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.
XLVII
It was not the first time Petro and I had been in a brothel, always for professional purposes, of course. We had once risked our lives and our reputations in the biggest love nest Rome could offer, vainly searching for the gangster father-in-law of Petro's bugbear Florius. By comparison, the Damson Flower was tiny and its services basic, though like all port establishments it had its own salty colour. Small cells on two floors offered little more than hard, narrow beds. The deluxe ones each had a clothes hook outside in the corridor. The imperial suite boasted a cupboard containing a piss pot. Despite looking deserted from the quay, when we burst through the main door with belligerent vigiles greetings, the interior coughed up a slew of disreputable occupants. Sheepish sailors emerged from all quarters, many carrying kitbags and looking as if they were using the place simply as a cheap hotel. The girls came in many flavours, from sloe-eyed Easterners, through dusky dames from inner Africa with amazing busts and backsides, to a skinny Gaul with no bust at all who kicked Fusculus in the groin unexpectedly. They all had garlic breath and foul language. Several tried the old trick of shedding their clothes to disconcert us, where they were wearing clothes to start with. The madam called herself a Spanish dancer, but could never have been further than the Rome Gate at Ostia in her life. In doing this job for decades, she had probably acquired more technical knowledge of binnacles and foremasts than most ships" carpenters. The bouncer, at whom Ajax had barked so furiously the other day, was wearing a tunic that had played host to most of the moth population in Portus. It had more holes than cloth in between them; when he moved I expected clouds of little winged creatures to stream out as if we had disturbed a bats" cave.