by Zara Altair
He sat in his room looking at his notes. “Someone knows something.”
“Master,” Nikolaos responded, “I agree, but I’m as confounded as you are.”
“Well, I am saddened to tell Philo we’ve uncovered nothing. The person who was closest to Pius, his old tutor Ioses, wouldn’t hear an earthquake. His hearing is so bad, he wouldn’t have heard Pius leave the room.”
Nikolaos chuckled, “Ah, when you are older, you’ll have more freedom.”
Argolicus raised an eyebrow and smiled. Then his face became serious. “I don’t see anyone in this household being angry enough to produce the violence. Five stab wounds. That shows fury, not cold calculation. Sabinus was in Portus. The mother disliked him, tolerated him, but wouldn’t want to lose the power. Titiana is hard to read, but I don’t see her angry enough. Philo respected him and doesn’t seem angry enough, either. A slave or assassin could have been bribed or paid, but then the killing would have been different, not multiple angry stabs, something else.”
Nikolaos said, “But it must have been someone he knew. Why else would he meet someone in the middle of the night? And what Roman would be carrying arms, like a dagger, at risk of breaking the law?”
Argolicus looked at his notes from the interviews with the household. There was something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “It’s puzzling. Perhaps it had something to do with his business. We’ll go back with Sabinus tomorrow and meet the merchants at Portus.”
Nikolaos nodded.
Argolicus rose. “It’s time to join the family.”
Bion read, “These are the properties of the rational soul; it sees itself…”
Argolicus, Philo, and Sabinus gathered in Philo’s library after a somber dinner. Aemilia had been tight-lipped, Titiana sullen, and Philo submerged in sorrow. Sabinus attempted conversation to no avail. As Bion read Marcus Aurelius, the rationality of the text seemed to sooth everyone in the room. Old Ioses nodded his head in approval of the choice and leaned toward Bion to hear the words.
Sabinus rose, interrupting the quiet flow of words and thoughts. “It’s been a tumultuous day. I’m retiring. Philo, sleep well. We’ll take care of everything in due course. Argolicus, tomorrow we’re off to Portus.”
“We are. Thank you,” Argolicus said as Sabinus left him with Philo and the tutors. He agreed. What had begun as a mere gift delivery had transformed into a death investigation with no clues in sight.
Philo said, “Marcus Aurelius was so even and reasonable. I’m in turmoil. My father is dead. I’m suddenly the paterfamilias and I don’t know what to do next.”
Argolicus nodded as Bion closed the book and set it aside on a shelf. “Learn from Sabinus. Trust we’ll discover what happened.”
“Yes, but the politics and the shipping business. My biggest concern was going to the Consular Games and now that sounds so trivial. I need to go among the affairs of men and I feel unready.”
Argolicus replied. “I felt the same way when my father died. You will work your way through the complications. Weeks before he died, my father told me there are two kinds of politicians: the ones who seek the truth and the ones who hide it. I’ve found if I look to determine what type of man I’m dealing with, I know how to move.
Philo frowned and said, “My father said: secrets flow out of the posticum the way goods come in.”
Chapter 4
Portus
Gray overhead cleared to bright winter sunlight as Sabinus directed his boat toward the harbor of Portus. They entered from a small canal from the Tiber river rather than from the ocean like the big transport ships. The great octagon of protected water, designed by Claudius and completed by Trajan, sparkled as the water rippled under the sun. However much, Ostia was a neglected port, the town of Portus and the harbor thrived. Argolicus lifted his palm to shade his eyes.
Ships loading and unloading cargo lined the eight straight sides of the harbor, designed to service the maximum number of ships. Behind the quay, rectangular lines of huge warehouses lined the harbor on every side and beyond. Stevedores scrambled and hauled boxes of fabric and clothing, great amphorae of oil, sacks of grain, and more amphorae filled with wine from ships into the warehouses.
Sabinus pointed to a system of imposing warehouses to their right filling up space beside one side of the octagonal harbor. “Those are our warehouses.”
Nikolaos, who sat at the rear of the boat, gasped.
Two large ships were tied up along the quay, masts and spars bare, as stevedores called, grunted, and moved the wares. A tall wooden crane with a pulley attached to a wheel taller than a man, was lifting a large amphora from the docked ship as a worker struggled against the wheel.
Argolicus watched as their boat neared the quay. The closer they came, the larger the warehouses seemed. Everything here illustrated the family held power and control in shipping goods. Philo was not only paterfamilias but a rich and powerful young man. Does he realize his political sway? Or, the immense wealth he controls? From his bearing, Argolicus felt the youth did not understand his new position in the world, from son to magnate.
“How often did Pius come here?” Argolicus asked.
“Not often,” Sabinus said. “He has a personal storage space here. He came for that. Oh, several times a month. I manage the day-to-day operations. There, do you see that big Syrian?” He pointed to the quay. A large man in oriental dress was pacing back and forth shouting orders toward one ship, then checking goods as they went toward the warehouse.
“Yes.”
“That’s Rashad. He says he is Christian, just like you do. But he sees Christ as a man who united with divinity.”
