SPQR IX: The Princess and the Pirates

by John Maddox Roberts

  “It’s a good thing you did. If you hadn’t been there, Gabinius might have gone ahead and killed me just to be rid of the annoyance. He could have claimed that he got there too late.”

  Now as I went out to talk with them, I was fairly certain I had most of the facts. Milo sat with some scrolls and tablets in front of him. Gabinius looked supremely confident. Mallius looked bemused. I took a seat.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” I said. “Then we can all get back to the festival. Aulus Gabinius, tell me why I should not charge you with murder and piracy and a number of other charges before a praetor’s court?”

  “Furius Marcinus was tribune in the same year I was. He supported me in passing the lex Gabinia that gave Pompey his command of the whole sea to sweep it clean of pirates. In return, when I had my propraetorian command in Syria, I took him along as legate. When I agreed to put Ptolemy back on his throne, it was Marcinus I used to recruit the bulk of the mercenary army I took to Egypt.”

  “That included recruiting among the aforementioned pirates, then settled in villages inland?”

  “Right. After the war, when we set about collecting the enormous debt Ptolemy had incurred, several merchant organizations came to protest Ptolemy’s extortions. He was trying to raise the money from foreigners so he could keep the Egyptian population docile. Among these was the Holy Society of Dionysus. Rabirius had seized control of the frankincense trade, the most lucrative of the Ptolemaic monopolies.”

  “Rabirius was trying to collect that debt, too,” I pointed out.

  “For himself and his own cronies. I wanted to be sure that my own part, and that of my supporters, got paid back. To foil Rabirius, Ptolemy sent word to Ethiopia and Arabia Felix not to deliver the stuff while he had no control of it. This was unthinkable. The Society of Dionysus agreed to advance me the money to buy the incense and get it to them secretly somewhere other than Alexandria. Marcinus told me he had two acquaintances from Ostia: Nobilior the banker and Silvanus, a prominent politician, on Cyprus. Silvanus was an old friend of mine, and Cyprus was a perfect location. I gave Marcinus the job of setting up the route. It was then that I was called back to Rome to stand trial. This petty little exile resulted. Naturally, I decided to spend my exile on Cyprus. By the time I got here, the business was going along nicely.”

  “I seized Harmodias’s books and clapped him into a storage shed under guard,” Milo reported. He picked up a scroll. “As I suspected, Pompey’s agents took only the triremes and the better equipment. They weren’t interested in the smaller ships. The first ships he turned over to Spurius, as he was called, were the penteconters. Then Spurius wanted the Liburnians as well. Nobilior brokered the deal, with Silvanus well-paid to look the other way.”

  “Marcinus was an adventurous man,” Gabinius said, “not really suited to ordinary military duties and administrative work. At first, he used the penteconters. They were ideal for smuggling, at which he branched out far beyond our incense trade. Then that became too tame for him. He wanted to try his hand at piracy, and that called for real warships. I had nothing to do with that, I assure you. I advised Silvanus against all such dealings, but so much wealth so easily had is difficult for a man to pass up.”

  “Then,” I said, “Rabirius got wind of what was happening and was very angry with his ‘friend’ Sergius Nobilior?”

  “Yes. The trade was too big to keep hidden. Rabirius has agents everywhere. He gave Nobilior one chance: redeem himself by returning his profits to Rabirius and killing Silvanus with a fitting gesture. Otherwise Rabirius would ruin him with the Ostian bankers and the whole banking community. For a climber like Nobilior, that was death. I got word of it too late.”

  “You didn’t scruple to keep employing Marcinus for your own smuggling.”

  “Just for the one last cargo. And I advised him to get out of the business while he could, although you may not believe me.”

  “Oh, I believe you,” I said. “By the way, what were you smuggling? Copper?”

  His shaggy brows went up. “You must be brighter than I thought. Yes, it was copper. I’ve been investing my profits in copper right here at the source, where it’s cheap.”

  “Copper? Mallius said. “Why smuggle copper? There is nothing illegal about the trade.”

  “I am shipping it to my agent in Syria to be struck into coins to pay my troops when I get the eastern command. That had to be kept quiet.”

