Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  "And you have come to make more plans." It was not a question.

  "Aye, and I would have you in both listen and give council." Julius stood, then called, "We will meet here, on deck, that Patroclus should not have to be moved. Bring chairs and the map table."

  Quickly, Julius gave the story of the missing crewman and the Korí, and his quick foray to the royal barracks, hearing of the death of a guardsman by one of the recent visitors. Questions were asked, the few available details given, then he turned to the newly hired agent for Antioch, although at the moment it seemed that the man might reach his dotage before establishing another office. "Heraklides. What I am about to ask is not a requirement of your employ. You were engaged to buy and sell goods, not insert yourself between the upper and lower millstones of a kingly spat." Julius would give the offer to the man, then, should he deny the task, set the men to searching for another who would be willing. His choice would have been a crewman of one of the three ships, but in the total of the rosters, not a single man was a native of this land. Many spoke Greek, but all were clean shaven and their tongue bent in a noticeable accent. Only Melglos would have fit the requirements, except for his massive build, easily recognizable by any in the port of Antioch - and of course, the fact that the man himself was astray.

  Heraklides was Greek - Athenian, in fact - and looked and garbed for what he was. He listened to the proposal with a sober expression, then nodded his acceptance. "Although, one hopes that you have not placed on myself the attributes of a man skilled in war."

  Julius returned the grave expression. "If our mission descends into the need of blades, then we have failed the reason. Nay, there should be little risk for yourself, but be certain that at the conclusion your wage for the incursion will be far above that of a mere agent." He turned to the others. "Now... Drusus. How is the temperament of your Legionaries to the enforced leisure of the past days?"

  The Centurion grinned. "All think they have been given transport to the golden fields of Olympus, to be waged for tarrying in brothel and taburna." He dropped the expression. "But, our days have not been given to sloth. A route step of at least fifty stadia are the least of our drills until the eighth hour."

  Julius nodded. "Outstanding. Their nights may still be used in ease and... diversion, but the days will have a difference. Kaeso... Fundanus. If the wind permits, both ships will stand out each morning and to a distance that cannot be seen from the island. I will not give a firm stance on your drill, but will allow you to find the most... effective use of the men for what I am giving mind..."

  The talk went on for hours, with all adding and giving nay to the ideas of each other, including that of the Captain. The Sage gave proof that his reason had not been pummeled with his body, adding sharp comment to any proposals that were of soft construction. Of course, his body was unable to keep up with his spirit and eventually sank into his recovering slumber, with Julius giving sign to move their converse further along the deck that the old man might not be disturbed.

  Finally, he and Heraklides walked into the city to visit the garbing vendors, gaining proper attire for their next task. On the morning wind, even before the first glow in the east, the fast boat of Captain Decimus was skipping over the waves on an easterly course.

  Their landfall did not terminate at Persidium, but further down the southern coast just beyond any eyes of that port. Both men jumped onto the sand as the speculatoria pushed itself out and was quickly in sail to the west. There was still the half day of sun left, and their walk was only about five stadia, Julius waiting at the outskirts of the little city as Heraklides walked to the inn to find Flavius and Maccalus.

  Shortly both were standing before their Captain, bemused at the change in appearance in only the few days he had been away. Pointing them to a disreputable drinkery at the far end of the port, they procured a table and cups of barely palatable wine, then sat for talk. Both of the crewmen were somewhat dubious at the plans, but Julius gave his reason. "...nay, any on the Petrel, including yourselves might be recognized for who we are, otherwise I would not have asked Heraklides for his assistance. Besides, there is need for someone to remain here to make contact with the speculatoria and the hopeful arrival of Melglos and Pontika."

  "Think you that they have been taken by the men of Dionysophanes?" asked Flavius.

  Julius vigorously shook his head. "They could have been taken by the sea Dalkies and even now sitting with cups with Neptune, for all I know." With a grim expression, he added, "But if I find your fears to be the true, then as Carpenter, you will be tasked to make a pair of crossbeams for use by that man and his second. I give oath to the gods on it."

  Julius was almost unrecognizable from the man who had stood into Antioch on the afterdeck of a ship. With a respectable, if scraggly, beard in the Greek fashion, his only garb was a disreputable tunic purchased from the merchant tables in Salamis and sandals of different parentage. His superb gladius was at the rough leather belt, but its worth hidden in a ratted scabbard - no man would walk the roads of this land without arms. Even a beggar would have a stout staff for some protection.

  Skirting the city on the slight threat that the well-dressed man of several days ago might be recognized even through his raggedness, the two men set foot on the coastal road north. Heraklides, of course, would be a stranger to any in this land. Flavius and Maccalus would maintain their vigil in Persidium.

  The distance to the port of Antioch was only about a hundred stadia and easily walked long before darkfall. As they approached, Julius began to assume his pose of dull-witted pack-servant, keeping his head staring at the ground about to be trod, but allowing his eyes to roam from side to side. His burden was a large carry-bag on his back, filled with little but rations for the walk and some wadded rags to give it bulk, as if trade goods to be shown for sample.

