John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

We had a fair wind for the voyage back, so most of the sailors got a little rest after the arduous labor of repairing the hulls, then dragging the ships back into the water and reloading them. I had little to occupy my mind except for my problems and my predicament.

Gabinius was my enemy, that much was clear. I had allowed myself to be distracted by the exotic image of a Roman pirate chief, trying to invent a character and a past to explain him, when in all probability he was just one of Gabinius’s old soldiers and still obeying the commands of that failed, scheming general.

But that must mean that it was Gabinius who had Silvanus killed. Something was wrong there. I have seen false friendship in plenty. Everyone has. I would have sworn that there was genuine affection between those two otherwise unlikable men. Of course, even family affection counts for little where great wealth and power are concerned, as witness Cleopatra and her family. And a sense of betrayal can turn love to hatred in an instant.

There remained that business of the frankincense. Most likely, I thought, it was just another piece of irrelevant nonsense thrown in to confuse the investigation.

I half expected to see laughing, jeering crowds lining the wharfs, ready to pelt us with rotten fruit and offal as we skulked in, cowed and humiliated. Nothing of the sort. In fact nobody paid us much attention at all. We had become a familiar sight, and it looked as if word of the trick that had been played upon us had not spread.

I amended that thought. That “trick” had been no lighthearted prank. The sabotage of our hulls might have cost all our lives, had we been farther from shore when we discovered it. Or had we been opposite sheer cliffs instead of a shelving beach. Or had we caught up with the pirates and in the middle of a sea fight when our ships went down beneath our feet. No, it was no minor jest that had been played upon us.

The question was: What to do about it?

When the ships were secured, I assembled the men on the pavement before naval headquarters, where they had taken their oath of service.

“Our situation has changed,” I announced. “From now on every man bunks here at the naval base. That includes me. Any man who needs to go into the town must get permission from his skipper and must on no account be away for more than two hours. Anyone who leaves must return by nightfall, and no one leaves after dark. We now know that we have enemies in the town.” Their looks darkened. “I have complete faith in you men,” I continued, “and I know that there has been no treachery among us. For one thing, no man is such a fool as to go to sea aboard a ship he knows will sink.

“We have taken on a task and we will complete it. Those pirates are laughing at us now. You will have the opportunity to laugh at them when they hang on crosses. I want no loose talk. The time to boast is after we have conquered. In the meantime nobody needs to know what we are thinking or doing. We are through with play and with half measures. We now commence serious operations. Be ready.”

They heard me out in silence, and I detected no insolence in their manner. That suited me well enough. The ability to inspire men has never been my gift. Caesar and Pompey were the masters of that art, and it has always been a mystery to me.

I sent Hermes and a couple of sailors to the house of Silvanus to get our gear, which didn’t amount to all that much. I was not afraid to go myself. Gabinius would not try an open attack. He had done that once and failed on the night I had reeled back from the waterfront tavern with Cleopatra and Alpheus. It had been an uncommonly clumsy attempt for a crafty old campaigner like Gabinius, but he had not expected very stiff resistance, and he had not dared to use his own men. He had not counted on the presence of Ariston, who had eliminated three of the attackers. And, of course, he had made sure that neither of the men who left the fight alive survived to talk about who had hired them.

The more I thought about it, the more comfortable I became with the idea of Gabinius as my enemy. It was in the long tradition of war between members of the senatorial class, an extension of our everyday activities in the Forum and in the streets of Rome. Gabinius had a private game to play here on Cyprus and I was interfering, so he had to eliminate me. I had been sent to get rid of the pirates, so I needed evidence to put before the Senate tying Gabinius to their plunderings. It should not prove difficult now that I knew what to look for.

He must have an agent, a go-between to do his will while keeping his hands clean. It would have to be someone well-placed, accustomed to moving large sums without arousing suspicion. Nobilior? He was a banker and a Roman, but he had as much as told me that Gabinius was behind all the problems on Cyprus, in Egypt, and in the East generally. Cyprus was a commercial crossroads and full of merchants, financiers, speculators, and others who would fit Gabinius’s needs perfectly.

I told Cleopatra of my new arrangements.

“I can make quarters for you on my ship,” she offered. “You will be much more comfortable there than in these austere barracks.”

“All too tempting,” I said. “But I must beg off. It might be bad for morale if I insist that my men live here while I enjoy palatial accommodations. All the most successful generals make a point of sharing the same hardships as their men during a campaign. Caesar’s tent is little more capacious than those of his men, and half the time he keeps the army marching days ahead of their supply train anyway. Then he sleeps on the ground wrapped in his cloak just like any common trooper.”

“Really?” She seemed enthralled. “You must tell me more about Caesar.”

That is what it was like in those days. All anybody wanted to hear about was Caesar.

Hermes returned with our gear. “All’s quiet at the mansion. The funeral’s done, so the loud mourning is over. They’re packing up, waiting for word from Rome as to what’s to be done next.”

“What is the feel of the place?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “The way it usually is when the master’s dead and nobody knows who is going to take over. It’s an anxious time for slaves. They may go right on taking care of another house, or they might be handed over to a cruel master, or they could be parceled off and sold who knows where. Working in a big, rich house with a fairly easygoing master is about as good as a slave’s life gets, so they’re not expecting any improvement.”

“Was Gabinius there?”

“I saw no sign of him or his men.”

“He has an estate somewhere outside the town. Find out where it is.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Just do it. You never know when information like that may be of use. The messengers should know, or anyone who makes deliveries.”

“I know how to find out. I just hope you’re not planning anything reckless.”

“Don’t concern yourself with my plans. You’ll know soon enough.” He walked away grumbling. I cursed myself for being so short with him. For one thing, it meant that I was letting my feelings show, and that can be deadly. Emotion has no business intruding on politics and revenge. But my pride had been hurt, and I was angry as I had been few times in my life. What was it Cleopatra had said? The only emotion a king could fittingly display in public was great rage. It was the same for a senator on the cursus honorum. This insult would have to be repaid at a high rate of interest.

Hermes returned that afternoon with his report. “Market gossip is all about the Aphrodisia. It’s the big event of the year for the people here. It’s getting crowded in town, by the way. People are arriving by the shipload from the other islands and from the mainland. All the inns and taverns are full. People are renting out rooms in their own houses. You could probably make some money by renting out space here in the naval station. It’s mostly empty.”