"Yes, captain. Please do.”
Naevius led her aft, past the clusters of slaves repairing weather damaged planks and cordage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the gray-haired Postumus and his self-assured adjutant still lounging on the distant foredeck, as they had been ever since she had arrived, both staring in her direction as they spoke privately to each other. They made no effort to veil their curiosity, as if she were an intruder here. They had arrived on the flagship well before her, perhaps by design, perhaps by coincidence, and that had been unexpected. If she had been mildly surprised when she saw the senator at the funeral that morning, she was in utter shock when she had climbed from the launch to the Argonaut’s gangway and had been met by Postumus and his smug aide.
“Lady Calpurnia, how delightful to see you here,” the senator had said smiling, though the earlier sympathy in his tone had all but vanished. “Allow me to introduce my adjutant, Sextus Flavius.”
Calpurnia had nodded to the perfunctory bow of the young man. While she had forced herself to smile courteously, he had regarded her with a dismissive nature, as if her father’s death now made her irrelevant.
“It warms my heart to see a daughter so devoted to her father’s memory that she would go to such lengths,” Postumus had exclaimed in a patronizing tone. “But should you not be in mourning, my dear? It vexes me that you feel the need to intermingle with these common sailors. I assure you, Captain Naevius is a capable man. He can have your father’s things sent ashore without you ever troubling about it.”
“Your concern is touching, Senator,” she had replied. “But I must put my grief aside for the time being, until I have fulfilled my duty to my father.”
“What duty could be so unjust as to require a noble Roman lady to roam about the decks of a foul-smelling warship filled with all of its hazardous equipage, not to mention hundreds of voracious men?” he had spoken to her disagreeably, as a parent might tell a child not to cross their eyes lest they get stuck that way.
“You forget, Senator, that I have accompanied my father to nearly every one of his foreign assignments. I am well-acquainted with the dangers of ship life. That is why I have brought Marjanita with me. As to why I am here, there are a few personal matters I cannot entrust to any man – not even to an officer as adept as Captain Naevius.”
Postumus had cast an indeterminate glance at Flavius before responding. “How charming you are, my dear. Well, I suppose there can be no harm in that.”
“I would advise you to be swift, my lady,” Flavius had spoken up quite abruptly. “This fleet will sail once the new commander has arrived, and I am sure you do not wish to get stuck aboard.”
“Of course she wouldn’t,” Postumus said, in answer to Flavius but still looking into Calpurnia’s eyes.
The flippant remark about her father’s replacement had bothered her more than she had expected it to. Her father’s ashes were still floating about the town, for Juno’s sake, and these bastards had already appointed a replacement. That thought, added to the lackluster turnout at the funeral, and the senator’s condescending nature, had left her simmering long after Postumus and Flavius had left her company. But after a few moments of consideration, after she had managed to direct her focus back to her primary reason for being here, she realized that perhaps she was closer than ever to finding what she was looking for.
Why was Postumus aboard the Argonaut? Captain Naevius had given her a flippant explanation for it, “an inspection, my lady, nothing more,” – but she did not believe that. The senator’s presence here, his multifaceted nature which she had only witnessed for the first time today, and his apparent desire for her to finish her business quickly and leave, all fit perfectly into a profile that had been forming in her mind for many months.
Now, as she followed Naevius aft, Postumus and his aide were still watching her every move, and quite overtly. The senator bore the same expression of barely concealed pleasure that she had seen at the funeral, as if her determination amused him. Flavius’s face, however, was quite different, and it sent chills through her. It was even and unfeeling, not mournful, not pleased, not angered, simply calculating, as if the senator’s aide were working out some intricate puzzle in his mind, and had the utmost confidence that he would solve it.
“Here we are, my lady,” Naevius said when they reached the ornate linen curtain drawn across the entrance to the stern cabin.
“I assume everything has been left untouched?" she asked, momentarily putting aside her contemplations.
The captain avoided her gaze, but nodded. "It is as it was on that tragic day at sea, my lady, just as you requested. Nothing has been removed, save for your blessed father and a few items of food that we had disposed of long before your instructions reached us.”
She nodded and smiled, hiding her inward frustration. She had wished for all items, no matter how perishable, to be left undisturbed. Of course she suspected foul play in her father's death. How could she not, when he was reviled in so many corners of the republic? She had seen his decomposing body as the family slaves had prepared it for its fiery burial, and had been assured by them, and by her own eyes, that his body contained no wound of any kind. Naturally, she suspected poison, but how could such a thing ever be proved?
The sun-bleached curtain was parted. She entered the small antechamber and then passed through to the quarters beyond. She stopped just inside the doorway for several long moments, catching the faint aroma of the olive oil her father had often used on his weathered skin. The room had his essence and felt as though he had just left. The cot with blankets still ruffled. The chests lining the perimeter, some open, some with the contents spilling out onto the deck. The empty breastplate and helmet adorning the crosspieces in the far corner, facing her, as if watching her every move. The small table with charts rolled and strewn amidst a scattering of ornate paperweights, each resembling a horse or wolf head. Some charts were bundled, some crumpled and tossed aside.
"You see, my lady," Naevius said, waiting a respectable interval before entering behind her. "It is as we found it."
Calpurnia did not doubt that was true. She would have been more suspicious had every item been in its proper place. The condition of the quarters was like a reflection of her father's mental state. She crossed to the rack holding the armor and gazed curiously into the hollow eyes of the bronze faceplate, her lithe fingers tracing the features of the cold steel as though they were her father's.
"I will, of course, see that all is packed and sent ashore whenever you give the word, my lady," Naevius said carefully, his eyes glancing at the open window.
"I will not inconvenience you long, Captain," she replied, sensing the trace of urgency in his tone, and quickly deducing the reason for it. "Who has been chosen to replace my father?"
"It is only rumor, my lady, but it is said that Scribonius Libo has been given that honor."
"And when does he arrive?"
"The coastal watchers sighted his squadron yesterday, entering the straits. If that is true, he should arrive anytime now."
Calpurnia could see the harbor entrance through the window, the sea beyond glittering in the setting sun. No warships were approaching as far as the eye could see, only a cluster of fishing craft returning with the day's catch. She did not know Libo, other than to know that he had been trusted by her father.
As the setting sun peeked into the window frame, its orange rays gleamed against the bars of the cage in the opposite corner. Calpurnia had been so overcome with the memory of her father that she had quite forgotten about Odulph. But her father’s pet augury was not there. The cage was empty, its unlatched door creaking on its hinges ever so slightly as Argonaut felt each swell of the harbor.