  “I thought it might be something like that,” I said. “You are very confident.”

  “It has all been arranged. I am to be recalled to Rome soon, cleared of all charges, restored to the Senate with all my estates and other property returned, and given the eastern command. I will raise, equip, and pay the legions and auxilia myself, so I haven’t been idle here.”

  Mallius’s ears seemed to have grown to twice their usual size. “This sounds like, ah, privileged information.”

  “So it is,” Gabinius agreed. “A wise man might well prosper mightily being privy to such affairs.”

  “I was not entirely satisfied. It was awfully convenient for him that Marcinus, Nobilior, and Alpheus were all dead. And there were those two men who had attacked me in front of the Temple of Poseidon who had died mysteriously. But I had nothing solid against him. If he was guilty of something, all our other politician-generals were guilty of far, far worse.

  “Now,” Milo said, “if this is all over, why don’t we get to work cleaning up Marcinus’s fleet? I’m in the mood for a little fun. It’s going to be too easy though without him in command.”

  I rose, then remembered something. “Aulus Gabinius, Manius Mallius, if you would, I have a little ceremony to conduct here tomorrow morning that requires three citizens as witness. Could you join me and Titus Milo just after sunrise.”

  “Certainly,” Mallius said. Gabinius nodded.

  “And Manius Mallius, just forget all those awful things I said about Aulus Gabinius.”

  He looked at me a moment, then shrugged. Politics.

  THE AFTERNOON WAS AS BEAUTIFUL AS they had all been since I had arrived on Cyprus. Julia and I took our privileged position in the forefront of the crowd at the Temple of Aphrodite.

  Next to us stood Hermes, looking decidedly uncomfortable in his new toga and Phrygian bonnet. That morning, with Gabinius, Mallius, and Milo as witnesses, I had given him his freedom, conferred upon him full rights of citizenship, and given him his freedman’s name: Decius Caecilius Metellus. He would always be Hermes to me though.

  My recent experience had reminded me how fleeting life can be and that I might not have a chance to conduct the ceremony myself should I wait too long.

  Cleopatra stood nearby, surrounded by her entourage. She caught my eye and nodded, smiling. I was unutterably relieved that she had not been involved in the sordid business on Cyprus. At least, not in any way I could prove. If she was involved, she’d showed more circumspection than she displayed later in her life.

  Then the chorus began to sing the hymn composed by the late Alpheus, whom I was going to miss. He’d had his faults, but he had been excellent company. Then the priestesses came out of the temple, draped in the golden nets and nothing else. Last of all came lone. In procession they passed us while the people bowed their heads.

  When she came near us, lone paused. Timidly, Julia stepped forward, reached out a hand, and touched Ione’s flesh through the net. Then the procession went on, and we fell in behind. Other women came from the crowd and touched the lesser priestesses, but no other was allowed to touch lone.

  When the procession reached the seashore near the temple, the crowd lined the beach and carpeted the hillsides and bluffs nearby. The priestesses paused for a moment at the water’s edge, then slowly walked out into the water. First to their knees, then to their waists, then to their shoulders. Then, just as the chorus swelled to the last notes of the hymn, their heads disappeared beneath the water. There was silence for the space of ten heartbeats.

  Then the priestesses emerged smi
ling from the waters, and the people raised a truly ancient Greek hymn of praise in which we visitors joined. The nets were gone. Dressed only in the sea-foam the priestesses returned to their island renewed, reborn.

  These things happened on the island of Cyprus in the year 703 of the City of Rome, the consulship of Servius Sulpicius Rufus and Marcus Claudius Marcellus.

  GLOSSARY

  (Definitions apply to the year 703 of the Republic.)

  Arms Like everything else in Roman society, weapons were strictly regulated by class. The straight, double-edged sword and dagger of the legions were classed as “honorable.”

  The gladius was a short, broad, double-edged sword borne by Roman soldiers. It was designed primarily for stabbing.

