 CHAPTER XI. The wind held strong, blowing them toward western Sicily with little work on their own part. Now and again they spoke other ships. This was a well-trafficked sea. Eoden, whose height and accent could never be taken for Italian, followed Freini's advice and told them he was a gall out of Messiglia for Apollonia, and then they dipped under the marching horizon. The first day passed somehow. Eoden busied himself with Tior, learning what seamanship a surly Demetrios could pass on. He dared hardly speak to Flavius, but the Romans stayed in the forecastle most of the time the Cymbrian was on deck. Quicca kept her cabin, whelmed by sickness from the roughening sea. It had never before occurred to Eoden that the ills of the body could be merciful. Do you stay with her the voyage? He told Freini. I will take the tent. She stared at him. He barked as though to a slave. Do what I say! Her eyes grew blurred, but she nodded. The crew came on deck, idled in the sun till Tior went roaring among them with instruction in the deck-hand arts. He had to knock down a couple before he got some obedience. Where best you keep all the weapons, he said to Eoden. The Cymbrian nodded. With a dim try at a jest, even yours? If you wish, said Tior, surprised. He wore a sword at his thick waist, but spare me my hammer. Hanging by a thong around one shoulder it was an iron-headed mallet, a foot and a half long and some fifteen pounds in weight. Oh, keep your sword, said Eoden. But what would you with that tool? I found it a good weapon yesterday, though a little too short in the half. It needs more strength to wield than a battle-axe, but I am strong and it will not warp or break when needed most. Tior's red-furred hand caressed the thing. And then we of the Rukansa, or a horse-loving folk, who honored the smith trade above all others. It feels home-like to carry a sledge again. Then last, but foremost, Captain, this hammer broke the chains off me. For that it shall have a high place in my house on the dawn, and I shall offer its sacrifices. The Eoden found himself warming to the Sarmation. He asked further. The Elans were only barbarians in the sense of doing without cities and books. They were a widespread race, many tribes between the Dniper and the Volga, who farmed and herded for a living. They bred galloping warriors, word-crafty bards, skillful artisans. They traded with the Greeks on the Black Sea, and had not only meat and fish and hides to sell, but cloth and metal shaped by their own hands. Times are not what they have been in the lands of Azov. Rumble-Jor. We are getting to be too many for our pastures. A dry year means a hungry winter, and the Greeks press upon us. It was in a raid on them that I was captured. Nonetheless, I am of high blood among the Anza, and now you are my chief. You shall have a good welcome. I hope you will remain, but if not, you shall go where you wish, with gifts and warriors." "'Let us first get to your dawn river,' said Eoden. He turned from the Alan, knowing he heard him by such curtness, but he could not speak of hope when Huica lay farther from him than Rome from Simberland. Could it but be judged by the sword between him and Flavius? But death was no remedy, thought Eoden, and that knowledge which he had not had before was bitter within him. The day and the night passed. He noticed that the crew were beginning to talk in small groups, on the deck or down in the south. The former captain jerked a thumb at the sight as he neared. He thought little of it. When he came from his tent next morning to take his watch with Demetrios, there were cloud-banks piled wide in the south. The former captain jerked a thumb at the sight. "'There you are,' he said, "'that marks Sicily. We'll round Lillebiam to-day. Then we'll have to come about on an east-south-east course. Don't like cutting over open sea myself, but we can't get lost very bad. Dare say, we'll raise Africa round Cyrenaica, then follow the coast to Egypt.' And abandoned the ship on some unpeopled beach, not in Eoden. He saw of a sudden that his crew was gathering under the poop. Some had been on deck already, now others emerged in answer to low-voiced hails. Only Flavius and the Helmsmen remained apart. Jor unshipped his hammer, walked to the poop's edge, and looked down. The wind tossed his hair and beard like flame. "'What's this?' he said. "'What are you muck-toads up to?' "'A very young man, dark and aquiline, not all the eagerness whipped out of him, waved his hands at the others. "'Come, follow me,' he said, "'this way. Stick close. "'We've all decided, now we've all got to stick together.' They shuffled their feet, sheepish under Eoden's chilling green gaze. A burly man in the rear began to herd them along, slapping at stragglers. They drifted toward the Cymbrian. "'Well?' said Eoden. The youth ducked his head. "'Master Captain,' he began, "'I am called Quintus. I am from Saguntum in Spain. The men have chosen me, fair and open, by free vote to speak for us all.' "'And?' Eoden dropped a hand to his sword. The black eyes were uneasy beneath his, but there was a mongrel courage in them. "'Master Captain,' said Quintus, "'were not unmindful of being freed.' Though none of us was asked, and some would not have voted to desert their posts if they'd been put to the fair democratic test. For Mark, you master, it wasn't a very merry life, but you got your bread, and you rested ashore between voyages. Now we can look for nothing but slow death, the innocent with the guilty if we're caught.' "'I do not intend to be caught,' said Eoden. "'Oh, of course not, master.' The boy washed his hands together, servily, and cringed. But he did not leave the spot where he stood. And behind the silent, shuffling mass his big confederate held a piece of broken ore to prod the reluctant into place. "'There is money abroad,' said Eoden. "'When we come to Egypt and beach this hulk, we shall divide the coins and go our separate ways. Would you not rather become a free Alexandrian worker than sit chained to a bench all your life?' "'Well, now, sir, the free man is often only free to starve. An owner keeps his slaves fed, at least. Some of us is right unhappy about that. We don't know how to go about finding work in a strange land. We don't know the talk, nor customs, nor anything. The older of us are all too plainly slaves, with marks of shackle and whip, may be a brand. And what have we got to prove we was lawfully freed, if anyone asks?' "'Master Captain, we have talked about this a long time and reached a fair democratic decision, and now we crave you listen to it.' Eoden thought grimly, "'It is another thing I do not understand that a slave need not be pampered to embrace his own slavery.' He said aloud, forcing a grin. "'Well, if you want to be chained again, I can oblige you.'" A few men snickered nervously. Quintus shook his head. "'You make a joke, Master. Now let me put it to you square, as man to man. For we are all free comrades now, thanks to you, Master Captain. But we are all outlaws, too.' "'None dare go home, unless they come from a far barbarian land. None of us from civilized parts can ever return, now can we. But we've got this ship, and we've got arms. There are not so many of us yet, but with the first success we can have more like ourselves, and the eastern sea is full of trade. I know these waters myself. There is also many an island around Greece where nobody ever comes to hide on, and many a lesser port we could sail into to spend our earnings, where no one asks how it was earned.' "'Get to the point, you dithering blubberhead,' said Jor. "'You want to turn sea bandits? Is that the way of it?' The Spanish youth shrank back, swayed forward again, and shattered. "'Pirates, so, pirates, Master Captain, free companions of the mid-world sea. There's no other hope for us, not really there isn't. If caught, and many of us would surely be caught, wandering into Egypt by ourselves, we'll die anyhow. This way, if the gods are kind, we'll not die at all. Or if we do, we'll have good times before.' "'Pirates,' mumbled the crew. "'Pirates! We'll be pirates!' Jor leaped down to the main deck, so it thudded beneath him. He walked forward in a red bristle, his hammer aloft. "'You fish-eyed slumber-guts!' He roared, "'Back to your duty!'' The burly man hefted his broken oar. "'Now, Master Mate,' he said, "'Be calm. This was voted on. Ah!' Democratic,' supplied Quintus. "'So now a ship is to be a republic,' called Flavius from the poop. "'I wish you joy of your captaincy, Yoden!' The Cymbrian closed fingers about his sword. He could not feel the anger that snapped from Jor. It seemed of no great importance when Wicca had cloven herself from him. "'I do not wish this,' he said mildly. Emboldened the Spaniards stepped close to him. "'Oh, Master Captain, there was no thought of mutiny,' he exclaimed. "'Why, we are your best friends. That was the first thing I said when we met to talk this over. The captain is our captain,' I said, and, I have better things to do than skulk about these waters. "'But Captain, sir, we'll be your men. We'll do anything you say,' the boy grinned confidently, pressing his words in. "'Just treat us like men, with some rites of our own, is all we ask.' "'I'll treat you like an anvil first,' snorted Jor, his hammer lifted. "'No, wait,' Yoden caught the mate's arm as Quintus scuttled back squealing. "'Let them have their