by Ken Farmer
Now the Captain clapped the old Greek on the back, with a smile. "Aye, but our need is of converse with men far below that of Kings and Senators. We will allow those of high place to make their usual patter about thrones and governing." Now to the men, waiting in the waist, he said, "Who is next on the vigil... Aye, Flavius, you have the anchor watch until the eighth hour. Densus... you will return to give relief at that time." To all he said, "Now, the Sage gives me that there may be some considerable turmoil in the city with the demise of the local monarch. Stay as a group in your brothel and taburna visitings, and, Kaeso..." He pointed to the first mate. "Have a man walk to view our masthead every hour. If the red streamer is flying, then all are to return immediately." The man nodded. "Return by darkness even if I have given no recall."
"Kurios! Have you need of a xystra?" Julius turned to see an urchin standing at the end of the boarding plank and holding a flat and thin piece of iron. Mayhap twelve or fourteen years of age, he had only a narrow strip of tied cloth as garb - not even enough to be called a loincloth. The Captain knew that this was one of the myriad of boys - nay, even grown men and oldsters, on occasion - who met each ship as it wharfed, with the offer to scrape the hull of the green growth that eventually bloomed on any ship long enough in the water. Harmless in itself, giving no weakness to the hull planks, it would inhibit the pace of a vessel through the water in proportion to the length of the filaments. On a rotting trudge, with little enough custom to even ply the sea, and none at all for maintenance in a shipyard, the dragging fibrils would cut the pace through the water by a half part or more.
The Petrel, however, was a ship of wealth and goodly custom, and as such was careened in the shipyard of the family each year for a thorough cleaning. Still... "What is your fee, boy?"
The lad looked up at the position of the sun, giving his crude estimation of remaining light, then said, "An obol for the day, Kurios."
The tiny Greek coin was not of enough value for Julius to pick up from the cobblestones, but to the boy, it would mean food for a pair of days, at least. He selected a single coin from his street purse - a hemiobol, or half the requested amount - tossing it to the boy. "Here is part of your wage, boy. You will receive the other at end of day." The urchin examined the coin, then placed it... somewhere in his diminutive wrap, the leaped from the wharf and into the water. Julius gave the matter no more thought.
Despite the youth and roughness of the young city, it was not as a domain of chaos. Trade was the lifeblood and the magistrates made all effort to prevent any detriment of such. The Vigilis, or whatever the designation of the guards that kept order might be, had constant patrols along the wharfs and into the parts of the city with the storage houses. Thieves, pilferers, and any malefactors that were found faced a life of using only their sinister hand, with the other taken in payment for their offense. Thusly, while no sane man would walk the streets unarmed, Julius had little worry of any miscreant other than the occasional cutpurse. Now, to Patroclus, he said, "Let us find the reason for the silence of our agent."
Antioch followed the structure of other large cities around the Great Sea, except for Rome. In that city of Latium, the houses of wealthy and poor alike were intermixed on the same street, except for the single quarter of the Capitoline, where only the high nobles made reside. An ancient family, with a Senator as the Dominus, might have their household adjoined by the vastly smaller edifice of a carpenter on one side and a grain merchant on the other, with several shanties of laborers leaning against the back wall. Few houses had enclosed compounds and the doors of the buildings opened directly onto the cobblestones of the street.
Here, and in most other cities, the nobles had their own places, grouped together and the quarter surrounded by the wealthy of the Plebeian merchants - or whatever the common people of the land were called. Those households were ringed by the larger area of the laborers of the merchantries and storehouses. Finally, and covering the vast bulk of the outlying city, were the poor and destitute - and criminals, fugitive slaves, and unnamed from unknown lands.
A common feature of all, however, were the youngsters that used the streets in the light of day for their gamboling. By darkfall, all would have disappeared - those with homes to take refuge with fathers and mothers, and the others to hiding holes unknown and undiscoverable.
Their journey from the ship was short, the offices of agents naturally either in or near the port itself. Both stopped in the street, looking at the stone building no different than the stadium long line of such that fronted the port via. Finally, Patroclus said, "It would appear that the report of our last ship was with correctness." The sign over the doorway was not that of the house of Clavius, but of some unknown vender of cordage and rope.
With no word in reply, Julius strode forward to enter the open doorway. Instantly, a man stepped to greet the newcomers. "My greetings of the day, Kurios. You have come to the vender-house for the finest lashings in Antiocheía. Mayhap you need re-reeving after a voyage of some ill weather? Or new heavy-lines for your weight-stones..."
Julius nodded. "Mayhap. You are of some newness to the harbor road, merchant? I do not recall your merchantry on my last visit."
The man nodded. "Aye, Kurios. Since the last month of Gamelion. Before that I had reside on the drómos of Asteria. Fortune has smiled on my vending and enabled my move to this proximity of the port."
