his physician had had a dream warning him to leave the camp. Critics said that he spent three days hiding in a marsh, completely out of touch with his army.22

Each side had overwhelmed the enemy on one flank. Brutus does not seem to have made any real effort to keep in communication with Cassius and did not know of his defeat until too late. He is said to have noticed that the general’s tent had been struck in his ally’s camp. Antony had led the attack on the wall and camp in person, energising the men he was with, but as a result losing touch with the wider picture. It would probably have been difficult for him to regain control over Octavian’s leaderless men anyway. Both sides simply withdrew to their own positions. Casualties may have been heavier amongst the triumvirs’ men, but the conspirators suffered a very serious blow when Cassius lost heart. Unaware of Brutus’ success, he mistook a party of friendly cavalry for the enemy – he was short-sighted and took their greeting to one of his officers as a cry of triumph – and ordered a slave to kill him. By coincidence, it was his birthday.23

For nearly three weeks the armies went back to watching each other warily. Brutus quickly issued a generous bounty to Cassius’ soldiers, hoping to keep their loyalty. They remained in their separate camp and there were signs that the two armies struggled to cooperate. A hillock near the camp that had been permanently picketed by Cassius was abandoned on Brutus’ orders – perhaps simply as a mistake – and was quickly occupied and fortified by Octavian’s men. Unable to provoke another battle, the triumvirs reverted to Antony’s plan of getting around the enemy flank, building on this gain.24

On 23 October Brutus felt forced to offer battle again, from fear of this threat to his supply lines and also suspicions about the loyalty of the soldiers. The second battle was fought at a right angle to the first battle and he no longer had such an advantage of position. Ironically, the triumvirs had just learnt that a convoy carrying two of their legions, one of them the Martia, had been caught by enemy ships and destroyed. A deserter brought the news to Brutus, who refused to believe it, and the sources suggest his mood was fatalistic by this stage. The battle was hard fought, but the triumvirs’ men made steady progress, Appian says they drove Brutus’ legionaries back step by step, like men pushing heavy machinery. There is no evidence for any great tactical subtlety and it was simply a slogging match. In the end Brutus’ men broke and fled. He kept elements of four legions together during the retreat, but soon lost heart and, with assistance, committed suicide.25

The triumvirs had won an overwhelming victory. Brutus and Cassius were both dead, as was Cato’s son and many other prominent aristocrats. Others surrendered and only a few continued the struggle, most drifting to join Sextus Pompey. The prisoners at Philippi are said to have hailed Antony, but jeered crudely at Octavian. The latter was certainly held to have been more vicious in executing a number of captives. A number of the prisoners who were pardoned chose to join Antony and would follow him loyally. He also won credit for treating Brutus’ corpse with honour, even wrapping it in his own general’s cloak according to one account. The body was decapitated and then cremated, and Antony had the ashes sent to Brutus’ mother Servilia. The head was sent separately to Rome –the sources are divided over whether Octavian or Antony ordered this – but was lost at sea.26

Philippi was the greatest victory of Antony’s career. At the time and since, no one has seriously doubted that he played a far greater role than his younger colleague in winning the two battles and in the campaign as a whole. It was Antony who threatened to outflank the enemy line, precipitating the first battle, and then led his men into the enemy camp. His personal courage could not be doubted, unlike Octavian. Yet it had been a campaign fought by large and clumsy armies, containing many inexperienced soldiers, led by equally inexperienced generals and senior officers. Antony had seen far more military service than Brutus and Cassius as well as Octavian, but he had never in the past commanded such a large force. He had been bold, just as he had in Judaea and Egypt, and when he joined Caesar in Macedonia in 48 BC. He had been equally aggressive at Forum Gallorum and had suffered a bad defeat after his initial success. This time he had succeeded, but this might not have been the case if he had been unlucky or faced more able opponents.

