The Princess and the Pirates (24 page)

It was all great fun and wonderful public entertainment, but I could never see that it led to anything resembling justice.

There was also the little problem that this was not Rome. Had it been, I could have at least made my accusations, backed and protected by my family’s many clients. Before his exile, I could even have called on Milo’s gang as bodyguards. Here, on Cyprus, I was not in a position of strength, despite my military status. I had sailors and marines of doubtful loyalty. Gabinius had his veterans, and he might have far more of them than I had seen thus far. And there were the pirates. I had a feeling that they were seldom very far from Cyprus. For all I knew they hid their ships in some nearby cove, and the taverns of the city might be full of them.

No, this was not yet the time to throw half-baked charges in Gabinius’s craggy face.

These ponderings lasted much of the morning. They also called for a bit more of that watered wine to help them along. Before I knew it, it was time for lunch. I repaired to a dockside place with a fine view of the harbor, where I laid in a substantial meal. Despite the crowding of the place brought about by the upcoming festival, I leaned back in my bench, resting my back against the whitewashed wall, intending only to meditate for a while, and soon was contentedly asleep. Well, it had been a long night.

I was awakened by a loud clamor. Somewhere, great trumpets were sounding. A great shouting came from the direction of the waterfront, and the tavern’s patrons had sprung to their feet. I shook my head, lurched to
my own feet, and pushed my way to the front. All eyes were directed out to sea. Beyond the harbor mole the water seemed to be covered with sails. There were ships out there, many of them. And they were huge.

“Neptune preserve us,” I said, “we’re under attack!” Surely there weren’t
that
many pirates. And why such enormous ships?

A man standing next to me laughed at my expression. “Calm yourself, friend. No enemy in sight. It’s the Roman grain fleet, bound for Alexandria.”

Embarrassed and relieved at the same time, I walked down to the waterfront to enjoy the spectacle. Now I saw that the ships had multiple masts and triangular topsails like merchantmen. But these grain ships were far larger than the usual cargo vessels, with five or six times their capacity. They were the biggest of all seagoing vessels, exceeded in size only by the Ptolemies’ monster river barges.

In Italy the annual grain fleet had an almost religious significance. From the time it sailed to the day of its return, there was a collective holding of breath. Impressive as they were, the ships could all be lost in a single storm. If that happened, there could be hungry times ahead, so dependent had we become on Egyptian grain. When the returning fleet came safely to harbor, beacon fires were lighted the whole length of the Italian peninsula, and there was celebration in every town. Even if the Italian crop should fail, nobody would starve. When Pompey was given a five-year oversight of the grain supply, with a free hand to root out corruption and inefficiency, he was given the greatest trust the Roman people could bestow, as prestigious as any military command.

It took much of the afternoon for the ships to lower their sails and make their way to anchorage under oars. While they were doing this I returned to the naval base, washed up, shaved, dressed in my best clothes, and assembled a group of my most handsomely equipped marines to act as an honor guard. With Hermes likewise turned out in his best, hovering attentively behind me, I returned to the main wharf of the commercial harbor.

I was just in time. The flagship of the fleet, a truly immense vessel painted white and trimmed with gilding, an arching swan’s neck at her stern and a towering spray of carved acanthus leaves at her bow, was inching up to the stone pier. The city dignitaries were out in force to greet the arriving officials, and they made way for me and my gleaming escort. I got there just as a gangplank big as a trireme’s
corvus,
complete with a
protective railing of gilded chains supported by fish-tailed Cupids holding toy tridents, was lowered to the pavement.

First down was the senatorial official in charge of the fleet, a quaestor named Valgus. I had been a quaestor myself, once, in Rome. In Rome a quaestor held the lowest elected office, was little more than a glorified clerk, and was accorded little respect by the citizenry. Outside Rome, a quaestor was regarded with almost the same awe as a promagistrate. Then came some senators bound for the Alexandrian Embassy, some of whom I knew. Then there were the distinguished passengers.

“Decius!” Julia waved like an excited girl from the ship’s rail. Then she was on the gangplank, restraining herself to a formal, patrician descent. Then she stood before me, embraced me chastely, and gave me a peck on the cheek.

I patted her bottom. “You can do better than that.”