way.' "'Deesa,' said Jor, with horror, "'you turn into a louse-bitten pirate who could be a king of the Rukansa?' "'Oh, no. We shall still leave the ship in Egypt as we planned, but if they want to take it afterward and go roving, it is no concern of ours.' Yoden bent close, muttering, "'Until we do get there, we'll need a willing crew.' "'We'll have one, if you'll let me bang loose a few teeth,' said Jor. "'I know this breed. Yellow dogs. They'll lick your feet or pull out your throat, but nod in between.' "'It is not my pleasure to fight our own men,' said Yoden coldly. "'But—but—well, so be it, my chief.'" Yoden turned back to the others. "'I agree thus far. You may have the vessel after I have disembarked at my goal. Meanwhile, I advise you to learn better seamanship.' "'But, Master Captain,' said Quintus, "'we know you and the honored mate are the best fighters aboard. We want you to lead us.'" Yoden shook his head. "'Well, will you lead us against any ships we may happen to find before you depart?' Yoden shrugged. "'As you like, provided, I think it's safe.' "'Oh, indeed, Master, indeed!' the boys spun around to face the men, raising his arms. "'Give thanks to the captain!' "'Hoy!' cried Demetrios in dismay. "'What about me?' "'You'll do as you're told,' said Jor. Demetrios gulped and looked appealingly at Flavius. The Romans smiled, winked, and came down the poop ladder. "'Your watch,' he said. After a while, Yoden began to regret not following Jor's counsel. His crew had become still more slatterly. Now they would do nothing but sit about boasting of their future, until he finally kicked them into sullen labor. Quintus sidled up in the afternoon and proposed that the weapons be handed out so the men could practice. Yoden told them they should first practice being sailors. Quintus argued. He would not stop arguing until Yoden finally knocked him to the deck. He slouched off, muttering, to find his big friend. Toward evening, Quika came on deck. She was supported by Frany and her face was pale. Yoden's heart turned over. He went to her and asked, "'Do you feel well, my darling?' "'Better,' she said dully, but so tired. Frany, who had not followed their cymbric, said angrily to Yoden. She shivers with cold. I have no warmth to give her.' He said in the northern language, "'Would you have me stay with you to-night, Quika?' "'As you wish,' she said. "'You are my husband.' Yoden left her, went to the hearth, and struck the cook with his fist for a bad supper. Presently, Quika returned to the cabin. Frany sought Yoden. Was it only the sunset that reddened her eyes?' He said in a jagged tone, "'I do not know what is wrong between you two. I can only guess, but I will sleep no more with her.' "'You can have the tent back, then,' said Yoden bitterly, and I will roll a blanket on deck, since it appears we must all be sundered from each other.' "'Before Hades, I wondered now if she may not be right,' yelled Frany. She stamped her foot, whipped about, and ran to the tent. She was still wearing the boy's tunic, bare-legged, for there were no women's garments aboard save Wicca's dresses too large for her. Quintus, squatting by the rail with his friend, the big man called Narces, stared after the Greek girl, and smacked his lips. Yoden paced the deck in wrath, wondering what unlucky thing he had done. Well, the night wind take them all. Frany, who would not help his wife when she needed help, and Wicca, who had become a Roman's whore, and—' By the bull, no. He would not say that of her. If it were true, the only thing would be to cast her off, and he would not do that.' He raised his hands toward the early stars. "'I would pull down the sky if I could,' he said between his teeth. "'I would make a bale-fire for the world of all the world's gods, and kindle it, and howl while it burned. And I would tread heaven under my feet, and call up the dead from their graves to hunt stars with me, till nothing was left but the night wind.' No thunderbolts smote him. The ship ran onward, dropping the dark mass of Sicily astern, the last red clouds in the west smolder to ash, and then to night. The moon stood forth, insolently cool and fair. Yoden had no wish to sleep, but he saw that Demetrios was dangerously worn, so he sent the man af to rouse Flavius and Chor. "'We can hold this course all night,' they tell me,' he said to the Allen. "'The wind is falling, so we won't go too far. Call me if anything seems to threaten.' "'Dah!' Chor's small bush-browed eyes went from Yoden to the closed cabin door. He shook his head, and the moonlight showed a bemused compassion on his battered face. As it will, Captain.' Flavius hung back well into the shadows. He did not follow Chor, and the new watch aft until Yoden had departed. The Cymbrian rolled himself into his blanket forward of the mast, so the sail shadow would keep the moon from his eyes. He sought sleep, but it would not come. Now and again he heard bare feet slap the planks, a man on watch or one come from below for some air. It was warmer to-night than before. His skin prickled. He cursed wearily, forbade himself to toss about and lay still. If he acted sleep, perhaps he could draw sleep. It seemed as though many hours went by. Surely the night was old. He opened one eye. The same stars, the same moon. It had only been his thoughts treading the same barren circle. What use he thought was a kingdom, what use even was freedom, when... There was scuffling, very faint up in the bow. Yoden opened both eyes. Some noise, mice. No, it was heavier. He glanced aft. He could see Flavius and the Helmsmen, chore blocky against the milky way. They had seen nothing, heard nothing. Indeed it was very faint. Up in the crow's nest the lookout stood gazing into nowhere. Well, no matter. The bow-lookout would have cried any needful alarm. Yoden sat up. But where was the man in the bow? He remembered dimly that, yes, the Narciss man had traded for that watch about sundown. Narciss hulking shadow did not show above the forecastle. There was only Freini's tent. With a cold thought of long-necked monsters raiding ship's decks for their food, Yoden sprang to his feet. Soared out, he glided toward the forecastle. Up the ladder the struggle was within the tent. Yoden howled and lifted its flap. It splashed Quintus' grinning face. He knelt on Freini's arms, one hand over her mouth and the other on her breast. No one has to know, my beautiful! He had been whispering. Narciss' knees held her thighs apart. He was just lifting her tunic. The Yoden struck. He felt his blade great along a rib. Narciss' hands loosened. He straightened on his knees, plucking at the steel in his side. Yoden pulled it out and Narciss coughed up blood. Yoden struck him again between the jaws so that it crashed. The sword came out the back of his neck. Quintus leaped from the upper deck. Help! he wailed. Help, man! Help! Freini struggled from beneath Narciss. Her tunic was drenched black under the moon with his blood. Are you harmed? croaked Yoden out of horror. No, she said in a blind, stunned fashion. You came soon enough. She looked at her dripping garment, and a shudder went through her. She undid her belt and flung the tunic over the side. But I would have bled so much less, she cried. What is it, bald shore? Stand fast! The crew boiled from the hatch. Yoden put his foot on Narciss' face and tugged the sword free. It took all his strength. He sprang down to the main deck. Where is Quintus from Saguntum? he roared. Bind me that awful before I kill the rest of you. He swirled and screamed on deck, blue shadows mingled in the white, relentless moonlight. Chor went among the crew, striking with the butt of his hammer. Yoden saw Quintus huddled up against the poop, hands raised before his face. There! he shouted. There! Help! shrieked the boy. Help me! He has gone mad, shipmates! Hold off that barbarian! It was a while before some sort of calm had been restored. Then Yoden stood before Quintus and said, This creature tried to violate a woman. You have heard the punishment? Nail him up. No, no, no, shattered Quintus, it isn't so, mates, it isn't so. She lured us herself, she did, she begged us to come to her. Look at her there, flaunting herself. Her eyes all went forward, where Friny wept as she stood at a water-bucket, sponging Narciss blood off her skin. It's just his jealousy! This barbarian is a worse tyrant than Overseer ever was! Are you going to stand for this, mates? Chor tossed his hammer in the air. That you are, he said, or feel my little kissing engine here. Bring us some rope. Up this dog goes. By now Flavius and Demetrios had joined the crowded frightened band. The Romans stepped forth, raising an arm. Moonlight outlined him white and clean as some marble god. He said in easy tones, Of course I was taken prisoner, so perhaps I've no right to speak. But I do still think of myself as a shipmate. I'm a sailor, too, for pleasure, and we're all on this same keel together. So if you would hear my words— Be still, said Yoden, this is nothing worth talking about. Quicca came from her cabin. What is it, she asked, what has happened? She looked so young and alone that a power seized upon Yoden. Willy-nilly he must go to reassure her, and meanwhile Flavius waved an angry chore aside casually and went on. I understand you turned pirate to escape Rome's crosses, but have you gained much when your own captain begins to crucify you one by