Where are you sailing to?" I croaked at a passing sailor. His face split into a vicious grin. We're going home, Falco!" Hades. These bastards were carrying me off to Illyria. Nobody on shore could have spotted my plight. Hopes of pursuit and rescue soon faded. The liburnian galley was another craft I knew from a past adventure. Camillus Justinus and I had once commanded such a ship down a river in Germania Libera. A lad with well-placed friends, Justinus. One of his friends was a beautiful priestess in a German forest, the lost love he never talked about to his wife, Claudia. The priestess happened to have possession of a liburnian galley [which made her more useful than any lost loves of mine!] and she had let us borrow it. This liburnian from Dyrrhachium had the classic lightness of her class, and she produced a good turn of speed. She was half decked, and with my limited experience I could tell she was sailing low in the water as if fully laden; who knew what illicit cargo lurked beneath the deck, though I made some guesses. They are nippy vessels, large enough to feel secure, but excellent for reconnaissance, river navigation, or piracy. On the high seas a liburnian can spurt out of nowhere, overhaul a heavily laden merchantman, and grapple to it before defensive action can be taken. Soon we had sailed out of the harbour, passed the Tiber mouth, and turned south along the coast. It was a wonderful time for sailing, as afternoon sunlight sparkled on the blue waves below a cloudless summer sky. The gracious villas of the rich looked like toy houses all along the shore. Once we were under way, I was released from the mast and brought forward to be sport for Cotys. He swaggered up, eyes bright with anticipation. His men stripped me of my cloak, sneering; it was a simple, functional garment which I wore for camouflage, not fashion. Judging by their exotic gear, they would all have preferred to capture playboys in fancy silks. Cotys was ready to conduct the ritual humiliation. So, what have we here? Your name again?"
Falco."
Slave or citizen?"
Freeborn." There was a chorus of jeers. I was hardly free now.
Oho, are you a man of three names?" Increasingly, I wanted to extract this joker's insides with the bilge pump.
I am Marcus Didius Falco."
Marcus Didius Falco, son of?" Cotys was ragging as enthusiastic ally as if he had done it many times before.
Son of Marcus," I answered patiently.
So, Marcus Didius Falco, son of Marcus The ritual phrases had a threatening ring. This was the rubric someone would carve upon my tombstone one day, if anybody ever found my. corpse. What's your tribe?" I had had enough. I really can't remember." I did know that pirates made a habit of hurling anti-Roman insults at their captives. Pirate insults feigned admiration of our social system, then led spitefully to drownings.
Well, Marcus, son of Marcus, of the tribe you can't remember, tell me. why were you spying on my ship?"
I came aboard following two sailors with a chest I thought I recognised."
My cabin monkeys, bringing my sea-chest aboard." The response was instant. Cotys was lying. His voice dropped; it acquired more menace. The surrounding crew were enjoying themselves hugely.
What did you want with my sea-chest, Marcus?"
I thought it contained the ransom for a man I am trying to trace. I wanted to discuss the situation with the people who say they are holding him."
What man is this?" Cotys scoffed, as if it were news to him. Informers hope to take the lead in questioning, but when your job entails invading places where you are unwelcome, you soon learn to let interrogations proceed the other way round. His name is Diocles."
Is he a spy too?"
He is just a scribe. Do you have him?" I asked quietly. I had absolutely no hope that Diocles was aboard this ship, though he might have been here once.
We do not." The declaration gave Cotys great satisfaction.
Do you know who does?"
Does anyone have him?"
If you are asking that question, do you know that he is dead?"
I know nothing about him, Falco."
You knew enough to send his friends a ransom note."
Not me." Cotys grinned. The way he spoke made me believe him this time.
Ah! So you knew somebody else had sent the note? You then ambushed the money, stole it from under their noses."
Would I do that?"
I think you're clever enough." He was certainly clever enough to know I was issuing compliments to soften him up. As he chortled at the flattery, I asked quickly, So who sent the ransom note, Cotys?" He shrugged. I have no idea." He knew, all right. This man would steal from anyone, but he would want to be certain whose loot he was hijacking.
