The Princess and the Pirates(31)
He shook his blocky head. “Never heard him speak Latin anyway, just Greek and some Aramaic.”
“Aramaic? Did you go ashore in Syria or Judea?”
“We went there to sell loot once. I think that’s where I heard him speak it. Greek will get you by almost anywhere, but Aramaic is handy to know in the eastern parts.”
“Did he speak it well?”
“Better than me. Sounded as fluent as he is in Greek, and he speaks Greek like an Athenian. Why?”
I gazed off across the calm water. My weather luck was holding. “I’m just trying to build a picture of the man. I don’t want to be fighting a total stranger when we’ve drawn swords on one another. Many commanders just assume things about their enemies and leave it at that. They tend to die with looks of great astonishment on their faces.”
“That’s shrewd.”
“What is he like as a planner?”
“The best. He knows the trade routes, he keeps up on whose fleet is where, he knows the value of everything, and when, say, a load of fine glassware will fetch a better price in Berytus than in Jaffa. He’s been called a small-minded merchant for it, but never to his face.”
“Does he have regular contacts—shore-based merchants, for instance, who take his loot off his hands?”
“Certainly. But he always deals with them in private. It’s one way he hangs on to his leadership.”
“How did he get to be leader?”
“He organized one of the first crews, so he had his own ship going in. Any pirate may challenge the chief to a fight for leadership. I imagine that’s how he got to be top dog in the first place. I saw him deal with two such challengers myself. It didn’t last long either time.”
“He sounds like a formidable man.”
“He is that.”
“Does he have a second? Anyone close to him?” He shook his head again. “There’s no second in a pirate fleet—just the chief and the individual skippers. As for friends, he acts like every man of the fleet is his brother, but I never saw anyone who seemed closer to him than the rest.”
“Does he have a woman or women? Boys?”
“He takes a woman sometimes, after sacking a town. Never more than one and never keeps her more than a day or two, then passes her on to whoever wants her. I never heard that he fancied boys.” He shifted, catlike, to a roll of the ship. “And now, Senator, you know as much as I do about Spurius. He’s not a chummy sort, and I doubt anyone knows more than I just told you.”
“You are a gold mine of information, Ariston. I will be quizzing you further, but that’s enough for now. If you should remember anything else about Spurius, even a tiny detail, please tell me at once, even if it seems unimportant.”
He nodded and sauntered off, moving easily with the motion of the ship, which was beginning to make me uncomfortable. My short stay ashore had already robbed me of much of my seaworthiness.
Ariston paused for a second, then turned back. “One other thing: his ship is the Atropos.”
That was something to mull upon. There are three Fates: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Clotho, with her spindle, spins the thread of each man’s life. Lachesis, with her rod, measures it. Atropos, with her scissors, cuts it. Atropos is known as “She Who Cannot Be Avoided.”
Ion came up to me. “We’ll be running out oars soon.” He looked at Ariston’s retreating back. “Where on Poseidon’s great domain did you find that one?”
“About where you’d expect. Why? Don’t you like him?” He shrugged. Greeks shrug a great deal. “He’s a sailor all right. But hard as it may be to credit, he’s too rough even for my pack of villains. I plan to sleep lightly while he’s on my ship.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I want everyone to sleep lightly from here on. I want to get these pirates, and I don’t want to waste a lot of time at it. Once we’re under oars I want to begin formation training with the other ships. While you’re seeing to that, I’ll be drilling the marines on deck. And I want a sharp lookout kept. It’s unlikely we’ll spot the pirate fleet so soon, but stranger things have happened, and I won’t spurn any gifts the gods throw my way. It’s a sure way to draw down their wrath.”
“As you command, Senator.” He walked away, barking orders. Now I had some idea of whom my enemy was. How strange to be coming all the way out here, into alien waters, and be facing a fellow Roman. If he was a Roman. It would not be that difficult to fake among foreigners. But somehow I had a feeling that the man was the real thing.
He kept himself aloof from the rest and trusted no one close to him. It was only wise, considering his murderous companions. I allowed myself a moment of identity with him. I, too, was surrounded by people whose loyalties were suspect even where hostility was not absolutely certain.