Amongst the spoils of the victory at Philippi, Antony added a fine, and unusually tall, bay horse to his stable. It had originally been owned by a man named Seius, but the latter had been executed on Antony’s orders, either in 44 BC or when he had been Caesar’s deputy in Italy. Dolabella purchased the horse and later took it with him to the east. When he was defeated and took his own life, the bay passed to the victorious Cassius. Now he, too, was dead and Antony became the possessor of a fine, if rather unlucky animal.27

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-XX-
DIONYSUS AND APHRODITE​

Victory at Philippi brought new problems for the triumvirate. Tens of thousands of their soldiers were due for discharge. These men had been promised farms and most expected these to be on good land in Italy. The property confiscated from the proscribed and the dead supporters of Brutus and Cassius provided only a small part of what was needed. It was already obvious that territory would have to be seized from individuals and communities to be given to the soldiers. The task of overseeing this process was given to Octavian. His health was still poor – indeed he was so ill on the journey back to Italy that it was widely assumed he would die – and this was one good reason why he should return home. Redistribution of land on such a vast scale was bound to be a difficult job and likely to be an extremely unpopular one. No one would welcome having their land confiscated, while the veterans would balk at any provision that seemed less than generous.1

Antony was surely glad to see this controversial task taken on by his colleague and content to remain in the east. Several commanders who could be expected to be loyal to him were in Italy and the western provinces. The most important was Quintus Fufius Calenus, who as governor of Caesar’s conquests in Gaul controlled eleven legions. Lepidus was already being marginalised, under suspicion of colluding with Sextus Pompey. The third triumvir was left in control of only the province of Africa, a region that was anyway not fully secure. Antony and Octavian divided the remaining provinces and armies between them.2

For the moment there was plenty for Antony to do. The provinces and allied states of the eastern Mediterranean had been caught up in Rome’s internal struggles for much of the last decade. Levies of men, money, food and other resources had been imposed by a succession of leaders, most recently the conspirators. Leaders and communities had suffered, many had lost power, some had been deposed and a few killed. A small number had been lucky enough to avoid the worst depredations and had even grown in power. Virtually all had recently given aid to the conspirators.

It was important to reorganise the entire region, to restore order and stability. Antony and the other triumvirs also needed money to pay their armies, which would still be very large even after the veterans had been demobilised. Many of the soldiers captured at Philippi were immediately enrolled in the triumviral legions. It was better than letting them go and running the risk that they would happily enlist with other leaders eager to fight their way to power. The eleven legions organised after Philippi contained many prisoners as well as men whose discharge was not yet due. There was also the question of the long-delayed Parthian War. A campaign on that scale required years of preparation, but Antony was probably already planning to undertake it. Philippi had bolstered his military reputation, but true glory could only be won against a powerful foreign enemy and one whose humiliation of Rome had not been avenged. The eagles of Crassus’ legions remained trophies of the Parthian king. 3

Antony was the obvious candidate from amongst the triumvirate for the task of reorganising the east. He was older than Octavian, who was just twenty-one, and his reputation was much greater. He was also in robust health, unlike his younger colleague. In addition, neither of his colleagues had spent anywhere near as much time in the Hellenistic east. Antony spent the winter of 42-41 BC in Athens, a city he knew well from his time studying there in the 50s BC. He happily adopted Greek styles of dress, attended lectures and dramatic performances, and actively relished the physical exercise and display of the gymnasia. Plenty of Romans, including serving governors and army commanders, had in the past thrown themselves into Hellenic culture in this way. Brutus had spent several months at Athens in 44 BC, posing as nothing more than a visitor, keen to share in the traditions of the city. He was popular as a result, and so was Antony. The Athenians and other Greeks could not ignore or ever hope to challenge the reality of Roman rule. When leading Romans displayed a love of Greek culture, to some extent acknowledging its superiority, then it made it easier for them to accept this hard fact. 4

