He has some claim on me through marriage, this making him my nephew, but I wish to make it abundantly clear that I do not want him favored. In fact, do not favor him! I want him given difficult things to do, and difficult offices to occupy. He owns a formidable intelligence coupled with high courage, and it's possible he'll do extremely well. However, if I exclude Caesar's conduct during the course of two interviews with me, his history to date has been uninspiring, thanks to his being the flamen Dialis. From this he is now released, legally and religiously. But it means that he has not done military service, so his valor may simply be verbal. Test him, Marcus Minucius, and tell my dear Lucullus to do the same. If he breaks, you have my full permission to be as ruthless as you like in punishing him. If he does not break, I expect you to give him his due. I have a last, if peculiar, request. If at any time you witness or learn that Caesar has ridden a better animal than his mule, send him home at once in disgrace.
In view of this letter, Thermus, recovering from his utter stupefaction, said in even tones, "All right, Gaius Julius, I'll give you a time and a size. Deliver the fleet to Lucullus's camp on the Anatolian shore to the north of the city on the Kalends of November. You won't stand a chance of prising one vessel but of old Nicomedes by then, but you asked for a delivery date, and the Kalends of November would be ideal we'd be able to cut off both harbors before the winter and give them a hard one. As to size: forty ships, at least half of which should be decked triremes or larger. Again, you'll be lucky if you get thirty ships, and of those, about five decked triremes." Thermus looked stern. "However, young Caesar, since you opened your mouth, I feel it my duty to warn you that if you are late or if the fleet is less than ideal, it will go against you in my report to Rome." "As it should," said Caesar, undismayed. "You may have rooms here in the palace for the time being," said Thermus cordially; despite Sulla's giving him permission, it was no part of Thermus's policy to antagonize someone related to the Dictator. "No, I'm off to Bithynia today," said Caesar, moving toward the door. "There's no need to overdo it, Gaius Julius!" "Perhaps not. But there's every need to get going," said Caesar, and got going. It was some time before Thermus went back to his endless paperwork. What an extraordinary fellow! Very well mannered, but in that inimitable way only patricians of the great families seemed to own; the young man left it in no doubt that he liked all men and felt himself superior to none, while at the same time knowing himself superior to all save (perhaps) a Fabius Maximus. Impossible to define, but that was the way they were, especially the Julians and the Fabians. So good looking! Having no sexual liking for men, Thermus pondered about Caesar in that respect; looks of Caesar's kind very often predisposed their possessors toward a sexual liking for men. Yet, he decided, Caesar had not behaved preciously at all. The paperwork reproached silently and Thermus went back to it; within moments he had forgotten all about Gaius Julius Caesar and the impossible fleet.
Caesar went overland from Pergamum without permitting his tiny entourage a night's rest in a Pergamum inn. He followed the course of the Caicus River to its sources before crossing a high ridge and coming down to the valley of the Macestus River, known as the Rhyndacus closer to the sea; the latter, it seemed from talking to various locals, he would do better not to aim for. Instead he turned off the Rhyndacus parallel to the coast of the Propontis and went to Prusa. There was, he had been told, just a chance that King Nicomedes was visiting his second largest city. Prusa's position on the flanks of an imposing snow covered massif appealed to Caesar strongly, but the King was not in residence. On went Caesar to the Sangarius River, and, after a short ride to the west of it, came to the principal royal seat of Nicomedia dreaming upon its long, sheltered inlet. So different from Italy! Bithynia, he had discovered, was soft in climate rather than hot, and amazingly fertile thanks to its series of rivers, all flowing more strongly at this time of year than Italian rivers. Clearly the King ruled a prosperous realm, and his people wanted for nothing. Prusa had contained no poverty stricken inhabitants; nor, it turned out, did Nicomedia. The palace stood upon a knoll above the town, yet within the formidable walls. Caesar's initial impression