There was a virulent strain of marsh fever in Britain. Still, our H
destination was coastal. Beyond the Great King's picturesque harbour
outside his palace would lie windswept open water, not stagnant lakes and fens. Mind you, we had to cross two seas to get there; one was a
terrifying stormy strait.
Helena and I thought that life was to be lived together. Private, domestic and shared. Shared with our family: two children, one complaining nursemaid, one scruffy dog. Plus my two assistants, the Camilli. And thanks to the Fates recovering their sense of fun, with the addition on this quay side of my sister Maia and all her children- who were still not coming to safety with us, but who were getting in the way seeing us off. Then there was Petronius. He had tagged along, saying he wanted to visit his daughters in Ostia.
"Got your socks?" I heard him mocking the two Camilli. The word was new to them. When we hit the next ship, crossing the cold and wind-ravaged Gallic Strait, whichever of the two was still with us would work out the point of knitted one-toe socks.
"We could end up with both of them," Helena muttered quietly.
"Oh yes. Your father thought it worth a formal bet."
"How much?"
"Too much!"
"You two are incorrigible… Father is heading for trouble. My mother ordered both my brothers to stay in Rome."
"We're taking both, then. That clinches it, sweetheart."
Now we were both smiling. Helena and I would enjoy watching the lads trying to choose the right moment to confess.
Hyspale was feeling queasy before she was even on the boat. Once aboard, Helena dragged her off to the tiny cabin, taking Maia with them to help calm the woman down. I went below decks with Aelianus, stowing our long-distance baggage. Justinus had the thankless task of explaining to the ship's crew that some items were wanted on the journey. We had a good system of identifier-tags. Regardless of that, someone had mixed up everything. Nothing was missing as far as I could tell, but there seemed to be baggage I knew nothing about.
It is always unsettling, as you wait for a long journey to start. In retrospect, perhaps there was more tension than there might have been. Perhaps people snarled and flustered around more chaotically than usual. There are shouts and bumps as a ship is laden with cargo. The crew do take delight in not bothering to inform passengers what is going on. Casting off seems their excuse to make shipboard visitors panic.
So for once, what happened was not my fault. I was down in the bowels of the vessel anyway. Then I heard the scream.
As I climbed up the rope ladder to the main deck, something worried me. Thudding and rocking had given way to smoother sensations. I felt the change in air movement, then a surge underfoot knocked me almost off balance.
"We're moving already!" Aelianus cried excitedly. Foreboding struck me. A panicky commotion was already telling me the worst: the captain had cast off and sailed out of Portus. Unluckily he did so while Maia was still on-board with us.
My sister was now straining at the rail, ready to throw herself over like a Naiad crazed by too much sun and foam. I had never seen Maia so hysterical. She was shrieking that she had been taken from her children. Only real force from Justinus, who had grasped the situation in his usual quick style and then grabbed Maia, stopped her trying to hurl herself overboard to get back to shore. Like me, she had never learned to swim.
"There's my brother taking a firm hand with the women," sneered Aelianus.
"My sister knows close-contact wrestling though," I commented as Maia flung her saviour aside and collapsed weeping on her knees.
As Maia sobbed, something about the quiet way Helena was exclaiming over her in sympathy made me pause. I would have expected my beloved to turn to me and order me to solve this problem before it was too late.
I leaned on the rail and stared back at the quay side There indeed were Maia's four young children. Marius, Cloelia and Ancus stood in a solemn line together; they seemed to be calmly waving us goodbye. Rhea was held up in the arms of Petronius Longus as if to get a better view of her mother being abducted. An extra small dot must be Marius' puppy sitting quietly on his lead. Petronius, who could have tried commandeering a boat to chase after us, was just standing there.
"My children! Take me back to my children! My darlings; whatever will become of them without me? They will all be terrified '
The neatly lined-up little figures were all looking quite unperturbed.
Aelianus decided to play the hero; he obligingly rushed to negotiate with the captain. I knew the man would not turn back. Justinus caught my eye and we both stayed where we were, with suitable expressions of concern. I reckon he saw what I was thinking. Perhaps he had even been in on the plot: this was fixed. One reason the captain would not be turning back was that somebody had paid him to cast off quietly and then to keep going.
My sister was being removed from the reach of Anacrites. Somebody had set this up, whether Maia liked it or not. My guess was Helena. Petronius and even Maia's children might have conspired too. Only Helena could have invented the scheme and paid for it. Maia was unlikely to see the real truth. Once she had calmed down and started to work this out then I, her utterly blameless brother, would end up being blamed.
"Well, let's consider what we can do," I heard Helena say. "The children are with Lucius Petronius. No harm will come to them. We shall somehow get you home again. Don't cry, Maia. One of my handsome brothers will be going home from Massilia. You can easily be taken back with him…"
Both of her handsome brothers nodded in support then since neither really intended to turn back at Massilia, they both skulked off out of the way.
Nobody seemed to need me. I got my head down in my work. I tied a long string to my daughter Julia so she could clamber about the deck in safety (and trip up sailors). Nux, a first-time sailor, whined a lot then lay on my legs. I rolled up the new baby in a warm papoose and kept her under my cloak against my chest. Then I sat on the deck with my feet up on an anchor, studying my notes from the Palatine secretariat which administered funds for the Great King's palace.
As usual with otBcial projects, where the client had the highest expectations and the producing agency had the greatest need to shine, the larger were the errors and the higher the costs. Treasury audit had been applied and had nothing good to say. Loss of materials on site had reached epic proportions. There had also been a rash of serious accidents. Even the scheme's architect had submitted a scared report about his fears of sabotage.
Frontinus, the provincial governor, reckoned the programme completion date had not just slipped, it had skidded right into the next decade. He was having difficulties curbing the client's demands and possessed no decent manpower to send in on a rescue mission, due to conflicting needs of the major new works being built in Londinium (that was principally the new headquarters for the provincial governor himself). Brutal paragraphs in administrative Greek spelled out the worst. The Great King's palace had reached the danger stage: it was all set to be the biggest administrative failure ever.
IX
luck is a wonderful luxury. What could better prove that some are born under a star of good fortune than the career (and the large, comfortable home) of the Great King?
"Cogidumnus. "Justinus cautiously tried it out.
"Togidubnus," I corrected him. This was a provincial of such ripe insignificance that most Roman commentators never even called him by the correct name. "Learn it, please, lest we offend. The Emperor may be our principal client, but Togi is the end customer. Pleasing Togi is the whole point of us suffering this trip. Vespasian wants his house to go up nicely so that Togi stays happy."