one? Why, this youth was the spokesman of your liberty. Will you listen to him cry in agony to-morrow? If so, you will deserve the cross yourselves. And you will get it. What does the captain care? He is only going to Egypt. It is nothing to him if he kills one of you outright and hangs up another to keep you awake with dying groans. So you already undermanned or overcome at your first battle. What of it, says your captain, safely ashore? Now that's muck bespattered enough, grouchore. One more word from anybody, and now spray his brains on deck. Hail, free companions of the sea, declaimed Flavius and stepped aside. For any left the pale, her body glistened wet as she ran, and when she caught Yoden's hands her own were like some river-nymphs. She remembered again cool forest becks in the north, when she was small and the world a wonder. Yoden, she cried, you'll not do any such thing. But he would have, he did not succeed, and even if he had, wouldn't restore what I lost? Yoden, I am the one wronged, and I should give judgment. He felt himself suddenly exhausted. Oh great dark bull, breathe sleep upon me. He said to her, Well, thus did we Cymbry set blood-price. What would you have me do, this animal? Franny looked into the boy's liquid eyes, and saw how his thin chest went up and down, up and down with terror. Let him go. He will not harm me again. Quintus fell to his knees. I am your slave, bright goddess of mercy, he sobbed. Yoden snapped. Had you kept still, I would have let you go wholly free. You jabber too much. Ten lashes. Quick as lips thinned. You were too soft, Yoden, she said. I would have put him on the yard arm. He checked a cruel retort and walked from her. While the needful work was being done, he heard Flavius speak low by the rail with a crewman. It is true, a violently rebelling slave may not live. However, this case is unusual. I have influence, and, of course, it is always possible in case of mutiny. Hmm, shall we say a few loyal souls had been manumitted beforehand and thus did not come under the law? Much would depend on the testimony of any Roman citizen. Yoden thought that trouble was being cooked for him, but he could only stop such mumbles by cutting out every tongue on board. Fire burned them all. He could do what he could, and the rest lay with that weird he had called down upon himself. End of CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. OF THE GOLDEN SLAVE. By Paul Anderson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. THE GOLDEN SLAVE. CHAPTER XII. In the morning they turned east. The wind had shifted enough to give them some help, though it was necessary to break out the spare oars and put ten men back on them. Yoden thought of making Flavius go into the pit for a while. He glanced at Friney, who sat pensively looking out toward Egypt, and decided she would think it an unworthy deed. Quika came out some time close to noon. She had put on a fresh gown and a blue palla. It set off her sunlight-colored braids. She looked out over the sea, which glittered blue and green in a hundred hues, foamed, cried out, and snorted under a sky of pale crystal. The wind whooped over the world's rim and drew blood to her cheeks. Yoden had not seen her so fair since they crossed the alpine snows. He went to her and said, striving to be calm. I hope you feel yourself again. Oh yes, I am used to the movement now. Quika smiled at him, shy as a child, and he remembered that she was after all no more than eighteen winters. Indeed, this is a lovely way of faring, as if we rode on a great bird. Hope kindled him. He rubbed his chin wadily. Let him not urge himself too fast, and answered, Yes, I could become as much a ship-ride as a horse-tamer, I think. When we return to the north, we shall begin making some real ships. I only remember boats from my boyhood. Already I think I could teach their builders some new arts. Her pleasure faded a little. Are you indeed bound to return to Simberland? She asked. If not to the same place, somewhere near, he said. I remember my father speaking of tribes not far eastward, swaths and suines, strong, wealthy folk who speak a tongue we could understand. But I would at least be among my own folk again. She lowered her face and murmured. They have a saying here that nothing human is alien to them. Would you leave her stay in Rome? He asked, stabbed. Let us not talk of that, she begged. Her hand stole up to his chin, bristly after the past few unshaven days. When she touched him, it seemed almost pain. You look so funny, she smiled. Black hair and yellow whiskers. Hmm, thanks, he said, gripping his temper tight. Since the dye will linger, Friney told me I'd best shave myself. How did it happen Friney came with you? Asked Wicca a little too lightly. She attended a matron at the farm, Flavius' wife. They came to know each other. How well! Wicca arched her brows. She is my friend, he fumbled, nothing else. Cordelia is a bitch, said Wicca, flushed, but her maids have an easy enough life. What drove this Friney to forsake it? Eoden bridled. She wanted freedom for herself. She has a man's soul. Oh, purred Wicca, one of those. He said in a rage, you learn too much filth in Rome. I'll speak to you again when you have curbed your tongue. He left her staring after him and went forward. Heat me some water, he barked. The cook, a deck-hand, told off to this task among all others, gave him a surly glance and obeyed. Eoden crouched by the hearth with a mirror and scraped the stubble off his face. He cut himself several times. When he walked aft again, he saw that Flavius had come from the forecastle and stood where he himself had been, talking to Wicca. Her face was bent from Eoden, but he saw woe in her twining hands. The Roman did not smile this time, he spoke gravely. Eoden clapped a wild hand to his sword-haft. By all the hounds on Hell Road—no, it was beneath him. If she chose to betray him with a greasy southlander, let her, and wolves eat them both. When he looked again, he saw that Wicca had gone back inside. Flavius stood looking out to sea. The eagle face was unreadable. Then it firmed and his fist struck the rail. Thereupon Flavius went quickly to the poop, where Quintus of Saguntum squatted on standby duty with a red-streaked back. Those two fell into talk. The day passed. There were many ships. Now and again a man asked the captain if they should not take one. The Eoden dismissed the question with scorn. This galley was armed, that one in plain sight of two others. The man would go off muttering. Thor said nothing, but took the carpenter's tools and worked on a boarding plank. Toward Sundown, Friney, who had spent the day making herself a dress from some man-garments, no easy task with only a sail-maker's equipment, came to get her food. She found Eoden standing alone, chewing a heel of bread and watching two or three crewmen whisper beneath the mast. "'We must be far from land now,' she remarked. He nodded. Far enough, so we might safely attack some lone ship.' "'Would you indeed fall upon men who never harmed you to steal their goods?' she asked. It was not deeply reproachful, but he felt he must justify himself to her and thought she was like the first Symbrian that ever saw robbery as anything but a simple fact of life. "'I would welcome a fight,' he said. Then, feeling he had shown too much, he made his tones cool. If nothing else, the money we could gain would help mightily in Egypt. And if you dislike the idea, we need not slaughter any captives, and we would be setting the galley slaves free.' "'Then I suppose it is no worse than any other war,' she said. But she left him.' And the night passed. In the morning Eoden saw that Flavius was again talking to Wicca. She showed more life than the last time. By all cruel gods but she was fair, and once Merth crossed her face. He stayed in the poop with Demetrios until his watch ended. There had been nothing to see but water for many hours. The wind dropped till the sail hung half-empty. The creaking oars rubbed men's nerves. As noon passed it grew hotter until the crew shed their clothes. Eoden kept his tunic. Wicca came from her cabin and sat in its shade, alone, but he did not go to her. The sun was so brazen off the sea that the other galley had come well over the horizon before the lookout cried its presence. It was also eastbound. The Eoden grew tense. "'Stand by to come about,' he said. "'Row down there, you clodheads, fellow chore. You may be rowing to your fortunes.' The Eoden took the steering oar himself. It was maddeningly slow the way they crept over miles. He thought once that if he built himself a galley in the north it would not be so heavy and round as these. Yes, opened decks, so a man could pull his oar beneath the sky. "'She's a big one,' said Demetrios. "'Too big for the likes of you.' Sweat glistened on his nose, his eyes rolled in unease. The Eoden felt the old captain was right. The ship he neared had half again the length of his, and its freeboard towered over his deck. Nonetheless, it had no ram, no war engines at all that he could see, though he only knew such by description. And he had eaten too much rage the last few days. It must out somehow.' "'We will go nearer,' he said. "'We have decided nothing yet.' "'We'll decide to slink off again. That's what we'll do,' muttered Quintus, down on the main deck. A coward, as well as a tyrant, that's our skipper.' One or two nodded