She dug an elbow into my ribs. “Of course, but not here in front of respectable people.” She caught my men grinning between the cheek-plates of their helmets. The grins disappeared beneath her glare. “Somebody else you know came with us.”

Then I caught sight of the big form stalking down the plank. “Titus!” I whooped. Milo bounded the last few steps to the wharf and grabbed my hand in both of his. His palms were still as hard as wood.

“You see, Decius, I brought your lady safely to Cyprus, fighting sailors and senators away from her the whole voyage. You look better than when I saw you last. Sea air must agree with you.”

“I was wasting away in Rome. It’s too peaceful there now, and you’re missing nothing. I need you here, though, and desperately. Just the sight of you raises my spirits.” In truth I was somewhat shocked at Milo’s appearance. His hair had gone completely gray, and his once godlike face was deeply lined and almost haggard. I had to remind myself that he was near my age, for he looked far older. His limbs seemed to be as powerful and his gait as lionlike as ever, but he was gaunt, as if all the surplus flesh had been burned from him. Well, there was gray in my hair as well.

He clasped Hermes by the shoulder. “Hermes! Hasn’t this vicious tyrant manumitted you yet? I thought I’d see you in a toga by now.”

“I want to sell him,” I said, “but no one will make an offer. Come along, I’ll show you our quarters.” I hoped he did not catch the look in Hermes’s eyes. Hermes had worshipped Milo since boyhood, and he was
as appalled as I but less schooled in hiding it. Julia was not traveling alone, naturally, so I left some men to escort her slaves and baggage to the base when they had it unloaded.

“I am so glad we had such wonderful sailing weather,” Julia said, as we walked toward the base. “I was afraid we wouldn’t be here in time for the
Aphrodisia.
This is perfect timing. Have you visited the temple?”

“I have. I’ll take you to see it tomorrow and introduce you to the high priestess lone herself.”

“Wonderful! I so want to—” she paused as she saw the cluster of plain, functional, military buildings ahead of us. “Decius, I thought you would have engaged more suitable lodgings for us. Do you expect me to live among sailors and marines?”

“Actually, my dear, until a few days ago I was living in the governor’s mansion and looking forward to introducing you to its luxuries.”

“Then why are you not living there now?” I knew that tone all too well.

“Actually, my sweet, there has been a bit of a complication. The governor is dead. Murdered, in fact; and since I might well be next, I thought more secure accommodations were in order.”

“Murdered?” Milo said happily. He cared nothing for luxury, but he liked excitement. At least that much had not changed.

“I had hoped this would be a more productive posting,” Julia said. “You are getting too old and dignified for this sort of squabbling among criminals and cutthroats. You are one of Rome’s rising men, in line for the next praetorship election. You should leave investigative duties to your subordinates. What have you been training Hermes for all these years anyway? Give him his freedom and let him go around poking into dangerous places among low company.”

“If you two don’t stop this, the boy is going to start getting ideas.” I knew I was on safer ground though. I had her hooked. Despite her patrician protestations, she loved this sort of thing. She was, after all, a Caesar; and politics played for life-and-death stakes excited her above all things. Most Roman women were utterly shut out from this masculine arena, but I sometimes let her help me with my investigations, another of my little eccentricities.

As we reached higher ground overlooking the harbor, she paused and pointed. “What is that beautiful ship? We passed it coming in to the anchorage.”

“That’s Cleopatra’s yacht. It’s part of my little fleet, actually.”

“Cleopatra? Ptolemy’s youngest daughter? Isn’t she a bit young for a naval command, besides being female?”

“Royalty do things differently, and I desperately needed another ship. But she may have killed the governor, so be careful around her.”

“Decius, why can’t you ever lead a normal life?”

I showed her the austere suite of rooms I had commandeered. In other times they had been used by the Roman naval commander when he was on the island. They were comfortable enough, but the government spent little on amenities for military officers, who were expected to provide for themselves.

“I want to take a look at your ships, Decius,” Milo said, beginning to show the old nervous energy that kept him forever in motion.

“Go ahead,” I told him. “I’ll join you shortly.”

“My lady,” Hermes said, when he was gone, “has Titus Milo been ill?”

“I was wondering the same thing myself,” I said. “How was he acting on the voyage?”

