by Peter Darman
An hour later we finally got under way. Small rowing boats towed Athineos’ three ships from the dockside towards the open sea. The sailors unfurled the main sail and manned the steering oars at the rear of the overhanging side balconies. The vessel we were on was called a corbita, a ship that Athineos told me was the common merchant vessel of the Roman Republic. Ours, named The Cretan, was at least ninety feet long and twenty-five feet wide. There was a main mast positioned in the centre of the rounded hull, which had two smaller sails above it. On the bow was another sail called an artemon that aided navigation. Immediately behind the cabin was a small kitchen with a red-tiled roof, and behind that a white swan’s head.
There was a stiff wind blowing when we exited the breakwaters and although the sea was choppy the vessel hardly swayed at all. I gave thanks to Shamash that its hull, constructed of planks secured by mortice and tenon, was very sturdy. Behind us the other two ships followed in line as we headed west to Cyprus.
Athineos told us that with a fair wind and nothing unforeseen we would make Paphos in three days. The crew went about their business and generally ignored us, no doubt the chief reason being that Surena, Drenis and Arminius practised their weapon skills on the deck in their gladiator equipment. I too spent most of the daylight hours practising with Domitus, though because of the lack of space it was impossible to replicate the sand of the arena. Still, it proved a useful exercise in getting used to my heavy full-face bronze helmet. Gallia spent her time sharpening her knife and giving any sailor who leered at her an icy stare.
Surena was in an ebullient mood; Arminius and Drenis more thoughtful and reserved. I watched Athineos bellowing at his sailors as they erected awnings over the cages holding the lions to keep them out of the sun. And then shouting some more when they spilt the beasts’ food as they attempted to feed them without losing an arm or some fingers. Athineos treated each animal as though it was a prized pet, fussing over their welfare. He also commanded that the other two ships came alongside at regular intervals so he could enquire as to the wellbeing of the lions on their decks.
‘I’ve been a sailor for over thirty years,’ he told me on the afternoon of the second day, ‘but this trip promises to be my most lucrative. So you can understand that I don’t want to lose any of my cargo this close to completing the voyage.’
We were both leaning on the ship’s starboard gunwale, staring at the calm blue waters of the Mediterranean below. The sun shone down from an almost cloudless sky, the pleasing breeze filling the ships’ sails.
‘The gods favour your enterprise, Athineos.’
‘Mm. You think they will be as kind to you, young king, when you reach Ephesus?’
‘I hope they will see my venture as worthy of their support.’
He shook his head. ‘Foolhardy more like. Why would a man, much less a king, risk all for a man he has not seen in years, who is a Roman slave most likely and who stands a good chance of being killed in the forthcoming games? It makes no sense.’
‘On the contrary, Athineos, it makes perfect sense. I am meant to go to Ephesus. It is my destiny. Indeed, you were the vessel sent by the gods that showed what course of action I should take.’
He looked surprised. ‘Me?’
‘Why did you travel to Dura to inform me that Burebista would be at Ephesus?’
He considered for a moment. ‘I just thought you should know, that’s all. But, on reflection, perhaps you are right. Then again, you always were a bit of a dreamer.’
‘In what way?’
‘I remember when you escaped from Italy. Instead of saving yourself and your pretty wife you brought half the slave army with you.’
‘Hardly,’ I said.
He looked at my gladiator attire and shook his head. ‘You are a dreamer, young king, just like Spartacus.’
‘You knew him?’
‘I met him a couple of times, business matters, you understand. I liked him.’
‘So did I,’ I added.
He chuckled. ‘Of course you did. You were kindred spirits, fighting for honour and freedom and basking in glory. I have no doubt that in different circumstances and if he had lived, you and he would still be in Italy, terrorising Romans and covering yourselves in glory.’
I had to admit the vision had a certain appeal.
‘But,’ he continued, ‘life isn’t about glory; it’s about survival and making cold, calculating decisions. That’s why the Romans always win, Pacorus, and why men like you end up dead.’
‘You talk too much,’ I told him.
He turned away from the sea and looked at his cabin.
‘How’s that slave you purchased?’
