Having artfully evaded the advances of Ptolemy the Cyprian, Caesar devoted his energies to the Alexandrian bureaucrats. Not easy men to deal with-and no lovers of Rome- they could see nothing for Cyprus in Vatia's coming campaign, and clearly had taken umbrage because Vatia had sent a junior legate twenty-one years old as his petitioner.
"My youth," said Caesar haughtily to these gentlemen, "is beside the point. I am a decorated war hero, a senator at an age when routine admission to the Senate is not permitted, and Publius Servilius Vatia's chief military assistant. You ought to think yourselves lucky I deigned to drop in!"
This statement was duly taken note of, but bureaucratic attitudes did not markedly change for the better. Argue like a politician though he did, Caesar could get nowhere with them.
"Cyprus is affected by piracy too. Why can't you see that the pirate menace will be eliminated only if all the lands which suffer from their depredations club together to eliminate them? Publius Servilius Vatia's fleet has to be large enough to act like a net, sweeping the pirates before it into some place from which there is no way out. There will be enormous spoils, and Cyprus will be able to rejoin the trading markets of the Middle Sea. As you well know, at present the Cilician and Pamphylian pirates cut Cyprus off."
“Cyprus does not need to join the trading markets of the Middle Sea," said the Alexandrian leader. "Everything Cyprus produces belongs to Egypt, and goes there. We tolerate no pirates on the seas between Cyprus and Egypt."
Back to the regent Ptolemy for a second interview. This time, however, Caesar's luck asserted itself; the regent was in the company of his wife, Mithridatidis Nyssa. Had Caesar known what was the physical style of the Mithridatidae he would have seen that this young lady was a typical member of her house-large in frame, yellow of hair, eyes a greenish gold. Her charms were of coloring and voluptuousness rather than in any claim to true beauty, but Caesar instantly appreciated her charms. So, she made it obvious, did she appreciate Caesar's charms. And when the silly interview with Ptolemy the Cyprian was over, she strolled out with her husband's guest on her arm to show him the spot where the goddess Aphrodite had risen from the foam of the sea to embark upon her divine course of earthly havoc.
"She was my thirty-nine-times great-grandmother," said Caesar, leaning on the white marble balustrade which fenced the official site of the goddess's birth off from the rest of the shore.
"Who? Not Aphrodite, surely!"
"Surely. I am descended from her through her son, Aeneas."
"Really?" The slightly protuberant eyes studied his face as if searching for some sign of this staggeringly august lineage.
"Very much really, Princess."
"Then you belong to Love," purred the daughter of Mithridates, and put out one long, spatulate finger to stroke Caesar's sun-browned right arm.
The touch affected him, though he did not show it. "I've never heard it put that way before, Princess, but it makes sense," he said, smiling, looking out to the jewel of the horizon where the sapphire of the sea met the aquamarine of the sky.
“Of course you belong to Love, owning such an ancestress!"
He turned his head to gaze at her, eyes almost at the same level as hers, so tall was she. "It is remarkable," he said in a soft voice, “that the sea produces so much foam at this place yet at no other, though I can see nothing to account for it." He pointed first to the north and then to the south. "See? Beyond the limits of the fence there is no foam!"
"It is said she left it to be here always."
"Then the bubbles are her essence." He shrugged off his toga and bent to unbuckle his senatorial shoes. “I must bathe in her essence, Princess."
“If you were not her thirty-nine-times great-grandson, I would tell you to beware," said the Princess, watching him.
"Is it religiously forbidden to swim here?"
"Not forbidden. Only unwise. Your thirty-nine-times great-grandmother has been known to smite bathers dead."
He returned unsmitten from his dip to find she had made a sheet out of her robe to cover the spiky shore grasses, and lay waiting for him upon it. One bubble was left, clinging to the back of his hand; he leaned over to press it gently against her virginally smooth nipple, laughed when it burst and she jumped, shivered uncontrollably.