was of Greek purity of line, Greek colors, Greek design and considerable wealth, even if Mithridates had ruled here for several years while the Bithynian king had retreated to Rome. He never remembered seeing the King in Rome, but that was not surprising; Rome allowed no ruling king to cross the pomerium, so Nicomedes had rented a prohibitively expensive villa on the Pincian Hill and done all his negotiating with the Senate from that location. At the door of the palace Caesar was greeted by a marvelously effeminate man of unguessable age who eyed him up and down with an almost slavering appreciation, sent another effeminate fellow off with Caesar's servants to stable the horses and the mule, and conducted Caesar to an anteroom where he was to wait until the King had been informed and his accommodation decided upon. Whether Caesar would succeed in obtaining an immediate audience with the King, the steward (for so he turned out to be) could not say. The little chamber where Caesar waited was cool and very beautiful, its walls unfrescoed but divided into a series of panels formed by plaster moldings, the cornices gilded to match the panel borders and pilasters. Inside the panels the color was a soft shell pink, outside them a deep purplish red. The floor was a marble confection in purples and pinks, and the windows which looked onto what seemed to be the palace gardens were shuttered from the outside, thus loomed as framed landscapes of exquisite terraces, fountains, blooming shrubs. So lush were the flowers that their perfumes seeped into the room; Caesar stood inhaling, his eyes closed. What opened them was the sound of raised voices coming from beyond a half opened door set into one wall: a male voice, high and lisping, and a female voice, deep and booming. "Jump!" said the woman. "Upsy daisy!" "Rubbish!" said the man. "You degrade it!" "Oozly woozly soozly!" said the woman, and produced a huge whinny of laughter. "Go away!" from the man. "Diddums!" from the woman, laughing again. Perhaps it was bad manners, but Caesar didn't care; he moved to a spot from which his eyes could see what his ears were already hearing. The scene in the adjacent chamber obviously some sort of private sitting room was fascinating. It involved a very old man, a big woman perhaps ten years younger, and an elderly, roly poly dog of some smallish breed Caesar didn't recognize. The dog was performing tricks standing on its hind legs to beg, lying down and squirming over, playing dead with all four feet in the air. Throughout its repertoire it kept its eyes fixed upon the woman, evidently its owner. The old man was furious. "Go away, go away, go away!" he shouted. As he wore the white ribbon of the diadem around his head, the watcher in the other room deduced he was King Nicomedes. The woman (the Queen, as she also wore a diadem) bent over to pick up the dog, which scrambled hastily to its feet to avoid being caught, ran round behind her, and bit her on her broad plump bottom. Whereupon the King fell about laughing, the dog played dead again, and the Queen stood rubbing her buttock, clearly torn between anger and amusement. Amusement won, but not before the dog received her well aimed foot neatly between its anus and its testicles. It yelped and fled, the Queen in hot pursuit. Alone (apparently he didn't know the next door room was occupied, nor had anyone yet told him of Caesar's advent), the King's laughter died slowly away. He sat down in a chair and heaved a sigh, it would seem of satisfaction. Just as Marius and Julia had experienced something of a shock when they had set eyes upon this king's father, so too did Caesar absorb King Nicomedes the Third with considerable amazement. Tall and thin and willowy, he wore a floor length robe of Tyrian purple embroidered with gold and sewn with pearls, and flimsy pearl studded golden sandals which revealed that he gilded his toenails. Though he wore his own hair cut fairly short and whitish grey in color he had caked his face with an elaborate maquillage of snow white cream and powder, carefully drawn in soot black brows and lashes, artificially pinkened his cheeks, and heavily carmined his puckered old mouth. "I take it," said Caesar, strolling into the room, "that Her Majesty got what she deserved." The King of Bithynia goggled. There before him stood a yo
