“Yours is a great and ancient trade,” I acknowledged. “But surely your ships are often preyed upon by pirates, and this must represent a hazard of the business.”
“Ah, but your General Pompey nearly eliminated that threat. And I understand that you, Senator, are here to put down the recent revival of that disreputable activity.”
“Still, it seems such a desirable cargo. I would think that nautical miscreants would single out ships bearing frankincense as their natural prey.”
He gestured eloquently, a combination shrug and spreading of palms that suggested a comfortable complacency. “As to that, sir, the two trades—one legitimate, the other felonious—came to an understanding many, many years ago.”
At last we were getting to the important part. “How so?”
“The pirates, you understand, are—were, I should say, organized, rather like a corporation, almost like a small state in fact.”
“Of course.”
“This being the case, it has been possible to treat with them: representatives, bargaining sessions, business arrangements, the whole panoply of diplomatic arrangements between states was possible between the frank-incense cartel and the pirates.”
“And I take it that the Ptolemies formed one side of this arrangement?”
“Not directly,” said the merchant. “After all, the frankincense is sold in Alexandria. Once at sea, what concern has the king what happens to it? The next year he will sell that year’s delivery as always.
“No, all merchants who handle frankincense in bulk belong to the Holy Society of Dionysus. Each year, on the eve of the auction, we hold a banquet in the Temple of Dionysus in Alexandria, where we honor our patron deity and make our arrangements for the coming year’s business. The society has envoys who handle all negotiations concerning the trade outside of Egypt. They deal with the authorities in the lands where we ship our cargoes, arrange for tithes, duties, and so forth. Among those they treat with are the pirates—were the pirates, I should say, since Rome has so beneficently driven that scourge from our sea after a fashion.”
“So now your cargoes ride the sea-lanes safely, as long as weather cooperates and the timbers don’t rot, eh?”
“Well, there is some slight danger of attack,” he admitted with another small gesture. “You understand, sailors are a conservative lot, and in some ways they have not changed since the days of Odysseus. Sailors are, to put it bluntly, a rascally lot at the best of times. A ship with a crew of fifteen, for instance, meets with a smaller ship with a crew of only seven. The men of the larger ship take a careful look around, determine that there are no other ships in sight, take their weapons from their sea chests, and the next thing you know, seven unfortunate sailors are on their way to meet Poseidon, soon to be followed by their scuttled vessel, and the larger ship goes on its way, riding somewhat deeper in the water.
“These men are not pirates in the sense of the old, organized fleets. They are just ordinary sailors who see that Hermes has sent them a fine opportunity and are not about to anger the god by scorning his gift. These men seek only goods they can dispose of easily and without suspicion. They do not deal in slaves or ransom captives because they must have no witnesses to their nefarious deeds.”
“This is most illuminating,” I told him, and indeed it was. “Is this sort of naughtiness more common of late?”
He nodded, sighing. “Assuredly, Senator. And, while I would never speak ill of the glorious Republic of Rome, which you so ably represent and which all the world beholds with awe and wonder, much of this is your fault.”
“How so?”
“In the old days the great fleets treated Poseidon’s broad domain as their personal property. They were like eagles or great falcons, and when they found petty rogues poaching upon the waters, they behaved as the noble birds do when they espy ravens and magpies snatching game from their hunting grounds. Their revenge was swift and terrible. They were a scourge to many ships and most certainly a scourge to small, undefended towns along the coastlines and in the islands; but to those who could afford to treat with them, they afforded a security that has fled since they were banished from the sea.”
“How unfortunate. And do you see in this latest outbreak of piracy a possible return to the security of the old days?”
“How is that possible, now that. Rome is in charge? In any case, these new villains do not amount to a patch on the sail of one of the old triremes. They are too petty to treat with the Holy Society of Dionysus.”
“Well, have no fear,” I said, rising. “Soon Rome will be in firm control of the entire sea and its coasts, and Roman courts will soon deal with these seagoing rascals. Then the sea-lanes will be safe for everyone.”