furtively. Still they edged closer. The captain of the other galley hailed. "'Oh, there! This is the Bonadia of Putioli, bound for Meletus with a cargo of wine. Who are you?' The Eoden repeated his old lie. "'Well,' replied the stranger, "'give us some sea-room, then.' "'I sail where I please,' yelled Eoden. "'Come closer, and I'll figure a pirate!' "'Think what you want!' The ships converged. Eoden waited, coldly, until he heard the alarms in the running feet. Then he gave a crewman the steering-or, ran to the shrouds, and swarmed to the crow's nest. He was high enough and close enough now to look down upon the other deck. He countered the sailors as they scurried about getting their weapons from the captain. Fifteen, and with himself this one still carried sixteen. Of course that meant he would have to arm all his rowers, but he threw a leg around the mast and slid down, shouting, "'Ho, ho, ho! Break out the blades!' The man on the deck roared. The sailor had to knock one over eager-rower back down the hatch before the oars would move again. Eoden called two men to him, pointing out Flavius and Demetrios. "'Bind them,' he said. Flavius held out his wrists. "'Are you afraid we too will attack our gang from the rear?' He asked mildly. "'I would not trust you with the women,' said Eoden. He slipped Demetrios' helmet pad on his head. The helmet itself followed. "'Oh, wild war-gods! He bore a helmet once more!' "'Over here!' cried Chor. "'This way, you moth-eaten monkeys!' The deck-planks grated beneath the heavy, grapnel boarding-plank he had fashioned. Spears gleamed along the other ship's rail. Its captain stood in plumed helmet and polished breast-plate, laughing down at the handful on Eoden's deck. "'So you had a slave, mutiny, did you?' he said. "'Well, come on, come on! We'll put you to work here, on your way to the arena!' Eoden looked bleakly over his few and thought of the ten oarsmen beneath his feet. They were not the stuff of a good fighting-force. See that skinny gray-beard snivel over there! This pirating had never been any idea of his. Narciss was the best of a bad lot, and Narciss lay on the sea-bottom. Well, Eoden and Chor had to do what they could, for it was too late now. Even if they turned tail, the other galley would pursue, and it had more roars. He saw Wicca and Friny by the cabin. They held each other's hands, unspeaking, in that mystery of woe whose initiates are all womankind. He strode to them, buckling on his helmet. "'Stay behind that door,' he said. If the fight goes against us, you must do what seems best.' He looked into Wicca's eyes, and a smile he had not known was within his strength crossed face and soul. "'But it will be well,' he said in their own tongue. You were ever my luck.' She lifted a fist and bit her knuckles, and Friny led her into the cabin. Eoden went below with an armful of weapons. He cried into the grunting, clashing, sweating gloom. "'Here is what you asked me for. If you would stay alive, do not disobey me. Remain at your oars until I blow my trumpet. Then pull them in, lest they break your ribs when we strike. And come up and fight.' No use to wonder if his scummy followers had even understood. He sped back up the ladder, shield on arm and sword in hand. The Bonadale loomed like a cliff above him. He saw sunlight blink on shields and blades up on her deck. Chor had spiked the boarding plank to the deck. It was elevated by two men with ropes, its claws poised to grab. Chor held his hammer up as he gauged the distance. "'Now!' he shouted, and swung the mallet down. The two men let go, and Eoden sounded Demetrios trumpet. The plank fell as their bow slashed across the other galley's oars. Wood crackled. A pirate looked at a foot-long splitter hurled into his thigh and wailed. The grapple struck. It sharpened iron bit deep. The two ships shuttered to a halt. "'Hooo!' yelled Eoden, and went up the plank. Two shields glided into place before him and locked. From behind the men two pikes reached after his guts. Eoden shoved one spear aside with his own shield. The other withdrew, poised and probed in again. He battered at it with his sword. For one black instant he knew there was no way for him to get past. "'Beware, Dissa!' Eoden heard the angry bebahs and ducked his head. Chor's whirling hammer was released. It struck a face behind one of the shields. The shield went down, its man upon it. The Eoden sprang between the two spears into the gap, over the rail. He stood upon the fallen man and thrust at a pike-wielder. The sailor, with no metal toward his belly, fell backward to escape. Eoden stabbed his mate. The other shield-bearer turned and attacked from the right. Chor reached around Eoden and put a sword in the man's neck. Then Eoden and Chor were back to back upon the high deck, holding off the crew. A tall blond man, a German of some kind, ran at Eoden with a long sword uplifted. "'I want that blade,' said the Cymbrian. He fell to one knee, holding the shield over his head. The Germans' glaives smashed down on it. Eoden cut at the Germans' legs and the man staggered back. Eoden got up again and battered loose. It was no way to use a short sword. The German limped out of reach and swung his great weapon up for a cleaving. Eoden raised his own, faster, and threw it. The Germans sat down, holding death in himself. Eoden darted forward, snatched up the long sword, and came back to Chor. The Allen, shieldless, had picked up his hammer again. He smote right-handed with it, a ringing and belling and sundering, while his left wielded the Roman blade. "'Ha!' he bellowed down the boarding-plank. "'Are you never coming? Must I do all the work here?' His crew hung back, seeing how wetted steel flashed around those two and blood dripped into the sea. Eoden shrieked at them over the din. "'If we lose this fight, you will all go to Rome!' "'A man down there hefted an axe,' said his teeth, and ran up the plank. The others poured after him. Quintus alone remained with a spear. When two of the former slaves turned back, he grinned and prodded them. Only when all his shipmates were caught up in the battle did he himself come. Eoden, looking over a wall of helmets, considered the youth's face. By the bull he had just made himself second mate. Their lines split. The galley's crew surged away in clumps of men. The pirates yelped about, rushed in and out, broke past the defenders here, or were hurled back there. Eoden struck down a man with a disabling blow. It was good to have a sword he really understood, and looked over the combat. It was fiercest near the mast. "'There we must go, Gior,' he said. "'Aye!' the Allen trotted after him. They faced shields and edges. A few near-naked pirates yammered and waved their weapons, careful to stay beyond reach. "'Follow me, you dogs!' cried Eoden. His sword whined and thundered. An Italian sailor thrusted him from behind with a shield. Eoden slewed his iron around and cut the man's wrist. The metal was too blunted already to cut deep, but the bones cracked. The Italian bade his anguish and dropped from the line. Eoden slashed at the legs of the man beside him. That one stumbled, fell and rolled from the pursuing sword. Gior stepped into the widening gap and struck with his hammer. The pirates, heartened, moved in. The defensive force broke up into single men. Panting, Eoden swung himself into the shrouds. There were more wounded and slain among the ill-equipped pirates than among the merchant crew. Nonetheless, fighting stayed brisk, since neither side knew how matters stood. Eoden put the trumpet to his lips and blew. Again and again he blew, until much of the battle died. An arrow grazed his arm, another thunked in his shield, but he stayed where he was and shouted, "'Hear me! Lay down your arms, and your life shall be spared. You will be set free without ransom. May Jupiter or someone strike me dead if I lie. Hear me!' After he had harangued them awhile, a shaken voice called, "'How do we know you will do this if we yield?' "'You know it will be to the death if you don't,' said Eoden, "'lay down your arms and live.'" As he returned to the deck, he heard the fight resume uncertainly. Another side pressed too hard, now that a truce might be close. Eoden saw the gray-bearded pirate cutting the throat of a wounded man in the shelter of a bollard. The ulster shrank back from him, afraid. Eoden said, "'Throw that knife against my shield as noisily as you can, and cry that you surrender to the freebooter captain.'" The fellow obeyed, given a kick to add urgency to his recital. A moment afterward, Eoden heard from across the deck, "'Stop! I yield me!' It spread like a plague. Within minutes a disarmed crew huddled gloomily under the pikes of a few crowing pirates. Eoden took off his helmet and wiped reddened hands on a fallen man's cloak. His tunic was plastered to him with sweat. It came as a dull surprise that the blood painting him was not his own. Just a few scratches and bruises. Well, the powers which took all else from him gave him victory in war, a miser's payment. He looked at the sun above the yard-arm. The battle had lasted perhaps an hour, and now he held two ships. He walked over planks grisly with the dead and the hurt. There were more of the latter, there always were, but many of them would die too from bleeding or inflammation. The still air quivered with their groans. He counted up. Besides himself and Chor, eight pirates