The Princess and the Pirates(83)

They were discussing my death, but I did not protest. Anything to keep breathing a while longer. Who could tell what might happen? I was working at my bonds. They had used leather straps, and they had a little give to them. I might be able to work them loose if I had long enough. A man was dispatched to search for some wine, which should prove no great quest on that day.

“I am curious,” I said. “Which of you killed Silvanus? And why? You all seemed to have such a cozy arrangement here. Did he get a little too greedy? Or was he frightened of being found out and impeached in Rome? There have been some pretty savage prosecutions lately for unauthorized plundering.”

“Don’t look at me,” Marcinus said. “I had nothing to do with that killing.”

“Don’t tell me you scruple at murder,” I said. “You nearly wiped out an island just to frighten people so they wouldn’t cooperate with me.”

He shrugged. “It isn’t like they were citizens. These islanders are little more than cattle. I didn’t know then I’d be quitting the business so soon, or I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Yes, rather hard on them, wasn’t it? Nobilior, a few days ago you mentioned your great and good friend Rabirius, financial adviser to King Ptolemy and the man in charge of collecting on those colossal loans. I recently learned that Rabirius had seized the grain revenues and ‘several others’ as partial payment on the debt. Might one of the others be the frankincense monopoly?”

“So you figured that out,” Nobilior said, “Yes, that is right. But Rabirius discovered that the frankincense deliveries were being diverted elsewhere before they reached Alexandria. They were being taken up through Judea and Syria, then brought here to Cyprus, and Silvanus was transferring it to the Holy Society of Dionysus for shipment all over the world.”

No wonder, I thought, the merchant Demades, member in good standing of that society, had mentioned nothing about a cessation of shipment to Alexandria. “Judea and Syria?” I said. “That’s Gabinius’s old territory.

“Yes,” Nobilior said. “He reopened the Great King’s old trade routes for frankincense and silk, as they were in the days before the Ptolemies. He and Silvanus conspired in this, and Rabirius was furious. He told me to put an end to it and even specified how Silvanus should die.”

“So it was you? And Gabinius had nothing to do with it?”

“I should hope not!” He said. “They were friends!”

I was a little crestfallen that my favorite suspect was not the murderer after all. This did not let him off the hook though. There was no mistaking his hostility toward me.

The man returned with a skin of wine. A hand grabbed the hair at the back of my head and tipped it upward. The reed nozzle of the skin was thrust into my mouth and the bag given a squeeze. I swallowed rapidly, then gagged and spit as the man jumped clear.

“You fools!” I said, when I could speak. “Nobody will believe I was drinking that cheap stuff!”

“It all smells the same the next day,” Marcinus assured me. “Give him some more.” The skin was reapplied, then reapplied again. The last try was counterproductive, causing me to vomit spasmodically.

“Now we’ll have to do it all over again,” said the Greek with the skin. He took a drink himself.

“He doesn’t have to be really drunk,” said Alpheus. “He just needs to look and smell that way, and he does already.”

“We’re wasting time,” Nobilior said. “Why not just knock him on the head? He’ll still look like he drowned after being in the water all night.”

“That might leave a mark,” Alpheus pointed out. “But smothering would do the same thing and,” he held up a finger for emphasis, like the chorus master he was, “it will give him the bug-eyed, black-faced aspect of drowning.”

“Excellent idea,” Nobilior said, nodding. “Who has strong hands?”

The time had come for desperate action, and I couldn’t think of a thing to do. I had one possible move. They had not bound my feet. I could be up in a single bound, smash my head into Nobilior’s fat face, then sprint for the door. At least I would die knowing that Nobilior would regret ever having known me, every time he saw his own reflection. I began, carefully, to gather my feet beneath me, leaning forward slightly.

“Careful, he’s planning something,” Alpheus said. They began to turn my way, then the doorway was crowded with people again. I could see armed, hard-faced men, Gabinius’s. Come to kill everybody in sight, I figured. They would be near blind coming in from daylight. Alpheus whirled and came for me with his dagger.