“Take us back to their base and wait for the ransom.”
“Whereabouts is their base likely to be?”
“Lycia, probably. Somewhere between Patara and Myra.”
“Quite a long way from here.”
“Several days’ sail.”
“Why so far away?”
“It’s absolutely safe there—a haven for pirates! Hundreds of hidden coves and valleys—there are at least thirty big pirate settlements in the area.”
Caesar looked unperturbed, though the two galleys were now closing on his ship very quickly; he could see the armed men lining each gunwale, and hear their shouts. “What’s to stop me sailing back with a fleet after I’ve been ransomed and capturing the lot of them?’’
“You’d never find the right cove, Senator. There are hundreds, and they all look exactly the same. A bit like the old Knossus labyrinth, only linear rather than square.’’
Summoning his body servant, Caesar asked calmly for his toga, and when the terrified man came back bearing an off—white armful, Caesar stood while he draped it.
Burgundus appeared. “Do we fight, Caesar?”
“No, of course not. It’s one thing to fight when the odds are even remotely favorable, quite another when the odds indicate that to fight is suicide. We’ll go tamely, Burgundus. Hear me?”
“I hear.”
“Then make sure you tell everyone—I want no foolhardy heroes.” Back he turned to the captain. “So I’d never locate the right cove again, eh?”
“Never, Senator, believe me. Many have tried.”
“In Rome we were led to believe Publius Servilius Vatia got rid of the pirates when he conquered the Isauri. He was even let call himself Vatia Isauricus, so great was his campaign.”
“Pirates are like swarming insects, Caesar. Smoke them out all you like, but as soon as the air is clear again, they’re back.”
“I see. Then when Vatia put—ooops, Vatia Isauricus !—put an end to the reign of King Zenicetes of the pirates, he only scraped the scum off the surface. Is that correct, Captain?”
“Yes and no. King Zenicetes was just one pirate chieftain. As for the Isauri”—the captain shrugged—“none of us who sail these waters could ever understand why a great Roman general went to war against an inland tribe of Pisidian savages thinking he was striking a blow at piracy! Perhaps a few Isauric grandsons have joined the pirates, but the Isauri are too far from the sea to be concerned with piracy and pirates.”
Both warships were now alongside, and men were pouring on board the merchantman.
“Ah! Here comes the leader,” said Caesar coolly.
A tall, youngish man clad in a Tyrian purple tunic heavily embroidered with gold pushed his way between the milling hordes on the deck and mounted the plank steps to the poop. He was not armed, nor did he look at all martial.
“Good day to you,” said Caesar.
“Am I mistaken in thinking that you are the Roman senator Gaius Julius Caesar, winner of the Civic Crown?’’
“No, you are not mistaken.”
The pirate chieftain’s light green eyes narrowed; he put a manicured hand up to his carefully curled yellow hair. “You’re very collected, Senator,” the pirate said, his Greek indicating that perhaps he came from one of the isles of the Sporades.
“I see no point in being anything else,” said Caesar, lifting his brows. “I presume you will allow me to ransom myself and my people, so I have little to fear.”
“That’s true. But it doesn’t stop my captives from shitting themselves in terror.”
“Not this captive!”
“Well, you’re a war hero.”
“What happens now—er—I didn’t quite catch the name?”
“Polygonus.” The pirate turned to look at his men, who had gathered the merchantman’s crew into one group and Caesar’s twenty attendants into another.
Like their chief, the rest of the pirates were dandies; some sported wigs, some used hot tongs to produce rolling curls in their long locks, some were painted like whores, some preferred exquisitely close shaves and the masculine look, and all were very well dressed.
“What happens now?’’ Caesar repeated.
“Your crew is put aboard my ship, I put a crew of my own men at the oars of your ship, and we all row south as fast as we can, Senator. By sunset we’ll be off Cnidus, but we’ll keep on going. Three days from now you’ll be safe in my home, where you will live as my guest until your ransom is paid.”