were hail. Eleven merchant crewmen stood on their feet, but their captain had quit the world bravely. "'This should cool our lads off,' said the Cymbrian. "'I scarcely think they will want to try piracy again.' "'They can raise their numbers, Disa,' Chor reminded him. "'There must be forty slaves below decks at least.' "'True, indeed. Well, so be it. If we can come to Egypt, I care not.' Yodan looked glumly down the boarding plank to the smaller craft. "'I am sick of blood. Can you set matters to rights here?' "'Dah! I'll try not to bother you.' The redbeer's look was so gentle that Yodan wondered how much he understood. Surely, not a great deal. It was growing upon Yodan what a reach of darkness each human soul holds for all others. He returned to the lesser galley and cut the bonds of Flavius and Demetrios. "'You can go look about,' he said listlessly. Flavius stood up. He searched the Yodan's face for a long while. "'It was badly done of the fates not to make you a Roman,' he said at last and left. Demetrios followed him. He went inside and went to the cabin. Quicca and Friney stood there. The Symbrian girl was flushed. Her breast rose and fell and she ran forward to take his hands. "'I thought I saw all our folk come back in you,' she cried. Yodan looked across her shoulder at Friney, who stood white in the doorway. "'I begin to grasp your meaning,' he said with a crooked smile. This was no more unjust than any other war. "'Would you wash yourself?' asked the Greek girl. He nodded. That and sleep." Quicca stepped back, her face hurt and bewildered. Yodan went past her into the cabin. Friney brought him a sponge and a bucket of salt water. He cleansed himself and laid down on one of the mattresses. Sleep came like a blow. He woke suddenly. Lamplight met his eyes. The air had cooled and the ship was rocking. He heard singing and the stamp of feet, but remotely. He sat up. Quicca sat beside him. Her hair was loose, rushing over her shoulders so he did not at first see she wore her best gown. She hugged her knees and regarded him with troubled eyes. "'Is it night?' he asked in the cymbric. "'Yes,' she answered, very quietly. Chor said not to waken you. He said he had brought order on the new ship. They released the slaves and locked up the crewmen and such of the rowers as did not want to join us. He got the wounded below decks over there and everything. She held on a leather bottle. "'He said to give you this.'" Yodan ignored it. He stepped through the door and glanced out. The grappling plank was taken down and only ropes and a single lashed gangway joined the two vessels. The hulls rocked enough to break any stiff bridge. It was dark and empty on this ship. Torches flared on the other, bobbing in a crazy dance. Horse voices chanted and laughter went raw under a sky of reborn wind and hurried clouds. "'What is that foolishness?' he snapped. Quicca came to stand at his side and look almost frightened at the tartarous view. A naked black outline, hair and beard one main, capered against fire glow. You could just glimpse a circle of others, leaping and kicking with hands joined around the ship's hearth. "'There was wine on board,' said Quicca. "'Oh! Oh yes, I remember now. And choreed at them have the cargo?' He told me he could not stop them. It seemed best to grant them this one night's drinking. Then to-morrow we could all take the big galley. And let the crew of that one have this. Hmm! It is not such a bad thought.' "'You would let them go?' asked Quicca, astonished. "'I gave them my word,' he said. And what good would it do to kill them?' He closed the door again, muffling the racket. He picked up the leather bottle and drank thirstily. "'Ah! But did they also have some food fit to eat on that ship?' "'I do not know. I prepared what I could from the stores here.' Quicca pointed to a bowl of stew. "'I fear it got cold while you slept.' Yoden lowered the bottle. The roof was so low his head had to bow down to hers. "'Why are you here?' he asked. "'You should not sleep unguarded.' She touched the knife in her girdle. His longsword lay drawn by the wall. He realized that he was unclothed. "'Frinny could have guarded me,' he said. Quicca reddened. "'Is Frinny your wife?' "'Are you?' she gasped and turned her back. "'Well, I will go,' she cried. "'If you do not wish me here, I will go.' "'Halt!' he said as he caught at the door's bolt. She stopped as though speared and turned about until she stood against the door facing him. Tears whipped down her face and the breath rattled in her throat. Yoden felt inwardly gouged, but he stalked to her and took her by the shoulders. "'I have had enough of this,' he said. "'Tonight you shall decide who your man is.' "'I told you I do not know,' she screamed. Yoden slipped his hands down over her arms until he had her wrists. "'You shall decide,' he repeated. "'And you are going to choose me.' She tried to pull free, but he dragged her to him and laid his mouth upon hers. She writhed her face away. He held her, one handed about the waist, while his free hand drew her knife and stabbed it into the wall. Then he grasped her hair and forced her lips back where he wanted them. Suddenly she shivered. He let her go and she sank to her knees, holding his. He sat down and laid an arm about her waist. She came to him, weeping and laughing. "'It is you,' she said. "'It is you, Yoden.' Long afterward, when the lamp had gone out of itself, she whispered, "'I think it must always really have been you.'" CHAPTER XIII. When Franey saw Huica go into her husband and close the door behind, she felt this ship would be no place for anyone else to-night. Let her board the other one, then. She made sure that the dagger was safe in her girdle, then climbed the grappling plank. It surged and chattered on the newly won decks. Sure stood huge, bawling out his orders. They had begun to release the slaves. One after another shambled into the sunlight and blinked with dull eyes. Franey went to the summation. "'Can I be of help?' she asked. "'Ha! Oh! It's you, little one. Best you keep out of harm's way. We've much to do before sunset.'" "'I told you I want to help you, Oaf,' she snapped. Sure scratched his ruddy beard. "'I don't know what with. I'll not let you scrub the planks nor cook a meal. Sets a bad example, you know. We have to be officer-class now. And otherwise.'" "'Aqua! Aqua!' Croaking came from the pitch-bubbling deck as though men had become frogs. Franey looked at one who was trying feebly to staunch blood from a half-severed arm. She felt more than a little ill, but she wetted her lips and said, "'I know something about the care of herts. Let me see to the wounded.'" "'Waste of time,' said Sure. If they're not too badly cut, a swath of rags and maybe a few stitches will save them. The rest it would be kinder to throw overboard." Franey answered slowly. Some woman bore each of these beneath her heart once. Let me do what I can. "'As you wish. Find a place down below. I'll tell off a couple of men to bear them thither for you.'" In the time that followed, Franey had horror to do. Twice she stopped, once to cast up at a certain site and once to change her blood-stiffened gown for a tunic. It was hot and fouled in the tween-deck space. The groaning and gasping seemed to fill her cosmos. Her temper began to slip, having held the hand of one youth and smiled on him, as the only lullaby she could give while he died. She heard a man screaming as though in childbirth, and, seeing he had a mere broken finger, she chased him out at Dagger Point. Otherwise it was to wash and bandage, cut and sew and swaddle, set and splint and fetch water, with no more help than a ship's carpenter from Galadie or some such dusty place. She came out at last, unable to do more. Now Escalapius and Hermes and Psychopompas must divide the souls as they would, and saw the sun low above a sea-growing choppy. Its rays touched ragged mare's tails that flew from the west. Wind piped on the rigging. She shivered as that air flowed across her bare legs and arms, but made her way over a deck strange in its orderliness. Chor was looking down into an open cargo hatch. He turned and grinned at her, through tossing fiery whiskers. We found our way into the hold, he said, and you'd not believe this hull could carry so much wine and stay afloat. The lads will mutiny if we don't feast to-night, and I can't say I blame them. Friny gave the sky an unsure look. Is that wise? Oh, the weather you mean? It'll blow a bit, but nothing that need worry us. Riding to sea-anchors will not go far, and Demetrio says there are no places to run aground hereabouts. You look weary enough. Go call Yoden, and we'll all have a stoop. He is with his wife, she said. Hmm? Oh! Oh! I see. Well, I'll just go knock at their door with a bottle, and then they can do as they please. Your small eyes went up and down the slender shape before him. He grinned. I don't suppose you'd be pleased to do likewise. She shook her head, unaffended. Well, I only thought I'd ask. Best day and ear shot of me to-night, though. Not all the men are so honourable as me. I would wash now, and have fresh raiment, said Friny. I go in the cabin there, I'll have some one draw a tubful for you. Friny entered the captain's room, finding it better furnished than that of the smaller galley. Man's dress again, she sighed to herself, opening a clothes-chest. Well, here was an outsized