Pirate Legion

by S. J. A. Turney

  ‘Marcus, the Argo was the ship mum and dad were on.’

  A chill suddenly ran through Marcus as he remembered the day their uncle Scriptor had told them what had happened. The Argo had vanished between Alexandria and Crete.

  ‘But Argo is probably quite a common name,’ he muttered. ‘Probably lots of captains would want to name their ship after one from a famous Greek legend.’

  Callie shook her head. ‘Maybe so, but Roman port authorities don’t like many ships named the same thing. Makes record keeping difficult. If this ship is registered on Crete, I’d bet it’s the only Argo here.’

  ‘Was the only Argo here,’ Marcus pointed out. ‘Maybe it’s been changed because there was another.’

  ‘Maybe,’ conceded Callie. ‘But somehow I think this is the ship they were on. The records will be in Gortyn. We can have a look when we go there tomorrow.’

  Still with her eyes locked on the suspicious ship, Callie joined her brother as they hurried to catch up with the head of the Roman unit. They passed their own ship, where the crew had settled in on the deck for the night, and continued towards the long, low hostel building. When they arrived outside, the centurion told the rest to wait and entered, returning after a few moments.

  ‘There’s room for sixty, he says, so twenty of you will have to stay on the ship with the sailors.’

  Scriptor took over, pointing at various people – generally those who had not been injured or sick and who were strong and healthy. ‘You lot to the ship. Secundus will stay with you.’ Secundus’ face fell, but he knew better than to argue, and grumpily waved the selected men back with him. The remaining soldiers and the children moved to the hostel door. ‘You two in first,’ their uncle said, pointing at Marcus and Callie. ‘Go to the last room. You’re sharing with the officers.’

  The children hurried along to the room and waited in the basic little chamber with its four beds and rough wooden furniture. After a while, once the men’s rooms were allocated, Scriptor came in, along with the centurion, Senex and Potens. ‘You two will have to double up and share, I’m afraid,’ their uncle said quietly. ‘You’ll be able to spread out a little more tomorrow once we’re gone.’

  Callie and Marcus looked at one another and then at Scriptor.

  ‘You’re going without us?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ their uncle said in surprise. ‘It’s ten miles to Gortyn, over a mountain range. Hard journey, so I’m told, and the city will probably be dangerous. You two will stay here with Secundus and most of the men.’

  ‘No,’ said Callie, flatly.

  Uncle Scriptor gave her a narrow-eyed look. ‘Listen, my girl…’

  ‘No, Uncle. We can’t. I need to see the port records.’

  ‘Callie,’ warned Marcus, but she was almost in tears as she stomped across the room and stood in front of their uncle.

  ‘There’s a ship in the harbour here that used to be called the Argo. It’s been repainted, but you can still see the original name. I need to go and find out about it. You know why, Uncle. You know!’

  Centurion Gallo turned a frown to Scriptor. ‘Wasn’t the Argo…?’

  ‘Yes,’ the standard bearer replied. ‘The ship my brother was on when he disappeared. But Gortyn will be dangerous, I’m sure. And it’s a long journey. There could be bandits or anything.’

  ‘Uncle, we travelled days up the Nile and faced crocodiles just to find some gold for the governor. This is much less dangerous and much more important.’

  Scriptor turned to the centurion. ‘I don’t know. We have a mission here. We need to find this collector and interrogate him. I don’t know whether we can spare time to chase up old mysteries.’

  Callie’s lip began to wobble and Marcus held his expression deliberately blank and stony as Centurion Gallo looked across at his sister and then him. He almost deflated as he saw the officer’s face soften.

  ‘We’ve no time limit, Scriptor. Besides, your brother and his wife were Roman citizens. I think it’s our duty to do what we can to find out what happened to them. The children can come with us.’ He pointed at Marcus. ‘As long as they’re careful and they do what they’re told.’

  Marcus nodded, and Callie wiped away her tears, thanking the two men.

  ‘And we’ll set Secundus and his men to watching this Argo while we’re away,’ the centurion said firmly.

