John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

“I thought you would be taking part in the ceremonies,” I told him.

“There is nothing left for me to do. I have taught and rehearsed the sacred chorus, but there is no role for me in the rest of the ritual, so now I am just enjoying the festivities like everybody else. Have a drink with us. There is a high-class tavern near the Temple of Hephaestus that is giving away Judaean wine flavored with rose petals, this day only.”

“What is it called?”

“The Hermaphroditus. The statue in front is worth the trip by itself.” This intrigued me. I had never seen a really convincing depiction of the double-sexed offspring of Aphrodite and Hermes, and was curious to see how this statue interpreted the difficult subject.

“Hermes, run, find Julia, and tell her to join us there.”

“I’d rather not leave you by yourself.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m among friends, and nobody is going to cause trouble at this festival. Anyone who tries to spoil the fun will be torn to pieces by the crowd as a sacrifice to the goddess.”

“I still don’t like it. How will I find her in this mob?”

“Easily. They’ll be at one of the town’s more famous locations, and Flavia will have the biggest, showiest litter in sight. It will stick up well above the crowd. Off with you now.”

He left us and Alpheus introduced me to his companions, who had Greek names that all sounded the same: Amyntas and Amoebeus and Admetus or something of the sort. I knew I would not remember the names the next day so I made no effort to sort them out. Probably tavern acquaintances, I imagined: sworn brothers today, forgotten tomorrow.”

“Will you be staying much longer on Cyprus, Alpheus?” I asked, as we set off for our destination.

“As soon as the ceremony ends tomorrow, I’m off for the next island.”

“That is unfortunate. I was looking forward to-” I stopped when I saw five well-armed thugs pushing their way through the crowd toward us, their beady eyes fixed on me. Immediately, I regretted sending Hermes away.

“Gabinius’s men. Alphaeus, do you know how we can lose them?”

“Are you feuding with Gabinius? And you Romans are always chiding us Greeks for infighting. My friends here know the town well. We ought to be able to lose a pack of iron-bound Romans easily. Come on.”

So we ducked into a narrow alley, which featured a turn into an even narrower alley where there was a ladder propped against a wall. We scrambled up to a flat rooftop and pulled the ladder up after us, then across two or three roofs and down a set of stairs into a courtyard where about a hundred naked people were worshipping the goddess in her most basic ritual, after an astonishing fashion that Alpheus assured me was a most pious observance in Phrygia. They invited us to join them, but I was forced to decline.

“Why couldn’t I have visited this place ten years ago?” I complained. “Or even five? You and your friends can stay if you like, Alpheus. I can probably find my way to the Hermaphroditus.”

“Nonsense. We’re just resting up. The real celebration starts after nightfall, and you need to keep up your stamina if you hope to last until sunrise.”

So we went out onto a side street, and I realized that I had no idea where we were.

“This way,” Alpheus said. We went down a long stairway between two rows of houses. “Now through here.” We entered a tunnel that bored into one of the buildings, into a large, dim room.

“Where are we?” I asked. “I think you took the wrong-” I was stopped short by the dagger that appeared beneath my chin. A hand plucked my own dagger from beneath my belt.

“He’s got a caestus under his tunic,” Alpheus said.

No, I definitely shouldn’t have sent Hermes away. “Alpheus! I was suspicious of everybody else, but I thought you, at least, were my friend.”

“You mean I wasn’t important enough to be involved in any of the great matters of international concern, don’t you? Well, that was the idea. But please don’t take this personally. I truly have enjoyed your company, and I regret that your stubborn persistence has led you to this dismal fate.”

“Well, what now? I take it you plan to kill me.” I didn’t plan to go without a fight, not that there was much I could do in my predicament, but I suspected he had something else in mind for me. People who intend to cut your throat usually do it before you know they have a knife.

“No, I was told to keep you here until someone joins us. Please don’t get your hopes up though.”

“So I am going to get to meet your employer?”

“One of them. You see, a traveling poet makes an ideal agent, spy, and broker. No one is suspicious of our wanderings because our art takes us wherever there is a demand for us. There is always a festival someplace that needs a new hymn, a funeral someone wants to make memorable with an elegiac ode, and so forth. My employer needed a base on Cyprus, and so he sent me ahead to scout the place out and pass the requisite bribes. It is an added bonus that I am always in demand in the houses of the rich, so nobody thinks it unusual to see me in the company of the highest authorities. Poets are very fashionable guests.”

“My compliments. You’ve achieved an elegant balance in your double career. I take it the poet’s art does not pay well?”

“Alas, no. But that’s no matter. One practices art at the bidding of the muse, not for gain. But I do like to live well, and for that a supplemental income is necessary. The old fleets used to use actors for this purpose, but they were not welcome in respectable households except as entertainers, so a poet is a better choice.”

“I am getting dense in my old age,” I said bitterly. “It was you who suggested giving Ariston the oath at the Temple of Poseidon, then you excused yourself while I was distracted by Flavia disporting herself with her sailors. That was when you arranged the ambush, wasn’t it? Then you led us there at a deliberate pace with your poem about Orpheus and Eurydice-it was not at all a bad poem, by the way-and you held your torch high when the attack began to make sure nobody mistook you for one of the intended victims.”

My eyes were adjusting to the dimness, and I could see we were in a large cellar that was used for storage, with bales and jars stacked all around. I could see no way out except for the way we had come in. The Greeks whose names I had already forgotten bound my hands behind me and thrust me against a bale, forcing me to sit.

“Now stay there and don’t try to stand, Decius,” Alpheus said, “or I’ll be forced to nail one of your feet to the floor with a dagger.”

“I’m not going anywhere just yet. I truly want to meet your master.” A brave show harms nothing when you are helpless.

“Employer,” he corrected. “I have no master.”

At that moment a large form blocked the light from the door. Then a man entered with more men at his back. He wore a toga and blinked in the dimness for a moment. It was the pale-faced man from the public garden. Mentally I cursed myself.

“I should have known the second I saw your pasty face! But you were with other Romans, so I assumed you’d arrived with the grain fleet. But you should have been deeply tanned after such a voyage, and I didn’t catch it. When did you cut your hair and shave off your beard? This morning?”

“Yesterday. Actually, I’ve been arranging passage away from here on the flagship.” The rumbling voice was unmistakable. If he’d just spoken a few more words in the garden, I would have caught the Ostian accent. By such small chances are great opportunities lost.

“I knew Spurius couldn’t be your real name. Are you really the extribune Marcinus?”

“I am indeed.”