cloak. With the help of a brooch and belt it could almost reach her ankles, as a sort of gown. Hail! said a voice in the door. Friny stepped back with a stab of terror. Master Flavius looked at her. He carried a bucket in either hand. I think it amused the red-beer to have me wait on you, he said. His mouth quirked. He has not heard that Rome has festivals every year wherein the Romans serves his own household slaves. But I am no more a slave, said Friny, as much to herself as to him. She had seen little of this man. She was bought in his absence and served his wife, whom he avoided. But he was a master and no decent person would—but I have gone beyond decency, she thought—beyond civilization, at least. I am outlaw, not only in Rome, but in Rome's mother Hellas. The knowledge was a desolation. Flavius poured the water into a tub screwed to the floor. It slapped about with the rocking of the ship. He glanced at her sideways. Finally, he said, with a tone of smothered merriment in flawless Greek. My dear, you will always be a slave. Do you think because that white skin was never branded, your soul escaped? My fathers were free men in their own city, when yours were a truscant vassals, she cried, stamping her foot in anger. Flavius shrugged. Indeed, but we are neither of us our fathers. His voice became deep and he regarded her lovally. I say to you, though, the slave brand is on you. It was burned in with, fair words on fine parchment, white columns against a summer sky, a bronze-beaked ship seen over blue waters, grave men with clean bodies and Plato on their tongues, a marching legion where a thousand boots smite the earth as one, a lyre and a song, a jest and a kiss among blowing roses. Oh, if the gods I do not believe in are cruel enough to grant your wish, you could give your body to some North Dweller. You could learn his hog language and pick the lice from his hair and bear him another squalling brat every year till they bury you toothless at forty years of age in a peat bog where it always rains. That could happen. But your soul would forever be chained by the mid-world sea. She said, shaking, if you twist words about thus, then you too are a slave. Of course, he said quietly, there are no free and unfree. We are all whirled on our way like dead leaves, from an unlikely beginning to a ludicrous end. I do not speak to you now. The sounds that come from my mouth are made by chance, hovering within the bounds of causation and natural law. Truly, we are all slaves. The sole difference lies between the noble and the ignoble. He folded his arms and leaned back against the jam. What you have done proves you are of the noble, he said. I would manumit you if we came back to Rome. Give the Senate some perjured story, if need be, to save you from the law. I would give you money and a house of your own in Greece. Are you trying to bribe me, she flared. Perhaps, but that comes later. What I have just offered is a free gift, whether you stand by the Cymbrian or not, provided only, of course, that we both get back to Rome somehow. It will be a thing I do of my own accord, because we are the same kind, you and I, and it is a cursively lonely breed of animal. His grin flashed. Now, to be sure, if he would like to help us sure... She drew her knife. Get out, she screamed. Flavius raised his brows, but left. Friny slammed the door after him. A while she smote her hands together. Then viciously she tore off her tunic and washed herself. Wrapped in the mantle, she emerged again. She fell calmer, on the surface. Underneath was a dark clamour in an unknown language. Sun down blazed among restless clouds. The mast swayed back and forth in heaven. Chore sat on a barrel under the forecastle, drumming his heels as he raised a stolen chalice. Elsewhere, men crowded shrieking about last casks, and the deck that had been bloodied was now stained purple. She shivered and drew the wool closer about her. This was going to be a night where Cersei reigned. She looked aft. A small cluster of men stood together around Flavius' tall form. She recognized Demetrios, the youth Quintus, two or three others. Briefly she was afraid. But a few unarmed malcontents she asked herself scornfully. She walked forward. A locked hatch cover muffled some weird noises. What was that? Oh, to be sure, the free crew and the more timid slaves of this galley had been chained to the roar's benches down there. Chore boomed at her. Hoi! Shield maiden! Come drink with me! You've earned it! Friny joined him. One man snatched after her. Chore tossed his hammer casually. The man screamed and hopped about, clutching his bare toes. First one insults my girl, gets it in the brisket! Said Chore, without rancor. Now, bring me back that maul. Friny accepted the cup he sloshed into the barrel for her. She held it two-handed, bracing herself against the ship's long swinging. Barbarous to drink it undiluted, she thought, but fresh water was too begrudged at sea. She looked at the hairy, squatting shapes that ringed her in and asked, Will there not be fights that disable men we need? Chore pointed to a chest behind the barrel. All arms save our own are in there, he said, and here I'll sit all night. I'm not unaware of that flavious cockroach's little one. Where I, the chief, he'd have been fish-food long ago. Is your life so much more to you than your honor? She bridled. Well, I suppose not. I have three small sons at home. The youngest was just starting to walk on his little bandy legs when I went off. And then there's my woman, too, if she's not wed another by now, and... Well, anyhow, it would be bitter to die without drinking of the dawn again. Chore tossed off his cup and dipped it in once more. Where would you yourself go, he asked. Friny stared eastward, where night came striding into the wind. I do not know, she said. Hm? But surely you spoke of Egypt. It may be. Perhaps in Alexandria. Leave me alone." Friny went from him up the ladder and into the bow. She huddled there a long time. No one ventured past Chore. She could be by herself. Down on the main deck the scene grew more wild and noisy each hour. By torch and hearthlight she glimpsed revels as though Pam the Terrible had put to sea. One small corner of civilization remained, far aft below the poop, where Flavius and his comrades warmed their hands over a brazier and drank so slowly she was not certain they drank at all. The moon seemed to fly through heaven, pale among great driving clouds. It showed fleetingly how the waters surged from the west, not very high as yet, but with foam on black waves. And the wind droned louder than before. Friny sat under the bulwarks and nursed her beaker, letting the wine warm her only a little. This was no time to flee her trouble. She must choose a road. And what was there for her? Briefly, when they had planned where to go on their newly one ship, it had flamed up. Perhaps Antonus was in Alexandria. Perhaps she could find him again. Too long had he kissed her only in dreams. She harkened back to the last time when she awoke crying his name. She knew then, suddenly, that she had not really seen his face in the dream. She had not done so for months. She could not even call it to mind now. It was a blur. He had had a straight nose and gray eyes and so on, but she only remembered the words. Well, time devoured all things at last, but it might have spared the ghost she bore of Antonus. Nevertheless, she thought, she could stay in Alexandria. No, what hope had a woman without friends. There were only the brothels. Better to seek the sea's decency this very night. She could follow Yoden toward his barbarian goal, most likely to his death along the way, but suppose they did get back to this Simberland, what then? Yoden would house her, but she would not be a useless leech on any man. And so she would merely exist, alone on the marches of the world, until, finally in her need, she let some brainless red youth tumble her in his hut. She wondered drearily if Flavius had meant his offer. It was the best of an evil bargain, and if he lied, well, then she would die, and the shades did not remember this earth. When Yoden released Flavius, she would go with him to Rome. The decision brought peace after so many hours of treading the same round like a blinded ox grinding wheat. Perhaps now she could sleep. It was very late. The revelry had ended. By the light of a sinking moon, glimpsed through clouds, she saw men sprawled across the deck, their cups and their bodies rolling with the ship. A few feeble voices hiccoffed some last song, but mostly they were all snoring to match the wind. Friny stood up, stiff-limbed, to seek her tent on the smaller galley. The brazier under the poop was still aglow. A dark figure crossed in front of it, and another, and another. Flavius' party was retiring too. Being sober, they would have the sense to go below to sleep. One of them had just entered the poop. No. What was it he came back with? Torchlight shimmered on iron. A crowbar from the carpenter's kit? And there were hammers, a drawknife, even a saw. Oh, Father Zeus, weapons! Flavius led them across the deck. The last half-dozen celebrants seated in a ring about a wine-cask looked up. Well, Friny heard, what? Come here, old friend! Come here, for a little drink! Flavius struck coldly with his bar. Two hammers beat as one, thuck, thuck, like butchers, the three men stunned those who sat. Quintus cackled gleefully