From early on, delegations came to Antony, asking for favours, arbitration in disputes and redress from penalties imposed on them by the conspirators or other grievances. In the spring of 41 BC he crossed into Asia Minor and travelled through the province, dealing with petitioners and raising revenue. He also feasted and celebrated, enjoying power and wealth as he had always done. Plutarch says that musicians, dancers and actors from the provinces rushed to join his household. When Antony processed into Ephesus, he was preceded by dancers dressed as Bacchantes, the wild female devotees of the cult of the wine god Dionysus/Bacchus, as well as boys and men garbed as satyrs. The crowd there and elsewhere readily hailed him as the god. This was Hellenic culture as well, if a different side of it to the educated tastes of aristocrats in Classical Athens.5

Other Romans had also been hailed as gods in the eastern provinces, most recently Pompey and Caesar. The Rhodians had hailed Cassius as ‘Lord and King’, to which he had bluntly replied that he was neither, but a killer of both. Such sentiments did not prevent him from plundering the captured city. Antony had no need to use force, but made very heavy demands on the provincials. All told, he demanded something like nine years’ worth of normal levies, but wanted them paid in just two years. Some of this he spent in spectacular gifts to his disreputable followers. A cook who had prepared a feast for him was rewarded with a house taken from an aristocrat. When Antony announced that he required a second levy from the province before the end of the year, an orator named Hybreas managed to dissuade him by asking whether the Roman general could also arrange for a second harvest. Hyrbreas continued by pointing out that since Antony had already collected 200,000 talents from them, he must realise that they had no more to give –and if Antony had not received the money, then he ought to be talking to his officials rather than the poor provincials.6

Antony liked blunt speech, especially when it was leavened with humour. It was widely believed that he was often manipulated by others who pretended to be plain speaking. There were other ways of influencing Antony. He liked women, and it was believed that many eastern rulers felt it easier to let their wives persuade the Roman. There were two claimants for the throne of Cappadocia, and the mother of one of them, Glaphyra, caught his eye. She had been the mistress of Archelaus, the dynast of Comana, until he was called away to marry Berenice IV. Although illegitimate, her son was his child and so possessed royal blood. For a while at least Glaphyra was believed to have become Antony’s mistress. A snatch of verse written by Octavian claimed that ‘Antony screws Glaphyra, so Fulvia as revenge wants to nail me’. For the moment she was not persuasive enough, and the rule of Cappadocia went to the other claimant.7

When there was no special persuasion involved, Antony generally favoured communities that had suffered for opposing Brutus and Cassius and punished their enthusiastic supporters. The inhabitants of the Jewish towns enslaved by Cassius were freed and their property restored. Rhodes gained some territory and was exempted from taxation for the moment, as was Lycia, where Brutus had stormed Xanthus and extorted money from other cities.

The tyrant of Tyre seems to have been deposed, both for his enthusiasm for Cassius and using this as a pretext to seize Jewish territory. When Antony wrote to the city he addressed his letter to ‘the magistrates, council and people’ and stressed that his recently defeated ‘adversaries’ had not been granted commands by the ‘Senate, but they seized them by force’. Tyre was ordered to return to the rule of Hyrcanus any territory taken from Judaea. In a letter to Hyrcanus, Antony spoke of the tyranny of Brutus and Cassius as an offence against the gods, and how he wanted ‘to let our allies also participate in the peace given us by God; and so, owing to our victory, the body of Asia is now recovering, as it were, from a serious illness’.8

The triumvirate needed money, and no doubt some communities found Antony’s rule just as oppressive and demanding as that of Brutus and Cassius. Perhaps some felt that they were worse off and there was little sign of recovering. However, we do know of leaders who had aided the conspirators and yet were confirmed in power. Antipater, the second in command and military commander of Hyrcanus, had by this time been murdered, and power passed to his sons Herod and Phaesel. The former had proved especially willing to meet Cassius’ demands for money. In spite of this Antony confirmed them in power, no doubt feeling that they would keep the generally pro-Roman Hyrcanus secure.9

Antony continued his progress through the provinces. Hostile sources characterise this whole period as one of indulgence, loose control that allowed unscrupulous followers to abuse their position, arbitrary decisions and squeezing the provincials for money. Yet, where his decisions are known in any detail, they seem reasonable, and certainly well within the character of Roman provincial administration in this period. The triumvirs desperately needed revenue, but this need would not go away and it was important for them to restore long-term stability to the empire. Antony and his colleagues had to create a situation where the provinces and allies would supply them with a substantial and steady income year after year.