  Soon, they were standing in the entry of an inn, the name given to Heraklides before they had left Persidium. The agent procured a room for himself, and a place in the servant stables for his man. At the sight of the crumbling room with nothing but a few armloads of hay for a mat, he grinned to himself at the idea of his Mother gaining a view of the level to which her noble son had descended. Still, he was more than satisfied. The agent would dine in the main room, acting his part of a man come to seek trade connection, casually inserting questions to his fellow patrons that might elicit a comment or two of value. For now, he just relaxed, taking the opportunity to gain some measure of rest, that his thoughts might gather some greater coherence.

  At the fall of night, a summons came for his attendance on his 'Master,' as expected, and he shuffled along the bare boards of the rear of the inn into the more opulent area of rooms for patrons. Heraklides gruffly waved away the boy-herald, motioning for his man to enter, then firmly closing the door.

  Now Julius dropped his pose, walking to sit in the single chair in the room as the agent sat back on his sleeping mat. Without preamble, Heraklides said, quietly, "There is no talk of any miscreant in slay of a guardsman in the city, but much of the grasp of Dysophanes in his aggrandizement of all within his reach. All trade with the city will be funneled through his merchantry." The man shook his head. "None said so directly, but there is no doubt of their feeling that a man who attempts to gain such trade without his auspices, is... unwise."

  Julius merely shook his head, saying grimly, "That requires no proof for belief. Did you find the corridor to the man himself?"

  "Aye, we can present ourselves to his Conciliator on the morrow. It was given that all new trade is welcomed, and in need to have such agreements captured before the... situation here is stabilized." Once again, they discussed the tale that would be given, then Julius shambled back to his primitive cubiculum for the night. Before leaving the room, he set his gladius on the table - Heraklides would carry it as his own. His being was troubled by the lack of a proper weapon, but such could not be helped. A mere pack-servant could not be seen in carry of a gladius worth more than the value of this in
n itself - he would have to content his unease with the rusty dagger that was in his belt.

  The morning brought them onto the street early, seeking to break their fast at a portside kiosk, that man and servant might eat together, then they walked to the merchantry that Julius had seen several times, and had in his thoughts on innumerable nights, but had never entered. The pair of guards took the statement of being from the well-garbed visitor and both were admitted, to follow a lackey into the compound. Julius had once again taken his demeanor of a dullard, merely walking without apparent interest, but with his eyes continually roving from side to side.

  They were halted before a wide and open doorway, to be announced, then pointed to enter. It was an elegant and large officium with scribes and Numerarii in work at various places around the walls of the room, with a large table in the center. Here sat the Conciliator of the merchantry, the head scribe, Julius assumed.

  As they passed the entry, Heraklides pointed and said abruptly to Julius, "Remain by the door and do not impede the labor of any." Without acknowledgment, he turned to stand with his back to the wall, still in apparent disinterest in either his place or the activity in the room. Such detachment did not delve any deeper than his appearance. His ears listened for anything of note, but it was his eyes that casually wandered here and there, but giving complete attention to the man standing beside the Conciliator, giving startled wonder if it indeed was...

  "My greetings, Kurios, from myself and the merchants of my land," said the agent, after a deep bow. "One hopes that my intrusion is not unwelcome to a house said to have interest in trade with every land." Another bow, then, "Heraklides is my ónoma, and Herakleum is my city." He spread his hands, "It is with much sorrow that I learned of the demise of King Philadelphus. An evil day for your land, indeed. And for mine. We had been in the last speaking for agreement of trade between our principals. Now, it seems, that the labor must be begun again."

  Rather than the Conciliator giving reply, it came from the man beside his chair. "What are the staples of which you speak?"

  "Wool, Kurios. The finest that can be found around the Great Sea. And that can be woven into such that might make the linen of the Egyptians seem as course cloth." He paused, then said with another slight bow, "Your pardon, Kurios. Might I have the name of the man for whom I have the honor to address."

  The man opened his mouth to reply, but the Conciliator instantly said, "This is the honorable Abydos, of the family Dionysophanes, leading counselor to the unfortunate King and the esteemed senior magistrate in the Guild of Merchants for all of the domain of Antioch."

  Once again, Heraklides bowed deeply, then, "The gods have been gracious to this traveler, to lead him to the source of need." He spread his hands, waving vaguely toward the east. "Mayhap you can give goodly advice on approaching the new King, to renew our offer of trade between the domains. Word gives that he will soon take the throne of Antiochus."

  Julius held his teeth together as he focused on keeping his expression blank, but his eyes flickered over the man that he had given much thought to over the months but had never yet seen. They had not only entered the lair of the lion, but had found the beast inside.

  "Tryphos!" called Dionysophanes to someone across the room. "Bring cups for myself and my guest." He pointed to the servant standing by the door. "Mayhap your man would wait in the courtyard."