She looked wistful. “I’ve never liked Milo,” she began, “and made no secret of it; but now I almost feel sorry for him. Strife and struggle for power were the breath of life to him, and he almost had the laurels in his grasp when it all came crashing down around him. He rose from nothing, just a common street thug. He would have been consul if it hadn’t been for the murder of Clodius. Now he is an exile. His gang is scattered, and with no family he has no support in the Senate. He was Cicero’s man, and Cicero’s star is fading fast.”

“Surely he can expect to be recalled,” I protested. “When I am praetor, I’ll exert pressure on the tribunes to …”

“There is no chance, Decius,” she said gently. “Your family’s power is fading, too, and you know it. Caesar is to be the new power. When he returns from Gaul, he will be dictator in all but name. And Clodius was Caesar’s man. Caesar will not forgive Milo, not even for you, and Caesar truly likes you. Fausta has left Milo, did you know that?”

“No, but it does not surprise me. Milo in the ascendant was the prize catch of all the men in Rome for Fausta. Milo descending is of no interest to her. She’ll make a play for Caesar next. You might advise Calpurnia to have someone test her food and drink from now on.”

“Fausta is not that ambitious and cold-blooded, but neither is she going to be married to a failure and be exiled from Rome. Not the Dictator’s daughter.”

“You think that is what’s turning him into an old man before his time? It isn’t some inner illness eating him away?”

“For Milo,” she said, “it is the same thing.”

That evening, when Julia and her girls were settled into their quarters and Milo was satisfied with the ships, we had dinner outdoors, enjoying the cool, offshore breeze. Over dinner I told them of everything that had happened so far. Of course, I left out certain small details concerning Flavia. Julia, as always, was most interested in my strange dream. Like most Romans, she loved portents, omens, and dreams. Milo barely bothered to hide his contempt. He had no use for intangible things, although, like all politicians, he was happy to use them for his own purposes. He had been known to hold up debates and votes endlessly by claiming to have seen bad omens.

“We need to commence social activity immediately,” Julia said. “I want to see Cleopatra. She may be a scheming Ptolemy with dynastic ambitions, but she’s little more than a girl and I’ll sound out her intentions.”

“She’s young,” I cautioned, “but she’s no girl. It won’t be easy to match wits with her.”

“Have you forgotten? I am Julius Caesar’s niece. She’s eager to know all about him. I’ll wring her out like a sponge. And I want to meet that banker and his scandalous wife.”

My scalp prickled. Had I let something slip? “Why?”

“This Nobilior is a rich
eques,
a banker, and was a friend of Silvanus. Corruption always involves money, so he’ll know what the governor was up to, and his wife will know what her husband is up to. She may like to play with sailors when she is away from home, but she is very aware of her social position and will want to better it. She’ll be flattered by the attentions of a patrician lady from the Republic’s oldest family.” Julia could always strip away the dross and get down to the essentials. And she was more than willing to make shameless use of her pedigree.

“Excellent plan,” I said, although with some reservations I did not voice. “We’ll commence the social assault in the morning, as long as I don’t get a pirate alarm and have to sail to Bithynia or some such place.”

“Leave the pirate hunting to me for a few days,” Milo said. “I’ll whip these Greek sluggards into shape. You’ve been too soft on the rowers.
I know every malingerer’s trick in their trade. I’ll double the speed they’ve been giving you. They’ve been rowing you like bargemen, not man-o’-war’s men. I’ll pop the whip on those carpenters, too. Your catapults and ballistas should have been finished days ago. They’re dragging out the job because you’re paying them by the day. They’re not laborers; they’re supposed to be craftsmen, paid by the job. I’ll break a few fingers and teach them wisdom.”

“I am not sure the Senate would approve my delegating command to you. To go to sea as my assistant, maybe, but …”

“I am an ex-praetor. My conviction keeps me out of Rome and out of office, but my fitness for military command was never questioned. You’ve been given a free hand out here. Use it.”

“He’s right,” Julia told me. “You have to understand that when the Senate gives you an overseas commission, even a small one like this, you get to define your own powers until they send someone else out with a bigger commission. This paltry business will be over with long before the Senate wakes up from its collective nap and takes notice.”