The Princess and the Pirates (7 page)

“No, but neither do I want to hire a cripple or a convict. Strip. To the skin.”

He muttered, but he obeyed. It was only what every recruiter does if he has no one to vouch for a man. I was not really looking for the stripes of
a runaway slave. Such men often as not make good soldiers. I was more interested in brands, notches, and other marks of the convicted felon, which are splendidly concealed by helmets and armor.

Unclothed, the Thracian even more resembled an ape, but I saw no incriminating marks, just battle scars on every unarmored surface. “You’ll do. Next.” Several men were already walking back toward the city, knowing that proof of their criminal proclivities would be exposed.

By midmorning I had picked nearly a hundred tough specimens. Before the naval base’s small altar to Neptune, I administered the awesome oath of service to them and paid each the symbolic silver denarius. For the duration of their service they were immune from prosecution for past indiscretions, and any who attacked them were to suffer the punishment due to any foolish enough to take up arms against Rome.

Those who had no arms of their own were issued weapons from the arsenal, then we marched the lot, soldiers and sailors, to the beached ships. Men were assigned to each vessel; the sailors immediately set to the tarring and scraping, while I lectured the marines.

“If you are accustomed to normal naval operations, forget them. We won’t be trying to sink our enemy’s ships. Sunken ships can’t be sold, and drowned pirates can’t tell us where their base is. Keep that in mind. All the chasing around, looking for a few wretched raiders, has one real aim: we want to find out where their base is. That will be where they have whatever loot they haven’t disposed of already. It’s also where they’ll have the captives they’re holding for ransom. Some of these will be Roman citizens, and Rome wants them back.

“Finding the ships and catching them is up to the sailors. Once we’re alongside, it will be up to you marines to capture them. Instead of the ram, we’ll be using the
corvus.
Are you all familiar with this elementary device?” Most signaled they were, but I explained anyway because men tend not to admit to ignorance. “The
corvus
is a plank hinged to our ship at one end, with a big spike at the other. When we’re close enough, we drop the spiked end onto the enemy’s deck. At that time the two ships are effectively nailed together. We then walk across the
corvus
and proceed to kill or capture the pirates. The Roman Fleet used this tactic against the Carthaginians, and it worked splendidly. Our ships are not large, so our
corvus
can’t be wide. We’ll have to cross in single file. The first man on the
corvus
must be brave, but then he gets a double share of the loot, which is a great spine stiffener. Any questions?”

A Palmyrene named Aglibal spoke up, “It seems to me that the pirates may use the
corvus
to board our ship.”

“There may be disputes concerning right-of-way on the
corvus.
I expect you men to win all such disagreements.”

Once they grasped the essence of our tactics, I put them aboard the ships and drilled them in the intricacies of using the
corvus.
Crossing a plank may seem simple, but nothing is simple in battle. Interval is always crucial—keeping the men close enough together to support one another but far enough apart that they don’t interfere with each other’s fighting ability. Placement of the
corvus
would also be crucial, but that was up to the skill of the sailors.

With the ships beached, I drilled the men in disembarking over the bows. If we should be lucky enough to catch some pirates raiding a village, we would simply run our own ships up on shore and assault them, assuming, of course, that they did not greatly outnumber us. While we watched the men sweating through these exertions, Hermes voiced his doubts to me.

“You realize that many of these men have probably been pirates themselves?”

“Of course. It makes no difference. Loyalty to their former colleagues will weigh nothing against a rich payday in the offing. There isn’t a man here who wouldn’t cut his own brother’s throat for a handful of coins. Our armies are always full of men we defeated in the last war. Professionals are always willing to change sides. Their loyalty is to their pay-master, and that’s me.”

“What about Cleopatra? She’s just a girl playing at war. Suppose she doesn’t like the look of the real thing? She might run at a crucial moment. That could mean disaster if we go in expecting even odds.”

“I think there’s more to Cleopatra than you see. She’s grown up in a savage court, and she knows she’ll need Roman favor in the future. If her little brother becomes king in accordance with our latest treaty with Ptolemy, she’ll marry him. That will make her the real ruler of Egypt because he’s an imbecile like most of his family.”

