John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

“No, all merchants who handle frankincense in bulk belong to the Holy Society of Dionysus. Each year, on the eve of the auction, we hold a banquet in the Temple of Dionysus in Alexandria, where we honor our patron deity and make our arrangements for the coming year’s business. The society has envoys who handle all negotiations concerning the trade outside of Egypt. They deal with the authorities in the lands where we ship our cargoes, arrange for tithes, duties, and so forth. Among those they treat with are the pirates- were the pirates, I should say, since Rome has so beneficently driven that scourge from our sea after a fashion.”

“So now your cargoes ride the sea-lanes safely, as long as weather cooperates and the timbers don’t rot, eh?”

“Well, there is some slight danger of attack,” he admitted with another small gesture. “You understand, sailors are a conservative lot, and in some ways they have not changed since the days of Odysseus. Sailors are, to put it bluntly, a rascally lot at the best of times. A ship with a crew of fifteen, for instance, meets with a smaller ship with a crew of only seven. The men of the larger ship take a careful look around, determine that there are no other ships in sight, take their weapons from their sea chests, and the next thing you know, seven unfortunate sailors are on their way to meet Poseidon, soon to be followed by their scuttled vessel, and the larger ship goes on its way, riding somewhat deeper in the water.

“These men are not pirates in the sense of the old, organized fleets. They are just ordinary sailors who see that Hermes has sent them a fine opportunity and are not about to anger the god by scorning his gift. These men seek only goods they can dispose of easily and without suspicion. They do not deal in slaves or ransom captives because they must have no witnesses to their nefarious deeds.”

“This is most illuminating,” I told him, and indeed it was. “Is this sort of naughtiness more common of late?”

He nodded, sighing. “Assuredly, Senator. And, while I would never speak ill of the glorious Republic of Rome, which you so ably represent and which all the world beholds with awe and wonder, much of this is your fault.”

“How so?”

“In the old days the great fleets treated Poseidon’s broad domain as their personal property. They were like eagles or great falcons, and when they found petty rogues poaching upon the waters, they behaved as the noble birds do when they espy ravens and magpies snatching game from their hunting grounds. Their revenge was swift and terrible. They were a scourge to many ships and most certainly a scourge to small, undefended towns along the coastlines and in the islands; but to those who could afford to treat with them, they afforded a security that has fled since they were banished from the sea.”

“How unfortunate. And do you see in this latest outbreak of piracy a possible return to the security of the old days?”

“How is that possible, now that. Rome is in charge? In any case, these new villains do not amount to a patch on the sail of one of the old triremes. They are too petty to treat with the Holy Society of Dionysus.”

“Well, have no fear,” I said, rising. “Soon Rome will be in firm control of the entire sea and its coasts, and Roman courts will soon deal with these seagoing rascals. Then the sea-lanes will be safe for everyone.”

“I will sacrifice to Zeus, imploring him to speed the blessed day.” I thought I detected a trace of irony in his smile.

Before leaving I thanked him profusely and bought a handful of frankincense, compounded with myrrh and benzoin, a very potent blend, to toss onto the funeral pyre of Silvanus.

Back at the home of the late governor, I found the statuary draped in black so that the sculptured figures could join in the mourning for their former owner. In Rome the figures of Silvanus’s ancestors in the atrium would be thus draped, but here in a foreign place this expedient had to serve. The wailing was less extravagant, probably because the slaves were getting hoarse. Hermes spotted me and ran up.

“Any word from the harbor?” I asked him.

“No, praise all the gods. Maybe we’ll have a reprieve.” He looked around sourly. “Not that this place is a great joy to inhabit. Why don’t we take lodgings somewhere else for a while?”

“No, just now I am exactly where I want to be. Where are Photinus and that Egyptian delegation?”

“I saw him in the garden awhile ago. What do you want him for?”

I walked past him. “Suddenly Egypt is in the air and on everyone’s lips. I want to find out why this should be.”

“If you say so.” He followed me.

Photinus was seated by the pool, deep in conversation with Cleopatra. That was all right with me. I wanted a word with her also.

“Good to see you, Senator,” said the eunuch, “even at such a sad time as this.”

“Any time is a good one to renew so happy an acquaintance,” I said with some jollity. Courtier and princess studied me with some wonder.

“You seem in a lighthearted mood today, Senator,” Cleopatra observed.

“Indeed. I am feeling scholarly, and this afternoon I have been adding to my store of knowledge. There are few more agreeable activities.”

“Are you well, Senator?” Photinus asked. “Try some of this date wine. It is mixed with ambergris and civet musk. Egyptians esteem it as the most fortifying drink in the world.”

I tried it. “Wonderful stuff,” I commended him. It tasted dreadful. “Photinus, my old and valued friend, I have been wondering about that pack of Roman merchants from Alexandria you’ve been shepherding about of late.”

“Yes, Senator?”

“Would any of them happen to be in the frankincense trade?” “I suppose some of them may have dealings in that particular business. Why do you ask?”

“He is asking,” Cleopatra said, “because Governor Silvanus choked to death on frankincense.” She eyed me warily.

“Princess, yesterday when we viewed the body of Silvanus and determined the extraordinary nature of his demise, you did not mention that your father owns a monopoly on the frankincense trade.”

“I saw no reason to mention it. That is only within Egyptian borders anyway. It is the custom everywhere, when a luxury good passes through a nation, for the king to own a monopoly on its trade. Once it is sold at Alexandria, its new owners take it wherever they will. My father has nothing to do with frankincense on Cyprus.”

“But, until quite recently, Cyprus was a Ptolemaic kingdom,” I pointed out.

“Really, Senator,” Photinus trilled, “you cannot think that the princess had anything to do with this awful murder.”

“I did not say so, I just find the connection intriguing, and I must observe that, historically, the Ptolemies have displayed a taste for the most peculiar forms of murder.”

“Are you trying to provoke me?” Cleopatra demanded. “I will remind you that I, too, am a guest in the house of Silvanus, and I am quite aware of the displeasure of the gods when the sacred bond of guest and host is broken by bloodshed.”

“If you will forgive me, Princess,” I said, “you Ptolemies have the most disgraceful record of incest, parricide, matricide, infanticide, and every other form of unnatural behavior in all the long, sorry history of royalty.”

“It isn’t easy being king,” she said, seeming neither angered nor embarrassed. “For centuries we have been Greek rulers in a foreign land. Not only that, everyone else envies us and would like to conquer us. Royalty are not like the common run of humanity and should not be judged as such.”

“Far be it from me to judge you,” I assured her. “But I have a suspicious nature, and when I investigate a crime I look for-how shall I express this? — I look for correspondences, things that two otherwise unrelated events, persons, or circumstances have in common. Especially unlikely, obscure things. To wit, Governor Silvanus is dead, choked on frankincense, a method of homicide unique in my experience.