‘Alcaeus says he will live, though his arm will be useless.’
‘When we get to Cyprus,’ he said, ‘you must leave him on the island. The crew aren’t happy he’s aboard. They says it’s bad luck.’
‘Who is going to be interested in a one-armed injured slave?’ I asked.
‘Who indeed?’
He turned to walk away but then stopped and looked back at me.
‘One thing you should know. The Roman governor of Ephesus is a man named Quintus Caecilius Metellus.’
The name meant nothing to me. He saw my indifferent expression.
‘He’s the bastard who conquered Crete, butchering many thousands of my countrymen as he did so.’
‘You had family on Crete, Athineos?’
He looked around at his ship. ‘This is my home, young king. My point is that Metellus regards anyone that lives east of Italy as being members of inferior races. If he finds out who you are you can expect no mercy.’
I smiled. ‘I never expect mercy from the Romans, Athineos.’
He walked away shaking his head in despair. He said no more to me about my reasons for being on his ship but did tell my companions and me much about the island of Cyprus before we docked there. It was an Egyptian colony ruled by a governor sent from Alexandria, the capital of Egypt. But the fact that Egypt’s pharaohs were descended from one of Alexander of Macedon’s generals – Ptolemy Lagides – meant that the Hellenised island of Cyprus enjoyed a high degree of autonomy. Paphos was the capital of the island due to its proximity to Alexandria and also because it was a large port. It was not only a naval base but was also used for trade and export to Egypt of the island’s raw materials, chiefly copper and timber.
On the third morning, with the sun at our backs and the sea resembling an endless shimmering blue carpet, we saw Paphos for the first time. To the sound of snarling lions The Cretan edged its way towards the long breakwaters that enclosed the harbour. As at Tripolis the anchorage was filled with corbitas, triremes, biremes, coasters and small fishing vessels. Ships were entering and exiting the harbour, sails being furled and unfurled depending on their destination. I stood with Gallia and the others at the prow as Athineos barked orders at his crew and the other two ships followed us into the harbour. Outside the port, on the white sand beaches that flanked the city, were shipyards and stone slipways positioned side by side for hauling vessels out of the water. At other stations ships were being constructed, surrounded by wooden scaffolding.
The port of Paphos was around twice the size of Tripolis and three times as busy. Athineos had told me that the eastern breakwater was six hundred and fifty yards long and fifteen yards wide, and like the western breakwater was made of stone blocks. The western breakwater was three hundred yards long and the opening between the two measured sixty yards. The result was a large anchorage that had two long wharfs inside it, in addition to the berths along the docks.
Because we already had our cargoes The Cretan and Athineos’ other two ships were able to dock stern first at one of the wharfs, after which he sent his captains to report to the port authorities and fetch fresh food and water for the crews and animals. Two soldiers wearing red tunics, bronze helmets with red plumes, mail shirts, sandals and carrying white oval shields and short spears, ambled past our vessel.
Gallia curled her lip
at them. ‘Romans.’
‘They’re not Romans, lady,’ said Athineos behind her. ‘They are Egyptians. This is the pharaoh’s island.’
A portion of the gold I had given Athineos for our passage was paid to the port authority for docking fees, with more going to purchase supplies for our onward journey to Ephesus. Though we had thus far enjoyed a pleasant voyage it was nice to feel earth instead of wood beneath my feet as we walked into the city that afternoon.
Paphos was a noisy, sprawling place that extended inland from the harbour, most of its teeming population living inside the high sandstone walls that surrounded the city. Like Dura Paphos had been constructed according to Greek doctrine, with a grid system of streets surrounding square blocks of buildings. And like the blocks the individual buildings were square, most white walled with red tile roofs. The city itself was divided into well-defined zones: public, residential and commercial areas, the latter being concentrated around the port. Beyond the city, to the north, were hills covered with cedar and pine trees, which had been used by Philip of Macedon and the Ptolemies to build their great fleets of warships. The hills were also dotted with white-walled villas – the country residences of the city’s wealthiest citizens.