“Won’t it be easier to allow some of my servants to leave the ship here? A lighter could take them back to Miletus—that is a rich city, it ought not to have too much difficulty raising my ransom. How much is my ransom, by the way?”
The chieftain ignored the second question for the moment; he shook his head emphatically. “No, we’ve had our last ransom from Miletus for a while. We distribute the burden around because sometimes the ransomed men are slow to pay it back to whichever community scraped it together. It’s the turn of Xanthus and Patara—Lycia. So we’ll let you send your servants off when we get to Patara.” Polygonus tossed his head to make his curls float. “As for the sum—twenty silver talents.” —
Caesar reared back in horror. “Twenty silver talents?” he cried, outraged. “Is that all I’m worth?”
“It’s the going rate for senators, all pirates have agreed. You’re too young to be a magistrate.”
“I am Gaius Julius Caesar!” said the captive haughtily. “Clearly, fellow, you fail to understand! I am not only a patrician, I am also a Julian! And what does being a Julian mean, you ask? It means that I am descended from the goddess Aphrodite through her son, Aeneas. I come from consular stock, and I will be consul in my year. I am not a mere senator, fellow! I am the winner of a Civic Crown—I speak in the House—I sit on the middle tier—and when I enter the House every man—including consulars and censors!—must rise to his feet and applaud me. Twenty silver talents? I am worthy fifty silver talents!”
Polygonus had listened fascinated to all this; his captives were never like this one! So sure of himself, so unafraid, so—arrogant! Yet there was something in the handsome face Polygonus liked—could that be a twinkle in the eyes? Was this Gaius Julius Caesar mocking him? But why should he mock in a way which meant he was going to have to pay back more than double his proper ransom? He was serious—he had to be serious! However ... Surely that was a twinkle in his eyes!
“All right, Your Majesty, fifty silver talents it is!” said Polygonus, his own eyes twinkling.
“That’s better,” said Caesar. And turned his back.
*
Three days later—having encountered no Rhodian or other city fleet patrolling the empty seas—Caesar’s staff were put ashore opposite Patara. Polygonus had sailed aboard his own galley; Caesar had seen no more of him. But he came to supervise the off—loading of Caesar’s staff into a lighter.
“You can keep the lot except for one if you like,” said the pirate leader. “One’s enough to raise a ransom.”
“One is not appropriate for a man of my importance,” said Caesar coldly. “I will keep three men only—my body servant Demetrius and two scribes. If I have to wait a long time I shall need someone to copy out my poetry. Or perhaps I’ll write a play. A comedy! Yes, I should have plenty of material for a comedy. Or perhaps a farce.”
“Who will lead your people?”
“My freedman, Gaius Julius Burgundus.”
“The giant? What a man! He’d fetch a fortune as a slave.”
“He did in his day. He’ll have to have his Nesaean horse,” Caesar went on, tones fussy, “and the others must have their mounts too. They will have to keep some state, I insist upon that.”
“You can insist all you like, Your Majesty. The horses are good ones, I’ll keep them.”
“You will not!” snapped Caesar. “You’re getting fifty talents in ransom, so you can hand the horses over. I’ll just keep Toes for myself—unless your roads are paved? Toes isn’t shod, so he can’t be
ridden on sealed roads.”
“You,” said Polygonus, awed, “are beyond a joke!”
“Put the horses ashore, Polygonus,” said Caesar.
The horses went ashore. Burgundus was acutely unhappy at leaving Caesar so poorly attended in the custody of these villains, but knew better than to argue. His job was to find the ransom.
And then it was onward into eastern Lycia, hugging a coast as lonely and desolate as any in the world. No roads, hamlets or fishing villages, only the mighty mountains of the Solyma plunging from permanently snowcapped heights all the way into the water. The coves were upon them before their presence could be spied out, and then were only tiny indentations in some mountain flank, a sliver of reddish—yellow sand running up against a reddish—yellow cliff. But never a sign of a pirate settlement! Intriguing! Caesar remained without moving from the poop from the time his ship sailed past the river on which stood Patara and Xanthus, watching the coast slide by hour after hour.
