_Glyptothek, Munich._] [_Photograph by Bruckmann._
Here Cleopatra decided to take up her residence so soon as Octavian should lay successful siege to the walls of the city. She had determined that in the event of defeat she would destroy herself; and, with this prospect in view, she now caused her treasures of gold, silver, ebony, ivory, and cinnamon, and her jewellery of pearls, emeralds, and precious stones, to be carried into the mausoleum, where they were laid upon a pyre of faggots and tow erected on the stone floor of one of the upper rooms. If it should be necessary for her to put an end to her miseries, she had decided to set the fangs of the deadly asp into her flesh, and, with her last efforts, to fire the tow, thus consuming her body and her wealth in a single conflagration. Meanwhile, however, she remained in the Palace, and busied herself in the preparations of the defence of the city.
In the last days of July Octavian’s forces arrived before the walls, and took up their quarters in and around the Hippodromos, which stood upon rocky ground to the east of the city. Faced with the crisis, Antony once more showed the flickering remnants of his former courage. Gathering his troops together he made a bold sortie from the city, and attacking Octavian’s cavalry, routed them with great slaughter and chased them back to their camp. He then returned to the Palace, where, meeting Cleopatra while still he was clad in his dusty and blood-stained armour, he threw his arms about her small form and kissed her in the sight of all men. He then commended to her especial favour one of his officers who had greatly distinguished himself in the fight; and the Queen at once presented the man with a magnificent helmet and breastplate of gold. That very night this officer donned his golden armour and fled to the camp of Octavian.
Upon the next morning Antony, with somewhat boyish effrontery, sent a messenger to Octavian challenging him to single combat, as he had done before the battle of Actium; but to this his enemy replied with the scathing remark that “he might find several other ways of ending his life.” He thereupon decided to bring matters to a conclusion by a pitched battle on land and sea, rather than await the issue of a protracted siege; and, Cleopatra having agreed to this plan, orders were given for a general engagement upon August 1st. On the night before this date Antony, whose courage did not now fail him, bade the servants help him liberally at supper and not to be sparing with the wine, for that on the morrow they might be serving a new master, while he himself, the incarnation of Bacchus, the god of wine and festivity, lay dead upon the battlefield. At this his friends who were around him began to weep, but Antony hastily explained to them that he did not in the least expect to die, but hoped rather to lead them to glorious victory.