The lighthouse had gone dark. Its great bonfire had been allowed to die down as dawn wanly lit the wharves. The working day in Portus had begun long before I arrived, even though I had crossed the river on one of the first ferries. There could have been only a few hours between the last sailors rolling back to their ships after their night's carousal and the arrival of the most hard-worked labourers. The brothel appeared to be closed. I made my way slowly up the mole, gazing at the moored ships. Everywhere was quiet, but activity had begun on some of the vessels. A sleepy sailor spat into the harbour; I pretended to assume it was nothing personal. At the customs post, a clerk was sluggishly setting up the table. Ships with taxable goods could arrive in port even this early; in fact, a vessel was out by the lighthouse, manoeuvring so badly it was impossible to tell whether it was going out or coming in. The clerk and I exchanged faint nods; maybe he had seen me recently, talking to Gaius Baebius. Neither he nor anybody else seemed surprised to see a stranger at the port this early. On the docks, people take most things for granted, apparently. More likely, eyes were watching my every move. The three naval triremes were still moored together, still apparently deserted. Matched pennants wilted on their sterns, from which lines ran down to bollards on the quay. The usual sordid harbour litter bobbed in the dark water between them. The air was chilly. I had come with a cloak. It would be a nuisance later when the sun started to burn, but this way I could keep my sword out of sight. Reaching the far end of the mole, in the shadow of the lighthouse I turned and walked back the way I had come, tripping over half the ropes I had managed to avoid the first time. I could have wandered all around the other mole, but it was too far from the venue. Instead, I joined the men who stood at the bar of the Dolphin, warming themselves with hot drinks and breakfast snacks. Most had the glum fatalism of those starting their day's labour. One stood out. my brother-in-law -My heart sank.
Hello, Gaius. This is a surprise."
Marcus! I've taken a real liking to this place," Gaius Baebius informed me. His pomposity, was already irritating. It has become my local, since that day you and I discovered it." As he took my order, the noncommittal eyes of the proprietor told me the delight was one-way.
Ha! Discovered" makes us sound like territorial pioneers. All we did was walk along here with Ajax. How are your aches and painS?"
Still agony." Cursing myself for asking, I cut in brutally. Anyway, what are you doing here so early?"
I always come down to the port at this time. I like to get settled. Sometimes the view of the sunrise is very affecting." I was not capable of replying to poetic ideas, not at this hour, and certainly not. from Gaius. And you are working too, I suppose?" he asked me loudly.
I enjoy a good sunrise myself There was no point kicking his shin as a hint to shut up; he would Want to know, equally loudly, why I had kicked him.
Yes, I thought you must be here on surveillance; there are some of your friends from the vigiles." I groaned. As the sombre working men at the Dolphin all turned from their breakfast in one synchronised motion to stare, Petro, Fusculus and a selection of their troops sauntered from the ferry direction in twos and threes, unobtrusively, or so they had thought. The stevedores and bumboat rowers might have noticed the newcomers anyway; port workers could smell law and order men a mile away. But the vigiles' arrival was enough to disperse the breakfasters, leaving only a couple of stubborn loaders who watched what happened next with sour expressions, chewing their handfuls of bread and refusing to be bumped out of their routine. The vigiles replaced the departing breakfasters at the counter, where they ordered snacks of their own.
Got an operation on today?" Gaius asked, with his usual lack of tact. Fortunately, Lucius Petronius was chewing at that moment so could not bite off my brother-in-law's nose.
The sunrise will be lovely," I informed Petro as his brown eyes spoke movingly of overwrought feelings.
Nice!" Standing at the bar of the foodstall, we turned our backs to the counter, elbows on the marble. That way, we could gaze across to the Damson Flower unobtrusively. I saw a couple of the men go over to the building, then start surreptitiously checking for the back door. There was bound to be one. No self-respecting bar or brothel lacks a rear exit for a quick getaway, or to serve as a secret entrance for those who burst in for armed debt-collection or a surprise mass raid on the purses of the customers.