and began to saw a throat across. No need, snapped Flavius, this way. Friny threw herself to the planks. What if they had seen her? Her heart beat so wildly she feared it would burst. As though from immensely far off she heard Flavius break the lock on the hatch and go below. Friny caught her lip in her teeth to hold it steady. She could just see one man standing guard on deck while the others were breaking off chains in the rowers-pit. Could he see her in turn, if she—but if she lay still, he would find her at sunrise. Friny inched to the ladder. Down now. Moonlight fell on shore, sprawled back against the weapon-chest. His mouth was open and he was making private thunder in his nose. Friny crouched beside him. He was too massive. Her hands would not shake him enough. Chor! Chor! It is mutiny! She whispered. Chor! Wake up! What's that? A ragged, half-fried cry from the guard. Friny saw him against the sky, peering about. Uh! Mumbled Chor. He swatted at her and rolled over. Friny drew her knife. The guard shaded his eyes, staring forward. Is somebody awake there? He called. She put her mouth to the Allen's ear. Wake! Wake! She whispered. You sleep yourself into Hades! A man's head rose over the hatch-combing. Somebody's a stirrup there, chattered the sentry. He'll go see, said the man. His burst-off chain swung from his wrists. It was the last mutiny all over again. How the gods must be laughing! Another followed him. Friny recognized Quintus' ferret body. Um! said Chor, and resumed his snoring. Friny put her dagger-point on a buttock and pushed. Push! Net! Jock-a-belog! The sarmation came to his feet with a howl. That muck-swelling, misbegotten son of—oh! His gaze wobbled to rest on the man running toward him. The hammer seemed to leap into his hand. Up! he bawled. Up and fight! Friny dashed past him. Yoden still slept, she thought wildly. They could fall upon him unawares and kill him in his wife's arms. Behind her she heard a sound like a melon splitting open. Yuck! High! Saw! Saw! Chanted Chor. Your next, Quintus! The youth ran back, almost parallel to Friny. Men were coming from the hatch, one after the other. He saw her and shrilled, Get that one, too! It's—' He broke off, swerved and plunged toward her in silence. Friny put her foot on the gangway between the ships. It jerked back and forth as they rolled, and she heard ropes rubbing together. She must go all fours over it, or risk being thrown into the water between the hulls. She crouched. A hand closed on her ankle. She felt herself being yanked back on deck. Moonlight speared through darkness as she sat up. Quintus stood over her, grasping his saw. "'Lie there,' he said, "'lie there, or I'll take your head off.'" Friny whipped to her knees and stabbed at his foot. He danced aside, laughing. The saw-blade reached across her arm. It was no deep cut, but she cried out and dropped her knife. He kicked it away, grabbed her shoulders, and hurled her onto her back. Kneeling beside her, he laid the saw-teeth across her throat. "'Be still now, if you would live,' he said. "'I've business to finish with you.'" Friny looked into the downy face. She lifted her arms. "'Oh,' she said, "'I am conquered.'" Quintus' chin dropped. Moving carefully, so he could see what she did, she unfastened her belt. "'I have never known a man like you,' she breathed. "'Let me get this mantle off.'" She slid her hands toward the brooch at her throat. The fabric wrinkled up ahead of her arm. "'Quickly,' gasped the boy. He lifted the saw a little. It was shaking so much, and fumbled at his loincloth. Friny got the bundled cloak between her throat and the teeth. She stabbed him in the hand with her brooch pin. He yelled, the saw skittered from his grasp. She leaped up and onto the gangway. Quintus' yammered by the rail. A fury lifted in Friny. She stood up in the moonlight on the bobbing, twisting plank and opened her arms. "'Well,' she cried, "'are you men enough to follow?' He stumbled onto the gangway. Friny kicked, and he fell down between the hulls. They were protected by rope bumpers from grinding together, but one lurching wall struck him as he went past. He rebounded, splashed, and did not rise again. Friny crawled over the plank. Great mother of mercy, she thought, what had she done? But now it was to rouse Yoden. Up on the other ship Chor stabbed and hammered, crying to his drunken followers to waken. Twenty men pressed in upon this armation, driving him back by sheer weight from the weapon chest. Friny beat on the cabin door. "'Yoden, Wicca, come out!' she called. Come out before they kill you!' It opened. The Cymbrian stood tall against blackness, armed only with a yard-long sword. Behind him Wicca still blinked sleep from her eyes. Even in that moment Friny saw how fulfillment had made her beautiful. Then clanged in the windy moonlight, Friny's breath choked. So they had the weapons now. Flavius was already worming over the gang-plank, bearing sword and shield. Behind him came two more. The rest still raged among the befuddled pirates. It was a bestial battle, one with an axe and one with a spear. Friny and the Cymbrians were naked. Yoden sprang forward to meet Flavius before he crossed. The Romans stood up and pounced the last few feet. He could have been thrown into the sea like Quintus, but the watery gods let him pass. He struck the deck, danced away from Yoden Slash, and smiled. "'Come,' he said, "'let us end this Iliad!' Yoden snarred and moved in. He had more reach, which his blade immensely lengthened. But Flavius' shield seemed always to be where the Cymbrian blows landed, over his head in front of his breast, even down to his knees. Their battle banged and roared between these two. Friny and Wicca faced the Romans' companions. The men grinned and walked in at their leisure. Friny tried to dart aside, but the spearman thrust his shaft between her legs. She fell, and her mind seemed to burst. When she regained herself, she was prodded erect. "'Over there,' said the man, "'stand against the cabin wall. That's the way.' He held his pike close to her breasts, ready to drive it home. Wicca, a long knife in her hand, circled about the axman. She spatted him, wildcat-like. Once she tried to rush in with a stab, but his weapon yelled down and she saved herself by falling. He tried to strike again, but she got away too swiftly. And Yoden and Flavius fought across the deck and back, sword on shield, the Roman men boring in behind his shelter and the Cymbrian holding him off with sheer battering force. A bloody, tattered giant loomed over the rail of the other galley. Chor sheathed his sword in one final man, who tumbled down between the halls. The Allen jumped into the gangway. The man who was guarding Friny saw him coming. "'I must deal with him,' he said, not unkindly. "'Farewell, girl. We'll meet beyond the sticks.' He drew back his pike. Friny had no more will or strength to dodge. She waited. Chor stopped on the middle of the gangplank, braced his legs and whirled a hammer. Friny did not see it fly. She only saw the pikeman's eyes bulge out, and when he toppled she saw his head broken open. Her knees deserted her. She sank to the deck and stared emptily at all else. Chor bounded down, fell upon the axman from behind and wrenched the weapon loose. The axman kicked with a shod foot. Chor bellowed wrath and pain, dropped the ax and was caught in a wrestler's grip. He and the sailor went down on the deck like a pair of dogs. Wicca sped toward Yoden. She called out something. Friny did not know the rough word, but surely no voice had ever held more love. As Yoden's gaze shifted toward her, Flavia stepped in close and brought the upper edge of his shield beneath Yoden's jaw. The simbrian lurched back and his sword clattered from his hand. He leaned his back against the rail and shook his head like a stunned bull. Flavia's poised his blade. Wicca flung herself across Yoden's body and the sword struck home. Flavia stared stupidly as she went to her knees. The Yoden caught her and eased her to the deck. He did not seem aware of the Roman any longer. Chor broke the opponent's neck, picked up the fallen ax and thundered toward Flavius. The Roman bounded away up onto the gang-plank. He reached the other ship and faced back, but he was masked by shadow. Chor paused at the plank's foot, saw spears bristle and stayed where he was. His ax chopped and the plank's ropes parted. Now it dangled free from the higher bulwark. Chor ran along the rail, cleaving lines. A few arrows fell near him as he cranked the anchor windless. The gale caught the two ships and drove them apart. Chor came back to Freini. If we set our canvas we can run away from them while they kill the last pirates," he croaked. I see no other chance. Do you think you and I can unfurl the sail alone? END OF CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XIV. OF THE GOLDEN SLAVE. By Paul Anderson. CHAPTER XIV. Our pad of trapezes, who had served ably on the warships of the king, was rewarded with a pleasant commission—to carry an ambassador and certain dispatches to Egypt. He took a lean black pentechanter and picked a crew, not only to impress on his master's behalf, but to return with men not hopelessly slack after a few weeks in the subtle stews of Alexandria. They passed the Bosporus with no trouble, Byzantium having recently become subject to the kingdom of Pontus. There was a halt at the helispont to