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You were asking me about Cilicians," said Caninus. Traditional behaviour. They sit in taverns and brothels, on the look out. Exactly how pirates used to work. picking up news of ships with decent cargoes that they would subsequently follow out of harbour and assail."
Now the bastards stand at bar counters, listening out for recently landed rich men, who have wives or daughters with them," I agreed. As a professional courtesy I lowered my voice. You didn't tell me, last time we met, that you were in port to follow up this racket."
Oh, didn't I?" Caninus was offhand. You never said it impinged on your missing scribe."
I didn't know." We fell silent. The change of pace in our conversation allowed two of the other men to finish off and leave. The remaining two, who presumably knew one another, began a conversation about racehorses. Caninus was being very friendly. By the way, Falco, somebody pointed out a fellow recently who is supposed to be an uncle of yours." I was surprised to find myself known as a character around Portus – or to hear that my family tree provided wharfside gossip. Are you sure you don't mean my father, Didius Geminus? Everyone knows him for a rogue." " The auctioneer?" I was right. Everyone knew Pa, including naval investigators. It was no surprise. Geminus had shaken hands on plenty of dodgy deals. In fact, one of the men talking about horses cast a very quick glance at me then made his escape; maybe he had been involved in one of Pa's murky art purchases. The endless supply of Greek athlete statues that Pa sold off in Pompey's Portico were knocked out for him by a repro marble specialist down in Campania, but he had told me some rhytons and alabastrons which he supplied as cheap old" vases to interior designers came in by sea. According to Pa they were genuinely Greek and almost certainly old, it was the source he preferred not to discuss. No, I'm sure it was your uncle," Caninus persisted.
Fulvius," I conceded. Until last week I hadn't seen him since I was a child… Why the interest?"
I thought you might be working with him."
With Fulviusr
You were seen drinking with him and your father. Geminus came down here to look for Theopompus, didn't he?"
For heavens" sake!" I was amazed and indignant. I had a quiet drink with some relatives at a Forum bar; we only met by chance. Yet it got reported to you, and you decide we are an organised team? One that might tread on your toes, presumably?"
Oh…" Caninus could see it was ridiculous now, and backed off quickly. I was just in discussion with a fellow who thought he might have known your uncle abroad."
I don't even know where he has been," I said bluntly. He is most famous for setting off to Pessinus and getting on the wrong boat. That was years ago. As far as I know, it wasn't a boat to Cilicia." If it sounded as though I was telling Caninus it was none of his damn business, then fine.
Pessinus?" Caninus looked puzzled.
Ancient shrine of the Great Mother," I confirmed. I kept my tone solemn. He wanted to modify himself. Uncle Fulvius takes religion all the way."
I thought it was illegal for a citizen to mutilate his…
Yes, it is."
Or to dress up and dance about in women's robes?"
Yes. Fortunately, Fulvius hates dancing. But as you may know, citizens are allowed to give money to the cult. Uncle Fulvius is so charitable, he could not bear to wait for the a
With his lack of geography when booking a sea passage? No, I could not have had a more interesting uncle." Ma would have been proud of me.
And has he really cut off his whatsit with a piece of flint?"
Not as far as I know." Even if I thought Fulvius had done it, self castration was an offence and he was still my relative. I was not going to give the navy an excuse to lift his tunic and inspect him. They could get their thrills elsewhere. I stared at the attache, wondering just why my long-lost uncle so fascinated him. The fourth stranger, an unobtrusive man in his forties, was busying himself with a sponge. Caninus glanced at him then decided it was safe to continue. Without changing his tone or his expression, he told me the point. The word on the docks is that your Uncle Fulvius came back here after living in Illyria."
