“Yes, but the Antonii are truly egregious. They’ve done everything but loot the treasury and rape all the Vestals.”
“I don’t have much hope for the treasury once Caesar leaves Rome,” I told her. “I’ve heard Antonius is to be prefect of the city.”
She rolled her eyes upward in a dramatic gesture. “We should move all our goods out of Rome. Once he’s run through the treasury he’ll start looting the best houses. The lifestyle he and Fulvia favor requires vast wealth.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always got on well with Antonius. I’ve helped him out of a few scrapes from time to time.”
“I have a feeling any loyalty of which he is capable will fade as his money dwindles. He’ll suddenly remember he has an old grudge against you.”
“Well, he’s done nothing yet and Caesar probably won’t leave the city until next year. A lot can happen between now and then. They may have a more serious disagreement and Caesar could exile Antonius. Or Antonius may die, or Caesar may die, or some German king we’ve never heard of could forge a grand alliance of the tribes and invade Italy. That’s for the future. My problem exists in the present. So what sort of advice, good or bad, did Servilia give Fulvia?”
“You know, it might not be such a bad idea to get your horoscope done, dear. You have a future, and it always pays to be prepared.”
“Eh?” I said brightly.
“Well, Servilia said that now that Polasser of Kish is dead, the one to consult is a woman called Ashthuva.”
“I never heard such a name. Where is she from?”
“Nobody is certain, but it’s someplace far to the east.”
“Naturally. You never look westward for one of these stargazers. She’s probably some Greek freedwoman who’s adopted an exotic persona, just like Polasser. I still don’t see why-” I am not totally dense, and it came to me. “You invited yourself along, didn’t you? You’re going to accompany Atia to see this Artooshvula person.”
“It’s Ashthuva. And yes, I am going. So is Servilia. She is to make the introductions.”
“I don’t like it, but you may learn something. Anyone else going with you? Fulvia, perchance?”
“I would never go anywhere with Fulvia,” she said. “She’s scandalous. Servilia is merely ruthless and Atia is as respectable as you could wish.”
“Why should I wish her to be respectable? Respectable women are boring, for the most part.”
“Anyway, I think I’ll take Callista along. She’s quite respectable, for a foreigner.”
I considered this. “Not a bad idea at all. She should be able to read this fraudulent Ashtabulus-”
“Ashthuva. You can pronounce it perfectly well. You’re just trying to be annoying and are succeeding.”
“Anyway, Callista is an excellent choice as a companion. Have you gone to see her yet?”
“I plan to call on her tomorrow morning. We are supposed to go see Ashthuva tomorrow evening, after the sacrifice at the Temple of Vesta.”
“Take some of the men,” I advised. “I don’t like the idea of you wandering around the city at night. It’s far from safe, despite what our dictator would like us to think.”
“I’ll take a couple of torch boys,” she said. “Servilia has a veritable private army and Atia always has some of Caesar’s veterans as a bodyguard.”
“There was a time when Romans didn’t go around in fear of their fellow citizens,” I grumbled.
Julia smiled at me fondly. “There was a time when the gods came down from Olympus to sort out people’s problems, too.”
5
Caesar was getting impatient. There was a meeting of the Senate that morning, as there was almost every morning since he had assumed power. As dictator he could even set aside days that were nefasti, when official business was forbidden. Before his time, meetings had been irregular, usually called by a sitting consul or some other very prominent senator or one of the highest priests. However, Caesar had much to accomplish and he wanted his senators to attend upon him like a court before an oriental king, another of his regal habits that so many found so annoying.
On that morning, after assigning duties to a number of senators he surprised us by announcing the reception of an envoy. “Conscript Fathers,” he said, stealing one of Cicero’s favorite turns of phrase, “today we receive Archelaus, the envoy of King Phraates of Parthia.”
“But, Caesar,” said a very old senator, “by ancient custom we receive envoys in a temple, not in the Curia.”
“This is Pompey’s theater,” Caesar pointed out. “I can’t think of a better place to receive a representative of a country like Parthia or a king like Phraates. If any of you are too traditional for that, remember that up at the top of the auditorium is the Temple of Venus. That’s close enough. Call him in.”
A lictor went out and returned a minute later with Archelaus, accompanied by a few colleagues. All of them, like Archelaus himself, appeared to be Greeks. I saw not a single one who looked like a Parthian. They stopped before Caesar’s curule chair and bowed low in the eastern fashion.
“Parthia salutes great Caesar,” Archelaus intoned.
“Would that Parthia had come personally,” Caesar said, fiddling with a ring and gazing off at a carving somewhere on the ceiling. It was behavior very unlike Caesar and I wondered what it might signify. “Your king presumes much, sending ambassadors when it is clear that a state of war exists between our nations, as it must until the stain of Carrhae is blotted from history, the death of my friend Marcus Crassus and that of his son avenged, the Roman captives freed, and the Roman dead given the proper rites, which shall be performed by me, their pontifex maximus.”
He spoke this in a very quick, clipped, and rather agitated voice. I looked around and saw many faces that looked bemused, puzzled, or dismayed. The mobile, expressive face of Cicero in particular was a mask of alarm. Brutus looked concerned. Marcus Antonius seemed amused and mildly bored, but then he often looked that way at Senate meetings.
“Great Caesar,” Archelaus began, “there is no cause for such enmity between Rome and Parthia. No cause for war ever existed between our nations. The campaign of Marcus Crassus was the military adventure of a lone man. The Senate of Rome never condoned it. The people of Rome, through their tribunes, expressed their anger at the temerity of Crassus.” This was all quite true, but Caesar was unmoved.
“Marcus Crassus was my friend,” he reiterated. “A Roman army was massacred at Carrhae. Eagles were captured. Those eagles are the tutelary gods of our legions, sacred to every Roman soldier. Until those standards are returned to the Temple of Saturn,” here he pointed in the direction of that temple, “then the hand of every true Roman is raised against every Parthian, sword drawn.”
“Caesar,” Archelaus said, this time omitting the “great” part, “the return of your eagles is a point for negotiation. It need not involve a resumption of hostilities.”
“Rome does not bargain like some merchant for possession of her gods. What was taken from us at sword’s point we will recover with sword in hand. Inform your king of this.”
Now the Senate looked truly appalled. This was high-handed behavior even for a dictator. Ordinarily, war was debated at great length in the Senate and the Assemblies. When it came to war, the Senate usually had the upper hand of all our plethora of public bodies, although the comitia tributa and consilium plebis apportioned the commands. For Caesar to address a foreign ambassador in this way, without even the pretense of consulting the Senate, was more than the act of a tyrant. It was a deep, personal insult to the Senate as a body. Had he simply briefed us on his plans, motives, and goals, we would have stood behind him to a man, even his enemies. We always do that in time of war. He was dictator, but there are limits. I wondered if Caesar was becoming unhinged.
“Mighty Caesar,” now Archelaus’s tone was somewhat less than respectful, “it pains me to remind you that you speak these vaunting words to a king whose army, although smaller than that of Crassus, smashed those legions as utterly as Hannibal ever did.” There was a collective gasp from all around. To speak that name in such a fashion, to the very Senate of Rome, was unprecedented. Then he went on, in a more moderate tone. “But it ill behooves statesmen to harangue one another like schoolboys. We have deliberative bodies,” here he turned and gave the Senate a slight bow, “and exchange ambassadors between nations, so that we may behave as mature men.”