“I hope you’re right.”

It may seem odd that I was having such a conversation with a slave, but I was grooming Hermes for better things. I had already determined to give him his freedom when we got back to Rome, and then he would be my freedman and a citizen as well as my aide and secretary as I assume
the higher offices in Rome and the provinces. In a single generation our generals had nearly doubled Roman territory, with consequent increases in propraetorian and proconsular commands.

Things were reaching the point where, in some years, there were not enough consuls and praetors leaving office to staff all the new territories. Caesar’s new conquests in Gaul, once pacified, would make at least two new proconsular provinces, and he had eyes on the island of Britannia. Soon, I thought, we should need to hold elections twice each year.

Late in the afternoon, Silvanus and Gabinius put in an appearance. They watched my men drill for a while, and Gabinius pronounced himself impressed that I had them shaping up so well in so short a time.

“I’ve no time to dawdle,” I told him. “My best chance is to bag these pirates quickly before they get word that there’s a Roman force after them. They’ll hear about it in just a few days at the outside, so I want to take to the water after them as soon as possible.”

“Very wise,” Silvanus said. “I can see that you’ve been soldiering with Caesar. He acts faster than any general in Roman history. Even Sulla and Pompey were slow by comparison.”

Gabinius snorted through his oversized nose. “If Pompey ever moved fast, he might arrive at the battle first and take some casualties. Can’t have that.”

I signaled to Ion, and he sounded a shrill blast on the silver whistle he wore on a chain around his neck. The men ceased their activities and gathered to hear me.

“That’s enough for today. Starting tonight, you will all bunk in the naval facility. I want you ready to put to sea at a moment’s notice, and I promise you it will be a short moment. You are to use only the taverns right here on the waterfront because I don’t want to have to scour the whole city looking for you. Any man who fails to report for duty had better find a fast ship to some distant port because you have now taken the oath of service and I am empowered to administer any punishment I can imagine. You men don’t want to learn about the depths of my imagination. Be here at dawn. Dismissed.”

Silvanus had a litter big enough for the three of us, and I accepted his invitation to share it, leaving Hermes to make his way to our lodgings on foot. When the slaves picked up the conveyance and began their smooth pace, I learned what was on the minds of the two most powerful men on Cyprus.

“Commodore,” Silvanus began, “you are the one with the commission from the Senate, and it is not my place to advise you, but I hope you will not be offended if I offer you some anyway.”

“I am always happy to hear the opinions of men of distinction and experience.”

“Then let me say that I believe it to be a grave mistake to allow Princess Cleopatra to join your flotilla. She is a charming girl and I have enjoyed having her as my guest, but she is no friend of Rome. She hides it well, but she bitterly resents our annexation of Cyprus and the death of her uncle.”

“My flotilla is very small,” I said, “and now I find that naval stores of all descriptions are in short supply or entirely absent, except for paint. Her ship is a fine one, better than any of mine, and its men, sailors and marines, are of the best quality. I need that ship.”

“Then take it,” Gabinius said, “but leave her ashore.”

“It would be an intolerable insult to Ptolemy to commandeer his vessel and treat his daughter in such a fashion.”

“Ptolemy is a buffoon and should be grateful for whatever bones get tossed his way from the Roman table,” Gabinius said.

“Nonetheless, I want that ship, and I am inclined to humor Cleopatra.” I was not sure why I was being so stubborn since the doubts they expressed echoed my own, but I had just been justifying myself to my own slave and exasperation was setting in. Also, I was not certain why they thought it to be a matter of concern to them, and such uncertainties quickly become suspicions in my mind.

“Let it be on your head,” Silvanus said. “But, mark me, she will desert you in action or bring about some other mischief.”

I found the lady herself waiting in my quarters when we got back to the mansion of Silvanus. She was dressed in a nondescript gown and behind her, as always, stood Apollodorus. With her was the merry-faced young poet, Alpheus.