Arminius had stayed on the ship to tend to Adad and to allow Alcaeus to walk among his countrymen, as had Drenis who said he had no interest in wandering around a crowded, stinking city. But in truth the air of Paphos was mostly fresh, the breeze that either blew in from the sea or from the tree-lined hills blowing away the smells of crowded humanity. The people appeared to be well fed and healthy, though most walked around barefoot and were dressed in simple linen tunics called chitons.
As we walked among market stalls selling food, clothes, ceramics and jewellery, Alcaeus explained to us why Cyprus was such a prize for empires.
‘The soil on the island is very fertile. This means that you can grow not only an abundance of tree crops such as vines, olives, citrus fruits, figs and pomegranate, but also barley and graze cattle and sheep. Cyprus is famous for its wines.’
‘The buildings of the city resemble those of Dura,’ observed Surena.
‘That is because both Paphos and Dura were designed by Greek architects,’ said Alcaeus, ‘the best in the world.’
‘You obviously haven’t seen Rome, Alcaeus,’ said Domitus. ‘Its architecture is far grander.’
‘Grander, yes,’ I agreed, ‘but perhaps not as functional. There is a beauty in simplicity, I think.’
Domitus looked at me with narrow eyes and pursed lips. ‘I hope you are not turning into a poet or some sort of Greek boy-lover.’
Gallia laughed but Alcaeus stared at him with a look of mild disgust.
‘I would remind you, Domitus, that it was Greece that gifted civilisation to the world and Greek is the language of choice among even Rome’s ruling classes.’
Domitus was not convinced. ‘The Romans have a phrase, “the Greek custom”, which sums up Greek civilisation perfectly.’
‘What is this custom?’ enquired Surena.
‘Sodomy,’ replied Domitus bluntly. ‘Too much exercising naked has resulted in most Greek males preferring young boys instead of women. That’s why their armies are always defeated. Greek soldiers are more interested in molesting the man next to them in the battle line instead of sticking a sword in the man facing him.’
Alcaeus rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at him. ‘It may come as a shock to you, Domitus, but not everything in the world revolves around battles and fighting.’
‘Only the most important things,’ retorted Domitus.
‘How are we going to find Julia?’ asked Gallia, clearly bored over this trivial boys’ talk.
‘A good question,’ I said.
‘An enquiry at the office of the port authority would be a good starting point,’ offered Alcaeus, ‘and if that fails then perhaps we could ask in the temple district.’
‘I would start at the squares where the beggars gather,’ said Domitus. ‘If Pacorus’ witch is anything to go by I have no doubt that this Julia will be some foul-looking old hag without a pot to piss in. Jupiter knows what use she will be.’
‘You must learn to trust Dobbai, Domitus,’ said Gallia. ‘She is beloved of the gods.’
‘Unlike you, Domitus,’ said Alcaeus.
‘Beloved of the gods or not,’ I said, ‘finding her among this multitude might prove difficult.’
But when we returned to the docks we found a man waiting for us aboard Athineos’ ship, a tall Greek with thick black hair and a heavy beard. He was dressed in a white silk chiton with red edging on the sleeves, a leather belt round his waist and expensive leather sandals on his feet. He was talking to Drenis when I stepped off the gangplank on to the deck, the Thracian pointing at me. The Greek turned and bowed his head.
‘Greetings, majesty. My name is Talaos and I am here on the orders of the Lady Julia, who invites you to her house tomorrow.’
Gallia came to my side and removed her shemagh, shaking her long locks free. Talaos bowed his head to her.
‘Welcome to Cyprus, Queen Gallia, my mistress looks forward to meeting you tomorrow.’
‘You are well informed, Talaos,’ I said. ‘I hope our arrival is not common knowledge among the citizens of Paphos.’
‘Your arrival is known only to my mistress and those whom she trusts, majesty,’ Talaos replied.
I wondered about the relationship between this handsome young man and the seer. But he did not proffer any information regarding his position and I decided not to ask. But I did enquire about the location of his mistress’ home.
He turned and pointed at the green-covered slopes beyond the city walls.
‘She lives in the hills, majesty.’
‘And how do we get there?’ I asked.
‘I will bring horses for you tomorrow morning, majesty.’
He looked at Gallia. ‘My mistress assumed that Queen Gallia would prefer to ride to her house.’
