THE PIRATES CHAPTER SEVEN - Page 2

THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Saul and his friend Marcus found themselves accompanying a cilicium caravan headed for the mountains. Both boys had their bedrolls, and Saul had with him a small basket that contained pastries, that he said, "Only my mother can bake. Shaphan and Mishna's favorites."

The first part of their journey crossed the bridge and continued along the main road leading west to the Cilician Gates. It had been completely paved with hand laid stones by the legions of Augustus. As they moved leading through the green fields that spread like a carpet at the foothills of the mountains, Saul said, "This used to be a dirt trail when my Grandfather Ben-Lemuel first started his cilicium trade. You know it must have been so difficult to travel then."

Off to their right they could see stables and corrals for the famous Tarsian horses. The boys watched with fascination as they passed a group of Persian riders training some very spirited horses. A knot of Roman soldiers stood by observing. No doubt these were mounts for a cavalry unit.

"I was not aware," said Marcus, "that this place was famous for its horses before I came here. We didn't hear much of Tarsus in Rome."

"From the days of the Persians," replied Saul, "horses were bred and trained here for the famous mounted Persian cavalry. It is said they are some of the finest in the empire."

Closer to the mountain road, they began to see herds of black-haired nanny goats grazing. Some of them had suckling kids with them. Spring was the season for bringing the nannies down for giving birth. In another few weeks the nannies and kids would be taken to the high country to join the main herds. Young goats were very clever at mountaineering. They possessed these skills by instinct.

Several spreading shepherd's tents were pitched in the area, adding to the picturesque backdrop of the deep green fields. It was a warm spring morning, and the melting snow on the peaks that towered above, filled the stream beds with fresh runoff. The air was full with the sounds of nature, blackbirds, larks, rushing water, and the distant bells of the goats.

"Quite a change from Tarsus," said Marcus. Even as he spoke, there was the sound of a heavy wagon approaching. When it came over a rise and into full view, it proved to be one from a logging camp in the mountains.

"Now that this road is so well paved," said Saul, "the logs do not all have to floated to the mills. These logs are long and straight. They will be peeled for masts."

"On which sails of cilicium will be hoisted," Marcus added.

The cilicium caravan consisted of smaller carts. They moved to one side of the road and waited to let the large wagon pass. When it had disappeared around the bend in the road, more carts could be seen approaching in the distance.

Marcus said, "Saul, I was not aware that Tarsus would be such a place of commercial activity. When my father first mentioned that we would be moving here, I was not happy, thinking it was some isolated settlement. But I have never enjoyed myself anywhere as much as here. Tarsus is beautiful and cultured. The countryside is rugged and beautiful and filled with new things to discover."

"I like the variety of people who live here, but for my taste, everything is still a bit too Grecian," said Saul, in a not-too-complimentary tone of voice. "Greek architecture, culture, theater, dress, language--in spite of the fact the Romans control the city."

Marcus laughed at Saul, whose facial expression said more than words.

As they neared the foothills, Saul said, "The caravan will stop here and wait for the shepherds to come down from the canyons with their bundles of sheared cilicium. You and I will go on alone. We can walk up the main road or follow that shepherd path over there." He pointed to a steeper path, saying, "This will take us to Shaphan's house much faster. What would you like?"

Marcus nodded eagerly in the direction of the path to which Saul had pointed. As the carts stopped and pulled into the shade of a grove of locust trees beside the road, the boys said goodbye to the drivers, took their bundles and ran for the path leading up the shoulder of the mountain range.

They had not been climbing long before Saul noticed his friend was breathing heavily. Without acknowledging that he had noticed this, he suggested they pause for rest.

Marcus, on the other hand, found it hard to believe that his more slightly built Jewish friend seemed to be in so much better physical condition than he. Was Saul's apparent ease in mountain climbing due to the fact he had done it so much? Or did he possess an extraordinary constitution?

Pausing on a grassy mount, Saul set down the basket, and from beneath its cover took for the first time since leaving the city some of the refreshments his mother had prepared. "Shaphan's wife Mishna will provide us with fresh provisions before we begin our descent in the morning," said Saul. "Parthian traditional food is quite different but surprisingly good."

From the mound where the boys relaxed beneath the shade trees, they could look southward and see the blue waters of the Mediterranean. Although it was ten miles distant, they could still see the sun's reflection on the sails of the ships near the coast. The view was exhilarating.

The boys finished their noon meal and rested. When they felt ready, they continued up the mountain. After cresting several false rises, Marcus panted, "Every time we reach the top, someone moves it."

Saul laughed heartily at his friend. "Just two more mountaintops and we're there," he promised. They had been following the ridge of the canyon containing the main road as it wound toward the pass. Now their path had taken them below the ridge and into the shaded side of the canyon. Listening, above the pounding of his own heart, Saul detected the sound of an axe chopping wood further above them in the canyon. "That's the place. Almost there."

