John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

“Ask her about the attitude of these raiders.”

She looked at me. “What do you mean?”

“Were they angry, as if these islanders had done them some harm? Were they joyous, laughing as they killed, raping and having a good time? How did they look and sound?”

Once again Cleopatra managed to get her meaning across, and the woman answered, having to repeat herself many times for full comprehension.

“She says that they were grim, but they showed no anger, as if they were doing a job. ‘Like men gutting fish for dinner’ is how she put it. She saw no rape.”

“Did she see their leader?”

Once more the byplay, which was growing quicker. “She saw a big man by the shore, with long hair and a beard, and the others seemed to defer to him. But he scarcely glanced toward the islanders, and she was too terrified to notice much beyond that.”

“Can she describe their ships?”

Cleopatra asked. “Like yours, but the same color as the sea.” “Thank her. Tell her we will take her and the others to Cyprus and find a place for them. They will not suffer further.”

The woman spoke and Cleopatra turned to me. “She does not want to go to Cyprus. She does not think the others will either. This island is all they know.”

“But there is nothing left for them here. Tell her that even if they find food to eat, they will die here alone in time.”

Cleopatra tried. “She wants to stay.”

We went back to Cleopatra’s tent.

“Ready for some conclusions now?” she asked, handing me another cup.

“This was an example,” I said. “It’s the only explanation. Those raiders were ordered to devastate this place utterly. That is why they went about it so methodically. It was just a task-a disagreeable one, perhaps, but a task to be carried out nevertheless.”

“For whom was this example intended?” she asked. “For you?” “You can’t intimidate a Roman with slaughter, and this Spurius knows it. No, this was intended to let everyone in the eastern sea know what will happen to anyone who cooperates with us. Word of this butchery will be all over Cyprus when we return, and that means it will be all over the eastern sea in days. It’s a very efficient system of communication.”

“That means this Spurius knows you are here and hunting him.” “He struck this place two days ago. He must have heard of my arrival and my mission as soon as I set foot on Cyprus. I would like to know how that happened.”

The next morning we set sail from the blighted island. None of the survivors would come with us, despite our fervent urging. We left them there, relics of a lost world. It was sad, but the world is full of sadness.

It was late afternoon when we got back to Paphos. Ariston came up to me just as we pulled into the naval harbor.

“They’ll strike very soon now,” he said. “They may be hitting someplace this very hour. When word of what we saw on that island spreads, you can expect little cooperation even from the people you are trying to help.”

“Where?” I asked him.

“Anywhere they want to go,” he assured me. I could have tried swearing everyone to silence, but I knew the futility of that. Several hundred men cannot keep a secret, even if they are all Romans and honor the same gods. Here I had the sweepings of the whole sea, not to mention Cleopatra’s Egyptians and her gaggle of servants. Even to try such a thing would start rumors far worse than the truth.

A small crowd of citizens, sailors, and dockside idlers had come to view our return; but the little throng quickly dispersed when it was clear we were coming back without pirate heads, freed captives, and heaps of loot. It was a little early for that. An elaborate litter remained on the wharf as I stepped off the gangplank, its liveried bearers squatting patiently by its poles. A delicate, multiply ringed hand drew its curtain aside.

“Senator! Did you have a pleasant voyage?” It was Flavia. She wore an expensive but relatively modest gown, and the elaborately dressed blond wig was back in place. She looked every inch the noble Roman lady, and it was hard to believe that I had seen so many more inches just two nights previously.

“It was a tolerable outing, no more than a shakedown cruise really.” “Did you see any pirates?”

“No, but we saw where they’d been. It was instructive.” She slid over to one side of the litter. “Please join me, Senator. I am sure that your labors have given you an appetite. An early dinner at my home will do you a world of good.” She caught my raised eyebrow and smiled. “My husband would like very much to talk with you.”

“Then if you will allow me to make a few arrangements here, I will be most honored.”

“Go right ahead. I like to watch sailors at their work.”

I told Hermes to haul our gear back to our quarters at the house of Silvanus and wait for me there. He didn’t like it but knew better than to argue. I left orders with my captains to be with their ships and crews at dawn, ready to sail at my orders. Out in the harbor, I could see Cleopatra’s gilded barge carrying her to the commercial wharf. I left word with Harmodias where I would be for the next few hours should I be needed.

Then I crawled into the litter beside Flavia, and she dropped the curtain. Immediately I was enveloped in a cloud of her perfume. I was not unaffected. Of course a man of my station should properly be repelled by a noble woman who wallows with the lowest dregs of society, but then I have never been very proper. And there is something undeniably exciting about such a concentration of raw, animal appetites and energies.

But, to my credit, I retained my distance. Bitter experience had taught me that many of my personal catastrophes had been brought about through my weakness for very bad women. And I had known some of the worst. Clodia, for instance. And then there was that German princess, Freda. She wasn’t really evil, just a savage like all her race, but fearsome for all that. I had encountered the younger Fulvia and a score of less famous but equally shameless women, and I had been involved with some of them and attracted by all. A bronze founder had once explained to me that glowing metal was beautiful, mysterious, and exciting; but one should never touch it with bare hands. It was sound advice.

She laid a warm hand on my arm. “Everyone says that you are a man of the world, Decius Caecilius. You are a friend of Caesar, and the old bores like Cato consider you degenerate.”

“I have been so complimented,” I admitted.

“Wonderful. The moralists are so tedious. I would appreciate it though if you would not bring up the subject of my nocturnal escapades when you speak with my husband.”

“Flavia, your pleasures are your own business and I will seek to advise neither you nor your husband, but he must be more than a bit obtuse if he does not know already.”

“Oh, he knows perfectly well how I amuse myself. It is something we have simply agreed not to discuss in the company of our peers. He has his own pastimes, and I do not interfere with them. It is a comfortable arrangement, don’t you think?”

“The world would be a happier place if other couples were so understanding,” I assured her. In truth, such liberal marital arrangements were not uncommon in Rome. Flavia was just more extreme than most in pursuit of gratification.

The house of Sergius Nobilior was only slightly less grand than that of Silvanus. Roman equites of that day, which is to say the wealthiest plebeian families, dominated banking, finance, and other businesses. Though most of them were perfectly happy to make money and stay out of the Senate, with its endless duties and burdensome military obligations, they formed a very influential power group and they dominated the Popular Assemblies. This was the class to which Sergius Nobilior belonged.