Julius had little knowledge of either the months of this land nor the streets of the city and little desire to query his companion for the information. "This was the agency of Clavius on my last visit. Might you know of the possible move of that workplace to another?"
The man shook his head. "Nay, Kurios. The building was empty when I gained possession."
"And the name of the Conciliator might be..."
"Eukles, Kurios. In the drómos of fasianós."
Now Julius nodded. "My gratitude, merchant. Should we find any frayed lines in our ship, we will certainly favor your merchantry with our custom." He bowed and both returned to the street.
"The month of Gamelion," said Patroclus. "That was the third part of a year ago."
"Aye. We will ask the Conciliator of the reason. And of the breakage of a contract for the let that has a half year to go."
The office of the leasing agent was only the part of a stadium away, and soon they were striding down the street of the Pheasant. Shortly, they found the sign giving the name of the man - one Eukles, long in the vocation of commission and leasing. Inside was the usual chaos of tables loaded with tablets and scrolls of contract, with several scribes either dictating or scribing from such. Ignoring the greeter at the doorway, the Roman strode around a table to tap a man on the shoulder. Eukles turned, his expression changing with rapidity from mild annoyance, to surprise, then to... There was a flash of quickly hidden anxiety, mayhap, then, "Kapetánios Clavius. Blessed is the day that brings your return to our city."
Julius kept a smile on his face in reply. "Your greeting is welcome, my good Conciliator, but I come for information rather than salute."
"Information?" The man managed to keep his face in the mold of an attentive merchant, although he apparently had not taken sufficient drink with his last repast, his throat continuing to swallow in attempt to clear.
The smile of the Roman faded away. "Aye. Such as how another can be in possession of our agency building when I have a tablet showing our lease to be yet valid. Indeed, even for the next half year." It was not a precise truth. The tablet of letting was probably long back in Capua, stored with innumerable others in the huge scribery of the family.
The man nodded vigorously, still apparently in some distress with his throat. "Aye. And in fact, the good Phineus found another employ, to the words that were given around the wharfs. My lease-walker found the building empty of even the tables one morning, and gained the tale from the other vendors of the street." He spread his hands in expression of dismay. "But, a building cannot be left empty, as you know. It would soon be infested with
dock-scum and worse before the next sun rose." He turned and called to a scribe, giving an order with some emphasis. "Of course, the remainder of the leasing fee will be returned, even though the contract was not given expiry rights." He smiled with some effort. "The house of Clavius has been an excellent client and we wish to remain on goodly terms for future need." He accepted a handful of coins from his man, handing them to Julius with the same frozen smile.
The Roman accepted the metal, then said, "Aye, and indeed we will need another office, when I find the agent to accept our commission."
Eukles nodded vigorously, then grimaced with a show of regret. "Alas, the times are good and the properties to be let are few." He hurried to give the bad news some seasoning. "But, be assured that the house of Clavius will be placed on the top of the list for any that are forthcoming."
Now Julius bowed. "Your agency is honorable, as usual, and I give gratitude on behalf of my family for the consideration." With that, he turned to enter the streets, walking far enough to be away from the gaze of any in the employ of Eukles. Moving off the street, they stood behind the hanging garments of a merchant, looking back the way they had come.
Patroclus waited for a moment, then said, "Phineus must have found a magnificent berth, to leave the employ of Clavius with a half-year of gold in owing to his purse."
Absently, and still in gaze down the street, Julius said, "Aye, but as yet, we have only a part of the tale." Suddenly, he pulled the old Greek further into the racks of garments. "And here comes the story-teller even now."
Chapter 5
On the yesterday, both Julius and Patroclus had stood behind the racks of hanging garments watching Eukles hurry along the street, no doubt with the tale that some ship of the family of Clavius had docked and was in wonder at the absence of their agent. Following behind, they saw the man entering a huge compound in the magisterial quarter of the city and remaining there for the part of an hour. The assumption of Patroclus was that the Conciliator would be accosted for his knowledge of the disappearance of the agent of the family.
"What think you, Sos?" had asked the Sage as they stood down the street, but in view of the gate through which the leasing agent had disappeared. "That Phineus was suborned to both take the contracted custom and his skill to another enterprise?"
Absently, Julius replied, "Mayhap, but my thoughts are troubled with the idea that the reason may be darker." A pause, then, "One agent might leave for such, but two in a five-month period? It is not that the house of Clavius is penurious with commissions." Now he looked up and down the street, then said, "Come. I have seen enough."
This day, the usual companion of the Captain, Patroclus, was replaced by another, Melglos. Interestingly enough, the other members of the crew - with the tall black as anchor watch - were given orders of a most pleasant duty.
