John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

“I am not sure the Senate would approve my delegating command to you. To go to sea as my assistant, maybe, but …”

“I am an ex-praetor. My conviction keeps me out of Rome and out of office, but my fitness for military command was never questioned. You’ve been given a free hand out here. Use it.”

“He’s right,” Julia told me. “You have to understand that when the Senate gives you an overseas commission, even a small one like this, you get to define your own powers until they send someone else out with a bigger commission. This paltry business will be over with long before the Senate wakes up from its collective nap and takes notice.”

“Agreed, then?” Milo said.

It was a little disconcerting to have these two gang up on me. Usually they were on opposite sides. “All right.”

“Excellent. While I’m at it, I’m going to wring some answers out of this man Harmodias, the one in charge of the base and its stores.”

“I don’t doubt he’s turned a few sesterces peddling government property while nobody was looking,” I said, “but I’ve never met a low-level official who didn’t. Or a high-level one either, for that matter.”

“Nonetheless, he has a few things to answer for. That damned paint, for instance.”

“What? Unlike the ships, the rations, and almost all the arms and supplies, the paint is the one thing that’s there! ”

But Milo would say no more on the subject.

We began at the temple of Aphrodite. I had left my little fleet to the fearsome attentions of Titus Milo and well might they tremble. His reputation had spread even to these eastern waters.

Julia wanted to see the temple and told me that all the most important people on the island would be there this near festival time, but I knew that she had another reason for being so anxious to attend. The Caesars were a famously infertile family, bearing few children, most of whom died at birth or in infancy. The children who lived were mostly girls. Years later it was for this reason that, needing an heir, Caesar was reduced to adopting his sister’s grandson.

Julia had yet to conceive, and this worried her endlessly. I had long since assured her that I would never divorce her on grounds of infertility. There were far too many Metelli as it was, and men of my class adopted sons more readily than they bred them. Nonetheless, she felt that her failure to conceive diminished her. Patrician women had a nasty habit of snobbing each other over the number and health of their children. Julia hoped that attending the annual ritual of Aphrodite would bestow fertility upon her. My dream vision had reinforced this hope.

The resident and visiting notables were out in force, as were the expected local peddlers, beggars, and idlers, most of the latter offering themselves as guides. Having already had the tour, I was able to show her everything myself.

“It is a rather strange statue,” she said, when she got a look at the cult image.

“At least this way,” I told her, “you don’t have hawkers constantly trying to sell you miniature copies of it, the way they do at every other famed temple site of my experience.”

“I suppose. But it is very moving nonetheless.” We emerged from the dim interior, and I took her to see the golden nets. In the garden I pointed out lone, who was speaking with a group of very well-dressed people.

“Oh, what a lovely woman!” She all but clapped her hands with delight. “Come and introduce me.” The little crowd parted for her, as crowds always seemed to do before members of her family. She made a grave bow before lone, and the priestess took her hand.

“I see the senator’s wife has arrived.” I made introductions and the rest of the group, sensing that lone wished to give a private interview, drew off a little way.

“I am deeply honored,” Julia said. “I aspire to become a priestess of Venus in time.”

“But surely you hold that position already. Is there not a family connection?”

“Our family is devoted to the aspect of Venus named Genetrix. The priestesses of Venus Genetrix are patrician, and they must have at least one living child.” She paused. “It is concerning this that I wished to speak with you.”

Ione smiled, still holding Julia’s hand. “Come with me, my dear.” She led her farther into the garden, and they were soon all but invisible beneath the shade of the beautiful trees.

“Do you realize,” said a voice next to me, “that you and your wife are receiving more personal attention from the high priestess than visiting kings and queens? There are several here, you know.”

“Good day, Flavia.” She was dressed as before in her priestess’s gown and blonde wig. “I suppose we must just be interesting people, nothing more. And Romans are the new power here. The authorities of temples are generally careful to stay on good terms with the people in power.”

“When Silvanus came here she did no more than greet him. She has shunned Gabinius entirely. When Cato was administrator, she avoided him despite the fine gifts he brought. And Cato is a genuinely pious man.”

“He is that. He is also one of the most unpleasant, insufferable men in existence. I, on the other hand, am intensely likeable; and Julia, besides her many other charms, bears that magic name.”

“I heard she arrived yesterday with the grain fleet. I also heard that the famous Titus Milo was on the same ship.”

“Your sources of information are impeccable as usual. Titus is one of my oldest friends. He’s come here to assist me in my naval duties.”

“Really? I hope this means he is returning to Rome’s good graces. It was so unjust to banish him just for killing an evil wretch like Clodius.”

“Actually, Titus didn’t kill him. There was a brawl between their supporters, and Clodius just sort of, well-he ended up dead.” This was not something I wished to discuss. “But I am confident Milo will be back in the thick of it soon. I will personally agitate for his recall. I’ll be standing for next year’s praetorship you know.”

“So I understand. My husband has quite a large clientele, and he always takes them up to Rome for the elections. Who are you supporting for the quaestorships? We always want to have an agreeable grain quaestor at Ostia.” Now we were back on a sound, familiar footing: the old game of votes and favors. Here we were, on a foreign island pursuing vastly differing purposes, and we were dickering over the next elections. That is how it was back when we had a genuine republic.

In time Julia returned, her face glowing. Whatever lone had told her, it agreed with Julia.

“My dear, this is Flavia, wife of Sergius Nobilior of Ostia and a priestess of Venus assisting here at the temple. Flavia, my wife, Julia Minor, daughter of Lucius Julius Caesar, granddaughter of Caius Julius Caesar, and so on back to Aeneas.”

Julia beamed. “I am so glad to meet you, Flavia. Pay no attention to my husband’s sarcasm. He has no gift for it. But he has told me so much about you.”

“He has?” Flavia was nonplussed but covered it well. “We’ve been so looking forward to your arrival.”

“I wish I could invite you to our house, but my husband has us living in a barracks, if you can believe that. I simply can’t have people of quality in to visit.”

“Nonsense! You’ve just arrived, and we’ve been here for ages. You must have dinner with us this evening. I know that Sergius has already invited the archon of Paphos, and a visiting Ethiopian prince, whose name I can’t pronounce. Cleopatra will be there, too, if she doesn’t have to go off chasing pirates with your husband.”

“Oh, it would be so unfair to ask you to have us over at the last minute like this. I am sure your couches are already full.”