John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

“Greetings, Senator,” Nobilior said. “Flavia will be impossible to live with now. She has Julius Caesar’s niece all to herself.”

“Whose niece?” asked the Ethiopian.

“At last,” I said, “someone who has never heard of him. I think I am going to like you.”

“Senator, I believe you have already met my friend Decimus Antonius. This is Prince Legyba of Ethiopia. He is here to attend the festival.”

“You’ve traveled far, Prince,” I said. “I know Homer speaks of the ‘pious Ethiopians,’ but you are the first I have met who travels to honor the gods.”

He flashed a smile full of brilliant teeth. “My people are always curious about the gods and religious practices of other people, but I am actually on a trade mission on behalf of my father the king.” He spoke excellent Greek, but with the strangest accent I had ever heard, an almost musical singsong.

At that moment a tall, mournful-looking man joined us. I recognized him as Nearchus, the archon of Paphos. On Cyprus that meant the head man of the city council. As usual in Hellenistic cities, he was one of the richest landowners.

“Senator,” he said, “while I hate to bring business to a social occasion such as this, might I have a few words with you?”

“By all means,” I said. “My friends, will you give us leave?”

“As long as you’re with us for dinner,” Sergius said. “It will be ready shortly, Nearchus, you’ll be in a better position to wring concessions from him after he’s had a bit to drink.”

We went a little aside to a quiet corner by some large, potted shrubs.

“Senator, our council meetings have come almost to a standstill. With Governor Silvanus dead, it is not at all clear who is the Roman authority on the island. We are stymied. General Gabinius behaves as if the mantle has fallen on him, but he is no more than an exile, although a prestigious one. You would seem to be the ranking Roman official here, but your commission is naval and you have not come forward to take control. What are we to do?”

“I really can’t administer the island,” I told him, “since I may be called away at any time to pursue pirates. Gabinius, however, has no standing. If he tries to give you orders, simply say that you are awaiting word from the Senate. They should have sent out an assistant governor long since, and perhaps they’ll speed up the process now. But on no account should you regard Gabinius as the man in power here. He is a noted plunderer, and you have to be pretty bad to get expelled from Rome for robbing foreigners.” I would not have said this earlier, but seeing Gabinius conferring with Spurius had changed my view of him.

He looked more mournful than ever. “This is most distressing.” I had to sympathize with him. It is always upsetting to see infighting among the conquerors. “I hardly know what to do.”

“Take my advice: just shut down operations and enjoy the festival. If Gabinius prods you further, tell him the goddess forbids official business until the next full moon. That’s how we do things in Rome.”

“I shall take your words to heart. Thank you, Senator.” From his look I had provided him with little comfort, but comfort was not in the commission I had received from the Senate.

At that moment Milo arrived. He had dressed impressively in a fine toga complete with a broad praetor’s stripe to which he was not really entitled, but who was going to argue with him on Cyprus? He immediately became the center of attention, and I was called upon to make introductions. Changed though he was, he was still a tremendously impressive man, diminished only in the eyes of those of us who had known him in the days of his glory. And when he turned on the charm, he was as magnetic as Marcus Antonius on his best day.

I saw Julia, with Flavia clinging to her like a barnacle, talking with the Ethiopian prince. He was pressing some sort of gift on her, with many graceful gestures. Then the majordomo announced dinner. We trooped into the triclinium and flopped down for the first course.

Dinner was a great success. Flavia, it turned out, had cleverly selected dishes that had some connection to Aphrodite. Some came from plants or animals sacred to the goddess; others were mentioned in the legends of her life and exploits. The wines were all from vineyards connected to her most famous temples and shrines.

After dinner we retired once more to the terrace to catch the cool, evening breeze and clear our heads of wine fumes. Julia came to check on me.

“Why you’ve restrained yourself,” she said, finding me sober. “I’m so pleased. I was speaking with that Ethiopian prince before dinner, such an elegant, delightful man, and so exotic! Look, he’s given these to all the ladies here.” From somewhere within her gown she produced a small, plump bag of snowy white cloth, bound with a ribbon. Its sweet scent was familiar.

“Let me see that!” I snatched it from her and tugged at the ribbon.

“Don’t you dare spill any!” She snatched it back. “Let me open it. You’re so clumsy with anything except dice.” She opened the top to reveal a cluster of tear-shaped drops from which a lovely fragrance arose. They were white, almost transparent. “Why, it’s frankincense!”

“Exactly. Governor Silvanus met his end through a surfeit of the common, yellow variety from Arabia Felix. This is the white, Ethiopian frankincense, the purest and finest sort. I’ve become quite an expert on this stuff as you can see. Where is that prince?”

He wasn’t difficult to find, and it was easy to draw him aside, as everyone else was watching a wonderful Syrian magician who could do amazing things with flames, live birds, large serpents, and even more unlikely props.

“Prince,” I said to him, “I am curious about the gift you gave my wife.”

His eyes went wide. “Was this improper? If so I am very sorry and must plead ignorance of your customs.”

“No, no, it was perfectly delightful. But we seldom see white frank-incense in our part of the world. It seems an extremely extravagant gift.”

He gave me that dazzling smile again. “Oh, not at all! We have so much of it this year, since we are not sending it up the coast to Egypt. I thought it would be perfect for small guest gifts. It is easy to carry, and everyone loves it.”

“So they do, so they do. Ah, you said that you are not shipping it to Egypt this year? Might that be because of King Ptolemy’s troubles?”

“Yes, yes.” He smiled and nodded vigorously at the same time.

“Is there trouble between Ethiopia and Egypt?”

“No, no,” now smiling and shaking his head with equal vigor. The sudden changes in direction of those flashing teeth were making me a little dizzy. “No, it was King Ptolemy who asked us to hold back certain things we have always traded directly with the royal house: ivory, feathers, a few other things. And, of course, the frankincense. He said these things would be stolen from him.”

“Stolen? Because of the unrest in his country?”

He looked embarrassed. “Why, please forgive me, Senator, I do not wish to give offense, but he said it was because of you Romans.”

I nodded too, much more slowly and without smiling. “I see.” And indeed I was beginning to see. “Thank you, Prince, both for your gift and for your information.”

“I have not offended?” He seemed genuinely concerned.

“Not at all. And I think that very soon things will be back to normal between ourselves and King Ptolemy and your father’s kingdom.”

This time he really smiled, an ear-to-ear stretch of ivory bright as a bucket of pearls. “Wonderful! My father will be so pleased!”

Flavia, I saw, was now hanging on Milo as eagerly as she had attached herself to Julia. Good luck to her, I thought. No man who had spent years married to Fausta had anything to fear from a social-climbing bacchante like Flavia.