The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China Read online

  “I’ll bet he did,” said Gaius, chuckling. “He has a... parsimonious reputation.”

  Aulus laughed, but Antonius looked askance at the apparent disrespect. “Come, come, most of us just say he’s cheap! But thorough and honest. So we briefed him on what we had done up to now, and how this would all benefit Rome and maybe, with the big-bottomed ships, make it more of a two-way trade. He liked that point, but wasn’t sure about funding private ventures.”

  “But then a few years ago, the Hanaeans sent a delegation to Rome. Needless to say, they got a huge reception in there, right up to the Senate and Trajan himself. The next I knew, I was the envoy to the Hanaean king, with five of the translators accompanying me for their return home. Not hard really... quid pro quo for the release of the fifty million sesterces for my ships.”

  “Fascinating! I am looking forward to traveling with you. And fascinating business in India. What do you trade there? I would like to know all about it.”

  “Oh, I trade a little bit of almost everything everywhere. It’s protection, really. Everything goes up and down in price, but never everything at once. India is good for pepper, ivory, artwork, saffron. Look at this!”

  Aulus led them to an alcove in a nearby wall, where a delicately carved elephant’s tusk in the shape of an elaborate ceremonial ship caught the dancing golden glow of the flickering lamplight. Exquisitely carved filigrees penetrated the tusk where, within, equally exquisite dragon’s heads cavorted with grimacing gods and goddesses. “This is a good sample of their workmanship. Each of the figures inside is smaller than your fingertip, and was carved from the outside.” Aulus admired his prize. “I shall also have to introduce you to a drink called tea, a hot drink. Marvelous on a night such as tonight, when the desert chill sets in. Someday all the world will drink it!”

  “Amazing. Who arranges all this shipping for you?”

  “I have a very good merchant master of fleets, Hasdrubal by name. He outfits and organizes all of my trading expeditions for me.”

  Antonius’ ears pricked up at the sound of that familiar name. Hasdrubal. Is this the one I was told to find? Wish that I had found him, rather than the one I was told to avoid.

  “Hasdrubal? Sounds Carthaginian.”

  “Phoenician. He is from Tyre in Lebanon.”

  “So what is involved in navigating there to India?” asked Gaius. “I looked at some nautical information in the Library today. Not being a sailor, most of the terminology was lost on me, except the part about two thousand miles of ocean to India. That’s a long time to be out of sight of land.”

  “Well, it depends on the ship. About twenty days is typical out of Eudaemon to landfall in India. We hope our new ships will do it in much less, maybe two weeks. The sailing season runs pretty much from June to September, with favorable winds, not too many storms. After that the storm season starts and you don’t want to be out sailing in that. The ships have to lay over and ride the reversed winds back in late fall.”

  He turned to Antonius. “It was a Greek who discovered that monsoonal wind centuries ago, one Hippalus. They call it the Hippalic wind. You know, you Greeks have a great seafaring tradition, going back to Homer and his ships on the wine-red sea. Far older than our Roman one. We are newcomers to the sea.”

  “Yes, sir. But Rome has made a business out of sea commerce, and yer have brought great new ideas ter sea travel.” Here he was, first generation citizen, talking to a full Senator. What he most wanted to do was return to some dive like the Bull and Dove - minus Ibrahim and his friends - drinking cheap wine neat with other commoners. His tongue felt thick in his month.

  “At ease, Centurion.” Aulus recognized the man’s discomfiture, and switched deftly from Latin to Greek. “If you can bear my Latin-accented Greek… you and I are partners in building this great Empire. We owe a great debt to you Greeks, for you taught us literature and philosophy, and laid the foundations for our government.” The senator laid a magnanimous arm around the uncomfortable centurion. “There are senators whose families were slaves just a hundred years ago. Rome is an aristocracy, where government is by the ariston, the best man fit for governing. Each of us are the ariston for a particular task... you for fighting, I am sure. I am not sure of my ariston. It would have to be for making money, I suppose!” he laughed, taking a sip of wine. “I think I have made far more money as a merchant than I have made laws as a Senator! So be proud of your Greek forebears, Antonius Aristides, of-the-best-men!”

