“Leave Naevius to me. Just do as I say, and be sure that you are back aboard by midday.”
XV
The fleet sailed under oars and canvas, sixty bows dashing the seas into white spray across a blue expanse. The sun had driven any clouds from the sky, and nearly every ship ran unhindered. The Greek coast had just fallen over the eastern horizon and now an infinite sea stretched in all directions.
“It is not right, Admiral! Simply not right!” Naevius protested at Libo’s shoulder for the fourth time since the fleet had gotten underway earlier that day. Both men stood on the stern deck of the bounding Argonaut somewhere in the center of the formation. “She should not have your quarters, sir. She should not even be here! You are the admiral of this fleet. I care not who her father was. The stern cabin on the flagship belongs to the admiral. It is clearly stated in the code of naval discipline.”
“As I told you before, Captain, she is our guest,” Libo sighed at having to repeat it again. “She will be put ashore at the first convenient opportunity.”
“But it is improper, sir. It sends the wrong message to the crew. They wonder if the dead admiral still commands this fleet through the person of his daughter.”
Libo could hear the challenge in his voice, and perhaps some resentment. Naevius had spent the last several hours overloading the him with reports of the fleet’s many shortages, of the reduced manning on the oars, of the meager number of men pressed into service, of the few stores pilfered from the harbor warehouses – each report more dire than the last. All throughout, Naevius had addressed him in a somewhat pejorative tone, as if all of these problems were now his to bear and Naevius had little confidence in his ability to fix them. Above all of these more essential concerns, Naevius had elevated the issue of Lady Calpurnia.
“Her presence here is inappropriate, my lord,” Naevius said again.
“It will be a minor inconvenience, captain,” Libo replied, this time not hiding his own annoyance. “One I am sure you can overcome. I would recommend you spend more time seeing to your duties and less pondering the comings and goings of Lady Calpurnia.”
Libo smiled inwardly as the flag captain moved on, venting his anger on a pair of nearby sailors fumbling with a knotted sheet. Libo knew the real reason Naevius wanted Lady Calpurnia gone, and it had little to do with naval tradition. Aside from the admiral’s cabin, there were only two staterooms on the crowded Argonaut. They were more like large lockers, but they were private quarters nonetheless. With Senator Postumus occupying the one normally used by the captain of marines, Libo had moved into the other one, the one normally occupied by the flag captain, forcing Naevius to berth with the rest of the officers. This evidently did not sit well with Naevius. Libo sighed at the thought that he would have to deal with the flag captain on a daily basis, another of the many displeasures that came with his new position.
Libo had arrived in Corcyra earlier that morning at the head of his battered, but victorious squadrons, and had received a spirited ovation from every anchored ship they passed. As expected, he had reported aboard the flagship and had been met at the gangway by Senator Postumus and the smartly turned out ship’s company. The ceremony had been brief, the smiling senator adorning him with the badge of office, the admiral’s baton, and a laurel for his most recent victory against the Rhodians. But no sooner had the ceremony concluded than polished breastplates and helmets disappeared to be replaced by drab sea cloaks, and all preparations made for getting underway.
Now, as Libo looked out at the cruising fleet, making mental notes of which ships had trouble keeping station, the Argonaut’s officers stood apart from him, all clustered by the weather rail. They were all Naevius’s men, and that was unfortunate. Libo was at the pinnacle of his career, in command of the entire fleet, but he felt more isolated now than ever. He wished direfully that among the mass of ships dotting the seas around him, he might catch sight of the Remus, or the Aurora, or the Pluto, but they were not there. It was perhaps the bitterest moment of the day, when Senator Postumus had informed him that Aquila Squadron – Libo’s old squadron – was to be detached from the fleet and sent back to eastern waters to quell the pirate menace that had sprung up there.
Of course, it was all hogwash. The Senate was simply exercising its power over the new admiral, letting him know that they were in ultimate control, depriving him of his old cadre of loyal captains to limit his influence over the fleet. Libo still smarted from the line in his appointment letter, stating that he was not to bring any officers with him from the Remus, as was the traditional right of any newly appointed commander. For Libo certainly would have replaced a few officers, starting with the flag captain.
But there were also others aboard, aside from Naevius, whom Libo would have preferred to leave in Corcyra.
“Your orders are clear, are they not, Admiral?” Postumus had said shortly after the ceremony that morning, as Libo had perused the document bearing his official sailing orders.
“I am to take the fleet to Brundisium and blockade the harbor there,” Libo summarized what he had just read.
“Precisely. And it is imperative that you sail without delay. There is no telling when Antony might attempt another crossing. We must be off Brundisium within three days.”
“We, Senator?” Libo had asked surprised.
“My adjutant and I will be accompanying you on this voyage, Admiral,” Postumus said candidly.
“Does the Senate distrust me so much that first they deprive me of my squadron and now I am to have minders aboard?”
Libo instantly wished he had not made such a bold, unabashed pronouncement of his thoughts, but Postumus did not seem to take any notice of his frustration.
“Of course the Senate trusts you, my dear Libo,” Postumus said, smiling. “You would not have been given this command otherwise. Suffice it to say that I am on official business of the Senate, and my mission is critical to the future of the republic. Have no fear. You will be informed of all you need to know as the need arises. For now, your current orders are adequate. You must take this fleet, and me, to Brundisium.”
Libo considered pointing out the fact that, while the document in his hand did direct him to blockade Brundisium, it said nothing about taking the senator along. “So, I am to be kept in the dark. Is that it, Senator? Is this the kind of treatment Admiral Bibulus received?”
“Please do not construe this minor inconvenience as a personal insult to you, Admiral. I assure you, you will be given all consideration due your rank and title in matters concerning the fleet. My mission is of much grander scope and purpose. As to your predecessor, Jupiter bless him, his was a different circumstance entirely. Let’s just say Bibulus tended to have a mind of his own.”
“As do I, Senator.”
“But yours is not a mind gone mad, Libo. You would not exercise your own will to the point of disobeying orders. At least, I sincerely hope not. Your predecessor ignored the Senate, as if these ships and men were his personal toys to be thrown from one end of the sea to another to satisfy his wild whims.” Postumus then looked once around the deck as if looking for someone before adding, “And while we are on the subject of Bibulus, I wish to implore you, Admiral, to send Lady Calpurnia ashore before we sail. The poor child is obviously grief-stricken over the death of her father, but accommodations for the grieving can only go so far. She has no business aboard a ship of war sailing to confront the enemy.”
“I cannot, Senator,” Libo had replied frankly. “I have already promised Lady Calpurnia a passage to Italy.”
“You promised her what?” Postumus had seemed aghast. “But how can that be? You have only just come aboard. I was the first to greet you and I have not left your side for a moment. I believe the Lady Calpurnia has not yet even roused from her bed. How in Juno’s name could you have spoken with her?”