John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

“A fine pack of villains,” I said approvingly. These men, at least, I was going to be glad to have with me on my pirate hunt.

“When do we commence operations?” Cleopatra asked. “I’m eager to begin.” I had to remind myself that this queenly young woman was still little more than a girl. Only the very young or very stupid are anxious to go out and court death.

“I’ve alerted the harbor master to inform me the moment report of a pirate action comes to him.”

“Well, you are the admiral, but it seems to me that the place to look for pirates is not where they’ve just been but where they are going to strike next.”

“You are very perceptive,” I commended her. “But we have to start somewhere. I hope that a pattern will eventually reveal itself and give us something to go on. In the meantime we will begin cruising. If nothing else, it will demonstrate Roman presence in these waters and drill our sailors in combined operations.”

She smiled. “I’m ready now!”

“I can see that, but your rowers aren’t. If you race chariots, you don’t race the same team twice in the same day. Besides, tomorrow I plan to hire sailors and marines to fill out my crews. You are already splendidly manned. I suggest you rest your men tomorrow. We begin cruising the day after.”

I arrived at the naval harbor early, wide awake and clear-eyed. The night before, mercifully, Silvanus had decided to spend at the villa of Gabinius, allowing me to excuse myself from the evening revels without giving offense. I dined lightly in my chambers and rolled into bed early, all too aware of the rigors to come.

In the little plaza before the house of Harmodias, that worthy sat behind a wooden table with a scroll, ink, and reed pens before him. Beside him sat Ion. All around the plaza sat, leaned, or otherwise lounged a pack of nautical-looking men, perhaps two hundred of them. Some wore the brief tunics and caps of sailors, others had the sturdy physiques and multiple scars of professional soldiers. Some of the latter had arrived bearing their own arms and armor, and from the look of them they had deserted from every army in the known world.

“By Jupiter Best and Greatest!” I said to the two behind the table. “These look worse than the lot I already have!”

“Senator,” said Harmodias, “if you’re looking for schoolboys, we have an academy of decent repute right here in Paphos. Go over there and you’ll find plenty of well-bred lads who can quote Pindar for you all day long.”

“No need to be sarcastic,” I admonished him. “I’m just expressing my disgust with the material, as has been customary with every recruiting officer since Agamemnon. All right, let’s divide the labor. You two know sailors, so pick out what we need. I’ll interview the marines. First, I’ll address this pack and acquaint them with the situation.”

I walked around in front of the table and looked over the assembled scum, letting them know how little pleased I was. They, in turn, looked less than impressed with me. I reached to one side, and Hermes slapped a sealed tablet into my palm. I held this aloft and proclaimed: “I am Senator Decius Caecilius Metellus! This is my commission from the Senate and People of Rome to scour these waters of the pirates that infest them! The job is pirate hunting; the pay is what every sailor in Roman service receives.” The sour looks got sourer.

“On the other hand, I have wide powers of discretion concerning any loot obtained during this operation. I have drawn up a table of shares for every man who serves with me. What this means is that if you serve diligently, at the share-out-when we have bagged these pirates and their loot-each of you may depart with more money than you have ever seen.” This was more like it. Grins began to appear on the villainous faces.

“All right!” Hermes announced. “I’m sure you’ve all done this before, so line up in front of this table, sailors to the left, soldiers to the right. Be ready to give your name and prior service, and no lies!” He sat and took his writing materials from his satchel.

The men shuffled into line and the first soldier appeared before me. He was typical of the lot: Macedonian helmet, Iberian cuirass, Gallic shield, Roman short sword, Greek tunic, Egyptian sandals. Physically, he looked like an African ape recently shaved.

“Name?”

“Leacus, sir. I’m from Thrace, most recently a light auxiliary in the army of General Gabinius.” At least his speech was commendably military.

“Strip and let’s have a look at you,” I ordered.

“You’re not buying a slave!” he said indignantly.

“No, but neither do I want to hire a cripple or a convict. Strip. To the skin.”

He muttered, but he obeyed. It was only what every recruiter does if he has no one to vouch for a man. I was not really looking for the stripes of a runaway slave. Such men often as not make good soldiers. I was more interested in brands, notches, and other marks of the convicted felon, which are splendidly concealed by helmets and armor.

Unclothed, the Thracian even more resembled an ape, but I saw no incriminating marks, just battle scars on every unarmored surface. “You’ll do. Next.” Several men were already walking back toward the city, knowing that proof of their criminal proclivities would be exposed.

By midmorning I had picked nearly a hundred tough specimens. Before the naval base’s small altar to Neptune, I administered the awesome oath of service to them and paid each the symbolic silver denarius. For the duration of their service they were immune from prosecution for past indiscretions, and any who attacked them were to suffer the punishment due to any foolish enough to take up arms against Rome.

Those who had no arms of their own were issued weapons from the arsenal, then we marched the lot, soldiers and sailors, to the beached ships. Men were assigned to each vessel; the sailors immediately set to the tarring and scraping, while I lectured the marines.

“If you are accustomed to normal naval operations, forget them. We won’t be trying to sink our enemy’s ships. Sunken ships can’t be sold, and drowned pirates can’t tell us where their base is. Keep that in mind. All the chasing around, looking for a few wretched raiders, has one real aim: we want to find out where their base is. That will be where they have whatever loot they haven’t disposed of already. It’s also where they’ll have the captives they’re holding for ransom. Some of these will be Roman citizens, and Rome wants them back.

“Finding the ships and catching them is up to the sailors. Once we’re alongside, it will be up to you marines to capture them. Instead of the ram, we’ll be using the corvus. Are you all familiar with this elementary device?” Most signaled they were, but I explained anyway because men tend not to admit to ignorance. “The corvus is a plank hinged to our ship at one end, with a big spike at the other. When we’re close enough, we drop the spiked end onto the enemy’s deck. At that time the two ships are effectively nailed together. We then walk across the corvus and proceed to kill or capture the pirates. The Roman Fleet used this tactic against the Carthaginians, and it worked splendidly. Our ships are not large, so our corvus can’t be wide. We’ll have to cross in single file. The first man on the corvus must be brave, but then he gets a double share of the loot, which is a great spine stiffener. Any questions?”

A Palmyrene named Aglibal spoke up, “It seems to me that the pirates may use the corvus to board our ship.”

“There may be disputes concerning right-of-way on the corvus. I expect you men to win all such disagreements.”