  “Be careful of your invitation, Aulus Aemilius. This insolent Greek can talk the ears off a brass statue when you uncork his tongue.” Gaius Lucullus also placed his arm also across the man’s broad back, the up-from-the-ranks soldier pinioned in a half-hug between a multi-millionaire Senator and his legate.

  Livia wafted in, to take her husband by his other arm and lay her head on his shoulder. “My dearest Aulus Aemilius, there are some members of the Alexandria council of citizens who wish to meet with you. Can I pry you from my cousin and his friend?”

  “Certainly. Well, my dear Antonius,” he extended his hand warmly, “please let me know when you retire. I will arrange for a Senatus Consulto declaration in your honor.”

  “I… I would be most honored, sir, an’ thank yer, thank yer fer the many kindnesses.”

  “You’re most welcome. And to you, good cousin. We must continue a more leisurely discussion of our upcoming trip.”

  “Yes, and congratulations to you on your new heir. I was afraid that at your age the tax collector would make off with all your patrimonia before you could produce one. Good luck!”

  As the gallant old senator wandered off with his young wife, Gaius gave a low whistle. “That is quite an honor he is offering you, Antonius. Having the Senate bestow your equestrian status on you personally, rather than generally upon your group of retirees.”

  Antonius sighed. “Beggin’ yer pardon, but I have never been so uneasy in all me life. ‘T’would be easier to face a squad of Parthians bare-handed, than to do dinner party chat at this level of society. That man knows the Emperor personally... enough to joke about him!” The centurion hissed, trying to keep his voice low.

  “You did well, Antonius. In fact, both he and Livia seemed quite taken with you. Aulus Aemilius does not make idle promises, by the way. He will put together the decree on your equestrianship, and he will make it happen. Be sure you give him a date, when you have one. That will probably at least double whatever you are worth when you are out.”

  A wandering servant refilled their glasses from a ceramic jug, a retsina wine pleasing to Antonius’ Greek palate. Gaius motioned him toward a bench along the walls, in the shadows away from the crowd.

  “Now, come here to this bench. You were intently trying to tell me something earlier…”

  The atrium had a second floor balcony that ran around the inside perimeter, forming a covered porch on the first floor. Against the wall were rough-hewn wooden benches, to which Antonius and Gaius retreated. Oil lamps hissed softly, punctuating the darkness with amber.

  Antonius revisited the events of the day, beginning with the directions from III Cyr’s librarii to the Bull and Dove, his unplanned but somehow forewarned meeting with Ibrahim and his companions there, the improvisation about a fictitious report, and his hasty departure.

  “S’truth, sir! If I have failed yer, if I have put this mission in jeopardy, give me leave ter fall upon me sword, an’ I will do it now! Right here.”

  “I don’t think our hosts would appreciate that. It would be quite messy.” But he did not smile. “Were you followed?”

  “In town, probably, but I didn’t see a tail. But the ride out, after dark...no. I watched over my shoulder from the time we left the livery, and there were no riders behind. None.”

  “That’s good. You were in terrible straits. You are fortunate to not have your throat slit, and be tossed into some alleyway to feed the crows. They pick up bodies every morning here, take them out with the trash. Killed for whatever...and n
ot only were you at risk. A pursuer might very well have chosen to assault me, unsuspecting on the road with my sword unslung. Even now, one could lie in wait to assault one of the guests here, or even ransack the whole inn. It is lightly defended.” He paused for effect. “My good Antonius. Be seated. Put it behind you. You erred in leaping into a task without thought, but that is your way in battle... you charge and think later. For if you thought, you would surely never go in that direction, toward all those men with swords and clubs and sharp sticks trying to kill you, but the other way, toward a warm fire and hot food and lively women.” He laughed, and Antonius gulped and chuckled also, still rigidly trying to keep his emotions under control.

  “We will be going into a strange land, doing things beyond our ken or experience. You and I must trust each other completely. We must discuss things with each other like we did in the legions, so that the danger that I can’t see, you might, and the danger that you can’t see, I might. Don’t operate so independently that one or both of us is at risk. Didn’t we have this discussion once before in Noricum, you as a newly made ranker and I as subaltern? You were less respectful in your choice of words to me, but you yourself taught me that wisdom.”

