I didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “In Cyprus,” I said, “there’s an opportunity to accumulate some real wealth.”
“That would be nice for a change,” she admitted. “We could clear off all our debts.” Her brow unfurrowed as the advantages began to sink in. Like all her family she was intensely political, but the charms of solvency made a powerful lure. “And Cyprus does have a famed social life.”
“And with this service behind me, with a tidy treasure to boot, I’ll stand for praetor next elections, You’ll be a praetor’s wife for a year, then I’ll be posted to a really valuable province like Sicily or Africa. Wouldn’t you like that?” Plus I’d be staying out of the legions. But I didn’t say that. She would have thought it unworthy of a Roman official.
“Well, if it’s unavoidable.” Then she turned to the practicalities. “How are we to arrange travel? I’ll need to take my personal servants, no more than five or six, and my wardrobe, and—” this went on for some time.
“I’ll take a fast Liburnian as soon as I can,” I told her. “That means I’ll have such luggage as I can wrap up in a spare toga and sleep on deck. I’ll take Hermes.”
“I am not sleeping on any deck,” she said.
“The grain fleet sails for Egypt next month. Those ships are huge, and they have plenty of passenger space. They always stop at Cyprus before proceeding on to Alexandria.”
“And what will you be doing for a month?” she asked ominously. “Why, chasing pirates,” I answered, innocence oozing from every pore. Somehow, rumors of that German princess had reached her. We weren’t even married at the time, but that made little difference to Julia.
“Does your family have any hospitium connections in Cyprus? I’m sure mine don’t.”
“I doubt it,” I said, “but I’ll look through my tokens just in case. We have hospitia just about everywhere else in the Greek world, but I don’t believe any of my family have ever visited Cyprus. Of course, it’s the birthplace of your ancestress, so the place must be littered with your cousins.”
“I’ve warned you,” she said, ominously. The Caesars traced their descent from the goddess Venus who was, of course, born on Cyprus, just off the coast of Cyprus at any rate. Her uncle Caius Julius traded heavily on this supposed divine connection, to much mirth from the Romans. It infuriated Julia when I tweaked her for this bit of Caesarian bombast, but anything to get her mind off that German princess.
While she was busy with her preparations, I called in Hermes. He was just back from the ludus, where he trained with weapons most days. I was training him in all the skills of a politician’s assistant, which in those days included street brawling.
“Draft me a letter,” I ordered, and he sat at the desk, grumbling. With a fine career ahead of him, with freedom for himself and, perhaps, sons of his own in the Senate some day, he would have preferred the life of a common gladiator. He loved the fighting part, hated the writing. Well, there were days when I would have preferred a life in the ludus myself. At least there your only worry was surviving your next fight, and your enemy always struck from in front.
“To Titus Annius Milo from his friend Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger, greetings,” I began. I saw Hermes’s eyebrows go up. He liked Milo. “I have been posted to Cyprus to chase pirates. I am a total dunce at sea and need your help desperately. Cyprus isn’t Gaul, which alone makes it a desirable place to be. There is a chance for some real money in this, and, besides, we’ll be away from our wives and have loads of fun.”
“I heard that!” Julia said, from deep in the house. The woman had ears like a fox.
“By the time you receive this,” I went on, “I will be on my way to Tarentum. If you have not arrived by the time I sail, I will leave orders that you are to have a fast Liburnian. I know you are bored to death in Lanuvium so don’t bother to pretend otherwise. We could both use some moderately safe excitement in agreeable surroundings. I look forward to seeing you in Tarentum or, failing that, on Cyprus.”
“Sea service?” Hermes said unhappily. He was even more nautiphobic than most Romans.
“Just a bit of coastal sailing,” I assured him. “We shouldn’t have to spend a single night at sea or ever sail out of sight of land. You’re an accomplished swimmer now; you’ll be perfectly safe.”
“I don’t mind the sea,” he said. “It’s being out on it in a ship I don’t like. The waves make me sick, storms can blow you to places where Ulysses never sailed, and even in good weather you’re in the middle of a bunch of sailors!”