rallying in Africa while, in Asia Minor, King Pharnaces of Pontus was threatening to become as great a menace to Rome as his father, Mithridates, who had taken such pleasure in slaughtering Italian women and children. Instead, using the somewhat lame excuse that the seasonal winds that blew into the harbor mouth continued to make the departure of his fleet difficult, the usually highly disciplined Caesar entirely atypically chose to linger by Cleopatra’s side. According to Suetonius, he would feast with his lover until the sun rose over the city to challenge the light of the Pharos.
In the early spring of 47, it seems that Caesar embarked with Cleopatra on a cruise up the Nile. Egyptian royal barges were the stuff of fantasy—sumptuous floating palaces of fragrant cedar and cypress about three hundred feet long, forty-five feet wide and sixty feet high, hung with costly fabrics and sparkling with gems, all supported on twin, catamaran-like hulls. Lying on silken couches and cooled by peacock-feather fans, the lovers could dally as they floated past the rich bright green farmlands along the Nile, Caesar adorned with the wreaths of flowers that were a Ptolemaic fashion.
However, it was more than a pleasure trip. For Cleopatra, there was a strategic purpose in showing herself to the wider Egyptian population beyond Alexandria. Cleopatra was unpopular in her idiosyncratic, cosmopolitan capital, but her relationship with the people of the countryside and especially those of Upper Egypt was warmer. They remembered her homage to the Buchis bull at Her-monthis early in her reign and it was to them that she had first turned for help when forced to flee Alexandria. Now they could see their Isis restored to divine majesty with her powerful Roman ally by her side.
From Caesar’s point of view, there was also some political point to this pleasurable river trip—to demonstrate the power of Rome. Appian claims that four hundred ships accompanied the barge. Suetonius states that the plan was to sail to the southernmost part of Egypt, “nearly to Ethiopia,” but that, echoing the reluctance of Alexander’s troops to advance into India, Caesar’s men grew restive and the trip was curtailed. Perhaps the hardened legionaries, hungry for home, wondered what was the point of drifting along the Nile, apart from allowing their leader a scenic sexual interlude—certainly when Caesar finally returned to Rome, his men would sing ribald verses about his enthusiastic couplings with the Egyptian queen. In Rome, Cicero too was wondering where Caesar was, writing, “Caesar seems to be so stuck in Alexandria that he is ashamed even to write about the situation there.”
Soon after their return to Alexandria, in late June or early July 47, Caesar at last left Egypt, marching with his troops across the hot deserts into Syria. He was not leaving his heavily pregnant mistress unprotected. To defend her—and to guard Rome’s interests—he left behind three legions under the command of a courageous but humbly born officer named Rufio, the son of an emancipated slave. In so doing, Caesar was disregarding the long-established practice whereby only officers who were also senators could command Rome’s legions. Yet, mirroring his fears over appointing a governor, Caesar was wary of ceding too much power in Egypt to a potential rival. The son of a former slave was a safer bet.
For the first time since the death of her father, Cleopatra had a protector. Although he would be many miles away from her, he had the power to reach out to her should danger threaten. It is perhaps indicative of her gratitude, her relief and even her love for him that she began building a vast and ostentatiously splendid monument to Caesar—the Caesareum—on the harbor. It must have been a pleasing distraction as she awaited the arrival of the child that would be tangible proof of her alliance with the most powerful man in Rome. An inscription in Memphis suggests that
In the early spring of 47, it seems that Caesar embarked with Cleopatra on a cruise up the Nile. Egyptian royal barges were the stuff of fantasy—sumptuous floating palaces of fragrant cedar and cypress about three hundred feet long, forty-five feet wide and sixty feet high, hung with costly fabrics and sparkling with gems, all supported on twin, catamaran-like hulls. Lying on silken couches and cooled by peacock-feather fans, the lovers could dally as they floated past the rich bright green farmlands along the Nile, Caesar adorned with the wreaths of flowers that were a Ptolemaic fashion.
However, it was more than a pleasure trip. For Cleopatra, there was a strategic purpose in showing herself to the wider Egyptian population beyond Alexandria. Cleopatra was unpopular in her idiosyncratic, cosmopolitan capital, but her relationship with the people of the countryside and especially those of Upper Egypt was warmer. They remembered her homage to the Buchis bull at Her-monthis early in her reign and it was to them that she had first turned for help when forced to flee Alexandria. Now they could see their Isis restored to divine majesty with her powerful Roman ally by her side.
From Caesar’s point of view, there was also some political point to this pleasurable river trip—to demonstrate the power of Rome. Appian claims that four hundred ships accompanied the barge. Suetonius states that the plan was to sail to the southernmost part of Egypt, “nearly to Ethiopia,” but that, echoing the reluctance of Alexander’s troops to advance into India, Caesar’s men grew restive and the trip was curtailed. Perhaps the hardened legionaries, hungry for home, wondered what was the point of drifting along the Nile, apart from allowing their leader a scenic sexual interlude—certainly when Caesar finally returned to Rome, his men would sing ribald verses about his enthusiastic couplings with the Egyptian queen. In Rome, Cicero too was wondering where Caesar was, writing, “Caesar seems to be so stuck in Alexandria that he is ashamed even to write about the situation there.”
Soon after their return to Alexandria, in late June or early July 47, Caesar at last left Egypt, marching with his troops across the hot deserts into Syria. He was not leaving his heavily pregnant mistress unprotected. To defend her—and to guard Rome’s interests—he left behind three legions under the command of a courageous but humbly born officer named Rufio, the son of an emancipated slave. In so doing, Caesar was disregarding the long-established practice whereby only officers who were also senators could command Rome’s legions. Yet, mirroring his fears over appointing a governor, Caesar was wary of ceding too much power in Egypt to a potential rival. The son of a former slave was a safer bet.
For the first time since the death of her father, Cleopatra had a protector. Although he would be many miles away from her, he had the power to reach out to her should danger threaten. It is perhaps indicative of her gratitude, her relief and even her love for him that she began building a vast and ostentatiously splendid monument to Caesar—the Caesareum—on the harbor. It must have been a pleasing distraction as she awaited the arrival of the child that would be tangible proof of her alliance with the most powerful man in Rome. An inscription in Memphis suggests that
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