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TARSUS​

In 41 BC Antony summoned Cleopatra to come to him at the city of Tarsus in Cilicia – later home of St Paul, who dubbed it ‘no mean city’. We do not know whether she had already sent envoys to him on his journeys, but this is quite possible. Like all the other rulers of the region, she needed to be sure that her power was confirmed and the triumvirs would adhere to the recognition they had given to her joint rule with Caesarion. Her kingdom was the greatest single source of grain and money in the eastern Mediterranean, so it was obviously a prime concern for Antony to ensure that he could draw on these resources, both for the moment and for the eventual war against Parthia.10

Questions had been raised over her conduct during the struggle with the conspirators. Serapion in Cyprus had actively aided them, and the queen herself had promised much to Cassius, even if she had not delivered anything, while her attempt to join the triumvirs with a fleet had failed. It is worth remembering that an alternative to Cleopatra existed. Antony had paid a long visit to Ephesus. During that time he may well have confirmed the rights of the great Temple of Artemis there. It is inconceivable that he had not had some contact with Arsinoe, or at least her representatives. Antony had backed her claim in 44 BC and there was no assurance that he would not now decide that replacing Cleopatra with her younger sister might allow him to exploit Egypt’s and Cyprus’ resources more effectively.11

Antony sent Quintus Dellius to Alexandria to summon the queen. Dellius had already defected from Dolabella to Cassius, and then Cassius to Antony, and in later years wrote a racy history of the period, which has not survived, but may well have influenced Plutarch’s account. He claimed to have realised at once that Antony could be swept away by a woman like Cleopatra. Guessing that this would happen and that she would win his favour, he decided that it would be advantageous for him to assist the queen. Dellius encouraged her to dazzle Antony, assuring her that he could readily be persuaded to do what she wanted.12

Cleopatra did not hurry her journey to Tarsus. A succession of letters arrived demanding that she hasten, but she ignored them all, determined to appear at a moment of her own choosing and in the most spectacular style. Unlike her meeting with Caesar, there was no need to sneak into his presence. Drawing on her family’s long tradition of building luxurious pleasure craft, she transferred into a specially prepared ship for the final stage of her journey up the River Cydnus into Tarsus. Its sails were of rich purple, the prow of gold and rowers plied silver-tipped oars to the music of flutes, oboes and lyres. Her father would no doubt have been proud of such a performance. Everything about the craft was lavish and incense in generous quantities was burned so that the fine smells wafted onto the banks of the river.

Cleopatra ‘herself reclined beneath a gold-embroidered canopy, adorned like a painting of Aphrodite, flanked by slave-boys, each made to resemble Eros, who cooled her with fans. Likewise her most beautiful female slaves, dressed as Nereids and Graces, were stationed at the rudders and ropes.’13

Aphrodite was one of the many goddesses whose character had been subsumed into the Hellenised cult of Isis, and Cleopatra was the New Isis. However, it is probably a mistake to see her as rigidly bound by this association. Plutarch’s description does not suggest an especially Egyptian – even an idealised Greek vision of Egyptian –flavour to this performance. It was about spectacle, and most of all about glamour and wealth. Some see it as solely designed with Antony’s tastes in mind. One historian dubbed it ‘a vulgar bait to catch a vulgar man’.14

It soon had the impact Cleopatra had intended. Plutarch tells us that a crowd quickly gathered to watch the progress of the royal barge along the river. Antony was supposedly receiving petitions in front of a large gathering in Tarsus itself. Then rumour started to spread that the goddess Aphrodite was on her way, and people began slipping away to see the wondrous spectacle. In the end, Antony and his household were left on their own and so trailed along behind. The cry went up that Aphrodite had come to feast with Dionysus for the good of all Asia. It did not matter if for some this meant Aphrodite/Isis and Dionysus/Osiris, while for others different aspects of the deities were important. There was genuine enthusiasm for the display, well within the traditions of the Hellenistic monarchies and drawing on even older roots.

