“So they do, so they do. Ah, you said that you are not shipping it to Egypt this year? Might that be because of King Ptolemy’s troubles?”
“Yes, yes.” He smiled and nodded vigorously at the same time.
“Is there trouble between Ethiopia and Egypt?”
“No, no,” now smiling and shaking his head with equal vigor. The sudden changes in direction of those flashing teeth were making me a little dizzy. “No, it was King Ptolemy who asked us to hold back certain things we have always traded directly with the royal house: ivory, feathers, a few other things. And, of course, the frankincense. He said these things would be stolen from him.”
“Stolen? Because of the unrest in his country?”
He looked embarrassed. “Why, please forgive me, Senator, I do not wish to give offense, but he said it was because of you Romans.”
I nodded too, much more slowly and without smiling. “I see.” And indeed I was beginning to see. “Thank you, Prince, both for your gift and for your information.”
“I have not offended?” He seemed genuinely concerned.
“Not at all. And I think that very soon things will be back to normal between ourselves and King Ptolemy and your father’s kingdom.”
This time he really smiled, an ear-to-ear stretch of ivory bright as a bucket of pearls. “Wonderful! My father will be so pleased!”
Flavia, I saw, was now hanging on Milo as eagerly as she had attached herself to Julia. Good luck to her, I thought. No man who had spent years married to Fausta had anything to fear from a social-climbing bacchante like Flavia.
Before long the dice were out, and I pitched in with a will. Things were beginning to come together in my mind, and I was able to give the little cubes the full attention they require.
“You’re doing well,” Flavia noted, looking over my shoulder. She had temporarily lost Milo.
“I usually do. If there are no races or fights going on, I can always rely on the dice. Where is Alpheus tonight? I thought he never missed a party in this town.”
“I’ve no idea. I sent him an invitation, but he probably found another, more profitable party somewhere else. As you can imagine, this is the height of the entertaining season in Paphos.”
“Well, you’ve scored a great success, even without him.” I rolled the dice and won again. Everybody else groaned.
“Oh, yes! Cleopatra, Julia Caesar, and Titus Annius Milo, what a list!” Her voice dripped satisfaction. It wasn’t common to give any woman a cognomen, but I knew that Flavia would refer to her thus when talking about her. She would want to leave nobody in doubt which Julia had come to her event.
In time I packed away my winnings and collected my wife and Milo and made my farewells to all the guests and to my host.
“You must come again, Senator,” said Sergius Nobilior. “I want a chance to win back some of my losses.”
Milo put a hand on my shoulder. “With Decius, never use his dice and always take his tips on horses and gladiators.”
“Don’t worry, Sergius,” I assured him, “you’ll see plenty more of me.”
“How much did you win?” Julia asked, as we rolled into our litter and were lifted to shoulder height.
“Roughly nine hundred sesterces in staters, drachmae, darii, minae, and some sort of Arabian silver coin I’ve never seen before. Six rings, one of them set with a small emerald, two strings of pearls, and a jewel-hilted dagger.”
“Oh, let me see the pearls!” She pretended to study them in the dimness. “Isn’t Flavia the most wonderfully vulgar woman? A Coan gown! You could see that she rouged her nipples!”
“Never glanced in that direction.”
“Liar. But Cleopatra was right. She is loads of fun. She’s promised to show me the town tomorrow. Will that be all right?”
I thought about it. “Tomorrow morning and afternoon, fine. But be back well before nightfall. After tomorrow, you had better stay away from her.”
“Why?”
“Because I am going to have to arrest her husband soon.”
“Really? On what charges?”
“I’m not sure about all of them. And I am sure that he’s not alone, so I can’t proceed precipitately. When dealing with a conspiracy, you know, it is always a bad idea to attack it piecemeal. You should try to bag everyone at once.”
“That makes sense.”