Argolicus held his breath, hoping that they would avoid a contentious discussion on the nature of Christ. Sabinus was a Trinitarian, Argolicus by faith followed the Arian two natures of Christ, and now a Syrian Monophysite. He said, “The Emperor Zeno…”
But before he could finish, Sabinus interrupted him. “My mistake. I didn’t mean ill. It’s just that we know you are of Their Faith. Whatever King Theodoric proclaims, we try to keep remarks on the natures of Christ out of conversations here at the wharf. Our workers come from all over the world.”
Argolicus relaxed. Rashad had noticed the boat coming from the canal. He waved and sent two workers over to help tie up the boat. Their boat sat low under the quay. Big transport ships dwarfed the small vessel as stevedores let down a rope ladder. Nikolaos was last to climb the ladder, looking unsettled.
Argolicus patted the little man’s shoulder. “I see you are getting ready for our journey home.” The joke passed by the tutor who seemed relieved to have the solid stone pavement of the quay under his feet.
“Rashad, my guest for the day, Gaius Vitellius Argolicus.” For a brief instant the big man’s green eyes met Argolicus’ gaze. Argolicus saw intelligence and hard-edged determination. Then, Rashad dropped his head in a slight bow.
Sabinus continued, “Has The Siren arrived?”
Rashad pointed to a ship anchored in the harbor.
“Good, good,” Sabinus said, nodding approval. “Finish with these two so we can bring her in.” Rashad nodded and left to direct the stevedores.
“A good man,” Sabinus continued. “He speaks the waterfront vernacular which seems to comprise words from many languages. I haven’t mastered it. I don’t know what I would do without him. Well, let me show you the warehouses.”
Sabinus led them toward the arched entrance to the largest warehouse. They passed through the entryway with the family name on a marble slab above into a large courtyard. “This is our family warehouse.”
He led them to a locked vestibule. A slave saw Sabinus approach and began to unlock the door. He unlocked a padlock attached to a bolt at the bottom of a large diagonal timber that crossed the door. He pulled out the bolt allowing the beam to move. Then he pushed the slanted beam across a fitted groove in the floor until it stood at a vertical on the left side of the doorway. The enormous responsibility of wareh
ouse owners to secure the goods stored surprised and impressed Argolicus.
“Security is our signature.” Sabinus continued as they crossed a vestibule and the slave unlocked a second door. “Pius made sure that everyone knew we take the greatest care to protect merchandise when it arrives,” Sabinus said. “A warehouse without security is asking to be robbed.”
They entered a large courtyard filled with a black and white mosaic featuring a lion and sheaves of wheat. Sabinus led them across the courtyard to a doorway. “This is the office,” he said, gesturing them inside. Two long tables filled the enormous room where clerks sat shuffling papers and ticking off shipping arrivals, storage, and transportation from the warehouse.
“How much of this does Philo understand?” Argolicus asked. The immensity of the enterprise—the ships arriving and departing, the storage, the transportation to destinations throughout Italy—stunned him and would be massive detail to Philo.
“He is learning, but his father wanted him in society so he has only the barest essentials of how it works.”
“So, what will happen now?”
“I can suggest, but Philo must make his own decision on how much he wants to be involved. To him it seems as though everything came through his father. Because his personality is not… suited… to mingling and politics, I think he would do well here. But he is a novice. My sons know more than he does. Pius pushed the boy to model his life in his father’s image. When I talked to him yesterday, I realized how little he understands.”
A young man entered the office. Sabinus smiled. “Larcius, meet Gaius Vitellius Argolicus. He’s the one looking into Pius’ death. Argolicus, my son.”
Larcius looked like Sabinus but with more hair and fewer pounds. As he smiled, Argolicus realized he had the same open nature as his father. “My uncle,” he said and then paused. “Philo will be a different man now.” He stopped again and glanced at his father as if he had said too much. “Pater, you know how Pius controlled him. He never had a chance to be a boy.”
Sabinus said nothing, but his face showed he agreed. “Larcius, the Siren is in the harbor. Get the bills of lading ready. I’ll show our guest around.”
Larcius mumbled something, picked up a sheet of numbers, and headed to a large desk table at the far end of the office. Larcius, raised at the port, tackled the charts and tables of numbers spread out around the room.
Argolicus said, “I’d like to see Pius’ storeroom.”
“Storerooms,” Sabinus corrected. “He has three. Follow me.”
As they crossed the courtyard again, a slave came at a signal from Sabinus. They walked toward the far end of the warehouse. Sabinus nodded toward a door and the slave ran ahead to unfasten the bolt that held the locking beam in place.
The richness at the domus in Ostia was paltry compared to the treasures in the storage room. Boxes piled high against the wall of one side almost obscured the light from the high windows. Various shades of marble statuary filled the center of the room. Carpets were piled against another wall. Against the third wall bronzes of every shape seem tangled in a silent battle. One statue of Minerva gleamed in gold from head to toe. Boxes of silver, ivory, gold, and inlaid woods of various sizes crammed together on a series of shelves.
Sabinus said, “He collected things. He collected people. And, he wanted Philo to be like him, but Philo has a different temperament. As much as he tried to please his father, he couldn’t fit the mold. Pius was like a bully. Not that he hit the boy or any member of his family, he did it with words—humiliation, judgments of failure. None of them met his arbitrary standards.”