  Antonius blinked.

  “Let’s review the bidding. You met someone named Ibrahim, who made small talk with you. Right?” Antonius nodded.

  “And Ibrahim may...or may not... be the Ibrahim the pirate you were warned of. Right?”

  “Sir, he was pockmarked.”

  “Yes. Various poxes are common here, as is the name Ibrahim. Some ancestral figure common to both the Judaeans and the Arabs. But that is still a lot of coincidences.”

  Antonius nodded again.

  “And as awkward as the situation was, you were wise enough to concoct a cock-and-bull story of a report about some Imperial relatives getting killed. Probably made him think twice about killing you… if he had the intention to do so. Right?”

  Antonius nodded.

  “You actually did well. Did you get him to buy you some wine?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you didn’t wind up in an alley, or press-ganged onto some tramp galley pulling oars under a lash, or missing your purse?”

  “No, sir.”

  Gaius laughed. “Count yourself lucky. I think you actually did well to keep your wits about you and get out alive. This area is not like the small frontier towns you are used to. People come, people go. People get lost here, and are never seen again. Just... lost.”

  “Stay out of town now for a while, especially that part of town, and don’t go exploring any part alone. In the meanwhile, when we meet with the legatus of III Cyr, your reporting may be helpful, whether or not you met the infamous Ibrahim bin Yusuf.” He slapped the centurion across his big shoulders. “Come, let us try some more good wine, rather than the rotgut stuff you drank at the Bull and Dove.”

  Gaius flagged a passing servant for more wine, and another servant to fetch two plates of roast lamb and onions.

  “So this is how the other half lives, sir. I thought yer said this was just a simple inn. Just yer basic simple inn, run by a Senator making millions of sesterces in the India trade.”

  “Livia and Gaius Galba do this for fun. They love getting out of Alexandria for the desert and this old taberna gives them an excuse. And it’s a cut above the Bull and Dove, I suppose. At least the wine here is better by your account. Tell me the truth...you actually found wine so bad even you could not stomach it?”

  Aulus Aemilius rejoined them before Antonius could answer. “You must come meet some of our escorts.” He took the two in tow to meet some of the foreign guests. “Gaius, Antonius, meet our Hanean representative, Wang Ming, his concubine Marcia Lucia, and her brother Marcus Lucius Quintus.

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Marcus, and “Pleased, also,” followed Marcia. Their excellent Latin and their Roman names did not match their peculiar appearance: straight, shiny black hair in tight buns, slightly yellow skin and slanted, almond-shaped eyes… though Marcia’s were a discomforting shade of blue grey that clashed with her appearance almost as much as her Latin. They were dressed in silk oriental robes of a wholly unfamiliar style.

  Wang Ming said, “Pleased.” He apparently had learned some Latin, but not well.

  “Uh, pleased to make your acquaintance.” Gaius offered his hand, but Wang Ming refused it, keeping his hands across his chest and offering instead a deep bow

  “Are you two related?” said Gaius to Marcus and Marcia

  “Brother and sister,” said Marcia.

  “How do you come to speak Latin so well, and have Roman names, and look so… so…”

  “Foreign? We are fellow Romans, with a few detours. Our great-grandfather was one of Crassus’ centurions at Carrhae. You have heard of that battle?” said Marcus

  “Who hasn’t, but that was a century and a half ago.”

  “He and several hundred survivors were taken back to Ch’in to serve as mercenary border guards, ending up in Liqian, which is the Hanaean pronunciation for ‘Legion.’” He pronounced the words as ‘shin’ and ‘li-shan’, apparently in Hanaean. “They took Hanaean wives, but passed their language and Roman heritage to their children. Alas, there are but a few of us left.”

  Gaius noted that Marcus’ Latin seemed a bit antiquated, like Ennius’ histories from his school days. But of course, it would be. “So… how did you come to be here… in Alexandria?”