  Chapter Four

  Their uncle had been right about the journey to Gortyn. Not about the bandits, though. In Marcus’ opinion any man who wanted to live in these forbidding, high, brown mountains and prey on the rare wagons passing through should have his brain looked at. The hillsides were dusty and bare, with only occasional patches of greenery and a few trees. The only animals they saw were birds or thin, sick-looking goats pacing around the endless brown looking for something a different colour to eat.

  The track through the mountains seemed to go up forever, cresting each peak only to find a higher, browner, bleaker peak beyond it, with the bare road snaking up the side and over the top. They looked a lot like the roads in backwater Egypt than she’d expected, not wide paved roads like you saw in Alexandria. And though a Roman legionary unit could march much further than ten miles in a day, the children realised quite quickly that they would never make Gortyn in just the one day. The capital city might be ten miles away from Lebena, but the road would go at least thirty or forty, given how winding it was and how high the mountains it crossed. Fortunately for Marcus and Callie, the centurion had negotiated with a merchant at the port and bought three grumpy pack donkeys for the journey, and one of those had been allocated for the children to ride together.

  Marcus had begun to wonder how one went about applying to be part of a legion’s cavalry until the third time he’d fallen off the grumpy, unstable animal. Callie had laughed like a drain each time, which had annoyed him, but he was determined to master the thing, even if his dreams of being a cavalry prefect had quickly faded. He pulled on the reins, trying to urge the donkey to the right. It was like trying to steer a brick and like sitting on a bag of them. He was glad they were only travelling two days to Gortyn, for his bottom would never be the same had it been any further.

  Only sixteen of them had come on the journey, the rest staying with Secundus in the port. Gallo and Scriptor came, of course, and old Senex, who knew a lot and thought he knew even more, and Potens, who was often useful, even though he was pale and still didn’t feel very well, and Brutus and Maximus in case muscle was needed. And then another eight men too, in case there was a fight in store.

  They had stayed the first night of the journey in two tents in a wide, flat valley high up in the mountains near a village without a name that barely deserved one anyway, being just a ramshackle collection of half a dozen drab dusty houses. Then, the next morning, they had travelled for two more hours until the view change, and what a change it was.

  As they crested a final hill, they were looking down on a huge, wide, green plain between two ranges of hills. Here and there villages sat amid the fields, and the great urban sprawl of Gortyn was clearly visible a few miles away to the north.

  By late morning they had descended to the lower lands, and by lunchtime they were striding happily through greenery and making for the great city of the governor of Crete and Cyrenaica. A full mile across in each direction, the place was huge and filled with great civic buildings – bathhouses, temples, theatres, an amphitheatre, a chariot racing stadium and grand arches covered in inscriptions. Across at the far side, where the city covered the lower slopes of the hill, a great fortification stood atop the mount. Gortyn made Alexandria look like a shabby sea-side sprawl.

  The small group of soldiers, children and donkeys plodded onto a good, solid paved road that connected some village with the place, and turned, making for the southern entrance to the city. Callie frowned as they approached. ‘There are no city walls.’

  ‘Crete is peaceful,’ Marcus shrugged. ‘Why would it need walls?’

  ‘Homer said it had w
alls in his story of Achilles and Troy.’

  ‘Gortyn will have been a lot smaller that long ago. Look at those walls up on the hill. That’s probably the Gortyn Homer was writing about.’

  Callie nodded, peering off across the city, taking it all in. They passed beneath an ornate arch and along a busy street with shops and cafes lining both sides.

  ‘Will we be allowed to see the governor?’ Scriptor mused.

  ‘We have letters from the prefect of Egypt. He’ll see us.’

  Marcus and Callie were silent as they moved through the great city, keeping their eyes roving across the many glorious buildings, taking it all in. They emerged into the large Roman forum of the city where a market was in full flow between the colonnades of the surrounding buildings, with men and women shouting details of what they were selling as well as the prices in at least three different languages. The smell was impressive, comprised of animals and what they left behind, fruit and veg, meat, leather, metalwork, spices and grain and everything a great city needed to function.

