The Princess and the Pirates(2)
“It would be glorious to make the Parthians return the eagles they won from Crassus,” I said, “but since everyone who can lift a sword is in Gaul these days, I don’t see how I—”
“Forget about land warfare,” Creticus said. “There has been a resurgence of piracy in the East. It must be put down, and quickly.”
My hair commenced to prickle. “A naval command? But duumvir is an imperium appointment, and I haven’t held—”
“You won’t be duumvir,” Father said, “just commodore of a flotilla of cutters. No triremes, nothing bigger than a Liburnian.”
My stomach knotted at the prospect of a sea command. “I thought Pompey stamped out the pirates.”
“Nobody eliminates piracy any more than they eliminated banditry,” Creticus told me. “Pompey crushed the floating nation that controlled the sea in the old days. But we’ve been distracted in the West for some time now, and a new batch of nautical rogues are taking advantage of the fact. It’s time to crush them now before they build back up to full fleet status.”
I didn’t have much time to think about it. I had to do something, and the prospect of fighting in the dark Gaulish forests was infinitely depressing.
“Is the command conferred by the Popular Assemblies?” I asked, resigned and now considering the votes.
“It’s a senatorial appointment,” Father said. “But one of our tribunes will submit it to the consilium plebis, and it will pass without resistance. You are a popular man, and Clodius is dead. It will be to your credit that you’ve chosen an ugly, thankless task like pirate hunting instead of a chance for glory and loot in Gaul.”
“Speaking of loot—” I began.
“If you can find where they keep their hoard,” Creticus said, “well, it would be a nice gesture if you returned some of it to the rightful owners. Of course, in most cases that would be impossible. A respectable contribution to the public treasury will ensure a favorable reception from the Senate. Aside from that, why not help yourself?”
“When you stand for praetor,” Nepos said, “it will go all the better if you’re standing beside a pillar decorated with the rams of ships you’ve captured.” (This was the traditional way to commemorate a naval victory.)
I sighed. “I want to take Titus Milo with me.”
Father slapped the table in front of him. “Absolutely not! Milo is in exile. He’s in disgrace.”
“He used to be a fleet rower,” I said. “He knows ships and sailors, and he wouldn’t need any official appointment. He’d be of enormous help to me.”
“As long as he stays away from Rome there should be no problem,” Scipio said. “And he’ll probably be happy for a chance to get away from Fausta.” This raised a chuckle. My old friend and his wife were on the outs. She was the Dictator’s daughter, and much of Milo’s charm in her eyes had lain in his incredible rise from street-level gangster to the praetorship. His equally precipitate fall had failed to win her approval. He had had the consulship in his grasp, and now he was twiddling his thumbs on his estate in Lanuvium.
“This is what comes of allowing the scum and riffraff of the streets to participate in politics,” grumbled Father, who had helped and protected a number of such men himself when it suited him politically. After all, somebody has to do the dirty work for aristocrats who cannot afford to soil their own hands.
“Where is my base of operations to be?” I asked.
“Cyprus,” said Creticus. “Consult with Cato. He can brief you on the place. He spent better than a year sorting out their political mess.”
“Who is in charge there now?” I asked.
“One Aulus Silvanus,” Creticus said.
“Silvanus? Isn’t he one of Gabinius’s cronies?” At one time Gabinius had been a rival to Caesar and Pompey for military glory, but his promising career had come to little, and he’d been tried for extortion shortly before this time. Despite a spirited defense by Cicero, he’d been found guilty and exiled. When Cicero couldn’t get you off, you had to be as guilty as Oedipus.
“He is, and report has Gabinius living in comfortable retirement on Cyprus,” Scipio affirmed.
“It sounds cozy. When do I depart?”
“As soon as the proper senatorial documents can be drawn up. The Tribunician vote will follow automatically so you needn’t wait for that.” Father was as abrupt as usual.
“Very well,” I said, sourly. “I’ll begin making arrangements.”
AS I WALKED BACK THROUGH THE CITY, my mood was moderately elevated. This appointment did not displease me nearly as much as I pretended. Like most Romans I abhorred the very thought of sea duty, but this was one of the rare occasions when I was looking forward to getting away from Rome.