That's news to me," I retorted in a
XLIX
Coming out on to the quay again, I felt sick. I had no idea where Fulvius had spent the past quarter of a century. Even if he had been in Illyria that was no proof that he was involved with pirates and kidnappers. But the sea biscuit's sly insinuation had a sure ring. I was related to several entrepreneurs whose business deals were best left veiled. Fabius and Junius were just embarrassing, but their elder brother had a streak of dark intelligence, plus loathing of the social rules; he took a joy in doing people down. I saw it clearly. as the kidnappers" intermediary, Fulvius would fit. The allegation that the Illyrian" was a" scrawny old queen" also rang true. Fulvius had tried to run away to a cult whose goddess, according to myth, was born double-gendered; Cybele's male partner was then created from her excised masculine genitals, only to castrate himself ecstatically… That was a family I did not envy. When they sat around the fire at Saturnalia swapping medical histories, it must be grim. But no hapless nephew had ever had to explain to Cybele, the Great Idaean Mother in her turreted crown, that Attis was not just a eunuch in a starry cap, but lead player in a nasty ransom scam. I was tough. But not so tough that I wanted to be stuck with this. The spectres of my mother and of Great-Auntie Phoebe on the family farm rose up alarmingly. We informers may not be known as scared of our mothers, but we are accustomed to assessing dangers correctly – so of course we are. I walked back inside the lavatory. The other customer came out past me, giving me a fu
I think you are wrong," I said. If you are wrong, you just libelled a senior member of my family. If not, Caninus, don't waste my time with insinuations. You raised the issue, you must turn Fulvius in." I left again. This time I would not be going back. I was striding along towards the exit that would take me to the Island and the return route to Ostia when I saw them. It was just a glimpse. The sun was high, the day was hot. A haze had arisen over the open sea. All around close at hand the stone wharf was shimmering. I had a long morning, lunch, and a brisk chase behind me. I was tired and angry. I was angry with the navy man and more angry, much more angry, with my uncle for exposing me to the navy man's allegations. I wanted to go home. It would have been easy to dismiss what happened next and to leave Portus. But I had just seen two men in colourful costumes, who were carrying a wooden chest. I first noticed them as they passed between a crane and a pile of grain sacks. In a second they were hidden by the clutter on the dock. Then, as I waited, they emerged further on. They went trotting along at a comfortable speed, one at each end of the chest, which must have convenient handles. It looked a good weight, but not impossible to manoeuvre. Yesterday when the two scribes were having their lunch off their booty box, I had not been able to look at it properly, but this container was about the same size. The two carriers appeared to be seafarers. I glanced around. Sometimes the docks are crammed with officials. This was too close to lunchtime. No assistance was available. I set off after the men alone. It was tempting to shout. I was too far away from them. If they ran with the chest I could catch them, but they wouldn't do that; they would drop it and scatter. I was gaining, but they were still too far ahead to confront. I dodged around a mound of marble blocks, leapt over a whole bundle of mooring ropes, snaked among untidy handcarts, and found that the two men had vanished. I ran on, and reached a clear part of the quay. I had been here this morning. Everywhere seemed deserted. The berthed vessels rode quietly, crammed into moorings, all looking empty of people. Then a wizened deckhand popped up his head on a merchantman. I asked if he saw the chest-carriers go by; he reckoned they had taken the treasure trove aboard a trireme. I asked if he would come and help. Suddenly unable to understand Latin, he dived out of sight again. His explanation seemed correct. The first trireme was the next ship along from me, tied up with its stern to the quay; the second and third lay beyond it. Had the two men continued far along the dock past the triremes, they would still be in sight. They could only have turned off and boarded. The trireme rode high, its deck eight or nine feet above the water. I could not really see up to the deck. In the tightly packed harbour, these enormously long vessels must have been backed into their moorings, either punted in or perhaps hauled by the crew with towing ropes. Now steep gangplanks came down on either side of the curved stern ends; they had light halyards across them to deter boarders. I scissored over the nearest. Then I walked carefully up the incline and stepped out through the knee-high side rails on to the quarterdeck. I had been on military ships before. As a young recruit I had sailed on army transports, perhaps the bleakest experience of my army life; I could still taste the fear as we were carried across to Britain, all wanting to go home to our mothers and throwing up throughout the whole freezing journey. Later, I had had a brief experience in calmer waters in the Bay of Neapolis, feeling the huge surge of speed as a trireme chased conspirators, the unbelievable smoothness as its rowers turned expertly almost on the spot, the almost undetectable crunch as the ram struck home and wrecked our suspects" boat. Triremes were supposed to be unsinkable. Such a comfort. This long ship slept in silence, oars shipped and sails furled, eerily deserted. A narrow gangway stretched away up the centre. At the far end the beaked goose figurehead nodded gently. On the bow at water level, I knew a great armoured ram bared its fangs to the waves, six or seven feet of reinforced wooden jaw, sheathed in bronze, with teeth for forcing apart the planks of ships being attacked. These warships were Rome's weapon of control for the pirate menace. I walked the full length of the ship. At the fo'c's'le end was a tiny cabin beneath the deck, for the captain and the centurion. The complement of two hundred or so crew, including a handful of peacetime soldiers, were provided with little shelter, though a light canopy protected them from missiles and some of the weather. The cabin was locked, but I looked through its tiny window. no wooden chest. As I walked back, I wondered where they all were. Six hundred men, from the three boats, had melted away. I had seen no obvious ratings" presence at Portus or Ostia, no boastful trierarchs getting drunk in their loud, legendary way. Caninus was supposed to have put spies in the bars, but six hundred was a lot of spies to secrete. Maybe some had gone up to Rome. The two Mediterranean fleets had permanent offices there. The Misenum Fleet's central staff were quartered in the Praetorian Camp, though rumour had it they were to be moved nearer to the Flavian Amphitheatre soon, because sailors were to operate the proposed great awnings that would shade the crowds. The Rave