  Dog was in his element, what with the vast quantity of unidentifiable things people had dropped and trodden on, which he could test the edibility of. As Callie caught sight of him, pulling a face at what she saw, the animal gathered up something grey that could have been old bread, a squashed rat or a long-discarded scarf, and chewed on it thoughtfully as he walked.

  On they went, past a huge bath house and up a wide street lined with columns and important-looking buildings, and to a place where several roads met.

  Even if Scriptor and Gallo hadn’t told them, Marcus and Callie would have guessed this building to be the praetorium – the governor’s palace. A grand colonnade with a huge arch faced the street, two soldiers in very shiny armour and bright red cloaks standing to either side and lots of slaves and servants scurrying around, ducking out of the way of the various important men in their togas. The centurion announced himself to the guards at the gate and then marched on inside, into a wide paved square surrounded by the various rooms of the governor’s palace. A statue of the emperor Hadrian stood at the centre, brand new and brightly-painted.

  ‘Most of you wait here,’ Gallo said, addressing the men. ‘Don’t get in the way, and don’t cause trouble. We’ll be back shortly. Scriptor, you’re with me.’ His eyes strayed briefly to the two children and he nodded. ‘You too. I want you where I can keep an eye on you, but don’t interrupt and be polite if you’re spoken to.’

  After asking another of the soldiers on guard duty for directions, Gallo led the other three off into a doorway, along a corridor and into a room with the most beautifully painted walls Callie had ever seen. The floor was covered with a great mosaic showing images of seated women with a whole load of different types of hats. The mosaic was made up of several different colours, rather than the usual plain black and white, and both children were fascinated as they crossed the room, trying not to step on the ladies’ faces.

  Another corridor and they approached a door with another guard at it.

  ‘We’re here to see the governor. We have letters from Prefect Turbo of Alexandria.’

  ‘Show me,’ the guard said, holding out a hand. Gallo, gritting his teeth at being given an order by a man of lower rank, fished around in his pouch and pulled out the letter of introduction. It consisted of a parchment document rolled up and stuffed inside a leather scroll case which was sealed with wax and the stamp of the Egyptian prefect’s office.

  ‘It remains sealed,’ Gallo noted as he handed it over. ‘If you need to check the contents then it is your responsibility for breaking the seal before the governor sees it.’

  The guard took it, looked at it carefully and a little suspiciously, then passed it back unbroken. ‘That’s the prefect’s seal alright. Go on in, Centurion.’

  Gallo nodded and opened the door, the other three following him into the next room. This seemed to be some sort of office where four clerks in red tunics worked feverishly at their desks, scribbling away. One, with a stripe on his sleeves that suggested he was the boss, turned and walked over as they approached.

  ‘Yes, Centurion?’

  ‘We’re here to see the governor on behalf of the prefect of Egypt.’

  He held out the scroll case and the clerk took it and examined it. Satisfied, he strolled across to the door at the rear of the office and paused. Marcus tried not to smile as, in the silence that followed, he distinctly heard snoring from the other side of the door. The clerk knocked on the door very heavily and six times. By the time he’d finished the snoring had stopped.

  ‘What is it Afer?’ asked a muffled voice from inside.

  ‘Soldiers here to see you, sir. Sent by Prefect Turbo in Alexandria.’

  There was a clatter within that sounded a lot like someone getting up suddenly, and then the voice told them to come in.

  The governor’s office was nothing like the clerks’ office outside, nor the severe, business-like office of the prefect back in Egypt. This looked more like someone’s lounge. A low table held a bowl of fruit and a jug of wine, and the rest of the room was filled with expensive cupboards, mirrors and very comfortable-looking couches. The walls here were painted with scenes of countryside and animals and another colourful mosaic on the floor depicted the most important gods.

  The governor looked rather different to the impressive Prefect Turbo, too. Turbo, even dressed casually, had looked perfectly military. This governor would have had trouble looking military even if you squeezed him into armour, which would be difficult. He was a large man, almost as wide as he was tall, with a face the shape of a pear and hair that formed a ring around a pink scalp that rose from the top like an egg. He wore a tunic that was darkened with sweat stains and a toga that desperately needed adjusting by someone other than the governor himself.

