Most of the Pompeian leaders died fighting and their heads were brought to Caesar for his inspection. There was no revulsion now, one notes, as had been the case when Pompey the Great’s head had been presented to him in Egypt. Gnaeus escaped the battle, but was quickly caught and killed. His head, too, found its way to the victor, who had it displayed to the crowd to prove the death, and then buried.
Nobody was greatly bothered when it was noticed that Gnaeus’ little brother, Sextus, had slipped away and disappeared from view. He was surely too young and inexperienced to cause trouble. Sooner or later the boy would turn up and there would be plenty of time to deal with him then.
About the battle, Caesar remarked wryly: “I have often fought for victory, but on this occasion I fought for my life as well.”
Octavius eventually caught up with Caesar near a town called Caepia, where he was presumably still conducting mopping-up operations. The busy general was delighted and surprised to see his great-nephew and enfolded him in a warm embrace. In fact, he would not let Octavius out of his sight, but made him live in his own quarters and share his mess. He complimented the young man on his enthusiasm and loyalty—and also will have remarked on his astuteness, for he was among the first of what would become a flood of dignitaries making their way from Rome to greet, and sometimes make their peace with, the all-conquering dictator. Octavius had not waited, as others had, for the outcome of the war before setting out on a long and dangerous expedition.
During the month or so before leaving Spain, Caesar went out of his way to get to know his great-nephew better. According to Nicolaus, “He made a point of engaging him in conversation, for he was anxious to make a trial of his understanding, and finding that he was sagacious, intelligent, and concise in his replies, and that he always answered to the point, his esteem and affection for him increased.” As the weeks passed, Caesar gradually came to a final, firm, and highly positive view of his young relative.
Years later, Octavius’ enemies claimed that he slept with his great-uncle in return for his favor and affection. It is true that Octavius was a pretty boy, that Caesar may have been sexually omnivorous, and that Roman laws against incest prohibited only sexual relations between paternal kin. However, military campaigns are not an ideal setting for romance, and sex between soldiers was an offense: a wise commander would not break the rules he expected the rank and file to obey. Had there been anything much in the story, it would surely have been common gossip at the time and received wider and earlier currency in contemporary accounts.
Caesar’s next destination was Nova Carthago; he arranged for Octavius to board the same boat as his, together with five of his personal slaves. Without seeking permission, Octavius could not resist slipping his three closest companions aboard as well. Doubtless the journey was to be in a naval galley, where most of the limited space below decks was taken up by rows of oarsmen and space was at a premium. Not unnaturally, Octavius feared that his great-uncle would be cross, but there was no trouble. Caesar approved of Octavius’ friends, whom he found to be observant, enthusiastic, and competitive. It was good that Octavius liked to have them around him—partly for protection, but also to enhance his own reputation as someone supported by men of good sense.
Caesar had to decide everything and, like rulers in all ancient, pre-bureaucratic societies, he was obliged to spend much time receiving petitions, agreeing on and bestowing awards and rewards, and adjudicating quarrels. Octavius was able to help. He had already learned the art of mediating between his great-uncle and the rest of the world, every member of which seemed to have an urgent demand.
A long queue of petitioners sought Octavius’ good offices, as they had done a few months previously in Rome. This role of benevolent broker had surely been agreed in advance between him and the dictator, partly to smooth the conduct of business but also as on-the-job training in public administration.
At last it was time to go home—to Calpurnia and Cleopatra, to Atia and Philippus. The civil war was definitely over. No enemy was left standing. What now? This was a hard question to answer. At the pinnacle of his success, Caesar should have had little on his mind to trouble him. But like so many conquerors before and after, he had learned the hard lesson that military victory does not necessarily win consent from the vanquished.
The army soon encountered streams of noble Romans approaching from the opposite direction. Everyone of importance had felt it necessary to take to the road and greet the Republic’s new master. At Narbo (today’s Narbonne), Mark Antony arrived, to find that his misgovernment of Italy in 49 B.C. had been forgiven. So far as Caesar was concerned, their quarrel was over. He invited Antony to ride with him, displacing Octavius, who traveled in the following carriage with another Caesarian supporter, Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus.
Under the pressure of the dictator’s displeasure, the reprobate appeared to have turned over a new leaf, toned down his public extravagances, and directed his thoughts to marriage. His eye lighted on Fulvia, the widow first of a murdered gang leader, and then of a Caesarian tribune. The alliance was as much political as personal. According to one ancient commentator, she had “nothing womanly about her except for her body.” Intelligent and intemperate, she was able, and more than willing, to give her new husband some sensible career guidance.
The dictator and his entourage arrived in northern Italy in July. He planned to hold a triumph in October, but the legal fiction that it marked a victory over a foreign enemy was embarrassingly unconvincing. Nevertheless, he observed the convention that a conquering general had to remain outside Rome until the date of his processional entry into the city.
He made for an estate of his southeast of Rome at Labici (today’s Monte Compatri), where he spent a few weeks. Here he was able to find some peace and quiet, and time for thought. For years, he had been extraordinarily busy, fighting or legislating, and he needed a holiday. He was aware, too, that his health was deteriorating; his proneness to what may have been a form of epilepsy, or spells of dizziness, was getting worse. He was reported to have had a fit in Africa and another on the day of the battle of Munda.
It is probable that Octavius stayed with him for a while. Their relationship was becoming closer and closer, and Octavius, who had tested his physical stamina to the limit, would have profited from a rest as well. At some point he asked leave to go home to see his mother, who had doubtless pressed him to do so in a letter, and Caesar gave his permission.
Although he was approaching his eighteenth birthday, Octavius retreated into domesticity. After the excitements of his Spanish adventure, his life became quiet and uneventful. He spent much of his time with his mother and stepfather, seldom leaving them. Occasionally he invited some of his young friends to dinner, Agrippa and Maecenas presumably among them. He lived soberly and moderately. Nicolaus reports that, unlike many upper-class young Romans, especially those with access to money, he abstained from “sexual gratification.”
Octavius’ good behavior is as likely to reflect a concern for his health as a virtuous disposition. This was an age when the principles of hygiene were little understood, surgery was life-threatening, medicines and medical advice were of uncertain value, and few illnesses were easily cured. Unsurprisingly, many Romans concentrated their attention on prevention. According to Celsus, a medical expert who wrote in the first century A.D., a healthy man “should sail, hunt, rest sometimes, but more often take exercise.” He should spend time in the countryside and on the farm as well as in town. Doctors advised that people whose health was delicate should take care to avoid any kind of physical excess. We may take it that Octavius and his ever-anxious mother did exactly that.