The Princess and the Pirates(67)

“Ariston,” I said, when they were past us, “bring us to shore just to the north of that wharf. I want to work my way close to them. Can you beach us without being heard or seen?”

“Depends on how alert they are.” I saw the flash of his teeth in a quick grin, then he had the oars out and was turning us, pulling for shore. The noise of the muffled oars seemed loud to me, but doubtless could not have been heard ten paces away.

When we nudged the shore, Ariston sprang out and held the prow steady against the light surf. “We’ll have to pick it up and carry it onto shore,” he said. “They’ll hear if we drag it.” So Hermes and I took off our sandals and climbed out to either side. The boat was much heavier than it looked, and I felt the strain from my belly to my chest as we heaved it onto the gravelly beach.

“What now?” Hermes asked, as we sat to put our footwear back on. “We weren’t expecting a visiting ship.”

“We weren’t expecting anything,” I reminded him. “We came out here to see what was to be seen, and this is it. If, as I suspect, these are his pirate friends calling on him, this may be all I need to put an end to Gabinius and his schemes.”

“You’ll just walk in and arrest him?”

“Let me worry about that. Ariston, wait here with the boat. If we’re running when we return, start dragging it to the water as soon as you see us.”

“If you say so, Captain.” He seemed disappointed to be missing out on the fun.

Hermes and I set off. After our nighttime scouting expeditions in the Gallic forests, approaching the wharf was child’s play. We moved quietly, but the sound of the sea covered any noise we might have made. The surf of the sea is feeble compared to the roaring waves of the ocean beyond the Pillars of Hercules, but it makes sufficient sound to mask lesser noises.

By the time we reached it, the ship was secured to the wharf. I could see by the light of the moon that it was riding high, so it was not here to discharge cargo. Even as I had this thought, I saw a line of men making their way up the torch-lined path. At its top I could now see an imposing house upon the bluff, its white marble making it seem to glow.

I could make out a mutter of voices and wanted mightily to be able to hear what they were saying. The only way to do that was to get closer.

Sizable shrubs grew almost down to the water, meaning that this area was goat-free. That suited my purposes to perfection, allowing us to work our way nearer until we were almost beneath the wharf. At the spot where I was able to get the nearest, its walkway was just above the level of my head. Men were now returning from the house, laden with what appeared to be weighty bags on their shoulders.

“This will make for an easier voyage back,” said a rumbling voice. “She’s been wallowing from being so lightly laden.” The language was Latin and the accent was Roman, or very nearly so. There are subtle nuances by which you can tell the speech of a City man from one raised elsewhere. He sounded like a man of the better class, but from one of the nearby towns, not Rome itself. The accent was familiar, but I could not place it.

I couldn’t quite distinguish the man who was speaking, but I could make out two who stood close together not far from me, keeping clear of the men carrying burdens. They were well away from the illumination of the torches, and the light cast by the moon was not strong enough to make out details of feature or dress. I tried to work my way to a position where I might be able to see both of them to best advantage.

“This must be the last cargo for a while.” That voice was unmistakable: Gabinius. “Things are too volatile here. We’ll have to desist for a while.”

The other chuckled. “You mean that fool and his play navy?”

“That and other things. I’ve warned you. I won’t warn you again.”

“Your business isn’t just with me,” said the other, “and you know it.” Now I could see the two silhouetted against the moon and stars. The outline of Gabinius was as unmistakable as his voice. I thought at first that the other wore a cowl drawn over his head, then I realized it was his long hair falling below his shoulders: Spurius.

“Nonetheless, our business is concluded until I say otherwise. I’m giving you a letter to deliver along with your cargo. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll vacate these waters for a season or two. I hear the shores of the Euxine are a good prospect for a man of courage and enterprise.”

“I’ll determine my own destination,” Spurius said. “Besides, I’ve a notion to attend the festival. It is famed all over the world, and here I am, so handy to Paphos. It would be a shame to miss it.”