ung Roman, clad for the road in plain leather cuirass and kilt. He was very tall and wide shouldered, but the rest of him looked more slender, except that the calves of his legs were well developed above finely turned ankles wrapped around with military boots. Crowned by a mop of pale gold hair, the Roman's head was a contradiction in terms, as its cranium was so large and round that it looked bulbous, whereas its face was long and pointed. What a face! All bones but such splendid bones, stretched over with smooth pale skin, and illuminated by a pair of large, widely spaced eyes set deep in their sockets. The fair brows were thinnish, the fair lashes thick and long; the eyes themselves could be, the King suspected, disquieting, for their light blue irises were ringed with a blue so dark it appeared black, and gave the black pupils a piercing quality softened at the moment by amusement. To the individual taste of the King, however, all else was little compared to the young man's mouth, full yet disciplined, and with the most kissable, dented corners. "Well, hello!" said the King, sitting upright in a hurry, his pose one of bridling seductiveness. "Oh, stop that!" said Caesar, inserting himself into a chair opposite the King's. "You're too beautiful not to like men," the King said, then looked wistful. "If only I were even ten years younger!" "How old are you?" asked Caesar, smiling to reveal white and regular teeth. "Too old to give you what I'd like to!" "Be specific about your age, that is." "I am eighty." "They say a man is never too old." "To look, no. To do, yes." "Think yourself lucky you can't rise to the occasion," said Caesar, still smiling easily. "If you could, I'd have to wallop you and that would create a diplomatic incident." "Rubbish!" scoffed the King. "You're far too beautiful to be a man for women." "In Bithynia, perhaps. In Rome, certainly not." "Aren't you even tempted?" "No." "What a disgraceful waste!" "I know a lot of women who don't think so." "I'll bet you've never loved one of them." "I love my wife," said Caesar. The King looked crushed. "I will never understand Romans!" he exclaimed. "You call the rest of the world barbarian, but it is you who are not civilized." Draping one leg over the arm of his chair, Caesar swung its foot rhythmically. "I know my Homer and Hesiod," he said. "So does a bird, if you teach it." "I am not a bird, King Nicomedes." "I rather wish you were! I'd keep you in a golden cage just to look at you." "Another household pet? I might bite you." "Do!" said the King, and bared his scrawny neck. "No, thanks." "This is getting us nowhere!" said the King pettishly. "Then you have absorbed the lesson." "Who are you?" "My name is Gaius Julius Caesar, and I'm a junior military tribune attached to the staff of Marcus Minucius Thermus, governor of Asia Province." "Are you here in an official capacity?" "Of course." "Why didn't Thermus notify me?" "Because I travel faster than heralds and couriers do, though why your own steward hasn't announced me I don't know," said Caesar, still swinging his foot. At that moment the steward entered the room, and stood aghast to see the visitor sitting with the King. "Thought you'd get in first, eh?" asked the King. "Well, Sarpedon, abandon all hope! He doesn't like men." His head turned back to Caesar, eyes curious. "Julius. Patrician?" "Yes." "Are you a relative of the consul who was killed by Gaius Marius? Lucius Julius Caesar?" "He and my father were first cousins." "Then you're the flamen Dialis!" "I was the flamen Dialis. You've spent time in Rome." "Too much of it." Suddenly aware the steward was still in the room, the King frowned. "Have you arranged accommodation for our distinguished guest, Sarpedon?" "Yes, sire." "Then wait outside." Bowing severally, the steward eased himself out backward. What are you here for?'' asked the King of Caesar. The leg was returned to the floor; Caesar sat up squarely. "I'm here to obtain a fleet." No particular expression came into the King's eyes. "Hmm! A fleet, eh? How many ships are you after, and what kind?" "You forgot to ask when by," said this awkward visitor. "Add, when by." "I want forty ships, half of which must be decked triremes or larger, all collected in the port of your choice by the middle of October," said Caesar. Two and a half months away? Oh, why not just cut off both my legs?" yelled Nicomedes, leaping to his feet. "If I don't get what I want, I will." The King sat down again, an arrested look in his eyes. "I remind you, Gaius Julius, that this is my kingdom, not a province of Rome," he said, his ridiculously carmined mouth unable to wear such anger appropriately. "I will give you whatever I can whenever I can! You ask! You don't demand." "My dear King Nicomedes," said Caesar in a friendly way, "you