Octavian was accused of loose living. His girlishly attractive appearance doubtless inspired Sextus Pompeius to accuse him of effeminate homosexuality, of being a “queen.”
Lucius Antonius asserted that Octavian had sold his favors to Aulus Hirtius, the consul who lost his life at Mutina in 43 B.C., for the princely sum of 300,000 sesterces. The incident supposedly took place in Spain in 45 B.C., during the last campaign of the civil war, which culminated in Caesar’s victory at Munda. This was not long before Caesar returned to Italy and wrote his will. Lucius added, perhaps to lend verisimilitude to his claims, that Octavian used to soften the hair on his legs by singeing it with red-hot walnut shells.
With their circumstantial detail, these allegations just might be true, though that is unlikely. It does appear that the young triumvir won a reputation with the Roman mob for sleeping with men, whether or not it was deserved. One day at the theater an actor came onstage representing a eunuch priest of Cybele, the Great Mother. As he played a tambourine, another performer exclaimed, “Look how the queen’s finger beats the drum!” Since the Latin phrase can also mean “Look how this queen’s finger sways the world!” the audience delightedly applied the line to Octavian, who was watching the show, and burst into enthusiastic applause.
Most evidence suggests that Octavian, in fact, preferred sleeping with women, and he was widely credited with multiple adultery. It was probably during his early years of power that a private banquet he gave caused a public scandal. The event became known as the Feast of the Divine Twelve. It was a costume party with a difference; guests were invited to dress up as one or other of the gods and goddesses of Olympus. Octavian came as Apollo (always his favorite deity), god of the sun and of healing, and patron of musicians and poets. Suetonius notes that Antony mentioned the affair in a “spiteful letter,” but adds that an anonymous popular ballad confirmed it.
What made the scandal worse was that the feast allegedly took place at a time of food shortage (caused, presumably, by Sextus Pompeius’ blockade). On the next day people were shouting “The gods have gobbled all the grain!” and “Caesar is Apollo, true, but he’s Apollo of the Torments”—this being the god’s aspect in one city district at Rome.
In the spring of 40 B.C., Antony was on his way to arrange his Parthian expedition when he learned that Perusia had fallen and that Fulvia had been forced to flee Italy. Antony met her at Athens and spoke very sharply to her, blaming her for the debacle. What she replied is unknown, but she was deeply shaken; an able woman, she had done everything in her power to advance her husband’s interests, and this was her recompense. The couple traveled to Sicyon, a port on the Gulf of Corinth, where Fulvia fell ill. We do not know what her sickness was, but it was exacerbated by a bout of depression. According to Appian, she “aggravated her illness deliberately,” which suggests self-harm.
Another lady paid Antony a visit: his mother, Julia, who had left Italy for her safety and taken refuge with Sextus Pompeius in Sicily. She conveyed a message from Sextus, offering an alliance against Octavian. Antony replied cautiously; if he went to war with Octavian he would regard Sextus as an ally; if not, he would try to reconcile them.
Meanwhile, the political situation was darkening. Antony’s ally Quintus Fufius Calenus, the governor of all Gaul beyond the Alps, unexpectedly died. As soon as he heard the news, Octavian rushed off to take control of Calenus’ eleven legions, which the dead man’s terrified son handed over to him without offering any resistance.