  The caestus was a boxing glove, made of leather straps and reinforced by bands, plates, or spikes of bronze. The curved, single-edged sword or knife called a sica was “infamous.” Sicas were used in the arena by Thracian gladiators and were carried by street thugs. One ancient writer says that its curved shape made it convenient to carry sheathed beneath the armpit, showing that gangsters and shoulder holsters go back a long way.

  Shields were not common except as gladiatorial equipment. The large shield (scutum) of the legions was unwieldy in narrow streets, but bodyguards might carry the small shield (parma) of the light-armed auxiliary troops. These came in handy when the opposition took to throwing rocks and roof tiles.

  Campus Martius A field outside the old city wall, formerly the assembly area and drill field for the army, named after its altar to Mars. It was where the Popular Assemblies met during the days of the Republic.

  Centuriate Assembly The Centuriate Assembly was a voting unit made up of all male citizens in military service. It seemingly dealt with major policy decisions, but by the Roman historical period the votes were largely symbolic and almost always positive, usually taken when decisions had already not only been made but sometimes even acted upon. The body was divided into five different parts based on wealth; the result was that the highest level or two always won and the lowest classes were not even called upon to vote.

  Circus The Roman racecourse and the stadium that enclosed it.

  College of augurs Augurs had the task of interpreting omens sent by the gods, usually thunder and lightning and the flights of birds. An augurate was for life and new augurs were co-opted by the serving priests. The augurate was largely a political appointment and was a mark of great prestige. Augurs could call an end to official business by interpreting unfavorable omens and this became a potent political tool.

  Crucifixions The Romans inherited the practice of crucifixion from the Carthaginians. In Rome, it was reserved for rebellious slaves and insurrectionists. Citizens could not be crucified.

  Curia The meetinghouse of the Senate, located in the Forum, also applied to a meeting place in general.

  Cursus Honorum “Course of Honor”: The ladder of office ascended by Romans in public life. The cursus offices were quaestor, praetor, and consul. Technically, the office of aedile was not part of the cursus honorum, but by the late Republic it was futile to stand for praetor without having served as aedile. The other public offices not on the cursus were censor and dictator.

  Duumvir A duumvirate was a board of two men. Many Italian towns were governed by duumviri. A duumvir was also a Roman admiral, probably dating from a time when the Roman navy was commanded by two senators.

  Eagles The eagle was sacred to Jupiter, and from the time of Gaius Marius gilded eagles were the standards of the legions. Thus, a soldier served “with the eagles.”

  Equestrian Eques (pi. equites) literally meant “horseman.” In the early days of the military muster, soldiers supplied all their own equipment. Every five years the censors made a property assessment of all citizens and each man served according to his ability to pay for arms, equipment, rations, etc. Those above a certain minimum assessment became equites because they could afford to supply and feed their own horses and were assigned to the cavalry. By the late Republic, it was purely a property class. Almost all senators were equites by property assessment, but the Dictator Sulla made senators a separate class. After his day, the equites were the wealthy merchants, moneylenders, and tax farmers of Rome. Collectively, they were an enormously powerful group, equal to the senators in all except prestige and control of foreign policy.

  Families and Names Roman citizens usually had three names. The given name (praenomen) was individual, but there were only about eighteen of them: Marcus, Lucius, etc. Certain praenomens were used only in a single family: Appius was used only by the Claudians, Mamercus only by the Aemilians, and so forth. Only males had praenomens. Daughters were given the feminine form of the father’s name: Aemilia for Aemilius, Julia for Julius, Valeria for Valerius, etc.

  Next came the nomen. This was the name of the clan (gens). All members of a gens traced their descent from a common ancestor, whose name they bore: Julius, Furius, Licinius, Junius, Tullius, to name a few. Patrician names always ended in ius. Plebeian names often had different endings.

  The stirps was a subfamily of a gens. The cognomen gave the name of the stirps, i.e., Caius Julius Caesar. Caius of the stirps Caesar of gens Julia.

  Then came the name of the family branch (cognomen). This name was frequently anatomical: Naso (nose), Ahenobarbus (bronzebeard), Sulla (splotchy), Niger (dark), Rufus (red), Caesar (curly), and many others. Some families did not use cognomens. Mark Antony was just Marcus Antonius, no cognomen.