are a mouse caught in the middle of a path used by two elephants Rome and Pontus." His eyes had ceased to smile, and Nicomedes was suddenly hideously reminded of Sulla. Your father died at an age too advanced to permit you tenure of this throne before you too were an old man. The years since your accession have surely shown you how tenuous your position is you've spent as many of them in exile as you have in this palace, and you are only here now because Rome in the person of Gaius Scribonius Curio put you back. If Rome, which is a great deal further away from Pontus than you are, is well aware that King Mithridates is far from finished and far from being an old man! then you too must know it. The land of Bithynia has been called Friend and Ally of the Roman People since the days of the second Prusias, and you yourself have tied yourself inextricably to Rome. Evidently you're more comfortable ruling than in exile. That means you must co operate with Rome and Rome's requests. Otherwise, Mithridates of Pontus will come galumphing down the path toward Rome galumphing the opposite way and you, poor little mouse, will be squashed flat by one set of feet or the other." The King sat without a thing to say, crimson lips agape, eyes wide. After a long and apparently breathless pause, he took air into his chest with a gasp, and his eyes filled with tears. "That isn't fair!" he said, and broke down completely. Exasperated beyond endurance, Caesar got to his feet, one hand groping inside the armhole of his cuirass for a handkerchief; he walked across to the King and thrust the piece of cloth at him. "For the sake of the position you hold, compose yourself! Though it may have commenced informally, this is an audience between the King of Bithynia and Rome's designated representative. Yet here you sit bedizened like a saltatrix tonsa, and snivel when you hear the unvarnished truth! I was not brought up to chastise venerable grandfathers who also happen to be Rome's client kings, but you invite it! Go and wash your face, King Nicomedes, then we'll begin again." Docile as a child, the King of Bithynia got up and left. In a very short time he was back, face scrubbed clean, and accompanied by several servants bearing trays of refreshments. "The wine of Chios," said the King, sitting down and beaming at Caesar without, it seemed, resentment. "Twenty years old!" "I thank you, but I'd rather have water." "Water?" The smile was back in Caesar's eyes. "I am afraid so. I have no liking for wine." "Then it's as well that the water of Bithynia is renowned," said the King. "What will you eat?" Caesar shrugged indifferently. "It doesn't matter." King Nicomedes now bent a different kind of gaze upon his guest; searching, unaffected by his delight in male beauty. So he looked beyond what had previously fascinated him in Caesar, down into the layers below. "How old are you, Gaius Julius?" "I would prefer that you call me Caesar." "Until you begin to lose your wonderful head of hair," said the King, betraying the fact that he had been in Rome long enough to learn at least some Latin. Caesar laughed. "I agree it is difficult to bear a cognomen meaning a fine head of hair! I'll just have to hope that I follow the Caesars in keeping it into old age, rather than the Aurelians in losing it." He paused, then said, "I'm just nineteen." "Younger than my wine!" said the King in a voice of wonder. "You have Aurelius in you too? Orestes or Cotta?" "My mother is an Aurelia of the Cottae." "And do you look like her? I don't see much resemblance in you to Lucius Caesar or Caesar Strabo." "I have some characteristics from her, some from my father. If you want to find the Caesar in me, think not of Lucius Caesar's younger brother, but his older one Catulus Caesar. All three of them died when Gaius Marius came back, if you remember." "Yes." Nicomedes sipped his Chian wine pensively, then said, "I usually find Romans are impressed by royalty. They seem in love with the philosophy of being Republican, but susceptible to the reality of kingship. You, however, are not a bit impressed." "If Rome had a king, sire, I'd be it," said Caesar simply. "Because