  ‘Governor,’ Gallo greeted the man, with a salute.

  ‘Centurion,’ the big man replied, then sank back onto his couch, motioning to seats for his visitors. Callie and Marcus exchanged a look as Gallo approached the man and offered the scroll case. The governor took it, peered at the seal and then broke it and took out the letter, quickly scanning the text. Callie held her breath, Marcus peered with interest at the man.

  ‘The prefect seems to think we have a criminal on Crete, though he’s rather vague. What can you tell me, Centurion?’

  Gallo cleared his throat as he sat, Scriptor and the children taking seats on a different couch nearer the door. ‘Well, sir, all we know is that there were a bunch of criminals working in Egypt, using temple connections to steal a whole load of pharaoh’s gold that the prefect had set aside to pay for the rebuilding of Alexandria. We intercepted the priceless treasures and sent them where they were supposed to go, but we understand they were previously bound for your island and the hands of a ‘collector’ of antiques.’

  ‘Ah,’ the governor nodded. ‘The collector. Yes, of him I have heard.’

  ‘Have you had trouble with him, sir?’

  The governor shrugged. ‘Not as such. We’ve had reports about him in the past. He’s known as ‘the Minoan’ though his true name remains unknown. No one seems to know even what he looks like. He works through lackeys and dubious go-betweens at the town of Cnossus up in the north. In all honesty, I would like nothing more than to send in men and arrest him, but there are two problems with that. Firstly, he’s never exactly broken the law, though he’s walked very close to the edge, and secondly, even if he had he is so mysterious I’m not sure how we’d go about finding him.’

  Gallo straightened slightly. ‘Would you say the condemnation of the prefect of Egypt in the letter would constitute enough evidence to arrest him, governor?’

  The big man ran his eyes over the letter once more and then he nodded. ‘I think so. But it doesn’t solve the problem about finding the man.’

  Gallo stood with a grim smile. ‘Then if I have your permission to go about my business in your lands, governor, I will make it my goal to find this ‘Minoan’ and arrest him.
If he is purchasing stolen goods from other provinces, then he needs taking in and punishing.’

  The governor nodded. ‘I would be pleased to see that. The man has been something of a blight on the island for a while.’

  As Gallo bowed, Callie cleared her throat meaningfully. Marcus shot her an angry look, but their uncle rose and gestured to the governor. ‘While we’re here, sir, we could do with access to the port records for Lebena. Any ship coming from Alexandria would likely dock there and we may find further clues.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ the governor smiled. He hauled his huge bulk up to his feet and crossed the office, opening the door. ‘Afer, could you do me a small service. Write up a document granting these men access to all city records and giving them my authority during their investigation, then affix my seal. Give them two copies, just in case.’

  There was a murmur of agreement from the office outside, and then the governor turned with a smile. ‘Clerks like to make copies of everything. It makes them feel good. If you sit still long enough around Afer, there’ll probably be two of each of you by the time you leave. Anyway, if that’s all gentlemen, I really should get back to my work. Laws don’t write themselves after all.’

  Callie and Marcus shared a smile at the memory of the snoring noises before they’d entered.

  ‘What delightfully well-behaved children, by the way,’ the governor smiled. ‘Are they your servants, Centurion?’

  ‘My standard bearer’s wards, sir,’ Gallo replied. ‘We had to bring them with us, what with being in a strange city and all that.’

  ‘Very good. Very good. Watch them if you go too near the Minoan. I hear that he buys children on occasion too.’

  The officers spent a few moments longer engaged in small-talk with the governor, comparing the two provinces and swapping news, and then the stripe-tunic’d clerk Afer appeared with their documents of the governor’s authority. Barely had they left and closed the door to the plush room than the snoring began once more as the governor went back to his ‘important work’. The four of them crossed the clerks’ office and then emerged into the outer building.