At sunset the two galleys and the merchantman they escorted veered inshore toward one of innumerable similar-looking coves, and were run up on the sand until they beached. Only when he had leaped down and was walking on the shifting ground did Caesar see what no one could have from the water; the cliff at the back of the cove was actually two cliffs, a flange of one concealing the gap between them, and in behind them a big hollow bowl of low—lying land. The pirate lair!
“It’s winter, and the fifty talents we’ll get for you means we can afford to have a lovely holiday instead of sailing in the early spring storms,” said Polygonus, joining Caesar as he strolled through the gap in the cliffs.
His men were already rigging rollers beneath the prows of the galleys and the cargo vessel; while Caesar and Polygonus watched, the three ships were pulled up from the sand and between the cliffs, then brought to permanent rest propped on struts inside the hidden valley.
“Do you always do this?” asked Caesar.
“Not if we’re going out again, but that would be unusual. While we’re out on the prowl we don’t come home.”
“A very nice arrangement you have here!” said Caesar, voice full of appreciation.
The hollow bowl was perhaps a mile and a half in width and about half that in length, more or less oval in shape. At its terminus furthest from the cove, a thin waterfall tumbled from hidden heights above into a pool; the pool turned into a stream and meandered down to the cove, though it could not be seen from the water. The pirates (or Mother Earth) had gouged a thin channel for it at the very end of the sands, below the cliff.
A well-built and properly organized town filled most of the valley. Stone houses three and four storeys high lined gravel streets, several very large stone silos and warehouses stood opposite the place where the ships were grounded, and a marketplace with a temple provided a focus for communal life.
“How many people do you have?” asked Caesar.
“Including wives and mistresses and children—and lovers for some of the men!—about—oh, a thousand plus five hundred. Then there are the slaves.”
“How many slaves?”
“Two thousands, or thereabouts. We don’t lift a finger for ourselves,” said Polygonus proudly.
“I’m surprised there’s not an insurrection when the men are absent. Or are the women and the male lovers fearsome warriors?”
The pirate chieftain laughed scornfully. “We’re not fools, Senator! Every slave is chained permanently. And since there is no escape, why rise?”
“That wouldn’t stop me,” said Caesar.
“You’d be caught when we came back. There are no spare ships here to sail away in.”
“Perhaps it’s I who would catch you when you came back.”
“Then I’m very glad that all of us will be here until your ransom arrives, Senator! You’ll do no rising.”
“Oh!” said Caesar, looking disappointed. “Do you mean to say I am to provide you with fifty talents and not even be offered a little feminine diversion while I wait? I don’t rise for men, but I’m rather famous with women.”
“I’ll bet you are, if such is your preference,” Polygonus said, chuckling. “Never fear! If you want women, we have them.”
“Do you have a library in this wonderful little haven?”
“There are a few books around, though we’re not scholars.”
The two men arrived outside a very large house. “This is my place. You’ll stay here—I prefer to keep you under my eye, I think. You’ll have your own suite of rooms, of course.”
“A bath would be most welcome.”
“Since I have all the comforts of the Palatine, a bath you shall have, Senator.”
“I wish you’d call me Caesar.”
“Caesar it is.”
The suite of rooms was big enough to accommodate Demetrius and the two scribes as well as Caesar, who was soon luxuriating in a bath of exactly the right temperature, a little above tepid.
“You’ll have to shave me as well as pluck me for however many days we’re here, Demetrius,” said Caesar, combing the slight waves of his pale hair downward from the crown. He put down the mirror, made of chased gold encrusted with gems, shaking his head. “There’s a fortune in this house.”
“They have stolen many fortunes,” said Demetrius.
“And no doubt stored much of the loot away in some of these many buildings. They’re not all inhabited.” And off drifted Caesar to join Polygonus in the dining room.
The food was excellent and varied, the wine superb.
“You keep a good cook,” said Caesar. *
“I see you eat abstemiously and drink no wine,” said Polygonus.