That place over the road does a roaring trade," observed Gaius. For a sleepy bug, his feelers were acute. He had honied in dangerously on our object of observation. The Damson Flower."
Yes, the first rays of sunlight are just starting to glint charmingly on the wonky roof finials," seethed Petro. Oh look, now the worn-out pornographic board is shining in the newborn light… Gaius Baebius, shouldn't you be at your tax table?" Gaius Baebius turned his large watery eyes to Petro, and made a huge show of catching on. Yes, Lucius Petronius, I must supervise those slackers who work for me."
Good man." Gaius left. The atmosphere improved immediately. The door of the Damson Flower opened a crack. A young man in a rust-coloured tunic and with rather short hair slipped outside and came over to the bar. He ordered bread and a drink, as if he had just come from a bout with a goodtime girl. Maybe he had. But he was undoubtedly a vigilis. He gave a slight shake of the head to Petronius, drank up, and then left. Another man, in a streaky green tunic, arrived on foot from the direction of the Island, and went straight to the brothel, where he was soon admitted. He definitely belonged to the Fourth Cohort; I recognised him. I remarked to Petronius, Some people will volunteer for anything!"
Sad, isn't it?" he grinned. The rest of his men gradually dispersed around the locality. Most had first obtained a bite to eat; the vigiles regard this as a sacred rite, which they must follow impeccably in order to placate the gods and guarantee the survival of Rome, Senate and People. Once satisfied, they merged into nooks around the port. Fusculus was slumped on his back against the base of a crane, looking like a bundle of rags or a partner in one of the criminal scams that fascinated him. I half expected a sidekick to be hiding nearby, ready to jump out and rob anyone who bent down to see if the apparent heart attack victim needed help. Petro and I remained at the Dolphin, with its excellent view of both the Damson Flower itself and the approach road from the ferries. We were talking about family issues. We took as our starting point Gaius Baebius, which led to how I had always loathed my brothers in-law, and the curious fact that my best friend was now one of them.
You may have to ditch Maia."
How about I adopt her? Then she stops being your sister, so I can't be your brother-in-law."
But Maia becomes your daughter so you are not allowed to sleep with her."
Bad plan!" Still filling in time, we discussed which of my brothers-in-law I hated most. This provided inexhaustible repartee. I could not decide between Verontius the road contractor, who was an obvious scab on society's nether regions, and Mico the plasterer, who looked fairly harmless, but who had a lot of faults, especially his terrible plastering. But Petronius had a particular down on Verontius, whom he once tried to arrest for bribery on official contracts; Verontius had got off without a stain on his character [he bribed his way out of the charge. We avoided all mention of Famia, who had been married to Maia until he died a couple of years back; I could not remember whether Petronius had ever been told of Famia's greatest moment. It was being kept a secret to save the children from the shame. Famia had been sent to the arena in Leptis Magna and eaten by a lion. Famia was a drunkard with an uncontrolled tongue, which was how he incurred his fate. But he had not achieved the depths of dirt, deceit, smelliness and absenteeism which were mingled into a flavour some brew by the toothless water-boatman father of my favourite nephews, Larius and Gaius. As soon as we mentioned Lollius, Lollius won outright. Time went by. Around us, the port had come to life. The few early loaders who had seemed to be working on their own initiative had now been joined by organised teams. Singing and joshing, they set about complicated manoeuvres, which often involved long periods of inactivity where men stood on the quayside and talked through how to approach their task. At other times they seemed to have no problem, but swung into action with practised assurance. Then sacks and barrels kept coming ashore or going on board in great quantity. At intervals along the mole, cranes had creaked into action, raising stuff from deep holds; usually the crane had a lonely operator, working with unseen companions who never seemed to communicate from the ship. If a load slipped, the operator had to leave the crane and remedy the disaster on his own. If he was lucky, a seagull came to watch. Handlers shifting produce manually crossed from one tightly packed ship to another, sometimes several, using gangplanks as bridges as they hauled amphorae of wine and olives or threw sacks and bales from hand to hand. Awkward items provided us with plenty of amusement. A whole string of Spanish horses had to be coaxed down a gangplank, teetering riskily even when someone suggested they be blindfolded. Divers arrived to work in one area of the dock, where a valuable commodity had been dropped in the water the previous day. We were there half the morning but the divers still had not found what they were searching for. We never discovered what it was. Petro wandered over to make friends with their supervisor since a contact among the divers might be useful to the vigiles. A new ranker arrived from the Island, looking nervous. He began to approach Fusculus, then noticed Petronius, who had spotted him and was hurrying back to the bar.