  "Your pardon, Kurios" came the reply from Heraklides. "My servant is a fool that has little reason for his own use. I fear that he may wander away in doltish confusion should he be out of my vision." Now the agent shrugged, accepting a cup from a servant. "He is a barbarian from the far north - Gaul it is called. I procured him on the wharves of Therambos when he was about to be shortened by a head for thievery of bread from a table. A strong back and little else."

  The merchant merely nodded, putting the assumed dullard from his mind. He waved the agent to a chair, then sat himself. Now he said, "Antioch is always in welcome of new trade from afar. It is true that our King, Phillip, has gone to his ancestors, but... It mayhap be taking reason beyond reasonable extension to assume that Antiochus Philadelphus will necessarily assume the throne."

  Heraklides set down his cup with a sudden expression of surprise. "But... Word is that both the Roman Senate and the King of Armenia are signatories to a pact that gives rule to the Dynasty of Antiochus." He paused for effect, then said, "Is the gabble bandied around the ports in error?"

  The merchant spread his hands in doubtfulness. "I myself have been at the court of King Tigranes, and have had many discussions of enriching these lands, during which he has given no indication of such agreement with Rome. Indeed, were he not engaged in some strife with the Seleucids, even now would his rule extend to Antioch. He is well aware of the enmity of the citizens of this land to any return of the Antiochus Dynasty."

  "Enmity?" Heraklides was playing his part well. Julius had already decided that his reward would be great, indeed. Always assuming that both returned to the Petrel with whole skins.

  "Aye," said the merchant in lowered tones, no doubt from a mere feigning of conspiracy. He had little reason to fear any in his own establishment. "I feel that the assumed King, should he actually make the unwise return to this city, will be unhappy with the reception that will be given."

  Heraklides sat back in apparent serious thought. Then he leaned forward and asked, "Then mayhap I should retire to some further city until the ascension is... decided. I am not a man that fares well in upheavals."

  Now the merchant changed his demeanor to one of assurance. "Nay, the city is well preserved by the Royal guard, and, in my capacity of ruling magistrate, I allow for no malfeasance in the port. You may walk the streets without fear of any upheaval, as you say." He waved for the cups to be filled again, then, "Now. What do the good merchants of Herakleum possess for trade? Wool, you said..."

  Three days later, Julius was standing at the entrance of the latrine for servants, in the far back of the compound. Any person who saw the assumed dullard would give his presence no thought, but any glimpse of the gladius now hanging from the belt would give instant cause for alarm. He had taken it back from the agent before they had departed for the night, covering it under a tunic being taken for cleaning. As the agent did not wear it during their stay in the merchantry of Dysophanes, he doubted that its absence would be missed, but if so, Heraklides would give that the fleeing man had simply stolen it.

  The agent had been given treatment as honored guest by the merchant, he giving plan with the senior scribes for the future custom of large quantities of pure Greek wool - alas, such wares existing only in the tales of the visiting trader. Both had learned much of the plans and agenda of Dysophanes - or rather, Heraklides had done so, giving the meat of the day to Julius at intervals during the day. The Roman, himself, had maintained the guise of a doltish servant, moving here and there at the orders of his master, allowing him to examine almost all areas of the compound, outside of the main edifice.

  The night was fairly dark, with the slight moon behind clouds and giving little for vision. He listened for a while, then made his usual shuffling walk between storage sheds to reach the wall. As this was a merchantry compound and not a fortress, the stone rampart was no barrier to an active man, and he was up and over almost between one breath and the next. Now, on the street, he sluffed off his slavish demeanor and began to walk with the stride of a one in a need of urgency. Keeping careful look and listen for the night watch of the port, he moved quickly along the port road to the south, having to recede to the shadows only once for the Vigilis - or whatever the city watch were called in this town.

  At the edge of the port, he quickened his pace and was halfway to the little city of Persidium before the sun rose to give light.

  By mid-morn he was striding into the little port, and, as he had hoped, the Caupo had another missive for him. After the exchange of the agreed upon Stater for the scrap of script, he retired to a corner to read it. To the surprise of the wife
-matron of the inn-keeper, bringing a platter of meats and vegetables and with the wine-main in follow, he leapt to his feet and literally ran from the little eating room.

  It was two hours before midday, and the fishing fleet was long away, most having left even before the sun appeared, but he found a boat that appeared to be sound enough for a short voyage. The fisherman and his two sons were standing beside the hull, apparently in some mending of their craft from either wear or incident. It was with some surprise that the older man stood as a boy suddenly pointed and exclaimed at the sight of a man striding up with haste.

  "Greeting, Kurios," said Julius, in a tone to indicate that his appearance was not inimical. "Might I inquire if your good vessel could be engaged for a short voyage." He held up a golden aureus as he spoke. "My need is only to find a ship waiting beyond yon point."