“Please accept this and with it the favor and protection of the goddess.”
I took it. “I accept this honor, reverend lady, but I do not understand why you do this.”
“A man like you needs the protection of the gods far more than most.” With that she turned and walked away, trailed by her beautiful, fruitful priestesses. The visitors who had been watching this strange ceremony regarded me with wonder and envy. Flavia’s expression was more one of fear.
As Alpheus and I walked back to the harbor, he rattled on about what an extraordinary honor had been bestowed upon me. I still have that twig. It rests in my family shrine with the household gods; and in the many years since I received it from Ione’s hands its leaves have dried and shrunk, but none have fallen off. Has it protected me? No one I knew in those days is still alive, so perhaps Paphian Aphrodite has watched over me. But, if so, it has been as much a curse as a blessing.
When we reached the harbor, word had just arrived of a pirate attack on a town on the other side of the island, so I took my leave of the poet and sailed off. Of course, we found no pirates, only a town where they had recently been. This time the looting had been of the conventional sort, with only salable goods and persons seized.
When we got back to Paphos, I learned that Governor Silvanus had been murdered.
7
THE MESSENGER THRUST THE BRONZE tube into my hands the moment my feet touched dry land. “Extremely urgent business at the gevernor’s mansion,” he said, before I had a chance to open it. “You are to come with me immediately, Senator.”
“It can’t be all that urgent,” I told him. “I have things to attend to, not least of which is reading this.” I opened it and read. It was a marvel of baldness:
Senator Metellus:
There has been murder here. Come at once.
A. Gabinius
“Truly Caesarian brevity,” I remarked to no one in particular. Since the note was signed by Gabinius rather than Silvanus, I already had an idea of just who had been murdered.
“Ion!” I shouted. The man came running up.
“Sir?”
“Don’t let anyone turn in until the ships are readied for instant launch. The practice cruises are over. Next time we’ll be serious. We won’t come back to port until we’ve bagged some pirates. Hermes, Ariston, come with me.”
Already Cleopatra was rushing from her ship to join me. From the look of it, another messenger had delivered the same summons to her.
“This sounds serious,” she said, when she arrived, slightly out of breath. She had not waited for her slaves to assemble her litter. “Come on. I may be a princess, but I haven’t forgotten how to walk. I’m not going to wait to travel in state.”
“No sense arriving tired,” I advised, setting a leisurely pace. “Believe me, whoever’s dead will still be dead whan we get there.”
Doson, the majordomo, received us at the door. He was pale but composed. “Please come inside, Princess, Senator.” He waited until we were all inside and the door shut behind us before going on. “Forgive this irregularity, but General Gabinius has given instruction that this matter not be made public immediately.”
“Since General Gabinius is giving the orders, I take it that Governor Silvanus is deceased?” I said.
“Sadly true. It is terribly tragic and very, very strange. I—ah, here is the general now.”
Gabinius entered the atrium, his craggy face more than ever like that of a battered eagle’s. “My friend Silvanus is dead,” he said. “I have not allowed word to spread yet. We must discuss this matter. Come with me.”
We walked through the house, in our progress passing several tough-looking armed men of military bearing. One of them was the grizzled old centurion I had seen on the night we were attacked outside. From someplace came the muffled sound of many voices wailing.
“Those are the household slaves,” Gabinius explained. “Of course it’s their duty to mourn the master, but I’ve made them do it where they won’t be heard outside.” We entered the room where I’d conferred with the two senior Romans after the street fight.
“Who are those thugs?” I asked him, as we took chairs. “Old soldiers of mine who’ve thrown in their lot with me. If you are ever exiled, you’ll be well-advised to keep a picked band of such men close to you. In exile you’ll have few friends and a great many enemies. Just now they’re keeping the other guests quiet.”
“You behave high-handedly, General,” Cleopatra observed. “Had the governor no deputy?”
“No. One was to be sent out from Rome, but whoever the Senate has picked hasn’t shown up yet.”