Back at the naval base I tipped the bearers and sent them back to the house of the late governor. Milo, minus his showy toga, joined us in the triclinium, where Julia made extravagant use of candles and lamps so she could examine her new pearls. I sent Hermes to fetch Ariston.
“How are the men shaping up?” I asked Milo.
“I have them under control. We’ll have a viable force when the time comes to smash these bandits. First, we have to get rid of their colleagues here in Paphos.”
“We’ll be ready to start that soon,” I told him.
“Good. I want to seize Harmodias’s account books, but I don’t want to tip him off too soon.”
“I should have done it as soon as I took command here,” I admitted.
“Just as well you didn’t. You’d’ve had your throat cut before you went out on your first patrol.”
“So Harmodias is in with them?” Julia said.
“Certainly,” Milo answered. “It wasn’t that so much had been taken by Pompey’s agents for the war in Gaul. It was that everything wasn’t seized. It’s my guess that only the larger ships and their gear and the war engines were taken, maybe some of the arms. But it was the paint that first roused my suspicions.”
“I should have seen it,” I said, “as soon as that woman on the island said their ships were ‘the same color as the sea’. They have no use for Roman naval colors, have they? They don’t want their ships bright and showy.”
“Same with the naptha and the rams,” he said. “Pirates don’t want to sink or burn ships; they want to take them intact. The arms that were left behind are a mixture of types and nationalities unsuitable for the legions. Most of the pirates probably already had their own arms, so Harmodias didn’t have to strip his arsenal bare. Easy enough to claim that Pompey seized it all to send to Caesar. Who’s going to call them to account?”
Hermes arrived with Ariston.
“Have a seat,” I told the ex-pirate.
He sat. “Are we going out on another late-night scout?”
“Not this time,” I said. “Describe for Titus Milo the ship we saw out there at Gabinius’s estate.”
“A penteconter: typical pirate craft, favored by smugglers, too. It’s light, fast, draws little water, and can go into almost any creek or inlet. Rides low, hard to see. Can’t go head-to-head with a trireme, not enough men or power. If there’s to be fighting, three or four penteconter skippers can gang up on a bigger ship.”
“And this one was riding high in the water,” I said.
“Looked like it to me, but I didn’t get as close as you did. Looked like it was wallowing a bit, too.”
“At Gabinius’s estate, they took on cargo. Might it have been frankincense?”
He frowned and thought. “Doesn’t make sense. Any sort of incense is a light-weight cargo. Even if he was going to pack his hold with it, he’d’ve come ballasted. It’s unsafe making any sort of crossing with too little weight in the hold. Whatever he picked up, it was heavy enough to make the ship stable for the voyage to wherever they took it.
“That was my own thought,” I said, “but I don’t trust my knowledge of nautical matters. Titus, Cyprus produces in abundance one very heavy product: copper.”
“So why is Gabinius stockpiling copper in his house and smuggling it out?” he mused. “It’s a legitimate trade.”
“Good question. But we know already that there are a number of people involved in this matter. Spurius said, ‘Your business isn’t just with me and you know it.’ I am certain that Nobilior the banker is one of them. But who are the others?”
“I hope not Cleopatra,” Julia s
aid. “I like her, and besides, anything touching Egypt is always dangerous.”
“Say that again,” Milo said.
“Say what?”
“What Spurius said. You were imitating his accent, weren’t you?”
“I suppose I was. I’ve been trying to place it since I heard him. It’s from somewhere near Rome, I’m sure.”
“Repeat everything you heard him say. I’m sure I know that accent.”
So I repeated everything the man had said, which wasn’t all that much. Milo stopped me a few times to get the pronunciation of certain words.
At the end of it, he grinned. “The man is from Ostia! I ought to know since I spent so many of my younger years there.”
I slapped the table. “Why didn’t I realize it! It’s the way you talked when I first met you, back before you became more Roman than Cincinnatus!” Things began to connect more firmly. “Silvanus was from Ostia, and so is Nobilior.”
