Bibulus could not place the adjutant’s name, but he could not remember a time when the young man was not by the senator’s side, and had seen him oftentimes interjecting himself into Postumus’s conversations, as if his sole purpose was to stand ready as the voice of reason to offset the senator’s short temper. He had the polished disposition and intelligent features of one who had mingled among the circles of Rome’s political elite for most of his life, and although there were flecks of gray in his black hair, Bibulus guessed he could scarcely be over thirty years of age.
“It serves little purpose to bicker in this fashion, gentlemen,” the young man said agreeably. “And, Senator, please forgive me if I remind you that we have important business with the admiral that requires immediate attention.”
“Yes, yes. Quite right, Flavius,” Postumus said, then glancing at Bibulus, made the introduction. “I believe you know my aide, Gallio Flavius Albinus.”
“Yes, indeed. I am pleased to see you again, Flavius.”
“No less than I am to see you, my lord.” Flavius then gestured down at the sloop where several men waited at the base of the ladder amongst a vast number of sacks and amphorae. “We have brought nourishment with us, Admiral. Smoked meats, bread, nuts and figs, wine and garum. May we bring it aboard, and would you honor the senator as his guest as we feast in your cabin?”
“It appears you have enough to supply several feasts, young man.” Bibulus said, examining the plentiful cargo.
“Please forgive the supposition, my lord, but the senator did not want to impose on you, knowing the state of your own stores.”
Bibulus could nearly feel the gaunt faces of the Argonaut’s crew glaring at him. Was it his imagination, or had a hush suddenly descended on the deck? Perhaps his men waited to hear if he would accept the invitation while they continued to cope with quarter rations.
“You may indeed bring it aboard, Flavius,” he finally said. “Argonaut’s captain will see that the hoist is rigged out for you. But do not take it to my quarters. It serves our cause better if it goes to my crew. It shall all be laid out here on deck, and the captain shall then select forty of his best men to fill their bellies. While they are enjoying your most generous gift, we shall retire to my cabin.”
This drew a look of brief puzzlement from the aide and an annoyed sigh from the senator, who had obviously been looking forward to the meal. The crew, however, instantly put more vigor in their work, each man hoping that he might be chosen as one of the forty.
“As you wish, my lord,” Flavius shrugged, and then motioned for the men below to do as the admiral had directed.
Not long after, Postumus and Flavius sat in Bibulus’s quarters, sipping the admiral’s diluted wine and watching with disgust as he fed a handful of nuts to the caged Odulph, who belched after noisily chewing and swallowing each one. A shaft of sunlight cut across the room from the leeward portal, as if to act as a symbolic division between the admiral and his guests.
“I assure you, gentlemen, this fleet is ready to thwart any crossing,” Bibulus said, relishing the knowledge that Postumus sat there hungry while his sailors outside feasted. “To any man who claims otherwise, I point to our recent victory. The Senate did receive word of it by now, I assume? I sent a packet with the glorious news in my last dispatch.”
“Yes, indeed we did,” Postumus replied stiffly.
“Then perhaps you bring with you a commendation from the Senate? Perhaps that is the reason for your presence here? It certainly is warranted, I -”
“How presumptuous you are, Admiral,” Postumus interrupted curtly. “Of course, we have brought no such thing. You have our thanks, and that of the rest of the Senate, for doing your duty as any commander would, but we are here for other reasons, as you must well know.”
Bibulus seethed inwardly, wishing to have the arrogant buffoon thrown to the sharks for minimizing his victory, but he bit his tongue and continued tossing almonds to Odulph. Bibulus made himself take a deep breath before he spoke again. “Was the report not clear, Senator? Did you not read that thirty-one of the tyrant’s vessels now lie on the sea floor, and this without a single loss of our own?”
“The report was clear enough on that account, my lord,” Flavius said guardedly. “Unfortunately, the senator found it – shall we say – lacking in other areas.”
“Such as?”
“You included the tally of ships destroyed, but you failed to provide any details about them. Nowhere did you mention the types of vessels, nor any particularities, such as their names, their markings, and so on. You do understand why such details are important to us, do you not?”
“They were all burned. I am too busy to distract myself with such notions. Let Neptune sort them, eh? I only wish to sink them.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bibulus caught sight of Postumus gripping the arms of his chair in anger, but the equable Flavius continued the questioning in a polite tone. “The scant details in your report, my lord, left us all wondering if you had encountered a ship flying a peculiar banner – an orange banner, shall we say?”
Such tricksters they were, Bibulous thought, never taking his eyes from Odulph. They were vultures, all of them, just waiting for their chance to have him removed. They wished for him to fail, even tried to make him fail. They cared little if the tyrant was defeated, only about their own petty intrigues.
He remembered now, the ship with the orange pennant, which Libo had chosen to save. But how did these bastards know about it, and what was their interest in it? If the ship was so important to them, why had he not been informed to be on the lookout for it? He knew that Postumus and his colleagues whispered about the state of his sanity behind his back. Perhaps they had excluded him out of that fear alone. Very well, he thought. If they wished to treat him with such disregard, expecting him to somehow know their wishes but withholding the critical information he needed to fulfil them, then he would play the part of the mad admiral they all believed him to be.
“Come here, my pet,” he smiled and held out another almond for Odulph.
“For Jupiter’s sake, Bibulus, stop playing with that ape!” Postumus said hotly, rising from his chair. “Did you find the ship with the orange banner, or didn’t you?”
“You already know that, my old friend.” Bibulus smiled churlishly back at the irate senator. “Otherwise, you would not be here. Haven’t your spies ashore kept you informed? I’m sure you have enough of them in Caesar’s camp. I’m sure you even have agents hidden throughout my fleet. Don’t think I have not seen the mysterious pigeons taking flight from my ships at odd times of the day.”
Postumus gazed back at him defiantly, but said nothing.
“Well, then,” Bibulus said resignedly. “As I told you before, I burned the tyrant’s ships – every last one. They were all Caesarian scum. They’re all dead. The gods willed it, so it was done. There’s an end to it.”
Postumus fidgeted, red-faced and obviously enraged, but Flavius placed a hand on his arm to steady him.
“The orange-flagged ship, too, Admiral?” Flavius asked carefully. “No survivors?”
Bibulus sensed that the aide already knew the answer, and it perturbed him greatly to have to give it. Who were they to question him so? He carried imperium at sea, not these impotent politicians. Damn them and all their subterfuge! Damn their orange-bannered ship! They made it sound so important, as if it had borne the vestal virgins, when it had probably carried nothing more than a shipment of personal luxuries for the lazy Senators in Thessalonica. It was well known that many of the exiles regularly corresponded with those left behind in Italy to keep tabs on their estates. Bibulus was tired of it, and he resented having to walk gingerly to accommodate the personal needs of those who contributed nothing to the advancement of the cause.