Im forging ahead: As if on cue, the curtains of the second litter parted, and a muscular masculine arm, wearing many golden armbands, appeared in the gap. The arm was followed by the body of a man who must, in his prime, have been a perfect Hercules, but now appeared as a pitiful wreck. It was clear to my eye that he was suffering from the effects of overindulgence in the recent past, and that he was having difficulty making his way out of the litter. Two slaves approached him, and offered their shoulders as support, but he brushed them aside with massive sweeps of his arm, swaying slightly on his feet as he did so. He lifted his head, and I saw his face for the first time. It was one of a man who was born to nobility and power, and who was used to command. That much was clear, but at the same time, it was also painfully obvious that this was a man who had been ruined, either at his own hands, or at those of others, who had exploited his weaknesses to bring him to this present pitiful condition. He spoke in a language which was unknown to me, and a slave approached him, running, and bearing a jewelled goblet in one hand and a jug in another. Kneeling before Marcus Antonius (for this was indeed that tragic ruined figure), he poured dark wine into the goblet, which Antonius then seized and drained in one mighty draught, before holding it out to be refilled. In the meantime, Cleopatra sat watching on her throne, a half-smile of cynical amusement on her face.
Posted on: Sat, 01 Nov 2014 23:52:52 +0000
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