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“Good morning, Marcus Licinius,” Pompey says and smiles at Crassus because that’s what he always does.
“Good morning,” Crassus answers, although the morning is decidedly bad. He has to keep up appearances.
Pompey inclines his head in the direction of the chair, silently inviting Crassus to sit. As if he doesn’t know that Crassus prefers to stand when talking to him. He’s not above enjoying their height difference.
“You seem upset about something,” Pompey prompts him to speak.
“Yes,” he answers, watching Pompey roll an aureus across his knuckles. “We negotiated that Parthia is mine.”
Pompey hums in agreement, flips the aureus and they both watch it fly up and back into his hand.
“Syria and the surroundings,” Crassus continues. “That’s what we agreed upon. Parthia is mine.”
“Yes, but it seems Aulus Gabinius didn’t get the memo.”
Crassus looks away from the aureus only to find Pompey eyeing him pensively.
“And whose fault is that?”
“Mine,” the aureus disappears from Crassus’ sight. “Syria has a lot of surroundings. I thought you wouldn’t mind Aulus Gabinius having some fun.”
“We agreed, Gnaeus Pompeius,” he says forcefully.
“That we did,” he flips the coin again, “Egypt or Parthia?”
Pompey catches the aureus and Crassus finally recognizes it. It’s the one that was made after Pompey’s first triumph. Crassus usually doesn’t care much about what exactly is stamped on coins, but this one he dislikes more than it deserves.
“What do you mean?” he snaps.
“As I’ve said: Syria has a lot of surroundings. You can’t wage war on both Parthia and Egypt. So, choose one and the other will go to Aulus Gabinius. The man needs to be rewarded, after all.”
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
“That wasn’t the agreement,” Pompey nods, watching the aureus roll across his knuckles again. “But you will have to make that choice anyway. Why not now?”
“Because I don’t want to make it now!” he hisses, annoyed with his ‘ally’. “I need to plan everything carefully.”
Pompey raises his eyes slowly and gives him a freezing smile, it doesn’t look right on his face and Crassus can swear it’s Strabo’s through and through. He knows that smile, has seen it a few times during their first consulship. Nothing good ever came after it.
“You’re about to go to war, Marcus Licinius. Surely you know, that you won’t be able to follow a plan, won’t be able to account for everything,” his gaze is unfocused and lifeless, and Crassus averts his eyes, even though he thinks that Pompey is playing.
“I fought in a war, too. I know how it works.”
“Do you?” Pompey asks quietly and steps closer. “You never fought in a war like the one you are about to start. You will be far away from Rome, in an unknown land with unreliable maps and even less reliable people to help you. You will have to worry endlessly about logistics, provisions, and equipment. You will have to keep your legions happy somehow. You will have to understand unfamiliar rulers, new players, so to speak, and use their weaknesses to your advantage. And most importantly, you’ll have to win while you’re at it.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Crassus sneers at Pompey from his impressive height, enjoying that the man has to tilt his head upwards just to look him in the eyes. “I’m a good general, I’ll manage.”
That seems to snap Pompey from whatever reverie he is in. He turns his back to Crassus and after a few steps away turns to him again with the usual bright smile.
“Parthia or Egypt?” he asks mockingly.
Crassus considers his answer carefully. Egypt is easier, but it will be less glorious, less profitable. Parthia is a bit of an unknown, compared to Egypt, but there’s a civil war now. He watches Pompey play with the aureus again. Crassus can’t allow Aulus Gabinius to snatch such an opportunity from under his nose, can he?
“Parthia.”
“Ah, the civil war,” Pompey nods. “Clever.”
The coin flies up again and lands back into his hand with the triumphal chariot on display.
“Very. Now, tell your man to get his hands off of Parthia. He can have Egypt.”
Crassus turns, about to leave, but Pompey’s voice stops him.
“Time really changes people. A while back you would have chosen Egypt, and I would have chosen Parthia. Today, if the choice were mine I would choose Egypt,” he sighs with an air of wistfulness. “Easy, short campaign and I’m back home.”
Yes, Crassus thinks, you would choose Egypt. Because you can afford it, because you’ve always chosen ‘Parthia’ before. You have your reputation and enough victories for a lifetime. Now, it’s Crassus’ turn.