“They’ve just arrived,” Hermes said. He had reached the house ahead of us. “The princess says you have a previous engagement.”

“Engagement?”

“Don’t you remember?” Cleopatra said. “We are going out to the Andromeda to hire ex-pirates!” She smiled like a delighted child.

“I let it slip my mind. Anyway, I probably have more than we need. You should see the pack of villains I hired today.”

“I’ll bet you hired none who admitted to his old trade,” Alpheus said. “And now they’ve taken your oath, they’ll never own up to it.”

“Come on,” Cleopatra insisted, “join us. It will be far more fun than another drunken banquet.”

“I like drunken banquets,” I told her. “But since I agreed already, I’ll go along.” Actually, I didn’t remember setting a specific date for this venture, but lapses of memory were nothing new to me.

“Good!” she cried, all but clapping her hands with glee. She stood and Apollodorus wrapped her in a voluminous cloak and drew its cowl over her head. Doubtless this suited her sense of drama, but it was not necessary. In plain dress and without her extravagant jewelry, she looked like any other lively Greek girl; attractive but not strikingly so, and with no visible clues as to her royal ancestry. I have noticed on many occasions that royalty often fancy that some look sets them apart from other mortals, as if their flesh shed golden rays, but I have never found this to be so.

I sent word to my host that urgent business called for my presence elsewhere and went out into the deepening dark with a pair of slaves, a poet, and the future queen of Egypt in search of the lowest sailor’s dive in town.

The Andromeda was located near the docks, in a narrow street of low, single-story buildings, most of them devoted, in one way or another, to the maritime trade: warehouses, chandler’s shops, the houses of ship-wrights and sailmakers, and, naturally, sailors’ taverns. We knew we had the right place by its sign: the ever-popular image of a beautiful naked woman chained to a rock.

Inside it was typical of all such places all over the world. The ceiling was low, the atmosphere was smoky from the many lamps, and the predominant smell was that of spilled wine. Along one wall ran a long counter that held amphorae of wine, their mouths gaping invitingly. Several long tables ran the length of the room, and in the corners were a few smaller tables. There were probably fifty or sixty men in the room, most of them recognizable as sailors by their caps and their pitch-stained tunics, along with a few women of questionable station in life.

“May I find you a table, sir?” The barmaid was a good-looking young woman with the well-developed arms and upper body of one who hoisted heavy jars and pitchers all day long.

“You may,” I said. “One of those corner tables, if you please.”

As we wended our way toward the rear of the room, curious eyes followed our progress. Although on military duty, I wore a nondescript tunic and plain sandals. Nonetheless, nobody would take me for anything other than a Roman. Besides my classically Roman face, nobody else in the world stands or walks like a Roman. It is something drilled into us by the legions and the rhetoric schools, which emphasize stance and movement as much as voice, and there is no disguising it. Even Hermes, though born a slave of questionable ancestry, shared this bodily attitude, bestowed by his upbringing in Caecilian households.

Cleopatra, Alpheus, and I took our seats at a small, round table, while Hermes and Apollodorus stood behind us, each leaning against the wall, arms folded, one foot propped against the wall behind him, eyes scanning the room, studiedly ignoring the other.

“I’ve never been inside such a place!” Cleopatra said, her eyes sparkling beneath the cowl.

“I can well believe it,” I said. “Ptolemaic princesses are gently if extravagantly reared. You may take it from me though that your father has been in many such.” Gossip had it that old Ptolemy Auletes had made his living, when young, playing the flute in places far more disreputable than this one. Now that he was a king and a god, he sometimes missed the old days.

“Here,” said Alpheus, “you have exposure to a different world. Heretofore your education has been that given by scholars and philosophers and courtiers training you for your future role as queen and mother of the next king. You know of the real world of the common people only from reading. It is not a bad thing for one who will one day rule to see at firsthand how most of the world lives.”

This had a distinctly odd sound to me, but then the Greeks are different.

The barmaid arrived at the table with a large bowl divided down its middle into two halves. One held olives, the other parched peas and nuts: thirst-inducing snacks esteemed by tavern keepers the world over.