"Burned by Venus," he said as he lay down with her, wet and exhilarated from the caress of that mysterious sea-foam. For he had just been anointed by Venus, who had even arranged for this superb woman to be on hand for his pleasure, child of a great king and (as he discovered when he entered her) his alone. Love and power combined, the ultimate consummation.
"Burned by Venus," she said, stretching like a huge golden cat, so great was the goddess's gift.
"You know the Roman name of Aphrodite," said the goddess's descendant, perfectly poised on a bubble of happiness.
"Rome has a long reach."
The bubble vanished, but not because of what she said; the moment was over, was all.
Caesar got to his feet, never enamored of lingering once the lovemaking was done. "So, Mithridatidis Nyssa, will you use your influence to help me get my fleet?'' he asked, though he did not tell her why this request caused him to chuckle.
"How very handsome you are," she said, lying on her elbow, head propped on her hand. "Hairless, like a god."
"So are you, I note."
"All court women are plucked, Caesar."
"But not court men?"
"No! It hurts."
He laughed. Tunic on, he dealt with his shoes, then began the difficult business of arranging his toga without assistance. "Up with you, woman!" he said cheerfully. "There's a fleet to be obtained, and a hairy husband to convince that all we've been doing is looking at the sea-foam."
"Oh, him!" She started to dress. "He won't care what we've been doing. Surely you noticed that I was a virgin!"
"Impossible not to."
Her green-gold eyes gleamed. "I do believe," she said, “that if I were not in a position to help you raise your fleet, you would have spared me hardly a glance."
"I have to deny what you say," he stated, but tranquilly. “I was once accused of doing exactly that to raise a fleet, and what I said then is still true-I would rather put my sword through my belly than employ women's tricks to achieve my ends. But you, dear and lovely Princess, were a gift from the goddess. And that is a very different thing."
"I have not angered you?"
"Not in the least, though you're a sensible girl to have assumed it. Do you get your good sense from your father?"
"Perhaps. He's a clever man. But he's a fool too."
"In what way?"
"His inability to listen to advice from others." She turned to walk with him toward the palace. "I'm very glad you came to Paphos, Caesar. I was tired of being a virgin."
“But you were a virgin. Why then with me?''
"You are the descendant of Aphrodite, therefore you are more than a mere man. I am the child of a king! I can't give myself to a mere man, only to one of royal and divine blood."
"I am honored."
The negotiations for the fleet took some time, time Caesar didn't grudge. Every day he and Ptolemy the Cyprian's unenjoyed wife made a pilgrimage to the birthplace of Aphrodite, and every day Caesar bathed in her essence before expending some of his own essence in Ptolemy the Cyprian's greatly enjoyed wife. Clearly the Alexandrian bureaucrats had a great deal more respect for Mithridatidis Nyssa than for her husband-which may have had something to do with the fact that King Tigranes was just across the water in Syria. Egypt was remote enough to consider itself safe, but Cyprus was a different matter.
He parted from the daughter of King Mithridates amicably, and with a regret which haunted him for a long time. Aside from his physical pleasure in her, he found that he liked and esteemed her unselfconscious assurance, her knowledge that she was any man's equal because she was the child of a great king. A man could not exactly wipe his feet upon a Roman woman, Caesar reflected, but a Roman woman was nonethe
less no man's equal. So upon leaving Paphos, he gave Mithridatidis Nyssa an exquisitely carved cameo of the goddess, though he could ill afford the rare and costly striated stone it was worked upon.
Understanding much of this, she was immensely pleased, as she wrote to her elder sister, Cleopatra Tryphaena, in Alexandria:
I suppose I will never see him again. He is not the kind of man who goes anywhere or does anything without an excellent reason, and by reason, I mean a man's reason. I think he might have loved me a little. But that would never draw him back to Cyprus. No woman will ever come between him and his purpose.
I had not met a Roman before, though I understand that in Alexandria they are to be met fairly frequently, so you probably know quite a few. Is his difference because he is a Roman? Or because he is himself alone? Perhaps you can tell me. Though I think I know what you will answer.