Argolicus pulled his eyes away from the treasures. “You say he collected people. What do you mean?”
“Pius did favors for people and expected something in return. Most of the items here in this room, the other two, at his villa in Ostia, and his home in Rome are gifts. He didn’t ask for them directly, but everyone understood that a favor, like the Siren being unloaded today before other ships in the harbor, called for a gift. Things arrive here, ‘For his Sublimity the gracious Pius from his grateful friend.’ The items went into the warehouse and the note went to Pius.”
“But, the people. What do you mean he collected people?”
Nikolaos must have overcome his seasickness, he began scribbling notes.
“I’m not sure how he did it, but he seemed to have a hold on people. For some, he would ask outrageous favors and they were granted without question. If I asked him, he would say, ‘You take care of the harbor, I’ll manage the politics.’ That was as much as he told me. He was my brother, but not my confidant. That’s the way he was. He took from people, but he shared nothing unless it was in his interest.”
Argolicus thought any of a number of people could have had reason to wish Pius out of their life. From no possibilities, to a large selection, but where would he start? He chewed his lip for a moment and then said, “Your wife wants us to eat the midday meal at your home?”
“Yes,” Sabinus said. “We’ll get Larcius. It’s just a few minutes walk.”
“What did you discover?” Philo asked.
“You have a great responsibility ahead of you. Philo, how much did your father tell you about his business connections?”
“Why, do you think one of his connections killed him?”
“It’s possible,” said Argolicus. “So think. How much do you know about his connections?”
They were in the office at the villa. Philo sat at the desk piled with various stacks of papers. He fanned the edges of one stack, then another, as Argolicus waited for his answer. Philo lifted his head and his eyes brimmed with tears.
“I tried. I tried. But we were so different. I wanted to please my father. He didn’t have friends, he had business relationships. I have friends. A few, but friends. Like the ones who would go to the Counselor Games with me. My father brought people here for dinners regularly, but he met with people other places. He didn’t take me with him for those. Look at this.” He held up a paper from the desk and read, “Dearest Pius, what you ask is difficult. I thought our arrangement did not include the shipments from Egypt. I do not understand what that means. How do I answer this?” he looked at the paper, “Caius Hirtius Lucullus. I don’t know him.”
“You will get in touch with each of them. As they tell you, you will know what to do. You will determine the ones who seek the truth and the ones who hide it. This business is yours now. You don’t have to be like your father. Be yourself.”
“I don’t know how,” Philo answered. His face wrenched in anxiety.
“You do. You will discover a way.” Argolicus gave him an encouraging smile. Inside he churned with sympathy for the young man who had inherited a corrupt world from his father. He changed the subject, “Any news of the Promagistrate?”
“No, nothing. Thank you for probing into my father’s death. I don’t expect you to discover anything, but I appreciate your support.”
Chapter 5
Sister In The Night
Titiana startled Argolicus as she slipped past a sleeping Nikolaos and stood in the room. His head was bent over his notes on the small table in his room. He had a list of people he knew were involved with Pius. Under each name he jotted what he knew. The girl whispered, “My father was a philanderer of the worst sort.”
Argolicus composed himself and asked, “What do you mean?”
“He held orgies.” Her voice rose above a whisper.
“Orgies?”
“Yes, all those powerful people, he blackmailed them.”
If Nikolaos was awake now, he was keeping quiet.
“Powerful, like Boethius?” Argolicus asked. Boethius might be rich but he also seemed an honest man.
“No, no, no. He didn’t go to the parties. It was lesser men. Not consuls and the wealthy but officials—a tax collector, the Promagistrate, military captains, merchants. People like that.”
“Titiana, how do you know this?” Argolicus was familiar with young women and thei
r tendency to exaggerate. And, young people often thought the worst of their parents.
“Pacilus. I’ve had a crush on him since I was eight. Then we became friends, but not lovers.”
Argolicus looked at Titiana’s elegant face and wondered if she was lying to preserve her Roman dignity. “Why not lovers?”
Titiana paused. Her face betrayed her effort to solve a dilemma. “It couldn’t happen… we were friends… friends. We shared our secrets. He preferred men to women.”
“I see. He told you this in friendship?”
“Yes. Don’t tell Philo. Don’t tell Mother. She would never let me see Pacilus again. She’s a prude.” Titiana wiped a tear from her cheek, her eyes pleaded with Argolicus. “I think she suspects about the parties, but chooses not to know. Pacilus is my best friend.”
Argolicus now understood her hesitancy. “I will tell no one.”
He put his hand on her shoulder.
“Tell me about the parties, what Pacilus told you.”
“Disgusting… they were disgusting. My father.” Titiana swallowed, then took a breath. Her eyes went from Argolicus to Nikolaos’ chamber.
“Don’t worry about Nikolaos. He is discreet.”
“Well,” Titiana began. “He… my father… his friends.” She stopped. She brought her eyes back to Argolicus. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Tell me how Pacilus told you.”
“He came here one morning. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he said. I knew he wanted to tell me something important. We walk for the big talks.”