you're a patrician?" "Patrician?" Caesar looked incredulous. "Ye gods, no! I am a Julian! That means I go back to Aeneas, whose father was a mortal man, but whose mother was Venus Aphrodite." "You are descended from Aeneas's son, Ascanius?" "We call Ascanius by the name Iulus," said Caesar. "The son of Aeneas and Creusa?" "Some say so. Creusa died in the flames of Troy, but her son did escape with Aeneas and Anchises, and did come to Latium. But Aeneas also had a son by Lavinia, the daughter of King Latinus. And he too was called Ascanius, and Iulus." "So which son of Aeneas are you descended from?" "Both," said Caesar seriously. "I believe, you see, that there was only one son the puzzle lies in who mothered him, as everyone knows his father was Aeneas. It is more romantic to believe that Iulus was the son of Creusa, but more likely, I think, that he was the son of Lavinia. After Aeneas died and Iulus grew up, he founded the city of Alba Longa on the Alban Mount uphill from Bovillae, you might say. Iulus died there, and left his family behind to continue to rule the Julii. We were the Kings of Alba Longa, and after it fell to King Servius Tullius of Rome, we were brought into Rome as her foremost citizens. We are still Rome's foremost citizens, as is demonstrated by the fact that we are the hereditary priests of Jupiter Latiaris, who is older by far than Jupiter Optimus Maximus." "I thought the consuls celebrated those rites," said King Nicomedes, revealing more knowledge of things Roman. "Only at his annual festival, as a concession to Rome." "Then if the Julii are so august, why haven't they been more prominent during the centuries of the Republic?'' "Money," said Caesar. "Oh, money!" exclaimed the King, looking enlightened. "A terrible problem, Caesar! For me too. I just haven't the money to give you your fleet Bithynia is broke." "Bithynia is not broke, and you will give me my fleet, O king of mice! Otherwise splosh! You'll be spread as thin as a wafer under an elephant's foot." "I haven't got it to give you!" "Then what are we doing sitting wasting time?" Caesar stood. Put down your cup, King Nicomedes, and start up the machinery!" A hand went under the King's elbow. "Come on, up with you! We will go down to the harbor and see what we can find." Outraged, Nicomedes shook himself free. "I wish you would stop telling me what to do!" "Not until you do it!" "I'll do it, I'll do it!". "Now. There's no time like the present." "Tomorrow." "Tomorrow might see King Mithridates appear over the hill." "Tomorrow will not see King Mithridates! He's in Colchis, and two thirds of his soldiers are dead." Caesar sat down, looking interested. "Tell me more." He took a quarter of a million men to teach the savages of the Caucasus a lesson for raiding Colchis. Typical Mithridates! Couldn't see how he could lose fielding so many men. But the savages didn't even need to fight. The cold in the high mountains did the work for them. Two thirds of the Pontic soldiers died of exposure," said Nicomedes. "Rome doesn't know this." Caesar frowned. "Why didn't you inform the consuls?" "Because it's only just happened and anyway, it is not my business to tell Rome!" "While you're Friend and Ally, it most definitely is. The last we heard of Mithridates, he was up in Cimmeria reshaping his lands at the north of the Euxine." "He did that as soon as Sulla ordered Murena to leave Pontus alone," nodded Nicomedes. "But Colchis had been refractory with its tribute, so he stopped off to rectify that and found out about the barbarian incursions." "Very interesting." "So as you can see, there is no elephant." Caesar's eyes twinkled. "Oh yes there is! An even larger elephant. It's called Rome." The King of Bithynia couldn't help it; he doubled up with laughter. "I give in, I give in! You'll have your fleet!" Queen Oradaltis walked in, the dog at her heels, to find her ancient husband without his face painted, and crying with laughter. Also decently separated by some feet from a young Roman who looked just the sort of fellow who would be sitting in much closer proximity to one like King Nicomedes. "My dear, this is Gaius Julius Caesar," said the King when he sobered a little. A descendant of the goddess Aphrodite, and far better born than we are. He has just maneuvered me into giving him a large and prestigious fleet." The Queen (who had no illusions whatsoever about Nicomedes) inclined her head regally. "I'm surprised you haven't just given him the whole kingdom," she said, pouring herself a goblet of wine and taking up a cake before she sat down. The dog bumbled over to Caesar and dumped itself on his feet, gazing up adoringly. When Caesar bent to give it a resounding pat, it collapsed, rolled over, and presented its fat belly to be scratched. "What's his name?" asked Caesar, who clearly liked dogs. "Sulla," said the Queen. A vision of her sandaled toe administering a kick to Sulla's private parts rose up before Caesar's inner gaze; it was