The Princess and the Pirates by John Maddox Roberts Read Free Book Online Page A

the oars. The procedure was reversed when leaving. Unlike warships, which unvaryingly carried a single mast bearing a single, rectangular sail, merchant vessels often had two or even three masts and multiple sail plans. Where Roman warships were usually painted red and black, these were painted in a rainbow of colors, with fanciful bow and sternposts, the banners of many merchant companies and the protective devices of numerous gods.
    “Look at that!” Hermes said. He pointed to where a sleek little vessel was raising its sail even though it was still within the harbor. It took me a moment to see what had surprised him so. The sail was bordered with purple. Not the cheap off-crimson tint that sometimes passes for purple, but the genuine Tyrian. It was an immense extravagance.
    “That has to be Cleopatra’s yacht,” I said. “She must be aboard, drilling her crew. I fear that I’ll regret allowing her to come along.” I pondered the sight for a while. “She must have risen in her father’s affections if he’s allowed her a purple-bordered sail.”
    “I hear he’s executed two of her sisters,” Hermes said. “Maybe he values the children he has left all the more.”
    For the next hour, while we ate, Cleopatra’s yacht maneuvered around the harbor, under sail and under oars, rehearsing all the actions of a naval battle and no doubt terrifying all the merchant skippers, some of whom almost suffered ramming. But the little ship was expertly rowed, its oars polished to such whiteness that they resembled ivory, flashing like wings as it darted about, nimble as a dragonfly.
    “She’s going to take some restraining when we sight real pirates,” Hermes observed.
    “All too true,” I agreed. “In war there’s nothing as dangerous as an enthusiastic amateur.”
    After lunch I called on the harbor master, a busy official named Orchus.
    “How may I be of sendee, Senator?” His clothing was rich, his beard neatly curled and dressed with scented oil, an Oriental affectation coming into esteem in the eastern parts of the Greek world.
    “From now on,” I told him, “I want you to question the master of every incoming ship about acts of piracy in these waters: locations, dates, description of what goods or persons were stolen, and so forth. Have your secretary write up a daily report and deliver it to me at the house of Silvanus.”
    “It will be my pleasure to carry out your instructions,” he said, “but I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the reports.”
    “You think the skippers would lie about this?”
    “And why not? If a merchant captain is offered a cargo of fine wine at one third its market value, he will accept it and is not likely to speculate about its origin. On the contrary, he will sacrifice to Hermes in gratitude for this stroke of luck and will pray to encounter more of the same.” Hermes is the god of thieves.
    “But don’t these merchants find it to be in their interest that Rome should scour pirates from the sea? Do the pirates not regard all shipping as prey?”
    “Not always. They make certain not to alienate everyone. After all, they must sell their plunder somewhere.”
    “What about the captives? Surely they can report the sacking of their own towns.”
    “Here on Cyprus we do not deal in slaves. Almost all such are taken to the great market on Delos—if, that is, they cannot raise a ransom.”
    “This is scandalous,” I said.
    “Decidedly. It is also a tradition many centuries old, one with which Rome does not interfere, I might add. Rome needs slaves, too. And I am told the pirates are careful not to victimize Roman citizens.”
    “A sound policy. That was the sort of behavior that caused their downfall years ago. Well, get what you can out of them and send your reports on to me. I expect to be at sea a lot, but I’ll send someone to pick up the reports at regular intervals.”
    “It shall be done.”
    “Let’s go inspect our ships,” I told Hermes. “Haven’t we had