Enter Ventidius, as it were in triumph [marching with Silius and other Roman soldiers]; the dead body of Pacorus borne before him
VENTIDIUS Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and now
Pleased fortune does of Marcus Crassus’ death
Make me revenger. Bear the King’s son’s body
Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes,
Pays this for Marcus Crassus.
SILIUS Noble Ventidius,
Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow. Spur through Media,
Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither
The routed fly. So thy grand captain, Antony,
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and
Put garlands on thy head. (3.1.1-11)
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this in the theatre; it’s a scene that comes with screeching gears or the sound of a needle jumping the tracks—actually, it comes with proper drums and trumpets, as opposed to the chaotic ending of the scene which precedes it—but whatever, it’s a massive contrast to the drunken revels on board Pompey’s ship, the great and the good displaying their feet of clay, and that (as editors point out) is the point. Here’s the Roman empire doing its Roman and imperial thing, conquest and sacrifice, the generals carrying out their leaders’ instructions. Historically it’s set somewhere on the border with Syria, a massive distance from Rome and from the location of the previous scene. It also allows the theatre company to display its power and resources, although presumably at least some of those involved the previous scene have straightened themselves out to join in this procession, another reason for that scene’s tail with Menas and Enobarbus, a bit more time. There will certainly be banners, standards, and armour; there might be a hearse or a litter at least. Pacorus’s corpse might, conceivably, be stripped, at least to his shirt; he might be played by one of the boys. This, in comparison with the disgraceful scenes just concluded, is a Roman triumph. (Although as will become apparent, and as editors quibble, it’s not the full formal triumph thing, just a triumphant procession.)
Ventidius has made a punitive conquest of Parthia, darting because of their amazing and deadly skill in archery on horseback. But now they are struck, and in conquering them, Ventidius the general has avenged the death of Marcus Crassus (consults notes), a member of the first triumvirate with Pompey the great and Julius Caesar, who had been defeated when he tried to conquer the Parthians. He was taken captive and later executed; his head was sent to Orodes, the Parthian king, who poured molten gold into its mouth (Crassus had been the byword for greed and wealth). Ventidius is avenging both the defeat and that specific disgrace through the killing of Pacorus, Orodes’ son; it’s his body which is being borne at the front of the procession as a trophy. Lovely. These Romans are savage and vengeful; it’s also, perhaps, notable that Antony and Cleopatra is a play which is not at all interested in fathers and sons and their relationships, unlike almost all the other tragedies and histories. This seems a scene from another play.
It appears that this is the immediate aftermath of the battle, and they’re not safe yet, as Silius, one of the officers, is pointing out. Noble Ventidius (well, Ventidius doesn’t seem especially noble so far, especially if he’s covered in blood) whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm (lovely, again) the fugitive Parthians follow. Press your advantage; don’t let the fugitive Parthians, the survivors of the battle get away; hunt them down. Spur through Media, Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither the routed fly. Ride on at speed, keep attacking through all the surrounding country. Don’t let them go to ground; flush them out, wherever they’re hiding. If you do that—well, then you’ll get a proper triumph, not this make-shift battlefield procession. Your grand captain, Antony, shall set thee on triumphant chariots and put garlands on thy head. You’ll have that great return to Rome, that amazing celebration that confirms you as a hero—almost as a god. Come on!