Finally they reached a high grassy bench where a dark cave stood beneath an overhang of rock beside a bubbling clear spring. The cave had been improved with a sheltered forward wall of hewn timber. A full cabin had been constructed inside the cavern. Its massive wooden door stood open. Decorative window shutters had been thrown wide to the spring air, and a garden of flowers had been planted beneath each window, signs of a woman's touch. Smoke curled from a stone-and-mud oven built into the front wall of the cabin. The smell of baking bread caused their mouths to water.

"Shaphan, Mishna!" called Saul.

Shaphan, a broad shouldered man with a dark curly beard came around a tall wood pile that had been concealing him from their view. He carried a large axe in one hand. Upon recognizing Saul he dropped the axe.

"Mishna, come! What a surprise, it is Benjamin's son!" The big hairy man hurried over, wearing thick wool pantaloons and a leather vest. He embraced Saul heartily, lifting him off the ground. "Saul, Saul, you are growing up too fast! Stop that, will you!"

"I wish I would grow faster," Saul laughed. "What are you doing here? I thought you would be with the herds."

"Well, I have help these days, you know? The cilicium trade has made me a rich man. Of course, not as rich as the rabbi." He winked.

Just then Mishna appeared from inside the house, wiping her hands on a cloth. She had been preparing food. She was a fiery red headed woman with several missing teeth. She moved with the power of a man as she rushed to Saul and scooped him up in an embrace. "Oh, you are more like your grandfather than your father. Isn't he, Shaphan? This boy is a special one. It is just all over him. How is Benjamin and your mother?"

"They are well and send their greetings, not to mention this--" he held out the basket.

She took and sniffed under the cover, closing her eyes with pleasure. "Esther always thinks of us."

"It is so good to have you visit," Shaphan said. "And who is your friend?"

Saul turned quickly to Marcus. "Shaphan, Mishna, my good friends, I want you to meet the grand nephew of Cicero. This is my new friend and neighbor, Marcus Tullius."

Shaphan eyed him a bit skeptically but extended his hand with a smile. "Any friend of Saul's is always welcome here." Turning to his wife he said, "Mishna, dear, perhaps we should feed these hungry boys. Saul, you will stay the night?"

"Yes, we would love to."

Mishna took the basket and turned to the cabin with fresh energy. "I had better prepare you the meal you need after such a journey."

Meanwhile Shaphan located and placed willow chairs for them in the neatly kept yard. After spreading each chair with sheepskins, which he folded several layers thick, he motioned the boys to sit down. He fetched a small bag of tea and began to chew it, stuffing it into his lip, as the boys plopped into the fleece comfort to rest their weary bodies. From far below, the rumble of the heavily laden wagons, ascending and descending on the Roman cobblestones, reached their ears.

"They have been late getting through the Gates," said Shaphan. "Sometimes the traffic of wagons, carriages, and military convoys are so numerous these days, they have to wait a half day to make the pass. I remember the days when a full day would pass without the sound of one cart on that road. Sometimes several days. Those days are long gone now. We hear traffic even through the night now."

"I would so much like to see this famous pass," said Marcus.

"It would be impossible to see it tomorrow and be back in Tarsus by nightfall," Saul replied.

"Why not stay an extra day?" the shepherd suggested. "Then you could leave early the following morning for Tarsus."

Marcus felt gratified with the shepherd's suggestion. Even if he did not get to see the Cilician Gates, it was the warmth of his suggestion that made him feel accepted and treated like a friend.

Mishna could be heard busily preparing food inside. She hummed and sang as she worked, obviously pleased to be cooking for guests. The fragrant aroma of curried herbs, baked goat cheeses, coffee and roasting lamb drifted through the open door, making it difficult for Marcus and Saul to think of anything else. The atmosphere in the city at this time of the year was warm and humid, and the mountain air was delightfully refreshing to them.

As the sun continued toward the west its rays began to brightly illuminate a cliff on the opposite side of the canyon. For several minutes, Marcus had been staring intently in that direction. He suddenly exclaimed, "If I am not mistaken, I see men on that opposite canyon wall, and they are entering what appears to be a cave."

Shaphan chuckled. "You are seeing right, my lad. That is Chebar and Kho."

Saul looked knowingly at Shaphan. The existence of these two men had not been something he had expected to be discovered.

"Are they your shepherds?" asked Marcus, curiously.

"Sometimes," replied Shaphan mysteriously, with a low laugh. "They have lived here since I was about seventeen or eighteen years old."

"And what do they do when they are not herding goats?"

"Well, Marcus, they once spent more time at sea."

Marcus thought Shaphan's answers were deliberately evasive. His imagination raced. "Should I stop asking so many questions?"

"No, you may ask anything you like."

After a moment of watching the two men moving about the cave on the opposite canyon, he asked, "How often do you see them."