“I am passionate about nothing except my work.”
“What, not your women?”
“Women,” said Caesar, washing his hands, “are work.”
“I’ve never heard them called that before!” laughed Polygonus. “You’re an odd fish, Caesar, to save your passions for work.” He patted his belly and sniffed appreciatively at the contents of his rock—crystal goblet. “For myself, the only thing I like about piracy is the delightful life it brings me when I’m not sailing the sea. But most of all, I love good wine!”
“I don’t dislike the taste,” said Caesar, “but I detest the sensation of losing my wits, and I notice that even half a cup of watered wine takes the edge off them.”
“But when you wake up, that’s as good as you’re going to feel all day!” cried Polygonus.
Caesar grinned. “Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean?”
“For instance, my dear fellow, I will wake completely sober and in my normal robust health on the morning of the day I sail in here with a fleet at my command, capture this place, and take all of you into my custody. I can assure you that when I look at you in chains, I will feel infinitely better than I did when I woke up! But even that is relative. For on the day I crucify you, Polygonus, I will feel as I have never felt before!”
Polygonus roared with laughter. “Caesar, you are the most entertaining guest I’ve ever housed! I love your sense of humor!”
“How terribly nice of you to say so. But you won’t laugh when I crucify you, my friend.”
“It can’t happen.”
“It will happen.”
A vision of gold and purple, hands loaded down with rings and chest flashing with necklaces, Polygonus lay back on his couch and laughed again. “Do you think I didn’t see you standing on your ship watching the shore? Rubbish, Caesar, rubbish! No one can find his way back!”
“You do.”
“That’s because I’ve done it a thousand times. For the first hundred times I lost myself over and over again.”
“I can believe that. You’re not nearly as intelligent as I.”
That cut: Polygonus sat up. “Clever enough to have captured a Roman senator! And to bleed him of fifty talents!”
“Your egg isn’t hatched yet.”
“If this egg doesn’t hatch, it will sit here and rot
!”
Shortly after this spirited exchange Polygonus flounced off, leaving his prisoner to find his own way back to his rooms. There a very pretty girl waited for him, a gift very much appreciated—after Caesar sent her to Demetrius to make sure she was clean.
*
For forty days he remained in the pirate hideout; no one restricted his freedom to wander where he willed, talk to whomsoever he fancied. His fame spread from one end of the place to the other, and soon everyone knew that he believed he would sail back after he had been ransomed, would capture and crucify them all.
“No, no, only the men!” said Caesar, smiling with great charm at a party of women come to quiz him. “How could I crucify beauty such as I see here?”
“Then what will you do with us?” the most forward female asked, eyes inviting.
“Sell you. How many women and children are here?”
“A thousand.”
“A thousand. If the average price you fetch in whatever slave market I send you to is one thousand three hundred sesterces each, then I will have repaid my ransom to those obliged to find it, and made them a small profit. But you women and children are far more beautiful than one usually finds in a small town, so I expect an average price of two thousand sesterces each. That will give my ransomers a fat profit.”
The women dissolved into giggles; oh, he was lovely!
In fact, everyone liked him enormously. He was so pleasant, so jolly and good—humored, and he never displayed the slightest sign of fear or depression. He would joke with everyone, and joked so often about crucifying the men and selling the women and children into slavery that it became almost a constant entertainment. His eyes twinkled, his lips twitched, he thought it as hugely funny as they did. The first girl talked of his prowess as a lover, which meant that many of the women cast lures in his direction; but it didn’t take the men long to find out that he was scrupulous about the women he selected—never a woman belonging permanently to someone else.
“The only men I cuckold are my peers,” he would say in a lordly voice, looking every inch the aristocrat.
“Friends?” they would ask, guffawing.
“Enemies,” Caesar would answer.
“Well, and aren’t we your enemies?”
Masters of Rome Boxset: First Man in Rome, the Grass Crown, Fortune's Favourites, Caesar's Women, Caesar Page 326