‘Your mistress is correct,’ smiled Gallia.
He bowed his head to us once more and then took his leave. Athineos sauntered over as Talaos walked down the gangplank and strode along the wharf.
‘This seer must be a person of some importance, Pacorus, if she has a house in the hills.’
‘She is probably the sorceress of some rich lord,’ I said.
‘Just like Dobbai is at Dura,’ remarked Drenis.
‘You should not go alone,’ growled Domitus. ‘You will be vulnerable.’
‘We will be fine,’ Gallia assured him.
‘This is Cyprus, Domitus,’ said Alcaeus, ‘not a den of assassins like Rome.’
The next morning Talaos presented himself at The Cretan holding the reins of three horses, all of them well-groomed mares. Gallia and I still wore our shemaghs to hide our faces but had discarded our Agraci robes and wore loose leggings and our white tunics instead. We both wore our sword belts and Gallia had her dagger tucked into her right boot, but we left our bows on the ship. Talaos was bemused by Gallia’s manlike appearance but was all courtesy and bows as we walked the horses along the wharf before mounting them when we had passed through the mass of sailors and dockers who were working on the main quay where cargo ships were being loaded and unloaded. I also saw slaves toiling under the watchful eyes of overseers with whips. Gallia saw them too but said nothing.
It was good to be back in the saddle and even better when we had ridden through the city’s northern gates and travelled through copses of well-tended olive, carob and almond trees. Talaos was an accomplished rider and on the journey provided information regarding the island’s commerce.
‘Because it is an Egyptian colony, majesty, the majority of the island’s trade is with Alexandria.’
We had left the main road to ride along a track that wound its way up a great tree-lined hill, giving us excellent views of Paphos and the glittering Mediterranean beyond.
‘And what does the island supply Alexandria with?’ asked Gallia.
‘Timber and copper mostly, majesty,’ said Talaos.
We continued on and came across a great vineyard that had been planted on terraces cut into the hillside. It covered many acres and dozens of slaves were working among the vines.
‘Vineyards on the southern slopes mean good exposure to the sun and thus a greater yield,’ Talaos told us. ‘We are nearing the end of our journey, majesties.’
‘Your mistress lives on the estate of the lord who owns this vineyard?’ I asked him.
‘This is my mistress’ vineyard, majesty,’ he informed me.
We ended our ride at a large two-storey white villa surrounded by neat rows of date palms, the cedars and pines extending up the hill behind the house. Barefoot slaves in immaculate white chitons came forward with heads bowed to take our horses as Talaos dismounted and ordered the slaves to take them to the stables. He invited us to accompany him inside the villa, the entrance to which was guarded by two soldiers who were armed and equipped similar to the ones we had seen patrolling the port.
‘This Julia is either a shrewd businesswoman or has the patronage of a rich lord,’ I said to Gallia. ‘These slaves are better dressed than the servants in our palace at Dura.’
‘But they are still slaves, Pacorus.’
Our entrance into the villa only confirmed to me that the seer enjoyed an opulent lifestyle. The house had been built according to the peristyle school, with a large central courtyard enclosed by a colonnaded porch on all four sides. The walls of the entrance hall were covered with frescoes depicting scenes from Greek myths, or so Talaos told me. I initially thought that we had walked into a brothel with depictions of naked men and women being chased by half-humans and half-animals in various states of arousal. The floor was a mosaic showing the Greek god Dionysus, the deity of wine, which I thought was more apt.
Talaos spoke quietly to an older man in a red chiton and then invited us to walk with him into the garden, taking us through a library that occupied both storeys and was dedicated to Athena, the Goddess of the Arts and Literature. The air was filled with the aroma of rose incense as we walked into the spacious courtyard. My first impression was the sound of running water coming from four large fountains standing among statues and flanked by immaculate flowerbeds containing irises, daffodils and Abyssinian roses. Even though the courtyard was large there were paintings of landscapes on the walls to create the illusion of even more space. The atmosphere imparted a sense of order and calm. Gallia took off her shemagh and smelt the air, closing her eyes and taking in the pleasing aroma.
