John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

“It can’t be all that urgent,” I told him. “I have things to attend to, not least of which is reading this.” I opened it and read. It was a marvel of baldness:

Senator Metellus:

There has been murder here. Come at once.

A. Gabinius

“Truly Caesarian brevity,” I remarked to no one in particular. Since the note was signed by Gabinius rather than Silvanus, I already had an idea of just who had been murdered.

“Ion!” I shouted. The man came running up.

“Sir?”

“Don’t let anyone turn in until the ships are readied for instant launch. The practice cruises are over. Next time we’ll be serious. We won’t come back to port until we’ve bagged some pirates. Hermes, Ariston, come with me.”

Already Cleopatra was rushing from her ship to join me. From the look of it, another messenger had delivered the same summons to her.

“This sounds serious,” she said, when she arrived, slightly out of breath. She had not waited for her slaves to assemble her litter. “Come on. I may be a princess, but I haven’t forgotten how to walk. I’m not going to wait to travel in state.”

“No sense arriving tired,” I advised, setting a leisurely pace. “Believe me, whoever’s dead will still be dead whan we get there.”

Doson, the majordomo, received us at the door. He was pale but composed. “Please come inside, Princess, Senator.” He waited until we were all inside and the door shut behind us before going on. “Forgive this irregularity, but General Gabinius has given instruction that this matter not be made public immediately.”

“Since General Gabinius is giving the orders, I take it that Governor Silvanus is deceased?” I said.

“Sadly true. It is terribly tragic and very, very strange. I-ah, here is the general now.”

Gabinius entered the atrium, his craggy face more than ever like that of a battered eagle’s. “My friend Silvanus is dead,” he said. “I have not allowed word to spread yet. We must discuss this matter. Come with me.”

We walked through the house, in our progress passing several tough-looking armed men of military bearing. One of them was the grizzled old centurion I had seen on the night we were attacked outside. From someplace came the muffled sound of many voices wailing.

“Those are the household slaves,” Gabinius explained. “Of course it’s their duty to mourn the master, but I’ve made them do it where they won’t be heard outside.” We entered the room where I’d conferred with the two senior Romans after the street fight.

“Who are those thugs?” I asked him, as we took chairs. “Old soldiers of mine who’ve thrown in their lot with me. If you are ever exiled, you’ll be well-advised to keep a picked band of such men close to you. In exile you’ll have few friends and a great many enemies. Just now they’re keeping the other guests quiet.”

“You behave high-handedly, General,” Cleopatra observed. “Had the governor no deputy?”

“No. One was to be sent out from Rome, but whoever the Senate has picked hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Then it seems to me,” she said, “that Senator Metellus is the ranking Roman official here.” I wished she had kept her mouth shut. My situation was precarious enough, and the last thing I needed was to get into a dogfight with Gabinius.

“The senator,” he said, “has a commission from the State to deal with the pirates in the adjacent waters. That is going to keep him fully occupied for a long time. He has never held an office higher than aedile. I have served as praetor and consul together with the attendant promagistracies, as you well know, Princess.”

“But you are an exile!” she said heatedly.

“That means only that I may not set foot in Italy until my exile is rescinded. Exile does not diminish my status.”

I held up a hand. “This does not help things. I am quite willing to attend to my naval duties and leave administration here to an experienced magistrate until a replacement arrives from Rome. Cyprus does not yet have provincial status, and its government is still provisional. This is as good an arrangement as any, for now. There are more immediate matters to attend to.”

“Exactly,” Gabinius said. “I am glad that you are being so sensible, Decius Caecilius. We should work well together. To begin with, I was a close friend of Silvanus, so I shall undertake all the funeral arrangements and have his ashes sent to his family. They have a vault on the Via Appia, I believe.”

“Will you deliver the eulogy?” I asked.

“I have been composing it all morning. It is a shame there are so few Romans of rank here to attend, but I will send the text to Rome to be recited at the tomb site. I will also write his family concerning his slaves and other property here. I presume his will is filed in Rome. It may contain manumissions for the senior slaves, and there will have to be some sort of disposition for the rest. I will see to all this.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Now I would like to know the circumstances surrounding the governor’s death. You used the word ‘murder’ in your note, so I presume he died violently and that you’ve ruled out accident.”

“Decidedly. I’ve seen men killed in a great many fashions, but this one is unique in my experience. I think you should view the body.”

“An excellent idea,” I said, standing. Cleopatra got up as well.

“No need for you to see this, Princess,” Gabinius said.

“But I wish to. I have seen people die in great variety, too, General, some of them close relatives.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He led us from the room. “The body was discovered early this morning by the chamber slave who was supposed to wake Silvanus at sunrise. He had an early meeting scheduled with those wretched businessmen from Alexandria.”

We found the late Governor Silvanus reclining upon his bed, his face blackened, eyes wide and protruding, mouth agape as if gasping for breath. Any such breath was precluded by the amorphous, yellowish mass that filled his mouth, spilling onto the pillow. It didn’t look like something regurgitated in his death throes. Rather, it had the distinct aspect of something forcefully crammed into his mouth, causing the cheeks to bulge like a trumpeter’s.

I picked up a particle from the pillow and examined it closely. It was a golden crystal, semitransparent. It looked almost like stone, but when I squeezed it between my nails it shattered. “What is this stuff?” I mused.

“You know what it is,” Gabinius growled. “You’ve seen it all your life.”

Cleopatra picked up a few grains and rubbed them between her fingers, then sniffed at the resulting powder. “Frankincense,” she pronounced. “He choked on frankincense. What an amazing way to die.”

“I don’t suppose,” I hazarded, “that our host was in the habit of experimenting with exotic foods? I have known others to sample inappropriate foodstuffs to their detriment.”

“Not likely,” Gabinius said. “Look at him. I’d say this was done by at least two strong men, more likely three. Someone held him down while someone else jammed his gullet full of frankincense. Then he had to be held there for a while. A man doesn’t choke to death quickly, you know that.”

“All too true. Have the slaves been examined?”

“Doson got them together and made a count. They’re all here. There are a couple of porters strong enough to have accomplished it, but surely they would’ve fled after murdering their master. I don’t think the household staff were involved.”

“That’s a relief,” I said.

“It would make things simpler,” Cleopatra said.

“Too simple,” I told her. “Under Roman law, when a slave murders a master, all the slaves are crucified.”