now his turn to double up with laughter. Over dinner he learned of the fate of Nysa, only child of the King and Queen, and heir to the Bithynian throne. "She's fifty and childless," said Oradaltis sadly. "We refused to allow Mithridates to marry her, naturally, but that meant he made it impossible for us to find a suitable husband for her elsewhere. It is a tragedy." "May I hope to meet her before I leave?" asked Caesar. "That is beyond our power," sighed Nicomedes. "When I fled to Rome the last time Mithridates invaded Bithynia, I left Nysa and Oradaltis here in Nicomedia. So Mithridates carried our girl off as a hostage. He still has her in his custody." "And did he marry her?" "We think not. She was never a beauty, and she was even then too old to have children. If she defied him openly he may have killed her, but the last we heard she was alive and being held in Cabeira, where he keeps women like the daughters and sisters he won't permit to marry," said the Queen. "Then we'll hope that when next the two elephants collide on that path, King Nicomedes, the Roman elephant wins the encounter. If I'm not personally a part of the war, I'll make sure whoever is in command knows whereabouts Princess Nysa is." "By then I hope I'll be dead," said the King, meaning it. "You can't die before you get your daughter back!" "If she should ever come back it will be as a Pontic puppet, and that is the reality," said Nicomedes bitterly. "Then you had better leave Bithynia to Rome in your will." "As the third Attalus did with Asia, and Ptolemy Apion with Cyrenaica? Never!" declared the King of Bithynia. "Then it will fall to Pontus. And Pontus will fall to Rome, which means Bithynia will end up Roman anyway." "Not if I can help it." "You can't help it," said Caesar gravely. The next day the King escorted Caesar down to the harbor, where he was assiduous in pointing out the complete absence of ships rigged for fighting. "You wouldn't keep a navy here," said Caesar, not falling for it. "I suggest we ride for Chalcedon." "Tomorrow," said the King, more enchanted with his difficult guest in every passing moment. "We'll start today," said Caesar firmly. "It's what? Forty miles from here? We won't do it in one ride." "We'll go by ship," said the King, who loathed traveling. "No, we'll go overland. I like to get the feel of terrain. Gaius Marius who was my uncle by marriage told me I should always journey by land if possible. Then if in future I should campaign there, I would know the lie of the land. Very useful." "So both Marius and Sulla are your uncles by marriage." "I'm extraordinarily well connected," said Caesar solemnly. "I think you have everything, Caesar! Powerful relatives, high birth, a fine mind, a fine body, and beauty. I am very glad I am not you." "Why?" "You'll never not have enemies. Jealousy or envy, if you prefer to use that term to describe the coveting of characteristics rather than love will dog your footsteps as the Furies did poor Orestes. Some will envy you the beauty, some the body or its height, some the birth, some the mind. Most will envy you all of them. And the higher you rise, the worse it will become. You will have enemies everywhere, and no friends. You will be able to trust neither man nor woman." Caesar listened to this with a sober face. "Yes, I think that is a fair comment," he said deliberately. "What do you suggest I do about it?" "There was a Roman once in the time of the Kings. His name was Brutus," said the King, displaying yet more knowledge of Rome. "Brutus was very clever. But he hid it under a facade of brutish stupidity, hence his cognomen. So when King Tarquinius Superbus killed men in every direction, it never once occurred to him to kill Brutus. Who deposed him and became the first consul of the new Republic." "And executed his own sons when they tried to bring King Tarquinius Superbus back from exile and restore the monarchy to Rome," said Caesar. "Pah! I've never admired Brutus. Nor will I emulate h
