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Authors: Lindsey Davis
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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 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 savior 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 quayside. There indeed were Maia’s four young children. Marius, Cloelia, and Ancus stood in a solemn line togther; they seemed to be calmly waving us good-bye. 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
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 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 savior 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 quayside. There indeed were Maia’s four young children. Marius, Cloelia, and Ancus stood in a solemn line togther; they seemed to be calmly waving us good-bye. 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
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