Page 71 of Agrippa

This remembrance of my illness has made me feel worse.

As you can see by the number of pages that remain, I am coming to the end of my story, and as reading about other people’s travels is even more boring than the recital of an old soldier’s past campaigns, I shall list only the main events of our time in the east.

From Epidaurus we went to Athens, where I laid the foundations of a theatre with a capacity of twelve hundred spectators.

From there we toured the islands.

Everywhere we went, people turned out in their thousands to see us – or rather, to see Julia, the only child of Augustus, the descendant of Caesar, who was treated as if she were Diana, a goddess come to earth. Women clutched at her clothes. Men fell to their knees. She revelled in the attention.

We wintered in Sestos, in an ancient seaside villa that was said to have belonged to the priestess Hero, who lit a lamp in its tower every night so that her lover Leander could swim across the Hellespont to join her.

Alas, our stay was not so romantic. I stayed for hours in my study, often with my bandaged leg propped up on a stool, working on official papers and receiving emissaries from the region, while Julia was left to the children and the company of her maids. With no crowds to cheer her, she complained constantly about the tediousness of provincial life.

The following year, as soon as the weather improved, we crossed the straits to Asia, and life became more interesting. We both spent freely in the prosperous merchant towns, full of precious goods, silks and spices and artworks. I bought the famous sculpture Fallen Lion by Lysippos and paid the citizens of Kyzikos more than a million sesterces for two paintings, of Ajax and of Venus, which I had shipped back to Rome for public display in my colonnade on the Field of Mars.

We sailed around the coast, stopping off in Cyprus, and in the middle of the summer we finally reached our destination, Syria. In Antioch, we moved into the palace of the Roman governor, situated on an island in the middle of the Orontes river.

I left Julia in the residence and travelled by sea to the beautiful seaside town of Beirut, where I arranged the settlement of veterans from the Fifth Legion (Macedonia) and the Eighth (Augusta) on the surrounding land.

I had just completed this task when news reached me of an earthquake in Antioch.

I hurried back to find Julia and the children unharmed, but parts of the city reduced to rubble. I took charge of the rebuilding and paid for the repairs.

Around this time, I received an invitation from King Herod of Judaea, a client ruler of ours, to visit him in Jerusalem. I refused at first, but when he wrote again to tell me of the enormous construction works he had undertaken and which he wished to show me, I was unable to resist. I persuaded Julia to accompany me, and our entire entourage set off in our flotilla, sailing from Seleucia three hundred miles along the coast to Herod’s great new harbour at Caesarea, where he had assembled a large party to welcome us.

He was an old man of nearly sixty, notorious for his ruthless cruelty. He had drowned one brother-in-law, executed another, killed his second wife, and was said to have murdered a couple of his sons. But he was loyal to Rome, which was all that counted in our eyes, and he was also a tremendous builder, which commended him to me.

He conducted me around the harbour, which he had modelled on the Portus Julius, copying my techniques, importing shiploads of puteolanum from Campania and using it to make great wharfs and slipways out of hydraulic concrete. Then he took us to Jerusalem, to show off the temple and the walls he was building. The entire city turned out to greet us, dressed in their festive robes, and as before in Greece, it was Julia the people were most eager to see. She was escorted by Herod’s third or fourth wife, whose name I cannot remember, and by all the women of the court.

I laid on a feast for the population and sacrificed a hundred cattle to their Jewish gods – or god, I should say, for they worship only one. I liked the gentle tranquilness of Judaea, and would have stayed longer, but reports reached me of unrest on the northern shores of the Black Sea that needed my attention. I apologised to Herod, who gave us expensive gifts then escorted us to the port, between lines of cheering crowds who scattered flowers across the road, and we set sail towards the east.

By the time we approached the Black Sea, it was almost winter. Rather than risk a naval expedition through the straits in treacherous weather, I decided it would be prudent to spend a few months in nearby Lesbos until the spring, when more warships could be assembled. I commandeered the finest villa on the island for us to live in.

News of my presence quickly spread through the streets of Mytilene. Soon I received a message from my former companion asking if we could meet. She was still in the house I had given her. Out of respect for Julia, I refused. But Julia discovered the letter.

She had no reason to be jealous, nor was she. She had been married to Marcellus at the time when I was staying on the island, and jealousy was not in her nature. But that letter changed something between us. The idea that I had had an earlier lover seemed to rekindle our former passion, and in the spring, just as I was about to leave with the fleet for the Black Sea, she announced that she was yet again pregnant.

It was unthinkable that she might join me on the expedition. But nor did she wish to be left alone on Lesbos. As the baby was not due for many months and it was still quite safe for her to travel, she persuaded me to allow her to begin her return journey to Rome. She would have the child in Athens, where she could be sure of receiving the best possible medical care.

We said a tender farewell – now I come to think of it, just like the one we shared a short while ago, before I had to leave for Illyricum – and I sailed off again to war.

At the port of Sinope, just inside the Black Sea, I was joined, to my surprise, by Herod, who had brought his warships all the way from Caesarea, and together our combined fleet of Roman and Jewish vessels headed towards the northern shore.

As so often, the news of my approach was sufficient to cause our enemies to sue for peace.

Herod and I stayed in the region for many months, settling the various tribes and kingdoms to our satisfaction. Rather than return by sea, we toured the region overland. I became fond of the old brute, who was not without charm and wisdom, and when he interceded on behalf of the local Jewish population, who were suffering from extensive persecution, I issued various edicts to guarantee their civil and religious freedom.

Towards the end of the year, I returned to Lesbos to find a letter from Julia, sent from Athens, to say that she had given birth to a girl in October, that she and the baby were in good health, and that the entire family were leaving shortly for Italy.

I dearly wished that I could follow her and try to catch her up, but I still had a great deal of administrative work to settle and delegations to receive that required me to remain in the east. I wrote to say that I would join her in Rome as soon as I could.

In January, among the latest batch of official documents from Rome, a letter came bearing the seal of Maecenas. I saved it as a reward to read last, knowing it would contain some entertaining gossip.

My dear Agrippa,

I have searched my heart before sending you this message, but our long friendship, so precious to me, and your position in the state compel me to do my duty, however unpleasant it may be – and believe me, my hand trembles as I write.

Your wife, now back in Rome, has returned with a reputation for wantonness. Perhaps you know this and do not care. Marriages are often fraught with infidelity, as I know to my cost, and sometimes it is of no consequence to the parties involved. But unfortunately this is no longer a private matter. It is public knowledge. In particular, she has been flaunting her liaison with that shameless philanderer Sempronius Gracchus.