im by pretending I'm stupid." "Then you must take whatever comes." "Believe me, I intend to take whatever comes!" "It's too late to start for Chalcedon today," said the King slyly. "I feel like an early dinner, then we can have some more of this wonderfully stimulating conversation, and ride at dawn." "Oh, we'll ride at dawn," said Caesar cheerfully, "but not from here. I'm leaving for Chalcedon in an hour. If you want to come, you'll have to hurry." Nicomedes hurried, for two reasons: the first was that he knew he had to keep a strict eye on Caesar, who was highhanded; and the second that he was fathoms deep in love with the young man who continued to profess that he had no weakness for men. He found Caesar being thrown up into the saddle of a mule. "A mule?" "A mule," said Caesar, looking haughty. "Why?" "It's an idiosyncrasy." "You're on a mule, and your freedman rides a Nesaean?" "So your eyes obviously tell you." Sighing, the King was helped tenderly into his two wheeled carriage, which followed Caesar and Burgundus at a steady walk. However, when they paused for the night under the roof of a baron so old he had never expected to see his sovereign again, Caesar apologized to Nicomedes. "I'm sorry. My mother would say I didn't stop to think. You're very tired. We ought to have sailed." "My body is devastated, that's true," said Nicomedes with a smile. "However, your company makes me young again." Certainly when he joined Caesar to break his fast on the morning after they had arrived in Chalcedon (where there was a royal residence), he was bright and talkative, seemed well rested. "As you can see," he said, standing on the massive mole which enclosed Chalcedon's harbor, "I have a neat little navy. Twelve triremes, seven quinqueremes, and fourteen undecked ships. Here, that is. I have more in Chrysopolis and in Dascylium." "Doesn't Byzantium take a share of the Bosporan tolls?" "Not these days. The Byzantines used to levy the tolls they were very powerful, used to have a navy almost the equal of the Rhodians. But after the fall of Greece and then Macedonia, they had to keep a large land army to repel the Thracian barbarians, who still raid them. Simply, Byzantium couldn't afford to keep a navy as well as an army. So the tolls passed to Bithynia." "Which is why you have several neat little navies." "And why I have to retain my neat little navies! I can donate Rome ten triremes and five quinqueremes altogether, from what is here and what is elsewhere. And ten undecked ships. The rest of your fleet I'll hire." "Hire?" asked Caesar blankly. "Of course. How do you think we raise navies?" "As we do! By building ships." "Wasteful but then you Romans are that," said the King. "Keeping your own ships afloat when you don't need them costs money. So we Greek speaking peoples of Asia and the Aegean keep our fleets down to a minimum. If we need more in a hurry, we hire them. And that is what I'll do." "Hire ships from where?" asked Caesar, bewildered. "If there were ships to be had along the Aegean, I imagine Thermus would have commandeered them already." "Of course not from the Aegean!" said Nicomedes scornfully, delighted that he was teaching something to this formidably knowledgeable youth. "I'll hire them from Paphlagonia and Pontus." "You mean King Mithridates would hire ships to his enemy?" "Why would he not? They're lying idle at the moment, and costing him money. He doesn't have all those soldiers to fill them, and I don't think he plans an invasion of Bithynia or the Roman Asian province this year or next year!" "So we will blockade Mitylene with ships belonging to the kingdom Mitylene so badly wants to ally itself with," said Caesar, shaking his head. "Extraordinary!" "Normal," said Nicomedes briskly. "How do you go about the business of hiring?" "I'll use an agent. The most reliable fellow is right here in Chalcedon." It occurred to Caesar that perhaps if ships were being hired by the King of Bithynia for Rome's use, it ought to be Rome paying the bill, but as Nicomedes seemed to regard the present situation as routine, Caesar wisely held his tongue; for one thing, he had no money, and for another, he wasn't authorized to find the money. Best then to accept things as they were. But he began to see why Rome had problems in her provinces, and with her client kings. From his conversation with Thermus, he had assumed Bithynia would be paid for this fleet at some time in the future. Now he wondered exactly how long Bithynia would have to wait. "Well, that's all fixed up," said the King six days later. Your fleet will be waiting in Abydus harbor for you to pick it up on the fifteenth day of your October. That is almost two months away, and of course you will spend them with me." "It is my duty to see to the assembling of the ships," said Caesar, not because he wished to avoid the King, but because he believed it ought to be so. "You can't," said Nicomedes. "Why?" "It isn't done that way." Back to Nicomedia they went, Caesar nothing loath; the more he had to do with the old man, the more he liked him. And his wife. And her dog.
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