I liked best the unassailable quality he owned; and his calmness, which was not matter-of-fact. Admittedly with my help, he got his fleet. I know, I know, he used me! But there are times, dear Tryphaena, when one does not mind being used. He loved me a little. He prized my birth. And there is not a woman alive who could resist the way he laughs at her.
It was a very pleasant interlude. I miss him, the wretch! Do not worry about me. To be on the safe side, I took the medicine after he left. Was I married in truth rather than in name only, I might have been tempted not to-Caesar blood is better blood than Ptolemy. As it is, there will never be children for me, alas.
I am sorry for your difficulties, and sorry too that we were not reared to understand the situation in Egypt. Not, mind you, that our father, Mithridates, and our uncle, Tigranes, would have cared about these difficulties. We are simply their way to obtain an interest in Egypt, since we do have the necessary Ptolemaic blood to establish our claims. But what we could not know was this business about the priests of Egypt and their hold upon the common people, those of true Egyptian blood rather than Macedonian. It is almost as if there were two countries called Egypt, the land of Macedonian Alexandria and the Delta, and the land of the Egyptian Nile.
I do think, dearest Tryphaena, that you ought to proceed to make your own negotiations with the Egyptian priests. Your husband Auletes is not a man for men, so you do have hope of children. You must bear children! But that you cannot do under Egyptian law until after you are crowned and anointed, and you cannot be crowned and anointed until the Egyptian priests agree to officiate. I know the Alexandrians pretended to the embassage from Rome that you were crowned and anointed-they had the security of knowing that Marcus Perperna and his other ambassadors are ignorant of Egyptian laws and ways. But the people of Egypt know you have not been confirmed in the monarchy. Auletes is a silly man, somewhat deficient in true intellect and quite without political acumen. Whereas you and I are our father's daughters, and better blessed.
Go to the priests and begin to negotiate. In your own name. It is clear to me that you will achieve nothing-even children-until the priests are brought around. Auletes chooses to believe that he is more important than they, and that the Alexandrians are powerful enough to end in defeating the priests. He is wrong. Or perhaps it might be best to say, Auletes believes it is more important to be the Macedonian King than the Egyptian Pharaoh-that if he is King, he must also end in becoming Pharaoh. From your letters to me, I am aware that you have not fallen into this trap. But it is not enough. You must also negotiate. The priests understand that our husbands are the last of the line, and that to establish rival dynasts of Egyptian blood after almost a thousand years of foreign invasions and foreign rulers would be more perilous than sanctioning the last of the Ptolemies. So I imagine that what they really want is to be deferred to rather than ignored or held lightly. Defer to them, dearest Tryphaena. And make your husband defer to them! After all, they have custody of the Pharaoh's treasure labyrinths, of Nilotic income, and of the Egyptian people. The fact that Chickpea succeeded in sacking Thebes seven years ago is beside the point. He was crowned and anointed, he was Pharaoh. And Thebes is not the whole of the Nile!
In the meantime continue to take the medicine and do not antagonize either your husband or the Alexandrians. As long as they remain your allies, you have a basis for your negotiations with the priests in Memphis.
By the end of Sextilis, Gaius Julius Caesar had returned to Vatia in Tarsus and could present him with agreements to provide ships and crews at his demand from all the important naval cities and territories in Vatia's bailiwick. Clearly Vatia was pleased, especially at the agreement with Cyprus. But he had no further military duties for his young subordinate, and was besides the harbinger of the news that Sulla was dead in Rome.
"Then, Publius Servilius," said Caesar, "with your leave I would like to return home."
Vatia frowned. "Why?"
"For several reasons," said Caesar easily. "First-and most importantly-I am of little use to you-unless, that is, you intend to mount an expedition to eject King Tigranes from eastern Pedia and Euphratic Cappadocia?"
"Such are not my orders, Gaius Julius," said Vatia stiffly. "I am to concentrate upon governing my province and eliminating the pirate menace. Cappadocia and eastern Pedia must wait."
