When I say that Cleopatra returned with the supplies, I do not mean to imply that she sullied her royal yacht with such a foul-smelling cargo. No, in her wake came a tubby merchantman bearing the goods. The fatbellied freighter could not be hauled onto such a beach as could a galley, so it was another job to unload tubs of pitch, sacks of reeking hair, bundles of firewood, heavy copper pots, and other, less objectionable supplies using our skiffs.
In charge of the naval supplies was Harmodias. He made me sign for all of it.
“It’s a good thing for you,” he informed me, “that the ship chandlers are willing to extend credit to Rome.”
“They’d better,” I said, not in the best of moods.
“Seemed a little odd though. We heard you’d run onto rocks, but you didn’t need wood or nails just caulking material.”
“They were unusual rocks.”
He walked over to one of the ships. It lay almost on its side, exposing a flank all the way to the keel. “Wax caulking, eh? I thought that was what it might have been. It’s an old trick, Senator. Usually done by some merchant to destroy a rival. The ship just sails off and, if the trick works as planned, is never heard from again.”
“And where were you on the night of Silvanus’s funeral banquet, Harmodias?”
He grinned within his beard. “I know what you’re getting at. Fact is, I was at the banquet like everyone else. It’s my job to oversee naval stores not to guard your ships, Senator.”
I turned around, saw the copper cauldrons already heating over the wood fires, smelled pitch melting in them.
“Let’s get to work,” I said. “I want to sail into Paphos by sundown tomorrow.”
10
WE HAD A FAIR WIND FOR THE VOYAGE back, so most of the sailors got a little rest after the arduous labor of repairing the hulls, then dragging the ships back into the water and reloading them. I had little to occupy my mind except for my problems and my predicament.
Gabinius was my enemy, that much was clear. I had allowed myself to be distracted by the exotic image of a Roman pirate chief, trying to invent a character and a past to explain him, when in all probability he was just one of Gabinius’s old soldiers and still obeying the commands of that failed, scheming general.
But that must mean that it was Gabinius who had Silvanus killed. Something was wrong there. I have seen false friendship in plenty. Everyone has. I would have sworn that there was genuine affection between those two otherwise unlikable men. Of course, even family affection counts for little where great wealth and power are concerned, as witness Cleopatra and her family. And a sense of betrayal can turn love to hatred in an instant.
There remained that business of the frankincense. Most likely, I thought, it was just another piece of irrelevant nonsense thrown in to confuse the investigation.
I half expected to see laughing, jeering crowds lining the wharfs, ready to pelt us with rotten fruit and offal as we skulked in, cowed and humiliated. Nothing of the sort. In fact nobody paid us much attention at all. We had become a familiar sight, and it looked as if word of the trick that had been played upon us had not spread.
I amended that thought. That “trick” had been no lighthearted prank. The sabotage of our hulls might have cost all our lives, had we been farther from shore when we discovered it. Or had we been opposite sheer cliffs instead of a shelving beach. Or had we caught up with the pirates and in the middle of a sea fight when our ships went down beneath our feet. No, it was no minor jest that had been played upon us.
The question was: What to do about it?
When the ships were secured, I assembled the men on the pavement before naval headquarters, where they had taken their oath of service.
“Our situation has changed,” I announced. “From now on every man bunks here at the naval base. That includes me. Any man who needs to go into the town must get permission from his skipper and must on no account be away for more than two hours. Anyone who leaves must return by nightfall, and no one leaves after dark. We now know that we have enemies in the town.” Their looks darkened. “I have complete faith in you men,” I continued, “and I know that there has been no treachery among us. For one thing, no man is such a fool as to go to sea aboard a ship he knows will sink.
“We have taken on a task and we will complete it. Those pirates are laughing at us now. You will have the opportunity to laugh at them when they hang on crosses. I want no loose talk. The time to boast is after we have conquered. In the meantime nobody needs to know what we are thinking or doing. We are through with play and with half measures. We now commence serious operations. Be ready.”