"Oh, once a week when they're home. They come over for goat's milk and cheese, and some of the bread that Mishna bakes. They say no one bakes bread like my wife. They don't need to pay me, although they usually insist on leaving dates or figs."

"Shaphan, do pardon me, but I am intrigued. You say they come regularly to see you. You know them by name. They are often absent. But not at sea all the time. Where do they go? There is no place for horses or wagons where they are. How do they . . . ?"

Shaphan looked secretly at Saul and winked. He quietly said, "Marcus, if you must know, I will have to ask you to be as quiet about this as your friend Saul is."

"I swear, by Jupiter--"

"--No swearing. Just a promise that you will keep their secret."

"I promise," Marcus said eagerly.

"They are pirates."

"Pirates!" exclaimed Marcus. "I knew it! Pirates! Every Roman boy studies about pirates. Surely these are retired pirates, right, Shaphan? The ones of which I have read traveled the seas raiding coastal villages, or other ships carrying cargo."

Shaphan replied, "That was basically true for these two until the time of Pompey and now Octavian--I guess I should call him Augustus."

Marcus interjected, "Two hundred years ago, Rome tried to rid the Adriatic of pirates in preparation for the conquest of Greece. The pirates had become very strong. They were so proud and bold, some of them sailed in and out of ports, with purple sails and silver tipped oars."

"You have learned much in your Roman school. Tell us more."

Marcus felt pleased that he was being asked to relate what he was indeed familiar with. "Well, before Pompey waged war on the pirates, Julius Caesar was taken captive by them right down here along your coast. They held him captive somewhere in Cilicia." His eyes grew wide. "Perhaps in that very cave right over there."

Shaphan chuckled, wriggled his eyebrows and spit a dark stream of liquid from his mouth.

Marcus continued. "Well, the pirates demanded a ransom of 20 talents for Caesar's release. Caesar was enraged. He was worth much more than that. He told them his ransom should be at least 50 talents, and so the pirates asked for that much. While Caesar's servants went in search of the ransom money, Caesar relaxed and wrote poetry and read it to his captors for his own amusement." Marcus lowered his voice; "But he said they were too stupid to enjoy or appreciate his talent as a poet. His servants delivered the 50 talents, and Caesar was released. 'I will return,' he vowed. Who knows, perhaps they thought they might be able to repeat their performance and kidnap him again, but at least he was set free.'

"Julius Caesar went straight to Miletus where he raised a small army to go after the pirates. And he did return, as he vowed he would, and captured and crucified them. It was said, however, that being a merciful man who had grown fond of the pirates, he cut their throats before he crucified them.'

"So," chuckled Shaphan, pulling the wad of chewed leaves from his mouth and tossing it over the edge of the grassy bench, "that's how they tell the story in Rome. Heh, heh. Around here there is another story. Julius Caesar returned and could not find his pirates because they were not stupid enough to sit around waiting for him. They had run off to Persia with their booty. So he slit the throats of a group of sheep herders that he claimed were the pirates-- presumably so they could not talk--then he crucified them. After all, if Caesar had been kidnapped, he had to make an example of someone."

Marcus fell silent.

"Are you surprised, my Roman friend, to learn that there are other sides to a story so well accepted in Rome?"

"Yes, I am," Marcus said slowly. "But maybe I shouldn't be."

Shaphan roared with a peal of laughter. "Well, you will have to sort out the truth from fiction in that one, lad. I wasn't there, nor was my father Ruel. We cannot tell you what really happened. What else did they teach you about pirates in Rome?"

It took Marcus a moment to recover his line of thought. "Well, twenty years after Julius Caesar was kidnapped the pirates became so strong that hardly a shipment of grain could get through from Egypt. The price of grain rose to 20 sesterces a peck. Pompey told the Senate if they would give him 125,000 armed men, and 500 vessels, and a budget of 144,000,000 sesterces, he would in a period of three years' time, rid the Mediterranean of pirates. The Assembly unanimously approved it." Marcus suddenly felt sheepish. "Actually Shaphan, I am just a student. You must know more about these things than I do. What have you learned from these pirate neighbors?"

For a moment Shaphan did not answer. He turned to Saul. "If you and your friend Marcus wish to go up to the Cilician Gates tomorrow, I will invite Chebar and Kho to come for an evening meal. They may be willing to tell their own story." Then looking directly into Saul's eyes, he said, "I could only do this if you are sure your friend can be trusted to keep in confidence what he hears."

Marcus responded before Saul could answer. He stretched out his hand to the shepherd saying, "I pledge on my word of honor, sir, as a Tullius, that I will never repeat what I hear."

Shaphan chuckled.

"He means it, Shaphan," said Saul with a wink. "Trust him."

Just then Mishna appeared, bearing steaming platters of food. She set them on a table in the open and the others gathered quickly around. The smells of the food and the freshness of the air intoxicated the boys senses with a memory they would not soon forget. As they took their first bite of the delectably roasted goat, the stars began to appear above them. In the distance a jackal howled.