The Princess and the Pirates(75)

I gave half an ear to their talk while a wonderful lunch was set before us. As I munched on the delicacies, I looked out to the open sea past the harbor mole. Out there, Milo was drilling my crews. He had them rowing in dashes, and once I could have sworn I saw a ship leap clear of the water under oar power, like a fish chased by a shark. And I thought Vd had them rowing well.

As always, when seeing such a thing, I wondered how one man can inspire such obedience while another, I for instance, could not. How did a long-haired dwarf like Alexander get men to follow him all the way to India? How did Hannibal, scion of a nation of merchants, weld a polyglot horde of Gauls, Spaniards, Africans, and others, all armed differently and none of them knowing a word of Punic, into an army that consistently defeated larger Roman forces? And how did he keep them together and fighting for twenty years without a whiff of mutiny? How did Caesar do what he was doing, which I had seen firsthand and still was at a loss to describe? I could never put a finger on it. But Titus Milo, in his own way, was a man as unique as Caesar, and men did his bidding almost joyously, breaking their backs and hearts for him. He was one of those men who could inspire fear and love at the same time.

Whatever it was, I was not going to argue with it. Just having Milo there with me was an enormous relief. It meant that I could leave the naval duties to one of the few people in the world I trusted utterly. It meant I could devote my attention to finding out who had murdered Silvanus. And I was certain that that, in turn, would tell me who was profiting from this little upsurge of piracy in the East.



THE LITTER WAS A BIT LARGER THAN THE ones common in Rome. This was because most Roman streets were so narrow that comfortably wide conveyances were impracticable. The litter slaves knew their job and the trip to the house of Nobilior was a pleasant one, though slowed by the throngs in the streets. Julia and I had taken an afternoon nap after Cleopatra’s reception and were now ready for an evening of entertainment and intrigue.

Julia had sounded Cleopatra out about Flavia, whom the princess had described as “a dreadful woman but great fun.” She had also learned a great deal about Cleopatra’s mission on Cyprus. It turned out that Ptolemy had narrowly survived an attempted coup, was conducting a ruthless purge of his guards and nobles, and wanted his beloved daughter to be well out of it.

“I commiserated with her about Berenice,” Julia said, meaning Cleopatra’s ill-fated older sister. “I truly liked her, silly woman though she was. Do you know what Cleopatra said? ‘The duties of royalty are terrible.’ She insisted that her father grieved for the daughter he had to execute as deeply as she did herself. I suppose it must be true.”

“Ah, well,” I said, “we always have old Brutus. He ordered the execution of his own sons for the good of the State. Inconsolable afterward, so they say.”

We climbed from the litter, and the carrying slaves squatted beside it patiently. I had no fear that they would sneak off and get drunk because I had not come alone. Having been attacked once and knowing that I had a superfluity of local enemies, I had brought along twenty of my marines as an escort. I had left Hermes to keep an eye on the naval station. I wanted no more acts of sabotage, and I didn’t trust my men as fully as I pretended.

“Senator! Julia! Welcome to our house!” Flavia was turned out in her usual Coan gown, expensive cosmetics, and several pounds of gold, pearls, and jewels. Crowning her was a blonde wig dressed in a towering basketwork of interwoven locks, threaded through with strings of seed pearls and powdered with gold dust. She peered past us. “Was your friend Milo not able to come?”

“He’ll be along presently,” I assured her. “He had some affairs to attend to at the naval base and sends his apologies for his lateness.”

“Oh, wonderful! Now you must come along and meet our other guests.” She seized Julia’s arm and spirited her away, leaving me to follow them onto a broad terrace overlooking the sea. In the center of the terrace was a pool, now drained, where Cretan dancers performed. All around it the guests stood and conversed while servers circulated among them. Sergius Nobilior beckoned to me, and I joined him. He stood with two other men, one of them I recognized: Antonius the metal trader. The other was a very tall, thin man dressed in rich, colorful robes. His face was fine featured and very dark, with huge, black eyes. This had to be the Ethiopian prince Flavia had mentioned. Looking around, I saw that Flavia had plunged with her catch into a group of well-dressed ladies, Cleopatra among their number.

“Greetings, Senator,” Nobilior said. “Flavia will be impossible to live with now. She has Julius Caesar’s niece all to herself.”