  Other names were honorifics conferred by the Senate for outstanding service or virtue: Germanicus (conqueror of the Germans), Africanus (conqueror of the Africans), Pius (extraordinary filial piety).

  Freed slaves became citizens and took the family name of their master. Thus the vast majority of Romans named, for instance, Cornelius would not be patricians of that name, but the descendants of that family’s freed slaves. There was no stigma attached to slave ancestry.

  Adoption was frequent among noble families. An adopted son took the name of his adoptive father and added the genetive form of his former nomen. Thus when Caius Julius Caesar adopted his great-nephew Caius Octavius, the latter became Caius Julius Caesar Octavianus.

  All these names were used for formal purposes such as official documents and monuments. In practice, nearly every Roman went by a nickname, usually descriptive and rarely complimentary. Usually it was the Latin equivalent of Gimpy, Humpy, Lefty, Squint-Eye, Big Ears, Baldy, or something of the sort. Romans were merciless when it came to physical peculiarities.

  First Citizen In Latin: Princeps. Originally the most prestigious senator, permitted to speak first on all important issues and set the order of debate. Augustus, the first emperor, usurped the title in perpetuity. Decius detests him so much that he will not use either his name (by the time of the writing it was Caius Julius Caesar) or the honorific Augustus, voted by the toadying Senate. Instead he will refer to him only as the First Citizen. Princeps is the origin of the modern word “prince.”

  Forum An open meeting and market area. Roman citizens spent much of their day there. The courts met outdoors in the Forum when the weather was good.

  Freedman A manumitted slave. Formal emancipation conferred full rights of citizenship except for the right to hold office. Informal emancipation conferred freedom without voting rights. In the second or at least third generation, a freedman’s descendants became full citizens.

  Games/Ludus (pi. ludi) Public religious festivals put on by the state. Games usually ran for several days. They featured theatrical performances, processions, sacrifices, public banquets, and chariot races. They did not feature gladiatorial combats. The gladiator games called munera, were put on by individuals as funeral rites. Ludi were also training schools for gladiators, although the gladiatorial exhibitions were not ludi.

  Gymnasium, palaestra Greek and Roman exercise facilities. In Rome they were often an adjunct to the baths.

  Hospitium, hospitia Hospitium was a contract of mutual obligation bet
ween individuals and families. When a hospes visited the home of another, the provider was obligated to provide him with food and shelter, medical care if sick, aid in the law courts should such be necessary, and a proper funeral and burial should he die when visiting. Hospitium was symbolized by an exchange of tokens, and it was hereditary. An Athenian, for instance, who appeared at a Roman house with a hospitium token had to be given hospitality, even if the tokens had been exchanged by great-grandfathers a century before.

  Imperium The ancient power of kings to summon and lead armies, to order and forbid, and to inflict corporal and capital punishment. Under the Republic, the imperium was divided among the consuls and praetors, but they were subject to appeal and intervention by the tribunes in their civil decisions and were answerable for their acts after leaving office. Only a dictator had unlimited imperium.

  Lex Gabinia Roman military commands and governorships were apportioned by laws introduced to the Plebeian Assembly by the tribunes. Each law bore the name of the tribune who introduced it. The lex Gabinia gave Pompey his extraordinary command of the whole Mediterranean for his campaign against the pirates. The law was introduced by the tribune Aulus Gabinius.

  Legatus, legati When a praetor or consul stepped down from office and went out to govern a province, he could name a legatus as his assistant. The legatus had to be approved by the popular assemblies. If he was engaged in a major war, as Caesar was in Gaul, he might have several legati. The duties of a legatus were determined by the governor.

  Legions, legionaries In the Republic, a legion was a Roman army consisting on paper of 6,000 men, but the real number was usually closer to 4,000. Legionaries were citizens and fought as heavy infantry. A legion was usually accompanied by a roughly similar number of noncitizen auxiliaries who usually supplied the archers and slingers, light-armed skirmishers, and cavalry.

  Munera Special Games, not part of the official calendar, at which glad-iators were exhibited. They were originally funeral games and were always dedicated to the dead.