Roman Lives by Plutarch & Robin Waterfield & Philip A. Stadter

Author:Plutarch & Robin Waterfield & Philip A. Stadter
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Non-Fiction, Classics, Philosophy, Biography, History
ISBN: 9780199537389
Publisher: Oxford University Press
Published: 1954-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

[79] With these last words to his family he climbed on board the boat. It was a long way from the trireme to land, and since none of the men on board had a kind word for him he looked at Septimius and said, ‘If I’m not mistaken, you’re an old comrade-in-arms of mine.’ But Septimius only nodded his head, without saying a thing or making any attempt to be friendly. During the long silence that resumed, Pompey read through the speech in Greek he had prepared to deliver to Ptolemy, which he had written down in a little book he was carrying. As they approached the shore, Cornelia was standing with Pompey’s friends on the trireme, watching and trying to guess what was going to happen next. She was beside herself with anxiety, but she began to cheer up when she saw a crowd of men from the king’s retinue gathering at the dock, apparently to pay their respects to Pompey and welcome him to Egypt. But Pompey had just taken hold of Philippus’ hand for some support as he got to his feet, when Septimius ran him through from behind with his sword, and next Salvius and then Achillas drew their daggers. Pompey used both hands to cover his head with his toga, and endured their blows with nothing more than a gasp, without saying or doing anything to betray his dignity. And so Pompey died aged 59, on the day after his birthday.*

[80] After expressing their horror at the sight of the murder with cries that were loud enough to be heard on land, the people on board the ships weighed anchor with all speed and fled. As they ran for the open sea, a strong wind came to their help and thwarted the Egyptians’ plan to pursue them. But they cut off Pompey’s head, threw the rest of his body naked off the fishing-boat, and left it exposed as a ghastly spectacle for anyone to see who wanted to. Philippus stayed by the body until people had had their fill of the sight, and then he washed it in the sea and dressed it in one of his own togas. But that was all he had, so he searched along the sea-shore until he found the wreck of a small fishing-boat; the timbers were rotten, but they would do to make a basic funeral pyre for a naked and mutilated corpse.

As he was collecting the wood and building the pyre, a Roman came up to him who was now an old man, but who as a young man had been one of Pompey’s comrades-in-arms during his first campaigns. ‘Who are you, sir?’ he asked Philippus. ‘Why should it be up to you to give Pompey the Great his last rites?’ When Philippus explained that he was Pompey’s freedman, the old man said, ‘Well, this noble deed shall not be yours alone. Since I happen to have stumbled upon this pious duty, please let me help you out.

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