“I wonder if Spurius meant what he said,” Hermes put in.
“About what?” I asked him.
“About attending the Aphrodisia.”
I looked at him. “Surely the gods would never be so good to me.”
12
THE TOWN WAS PACKED. THE HARBOR WAS jammed with ships of every size and description. The Roman grain fleet was still in harbor, loading supplies for the final leg of its long journey down the coast of Syria and Judea, past the Delta of the Nile, on to Alexandria. Although predominantly Greek, the crowds featured people seemingly from every nation of the world. There were Arabs in desert robes, Egyptians in linen kilts, Africans in colorful skins, tattooed Scythians, and people from no country I had ever heard of. I even saw some Gauls in checked trousers.
Flavia had arrived early to carry Julia off for their tour of the city. It may seem foolhardy to trust her to the wife of a man whose execution I might well demand, but to have begged off at the last moment might have roused too many suspicions. Anyway, violence aimed toward me would come from some other direction. Flavia’s awe of Julia’s family would keep her safe.
Leaving Milo to crack the whip over my men, I took Hermes and plunged into the festivities. Everywhere, people decked in flower wreaths sang Greek hymns and poured libations at the town’s many small shrines to Aphrodite. Businesses that used her name or her image on their signs were decked out in flowers and other decorations and offered free drinks and food to passersby. Processions carried her images and sacred emblems through the streets, and people from widely separated cities and islands offered the sacrifices and performed the rituals of the goddess that prevailed in their own locales. A few of these were genuinely orgiastic, but most were fairly sedate. Of course, it was still daytime.
“Gabinius’s men,” Hermes said, as we came to the market where I had inquired about frankincense. I saw a cluster of tough-looking specimens, some of them armored, all of them draped with weapons.
“That is a very unbefitting sight on a holy and festive occasion,” I said. They were glaring toward me, but nobody was making a hostile move yet. “Come along, let’s try the public garden.” I had received an invitation to a reception being held there by the city council for all officials and distinguished visitors.
The garden was laid out in imitation of the Academy at Athens. Every Greek city has one of these groves. Like most of them, the one at Paphos was used primarily by the city’s schools, for Greeks do not believe in confining boys indoors except in bad weather. Its plantings and fine statuary had been donated by successive generations of rich residents, and there was a beautiful gymnasium and palaestra attached to it. On this day it had been commandeered by the city council for its annual celebration in honor of the town’s goddess.
On entering the grove I was handed a cup, and I poured a small libation before taking a healthy swig. As I handed the cup back, Nearchus came to greet me.
“Welcome, Senator. I am so glad your duties have not kept you away.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.” I scanned the crowd. “Is Gabinius here?”
“We have not seen the general yet. Doubtless he will come in time. This reception will be open until late in the afternoon when the great procession goes up to the temple.”
“If you should see him, tell him that I would like to speak with him.” I wanted to confer with Gabinius, but only in a public place, preferably one where a lot of important men were gathered. Safer that way. Under no circumstances was I going to his house, nor would I meet with him in some deserted place.
“I shall see that it is done. In the meantime please enjoy the hospitality of the city and the company of our many distinguished guests.”
I saw the quaestor Valgus from the grain fleet, standing with a group of well-dressed Romans. I walked that way and introduced myself.
“How good to meet you, Senator,” Valgus said courteously. “All Rome speaks glowingly of your aedileship. I think you may know some of these gentlemen. This is Salinius Naso of Tarentum, who is in overall command of the fleet.” This man was not a ship’s captain, but rather the man charged by the Senate with responsibility for the fleet and its cargo.
“I believe I know the name. You have had this command before, have you not?”
“This is my fourth voyage to Alexandria, Senator.” He looked more than competent. Such a trust probably made him the most prestigious man in Tarentum.
“And this,” Valgus said, “is Marcus Furius Marcinus, once a Tribune of the People.” This was a large, pale-faced man who took my hand and nodded formally. “An honor,” he said, in a deep voice.