Antony sent an invitation for Cleopatra to join him at dinner. She declined and instead suggested that he join her. The banquet that followed was brightly illuminated by carefully arranged clusters of lamps. The luxury, opulence and spectacle of the Ptolemaic court were displayed to full effect. On the following night Antony entertained the queen to another banquet, but in spite of their best efforts his household could not match the royal display. The triumvir, and master of the eastern Mediterranean, responded with deprecating humour.15

Cleopatra was clever and witty, and is said to have lowered the tone of her humour to suit Antony’s tastes. Now around twenty-eight –‘at an age when the beauty of a woman is at its most dazzling and her intellectual powers are at a height’ according to Plutarch –she was confident and sophisticated, her charisma probably even more powerful than when she had met Caesar. It is unsurprising that Antony found her both attractive and challenging. She needed to win over the man who could confirm or depose her, so it is reasonable to believe that she deliberately set out to seduce him and that from early on he wanted her as a lover. As with her first encounter with Caesar, both the queen and the triumvir were no doubt aware that desire and political advantage mingled, that each hoped to seduce the other and gain from the encounter. It was exciting. Cleopatra had only ever given herself to one other lover and he had been the most powerful man in the Roman world. For Antony, it was a measure of his own importance that the queen might be available to him. He was in his early forties, closer in age than her first lover had been. He was vigorous, roughly handsome, experienced and very confident. His power made him an acceptable as well as expedient lover.16

The physical and emotional attractions were strong for both of them. Cleopatra had also displayed the abundance of her realm. Even after years of bad harvests, Egypt could still somehow fund this opulence and it was a clear promise that the queen could mobilise this wealth to Antony’s service. She had another advantage in Caesarion, although it is unclear whether or not she had brought the boy with her to Tarsus. Tradition and experience showed that it was difficult, probably impossible, for a Ptolemaic queen to rule as sole monarch. Joint rule with Caesarion gave her regime the promise of stability.

We know nothing about Arsinoe’s appearance and whether or not she could equal her older sister in charm and glamour. She was a potential rival to Cleopatra, but was probably more useful to both Cassius and now Antony as a lever to control the queen. Cleopatra was already established and had maintained control of her kingdom remarkably well since Caesar’s death. She had an heir and co-ruler who would be fully under her control for at least another decade. Arsinoe could not match this, and it would have been a major risk dethroning Cleopatra and installing the younger, unmarried and childless sister. Annexing Egypt and reclaiming Cyprus as Roman provinces held little appeal, for the burden of administering them directly would have been heavy when all of the east needed reorganisation after the upheavals of the civil wars. It was far better to let the already established monarch arrange to supply what the triumvirate needed.

Soon after her arrival in Tarsus, Cleopatra and Antony became lovers. Within a year she would bear him twins, a son and a daughter. The queen was confirmed in power, with Caesarion as king and co-monarch. On Antony’s command, Arsinoe was taken from the sanctuary of Artemis, whose rights he had recently confirmed, and executed. There is no evidence to connect her with an unusual octagonal-shaped tomb at Ephesus. There is indeed no particular reason to associate this structure with the Ptolemies or any other royal family. Another victim of Cleopatra’s success was a young man who claimed to be her dead brother, Ptolemy XIII. This lesser threat to her was executed at the Phoenician town of Aradus.17

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ALEXANDRIA​

Antony spent the winter of 41-40 BC with Cleopatra in her capital. Alexandria was an important city, so that the choice could be justified on practical grounds, but it is clear that the key factor in its selection was that it would allow him to spend months with his lover. No doubt work continued and deputations from kings and cities wound their way to Egypt, seeking audience with the triumvir. As in Athens the previous winter, Antony donned various items of Greek dress. There were philosophical lectures, drama and dance, as well as the life of the gymnasia and other sports. Antony and Cleopatra went on hunting expeditions, no doubt on a grand scale. Horses and hunting were obsessions of Greek, and most especially Macedonian, aristocrats. It is quite possible that Cleopatra was an accomplished rider – we certainly read of one of her female ancestors helping to command an army from horseback.18