  Marcus answered, “The Hanaean Imperial Court learned that we in Liqian spoke both languages fluently, and understood both cultures, and we became a prized commodity. We and eight others were brought to the court to be trained as translators for Gan Ying’s expedition.”

  As if on cue, Wang Ming said, “Thank you, we go now.” He then spoke to Marcia in a fluttering, bird-like speech, took her by the arm and steered her away.

  “Friendly one, that! Marcia is married to … him?” said Gaius, struggling to remember the unfamiliar syllables of the man’s name.

  “Marcia was made Wing Ming’s concubine at an early age. He is a pig, but that is the Roman in me speaking. Anyway, we were translators for Gan Ying on his mission to Rome, where we met with Trajan himself.”

  “Really!” said Gaius.

  “He issued declarations of citizenship for all of us Carrhae descendants before the Senate. Not that this will matter much when we get back to Ch’in.”

  “You refer to your home as Ch’in, but we call it the land of the Hanae. Which is correct?” asked Gaius.

  “Ch’in is the name of the land. It is ruled by the Han people, but the land is Ch’in.”

  Aulus interjected himself into the conversation. “Well, it is late, and my two soldiers must make it back to III Cyr by midnight, or sleep in the desert until the morning watch is posted. Gaius, will you and Antonius meet me here tomorrow afternoon? I want to take you to Alexandria to see one of my ships.”

  “We’ll be here. Good night, Marcus. My regards to your sister, and to… her consort.”

  “To be sure. A pleasure to meet you,” said Marcus.

  At the second hour of the night, the two soldiers took leave of the villa, and rode back to the camp through the chill February desert, the stars crisp and brilliant in the clear sky. A quarter moon spread shimmers on the breakers of the sea to their right as the road led above a hill in the darkness. They arrived at their quarters in the camp around midnight.

  CHAPTER 6: A DEATH IN THE CAMP

  Shortly after first light, Antonius roused Gaius Lucullus in his sleeping quarters with a bag of Egyptian flat bread and some cold drinking water.

  Gaius put on his tunic, then they supped on the simple breakfast. He was never talkative in the morning.

  “Well done, Antonius,” said Gaius, “That saved us a trip to the breakfast mess in the wee hours of the morning. Heavy-lidded army cooks are never pleasant company in the early hours, even to us officers.”

  Gaius donned his bright dress armor, buckling on the polished leat
her breast piece and the split-end leather skirt over his tunic, securing his bright red army cloak with a brass broach. He wiped a smudge from his gleaming bronze helmet and riffled through the scarlet plume to remove any dust. “Well, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever wear this piece of parade-ground gear again. Simple steel field armor has been our order of the day for the past few months. This dress uniform has been in my campaign locker for the last six months.”

  Antonius was similarly dressed, over a plain white tunic, but with more brass and bronze decorations.

  “Yer looks mighty fine this morning, if I may say so.”

  “As do you, Antonius.”

  “I thank yer for the visit to the Senator’s inn last night. That is a most impressive place.”

  “Well, we will have the opportunity for a brief stay there again soon. I think we can call it a business visit, so to speak,” he said, fitting on the gilded helmet and adjusting its fit in a brass mirror. “I knew that he was into maritime trading, but I was amazed at the extent of his work. If his Indian Ocean ships are as good as he says, our trip should be pleasant indeed.”

  “Probably more pleasant that what Ibrahim had in mind.”

  “I wouldn’t jest about that. Let’s go, we have a morning appointment.”

  The sun was just presenting itself over the eastern horizon, red against the desert, when the two arrived at the praetorium. “Gaius Lucullus of Legio XII Fulminata, legatus, with appointment to see the legate of Legio III Cyrenaica.”

  “Yes, sir. Legatus Quintus Albus Pontus is occupied with his morning meeting. However, if you will sit here in the anteroom, this meeting will be over shortly.” The young librarii, clad only in a white tunic, motioned them to some canvas campaign chairs by the wall, and returned to studying a scroll.

  The two sat quietly, listening to the scratching of the stylus against papyrus as the young clerk carried out his duties. They could hear rumbles of voices from the meeting behind the wall.