Sorry, chief- bad news. The scribes won't be coming after all." Petronius adjusted the position of his wine beaker on the counter; the gentle movement was deceptive and the scared messenger knew it. Tell me."
It's all a fix." Nervous of Petro, the ex-slave was rushing the story.
They started out, sure enough, got as far as the ferry, then had the money snatched off them while they were on the boat." Petronius now showed he was livid. I cannot believe what I'm hearing! How was this cocked up?"
The ferry was attacked by another boat."
What?"
Sure thing, chief. A gang had hijacked a tugboat. Four or five of them. The two scribes were coming over on one of the big Lucullan ferries Four different ferry services plied across the Tiber daily. The Lucullan line had multiple oars and took both passengers and heavy goods. They were big, unwieldy vessels.
And where were all of you?" asked Petro coldly. I told you to keep a close tail on the scribes."
We were in one of the vigiles skiffs, most of us. Parvus was supposed to stick with them on the ferry. Rubella said only one man was to be that close, in case they got suspicious."
Rubella Petronius came even nearer to the boil.
If a tribune wants to come on a mission, chief
If he does, you lose him! Tell me the rest of this disaster."
Parvus couldn't get on the right ferry, because of the crowds, so he was squashed on the Rusticelian one Just a rowing boat for passengers. But it was crossing at the same time, more or less parallel. He could see what was happening. The gang rammed the Lucullus ferry, jumped aboard, and ransacked the purses of everyone, all the passengers. Rubella reckons robbing the others was to make it look good."
He thinks the Damson Flower instruction was just to get the scribes on the river?" snarled Petro. This was how the money was always going to be collected? So the scribes had their chest taken in the scrum?"
Whipped off them and passed to the tugboat before you could blink."
So where was Rubella while this pastoral scene unfolded?"
In our skiff. Jumping up and down and spitting fire. He kept yelling to be rowed nearer, but to be honest, none of the lads is very good at steering." Every time a vigiles detachment was assigned to Ostia, the troops had to learn to manage their boat. In Rome they did not need one; there were bridges.
And where is Rubella now?"
Ostia. Comforting the scribes and explaining to them, they are just victims of a trick." Petronius ran his hands through his hair, taking this in. Always concerned for the men's safety, he asked in a more temperate voice,
Anyone attempt to fight back? Any casualties?"
Parvus. He jumped into the water and swam over from the ferry he was on. He managed to get aboard the Lucullan. He's a mad devil – he whacked one of the gang with an oar, nearly split his head open As fire-fighters, the vigiles are an unarmed force. They can do a lot with fists and feet, or they improvise. But then someone poked Parvus in the guts and he fell off the ferry."
Is he all right?"
He went under. Rubella and some of the lads jumped in after him. We fished him out, but that held us up. By then, the gang were back on the tugboat, laughing at us all as they rowed off at a lick down stream. We tried to follow but the ferries got in our way."
On purpose?"
Well, there was chaos. The current was swirling boats everywhere. The thieves seemed to know what they were doing on the water, but there were some collisions. I thought we were going to sink. We found the tug soon afterwards. They beached it by the Isis sanctuary; there's no sign of them now, and of course nobody saw anything suspicious when they landed there, or so they all say." The man fell silent, looking guilty. After a moment, Petro clapped the vigilis on the shoulders, to show there were no hard feelings. Then he signalled to Fusculus [who had been listening in, though at a careful distance. They summoned the troops and set about a full internal search of the Damson Flower.
Take this joint apart!" ordered Petronius. Sometimes he showed greater respect for people and property. But he had to relieve his feelings somehow.