"I understand. In which case, you have no military duties for me in the near future. My other reasons for wishing to return home are personal. I have a marriage to consummate and a career in the law courts to embark upon. My time as flamen Dialis has meant that I am already long in the tooth to begin as an advocate. I mean to become consul in my year. It is my birthright. My father was praetor, my uncle consul, my cousin Lucius consul. The Julii are once more in the forefront."
"Very well, Gaius Julius, you may go home," said Vatia, who was sensitive to these arguments. "I will be happy to commend you to the Senate, and to classify your gathering of my fleet as campaign duty."
2
The death of Sulla had marked the end of amicable relations between the consuls Lepidus and Catulus. Not a pair who by nature were intended to get on together, the actual passing of the Dictator saw the first instance of their falling out; Catulus proposed that Sulla be given a State funeral, whereas Lepidus refused to countenance the expenditure of public funds to bury one whose estate could well afford to bear this cost. It was Catulus who won the ensuing battle in the Senate; Sulla was interred at the expense of the Treasury he had, after all, been the one to succeed in filling.
But Lepidus was not without support, and Rome was starting to see those return whom Sulla had forced to flee. Marcus Perperna Veiento and Cinna's son, Lucius, were both in Rome shortly after the funeral was over. Somehow Perperna Veiento had succeeded in evading actual proscription despite his tenure of Sicily at the advent of Pompey-probably because he had not stayed to contest possession of Sicily with Pompey, and had not enough money to make him an alluring proscription prospect. Young Cinna, of course, was penniless. But now that the Dictator was dead both men formed the nucleus of factions secretly opposed to the Dictator's policies and laws, and naturally preferred to side with Lepidus rather than with Catulus.
Not only the senior consul but also armed with a reputation of having stood up to Sulla in the Senate, Lepidus considered himself in an excellent position to lessen the stringency of some of Sulla's legislation now that the Dictator was dead, for his senatorial supporters actually outnumbered those who were for Catulus.
"I want," said Lepidus to his great friend Marcus Junius Brutus, "to go down in the history books as the man who regulated Sulla's laws into a form more acceptable to everyone-even to his enemies."
Fortune had favored both of them. Sulla's last handpicked list of magistrates had included as a praetor the name of Brutus, and when the consuls and praetors had assumed office on the previous New Year's Day, the lots to determine which provinces would go to which executives had been good to both Lepidus and Brutus; Lepidus had drawn Gaul-across-the-Alps and Brutus Italian Gaul, their terms as governors to commence at the end of their terms in office-that is, on the next New Yea
r's Day. Gaul-across-the-Alps had not recently been a consul's province, but two things had changed that: the war in Spain against Quintus Sertorius (not going well) and the state of the Gallic tribes, now stirring into revolt and thus threatening the land route to Spain.
"We'll be able to work our provinces as a team," Lepidus had said eagerly to Brutus once the lots were drawn. "I'll wage war against rebellious tribes while you organize Italian Gaul to send me supplies and whatever other support I might need."
Thus both Lepidus and Brutus looked forward to a busy and rewarding time as governors next year. Once Sulla was buried, Lepidus had gone ahead with his program to soften the harshest of Sulla's laws, while Brutus, president of the Violence court, coped with the amendments to Sulla's laws for that court instituted in the previous year by Sulla's praetor Gnaeus Octavius. Apparently with Sulla's consent, Gnaeus Octavius had legislated to compel some of the proscription profiteers to give back property obtained by violence, force, or intimidation-which of course also meant removing the names of the original owners from the lists of the proscribed. Approving of Gnaeus Octavius's measure, Brutus had continued his work with enthusiasm.
In June, Sulla's ashes now enclosed in the tomb on the Campus Martius, Lepidus announced to the House that he would seek the House's consent to a lex Aemilia Lepida giving back some of the land Sulla had sequestrated from towns in Etruria and Umbria in order to bestow it upon his veterans.