The Princess and the Pirates(19)
“What about Cleopatra? She’s just a girl playing at war. Suppose she doesn’t like the look of the real thing? She might run at a crucial moment. That could mean disaster if we go in expecting even odds.”
“I think there’s more to Cleopatra than you see. She’s grown up in a savage court, and she knows she’ll need Roman favor in the future. If her little brother becomes king in accordance with our latest treaty with Ptolemy, she’ll marry him. That will make her the real ruler of Egypt because he’s an imbecile like most of his family.”
“I hope you’re right.”
It may seem odd that I was having such a conversation with a slave, but I was grooming Hermes for better things. I had already determined to give him his freedom when we got back to Rome, and then he would be my freedman and a citizen as well as my aide and secretary as I assume the higher offices in Rome and the provinces. In a single generation our generals had nearly doubled Roman territory, with consequent increases in propraetorian and proconsular commands.
Things were reaching the point where, in some years, there were not enough consuls and praetors leaving office to staff all the new territories. Caesar’s new conquests in Gaul, once pacified, would make at least two new proconsular provinces, and he had eyes on the island of Britannia. Soon, I thought, we should need to hold elections twice each year.
Late in the afternoon, Silvanus and Gabinius put in an appearance. They watched my men drill for a while, and Gabinius pronounced himself impressed that I had them shaping up so well in so short a time.
“I’ve no time to dawdle,” I told him. “My best chance is to bag these pirates quickly before they get word that there’s a Roman force after them. They’ll hear about it in just a few days at the outside, so I want to take to the water after them as soon as possible.”
“Very wise,” Silvanus said. “I can see that you’ve been soldiering with Caesar. He acts faster than any general in Roman history. Even Sulla and Pompey were slow by comparison.”
Gabinius snorted through his oversized nose. “If Pompey ever moved fast, he might arrive at the battle first and take some casualties. Can’t have that.”
I signaled to Ion, and he sounded a shrill blast on the silver whistle he wore on a chain around his neck. The men ceased their activities and gathered to hear me.
“That’s enough for today. Starting tonight, you will all bunk in the naval facility. I want you ready to put to sea at a moment’s notice, and I promise you it will be a short moment. You are to use only the taverns right here on the waterfront because I don’t want to have to scour the whole city looking for you. Any man who fails to report for duty had better find a fast ship to some distant port because you have now taken the oath of service and I am empowered to administer any punishment I can imagine. You men don’t want to learn about the depths of my imagination. Be here at dawn. Dismissed.”
Silvanus had a litter big enough for the three of us, and I accepted his invitation to share it, leaving Hermes to make his way to our lodgings on foot. When the slaves picked up the conveyance and began their smooth pace, I learned what was on the minds of the two most powerful men on Cyprus.
“Commodore,” Silvanus began, “you are the one with the commission from the Senate, and it is not my place to advise you, but I hope you will not be offended if I offer you some anyway.”
“I am always happy to hear the opinions of men of distinction and experience.”
“Then let me say that I believe it to be a grave mistake to allow Princess Cleopatra to join your flotilla. She is a charming girl and I have enjoyed having her as my guest, but she is no friend of Rome. She hides it well, but she bitterly resents our annexation of Cyprus and the death of her uncle.”
“My flotilla is very small,” I said, “and now I find that naval stores of all descriptions are in short supply or entirely absent, except for paint. Her ship is a fine one, better than any of mine, and its men, sailors and marines, are of the best quality. I need that ship.”
“Then take it,” Gabinius said, “but leave her ashore.”
“It would be an intolerable insult to Ptolemy to commandeer his vessel and treat his daughter in such a fashion.”
“Ptolemy is a buffoon and should be grateful for whatever bones get tossed his way from the Roman table,” Gabinius said.
“Nonetheless, I want that ship, and I am inclined to humor Cleopatra.” I was not sure why I was being so stubborn since the doubts they expressed echoed my own, but I had just been justifying myself to my own slave and exasperation was setting in. Also, I was not certain why they thought it to be a matter of concern to them, and such uncertainties quickly become suspicions in my mind.