Another pursuit was fishing. Eager to guarantee the success of his efforts, Antony had slaves swim underwater and attach fish to the hooks on the end of his line. Plutarch tells us that Cleopatra easily saw through the deception and on the next day sent one of her own people down, who fixed a salted fish from the Black Sea to the hook instead. Antony hauled in the long-dead trophy to general laughter. His lover suggested that he give up, since as a great victor he should fish for cities, countries and whole continents.19

Cleopatra flattered Antony and watched in admiration as he exercised or was just a lively companion as he drank or gambled with dice – a particular passion for many Romans, including Octavian. Eating and drinking were particular concerns, in keeping with the traditions of the Ptolemaic court. Together with their intimates, both Roman and Alexandrian, the couple formed a club they named ‘The Inimitable Livers’. A few years later one of the courtiers involved in these entertainments set up an inscription dubbing himself ‘The Parasite’, calling Antony a god as well as ‘Inimitable at sex’.20

Everything was on an extravagant scale. Plutarch’s grandfather used to repeat a story told by a friend who had been studying medicine in Alexandria at the time and had become friendly with one of the royal cooks. Amazed by the sheer quantity of food being cooked one evening, he was surprised to be told that the company was very small. Multiples of everything were prepared to be ready at different times, so that Antony could be served almost instantly whenever he demanded the next course. Presumably the staff were happy to dispose of the unused food. In recent years, Egypt had suffered from poor harvests and outbreaks of famine. Yet the much paraded opulence of the Ptolemaic court never faltered.21

The extravagance was deliberate and emphasised, not simply in the food, but also in the decorations of the palaces and even the tableware. In the first feast at Tarsus, Cleopatra had used golden and jewelled tableware and covered the room in rich tapestries. All of this was given away to the guests, the richest luxuries going to Antony. On the next night everything was even more lavish and expensive, and once again it was given away. Cleopatra provided Ethiopian slaves bearing torches to escort them and their goods home. On another occasion, she let clouds of rose petals flutter down onto the gathering. Luxury and excess were celebrated, and it is certain that the displays at her own court in Alexandria were on an even grander scale. It may have been around this time that Antony acquired a set of golden chamber pots.22

Sometimes the group would wander the streets of Alexandria at night, with Antony and Cleopatra – and presumably also their followers – dressed in the simple clothes of slaves. Antony would behave rowdily, mocking passers-by and even looking into houses, while his lover is supposed to have watched. The disguises were unconvincing, but a lot of Alexandrians were happy to play along, replying to mockery with abuse of their own. A few were even willing to let Antony pick a fight with them and more than once he is supposed to have returned with bruises from these adventures. There was a long tradition of such displays by aristocrats and many Alexandrians were happy to indulge their queen and her Roman guests. They said that Antony only ever revealed the serious face of a tragic actor to his own countrymen, but with them showed the mask of a comic actor.23

Over the winter months the Alexandrians indulged them and they seem to have been popular. Antony continued to work, even if his pleasures were more conspicuous and received more attention in our sources. He enjoyed the affair with Cleopatra, as he had enjoyed other affairs earlier in his life. This one was made special because she was a queen in a lavish court. The flavour of these months was very Hellenic and that appealed to him as well. Yet in the spring of 40 BC Antony left to deal with a pressing crisis in Italy. Soon there would be more problems as the Parthians invaded Syria and raided deep into the Roman provinces.

Antony and Cleopatra would not see each other again for three and a half years. Love may well have been genuine on one or both sides, but at this stage there was no overwhelming urge for them to remain always together. The rule of Cleopatra and Caesarion had been confirmed and Antony assured that he could call upon the resources of their kingdom. Their political ambitions were, for the moment, satisfied.