“And this,” Valgus said, “is Senator Manius Mallius, just arrived this morning, who came to Cyprus to be Governor Silvanus’s assistant and now, it seems, is to be governor himself.”
“If the Senate approves it,” Mallius said. He was a young man with the look of the inveterate Forum politician. I had the look myself, with a few more years on it.
“You were quaestor two years ago, weren’t you?” I asked.
“I was.”
“Nearchus and the council will be overjoyed that you are here,” I assured him. “The situation has been complicated, but with a clear commission from the Senate you should have little trouble.”
“Such is my hope. I was not expecting this. May I call on you for a briefing on the situation here?”
“Please do so. As a matter of fact—” I excused us from the little group of Romans and took him aside. “What is the Forum gossip about Gabinius?”
“Gabinius? I’d heard he was here helping Silvanus. What about him?”
“Is there agitation to get his exile rescinded?”
“Well, naturally. He has many friends, you know. He was convicted in Cato’s court on the charge of extortion. But Cato opposes Caesar, and Gabinius is Caesar’s supporter. Pompey and Caesar are allied at the moment, so it is only a matter of time before he’s recalled. The tribunes had it up before the Plebeian Assembly when I left Rome, and you know who has the power in that assembly these days. His recall letter may be on the next ship. Why do you ask?”
I gave him a judiciously edited version of the way Gabinius was trying to take control of Cyprus, minimizing my own questionable acts. I knew that Mallius was an experienced man and would know well poisoning when he heard it, especially since my family’s shift toward the anti-Caesarian faction, but he would be on his guard against Gabinius anyway.
“How go your operations against these pirates I was told about?” he asked.
“I expect to smash them utterly within a few days,” I told him, smiling. He expected no other answer of course. “In fact I happen to know that several persons here in Paphos are in league with them, and I may need you to lend me your authority in arresting them and bringing them to trial.”
“That seems reasonable, but I just got here and I need to learn exactly what resources I have. The city guard will be under my command, I suppose. Arresting some Greek conspirators, trying and executing them right at the outset of my administration—ye
s, that might just set a good tone for my government.”
“Actually, Governor, some of the people I need to arrest are Roman citizens.”
He didn’t exactly turn pale, but his attitude changed noticeably. “Citizens? You mean to arrest Roman citizens in a newly annexed territory, then take them back to Rome for trial? A process that can consume years? This is not reasonable, Commodore!”
“I am afraid it will be necessary if I am to suppress piracy in these waters, Governor,” I insisted.
“Nonsense! Find them, destroy their ships, find their base, and bring the surviving wretches here to me, and I will be most happy to crucify them for you. If there are Romans here in league with them, go back to Rome and indict them. I won’t begin my administration by disgracing citizens before foreigners!” Well, I hadn’t expected it would be easy.
I circulated for a while, limiting my wine intake and checking from time to time to assure that my weapons were handy. As I left the garden to see what was happening elsewhere in town, a familiar voice hailed me.
“Senator! Decius Caecilius!” It was Alpheus, already tipsy, a laurel wreath slightly askew on his head. He was with a little group of similarly festive companions. “Come join us!” I meandered over to the joyous band.
“I thought you would be taking part in the ceremonies,” I told him.
“There is nothing left for me to do. I have taught and rehearsed the sacred chorus, but there is no role for me in the rest of the ritual, so now I am just enjoying the festivities like everybody else. Have a drink with us. There is a high-class tavern near the Temple of Hephaestus that is giving away Judaean wine flavored with rose petals, this day only.”
“What is it called?”
“The Hermaphroditus. The statue in front is worth the trip by itself.” This intrigued me. I had never seen a really convincing depiction of the double-sexed offspring of Aphrodite and Hermes, and was curious to see how this statue interpreted the difficult subject.
SPQR IX: The Princess and the Pirates Page 21