Julius intended to enter a part of the port where a man might reach the end-destination of his life, should his attention waver as to his surroundings. He had not wanted the old Sage as companion, should the need arise for any dispute. The two men, being large and on the green side of middle age, would not be seen as easy marks by any eyes that followed them along the cluttered and winding alley.
As they stepped off the boarding plank, turning to exit the wharf, they could see, standing beside a bollard, the boy that had done scraping duty on the Petrel on the day before. At the set of the sun, Flavius had jumped into the water, both to gain a refreshing cleanse from his wood shaving, but to also determine the extent of the work of the youngster. At his call of satisfaction to Julius, standing above on deck, the Captain had given the urchin the remainder of his fee and an additional coin for sweetening of good labor. "He is kindred to the fish, Capitaneus," said the Carpenter. "He can hold his being under the water for longer than myself."
Now he could see the same street-rat, standing in wait of some other opportunity to earn his mite for another day of existing. Suddenly seeing the Captain from the yesterday, he hurried to approach. "Kurios! Need you more labor from myself?"
"Mayhap. What is your name?" asked Julius.
"Pontiki," was the reply, eyes wide open for the least opportunity.
"Wish you to earn this coin, and another, and a goodly meal in the dockside food-kiosks?"
"For what service?" came the wary reply.
Knowing of the reason for hesitation - one of them - the Roman said, "We are not diastrevióa, come to gain the use of boy-youngsters for our pleasure. You need have no fear of that." He waved a coin. "If you will accompany us to a goodly meal, I will make an offer to you. If you have no desire for such after hearing my tender, then you may keep this coin." Waiting a moment for the offer to be understood and given some thought, he said, "Come."
Turning, they moved back down the alley, apparently not watching to see if the offer was accepted. Julius knew that it was. In his constant swiveling of head, to give his eyes the measure of the passage along the street, he could gain the vision of the boy following behind.
At one of the rougher sections of the port, he walked to the tables of a vendor of hot food, waving both the Greek and the boy to sit at the table. To the Caupo, who had hurried up, seeing well-accoutered men for his custom, he said, "A platter from that haunch over your fire. And olives and onions. And wine, but bring good water to give dilute for the boy."
The Caupo looked with some distaste at the dirty urchin, but was disinclined to argue with a man holding a purse that clanked as it was set down on the table. Pontiki - the name given by the boy to himself - was as any other abandoned orphanus in Antioch or city around the Great Sea, having little time for self-cleansing beyond his waterwork, even should he see the reason for such. Of course, even the young sons of the nobility often had the same attitude, their bathing only occurring because of the unbending orders of mother or maid.
"Slowly, boy. There is much time and we will not leave until you have finished, but to take on a full load of cargo without consideration of placement is to capsize the ship. Your belly will not take kindly to a quick loading." It was obvious that the youngster was famished - indeed, he probably had never in his life had such viands as were now set on the table before him. Both men ate slowly, watching the wide-eyed boy in his need and effort to cull the desire to gulp all, before the magical repast disappeared.
Eventually, even the hollowness of a boy was filled, and they strolled across the street to an empty wharf, indeed, one so rotten as to preclude any use by a man with heavy burden. Julius thought on the name given by the boy, Pontiki. Aye, Mouse was a goodly name and there was a hope that it indicated the skill of the youngster. Sitting on a bollard, he looked at the filthy urchin, then asked, "You have a goodly knowledge of the streets of the city, no doubt. Have any of you a family?"
Pontiki, now with a full belly and far less tense than before, replied. "Nay, Kurios."
"And you well know of the principals and merchantries of the harbor?"
"Principals, Kurios?"
Julius searched for a simpler word. "The men who run and own the shops and kiosks."
"Aye, Kurios. I know the places and names of such."
It was as Julius had expected. And wanted. This was an urchin who lived on the street, and with no genitors to both protect and guide. Such a life was short for any boy who did not adapt, but for those that did not allow their unfortunate circumstances to gain control of their being, the forced and intense education of survival eventually made stern men from such scattered seeds.
"I have a task for you. It pays well and with a goodly reward for success. No laws need be broken to put yourself at risk from the magistrates. Do you wish for such employment?"
They could see the urchin trying to weigh the miraculous offer of actual coin against his inbred need of caution of grown men - and strangers, at that. Hesitatingly, he asked, "When would I receive my coin, Kurios?" The boy was young, but no fool. He knew full well that, at the end of the commission, whatever it might be, should the man laugh and send him on his way w
ith empty hands, a nonentity of the streets would have no recourse against such deceit.
Julius laughed, then said, "You are wise beyond your years, boy. A man should give trust only after a period of testing a new acquaintance. But... You have no need to fear being cheated of your due. I will give you the remittance each day and before you begin your labors."