Chapter 10

‘Was it really much of a fight?’ inquired Fulvius, eager for some gory details.

‘I was having it out with three bandits, alone and in the dark,’ explained Mencius. ‘Suddenly, Voldi appeared and joined in the battle. They would have finished me promptly but for this foolhardy fellow.’

Fulvius beamed toward Voldi and drawled, ‘Well—even if you do stick your nose into other people’s business, you shall have a drink.’

For three whole hours, over their dinner, the talk had been a recital of the Romans’ recent experiences, spiced with persiflage; and at length Mencius and Voldi were shown to their bunks in an adjacent cabin.

‘What are you thinking about so seriously?’ inquired Mencius, tugging off a boot.

‘You,’ replied Voldi, with a brief chuckle. ‘You astonished me today, Mencius. You play so many parts—and all of them so very well.’

‘Perhaps you are referring to our public formalities, as compared with our unconventional behaviour in private?’ asked Mencius, amused.

‘I shouldn’t have known you for the same man!’ said Voldi.

‘It’s only good usage among us,’ said Mencius. ‘It’s the Roman way of enforcing discipline. We officers have to be high-handed with our subordinates; and, in their presence, severely dignified in our attitude toward one another. It’s a serious and dangerous business, Voldi, keeping slaves and mercenaries in control.’

‘Ever try the other way,’ ventured Voldi, ‘getting acquainted with your men and showing them that you trust them?’

‘No; I never tried that, personally,’ admitted Mencius; ‘but it has been tried and it doesn’t work. Give the average man an inch and he’ll take a mile. Let the commanding officer show himself to be friendly and he is immediately suspected of being soft—if not scared.’

‘Our officials in Arabia do not strut and bark,’ said Voldi.

‘Of course not!’ agreed Mencius. ‘Why should they? Your King Zendi can eat with shepherds if he wants to, and they love him for it. But you’re all Arabians: one big family! Look what we have to deal with, Voldi! In my caravan there are rascally Philistines, sullen Parthians, slit-eared Macedonians, and all manner of scheming ruffians! And on this ship—why, if good old Fulvius relaxed his vigilance for a moment, the riffraff of a dozen nations would stick him in the back and toss him overboard! That’s why we’re cold and haughty and severe! It’s the Roman method of government—all the way down the line from the Emperor to the overseer of my caravan!’

After a reflective moment, Voldi said, ‘What if all the riffraff in the Empire organized?’

‘Slaves are hard to organize, Voldi. The Parthians would insist on having a Parthian as the great emancipator. The cut-throats of Sicily would follow only a Sicilian. It would take a very strong man to unite the Empire’s provincials!’

‘Like Alexander, maybe?’ wondered Voldi.

‘Much more powerful than Alexander! He would have to appeal to something that all these polyglots possess in common. I’m sure I don’t know what that would be.’ Mencius leaned over toward the table and snuffed out the lamp. ‘Let’s go to sleep, Voldi,’ he said drowsily. ‘It’s too big a problem to settle tonight.’

After a quiet moment, he asked, ‘Have you your dagger in bed with you?’

‘No,’ said Voldi.

‘Better get it,’ advised Mencius.

‘Is that a Roman custom?’ asked Voldi, suppressing a chuckle.

‘He is an impoverished and forsaken Roman,’ replied Mencius soberly, ‘who dares go to sleep without a dagger strapped to his wrist.’

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