Margo’s eyes widened. “Those are slaves!”
”Ostia is a trading port,” Malcolm pointed out. “And slaves are big business. Rome has had a slave economy for centuries.”
She followed the barge’s progress until it passed out of sight beyond a bend, then shivered. They rounded another curve in the river and the new port came into view. Ostia was just visible in the distance, more than two miles away across silty salt marsh. The new port rose from the marshes as though the gods themselves had set the giant stones in place.
Margo breathed, “Wow!”
For once, Malcolm shared her awe.
Two curving breakwaters had been constructed across the entrance to an enormous excavation. The main harbor-some one-hundred-seventy acres of it had already been dug and flooded. Between the two breakwaters, Roman engineers had built an artificial island A tall tower rose toward the bright sky, incomplete as yet. An artificial channel connected the newly dug harbor with the river.
Malcolm dragged over the bag containing his ATLS and log and slung it across his chest, bandolier style, then risked a quick scan with a digitizing camera which hooked into the log like an ordinary scanning mouse. He photographed the entire panorama, then steered for the middle of the Tiber. Now that he’d seen the whole layout, he was dying to get a closer look. Margo leaned over the prow like an excited kid.
”What’s that?” Margo asked, pointing to the tower. “A temple of some kind?”
”No. Much more important.”
She glanced around, brow furrowed. “Like what?”