show diplomatic passports, for that strait was controlled by the Bithynians, who favored Rome. But since Rome was still uneasily at peace with the Pontines, who dominated the Black Sea, our pad was subsequently sent on his way. Later he bore south between the Aegean Islands, pausing here and there to admire some temple crowning a high ridge, until he saw pirate-haunted Crete, beyond lay open sea, but it was not excessively far to the Nile's mouth. The pharaoh of Egypt, who was a Macedonian by ancestry, received the captain from Pontus, who was half Persian and half Anatolian graciously. Like all cultivated people, they spoke together in Attic Greek. During his stay, Arpad found himself much in demand among the learned class. This city swarmed with as many philosophers and geographers as it did with gods and prostitutes. Pontus itself was exotic enough for several evenings' discussion, Greco-Persian Asiatic on the Black Sea coast, a source of timber, minerals and the fantastically lovely murine glass. And one had heard of its king, the great Mithridates, enthroned in his twelfth year, forced to flee the usurping schemes of mother and brother, living for years a hunter in the mountains, until he returned to rest back his heritage. But this Mithridates-Yupidor had not been satisfied with one throne. No, it seemed he must have all the Orient. He skirmished an intrigue among the Cappadocians, Galatians, Armenians, until no neighbor king sat easy. He fought his way up the eastern coast and took caucus of the Golden Fleece for his own. He hurled back the wild Scythians in the north so that the Greeks of the Cimmerian Bosporus acknowledged their rescuer as their overlord. That kingdom lay near the dark edge of the world, on a peninsula thrusting past Lake Miotis or the Azov Sea or whatever it was called. Northward was only barbarism till you reached the night and glaciers of Ultima Tuli. What could the excellent Captain Arpad tell us of his Lord's Tariq provinces? Did Caucasus hold any relics of Jason's visit? Did he think war with Rome, which now held much of Asia's Aegean coast and looked greedily east, would be to the death, or would it be a civilized war, where boundaries were adjusted and prisoners taken for the slave market? Thus Arpad's day became delightful and he left with regret. But it was now early summer, and soon the Aetesian winds would make eastward sea-travel all but impossible. By some quirk, by the ill wind of Uriman mumbled his sailors, they encountered a powerful west wind, a veritable gale. It blew steadily hour upon hour and day upon day. As they wallowed north on bare poles and oars, striving to hold course and not be blown clear to Syria, the skies turned to an unseasonable overcast with chill gusts of rain. Even at last he recognized the island of Rhodes, smoky blue through the squalls, Arpad decided to put in and wade out this weather. Beating through rain and spindrift, he saw another galley. It had a sail-up, recklessly, no oars out at all, the port shuddered. Arpad steered closer. That fool of a captain would smash himself on the beach. Something about the stranger's unruly course told him it was badly undermanned. It had an Italian look, not much of a galley, an old trading-scow, but even so. Arpad sent a man up to speak with the lookout in the crow's nest. Only three crewfolk could be seen on the other deck. Two of them fought their yard-arm, trying to pull it about so they would not be blown so directly toward the island. The third stood by a lashed steering-or. The ship was sluggish, low in the water, now and then a wave breaking over the side. It was slowly foundering. Arpad considered various matters, such as the rescue of distressed mariners and the salvage rights on their vessel. "'Stand by to board,' he called. Even in these high seas, a naval crew had small trouble laying alongside and grappling fast. An armed party surrounded the three and conducted them aboard the pontine galley. Arpad had them led to his cabin, where they stood dripping on a carpet while he removed his own wet cloak. Only then did he regard them closely. They stood with a sort of exhausted defiance between four drawn swords. The lamp, swinging from its chains, revealed them clad in rags. But they were no ordinary sailors. There was a burly, red-bearded fellow, his broad, battered face, speaking of Sarmatian planes. There was a young woman, whose figure would have been good, in the skinny Greek manner, patchy not lost so much weight. Her hair was cut like a boy's, and her hands were bloodied from ropes and levers. The strangest was a barbarian with yellow hair, dyed a fading black, and a sun-symbol etched on his brow. He looked like a wild king, and yet he stood gloomily withdrawn as any desert aromite, showing no interest in who had taken him or what his fate would be. The backs of both men had been whipped. The red one bore permanent, manical scars. Slaves then, and doubtless the woman was too. Their captured weapons had been laid at our pad's feet, a rusty long sword, an axe, and an iron-headed maul. "'Do you speak Greek?' asked our pad. His Latin was limited. "'I do,' said the girl. Her eyes, you didn't see violet eyes very often, and especially not with such long, sooty lashes. Really it was her best feature. Her hollow from weariness and wide from anxiety, but she looked on him without wavering. What ship is this, and who are you?' "'What a way for fugitive slaves to address a pontine noble,' exclaimed our pad lightly. Down on your knees and beg for your lives. That would be more in keeping.' "'These men are not slaves,' she said. They are chieftains returning home. "'And you? Come now. Do not anger me. When a ship is found with only three slaves aboard, I can guess the tale for myself. Tell me your names and how it all came to be.' She said with a pride at which her exhaustion dragged. "'I am merely friny, but I stand between Yoden of Simberland and Chor of the Rukansa.' "'I know them,' said our pad. "'It is a long story. They were war prisoners, who regained their freedom by conquering the Roman crew. And even I have heard the King of Pontus is no friend to Rome, so is he not a friend to Rome's enemies?' But the upshot was that we three alone remained on this vessel. We could do little more than set sail and run before the wind, hoping to strike a land, creed or cypress or wherever the gods willed, whence we might make our way to Samaria. But we found two men and one woman cannot even keep a ship bailed out in such weather.' She smiled tiredly. We were debating whether to try and make landfall on that island ahead, risking shipwreck and capture if it is Roman held, or steer past if we could. Now you have changed the situation, Master Captain, and we throw ourselves upon your hospitality. "'What slave may claim hospitality?' asked our pad. And when he has mutinied, probably murdered as well, would you feel bound to consider a wolf your guest?' He stroked his chin. The ship he calculated would surely be considered salvaged by him. The Rhodesian authorities had to have their share, but he would get something. If he did not dispute possession of the two men, the poor governor could put them to work or kill them or give them to the Romans, whatever the law said, then the governor in turn would doubtless ignore the girl. There was a good mind under that tip-tilted face, and a hot spirit in that small, thin body. She would make the rest of this voyage most interesting to Captain Arpad, and he could get a fair price at home after he had fattened her up enough for the oriental taste. Her pale, wet cheeks had darkened as he spoke, more with anger than fear. She rattled off a few harsh Latin words. The Alan growled and looked about. A guard's sword pricked his hairy flank. He would never cross the two yards to Arpad's throat. He said something to the tall, blank-faced man who shrugged. Mithras, didn't that one care at all? Well, men did go crazy sometimes when the fetters were clinched. Arpad listened more closely, interested. He heard the red beard. But Yoden, Disa, they'll flay us! Then thus the powers will it, said the tall one, in a dead voice. The girl, Friny, stamped her foot and shouted, I thought I followed a man. I see now it is a child. You sit like a wooden toad and will not stir a hand, even for your comrades. A wan wrath flickered in the cold green eyes. The one called Yoden said, You lie. I worked my share during these past few days to keep the ship afloat. If I did not care whether we sank or not, that is my concern. She put her fists on her hips, glared up at him and said, But you make it the world's concern. I understand you had suffered loss when Huica fell. Do you think I cannot imagine it? How it would be for me, too, did the one I cared for die in my arms? I said nothing when you made a raft for her, though we needed your help even that first day. When you laid her on it, with the Roman sword and her dagger, though we needed both. When you drenched it with oil, that might have nourished us. When you risked your own life to launch it and set the torch to it, and when you howled while it fell burning behind. A man must obey his own inward law, or be no man at all. But since then? I tell you, it has ceased to be your private mourning. Now you call upon the world and all the gods by your silence and your indifference to witness how you are suffering. You overgrown brat! If you want to sacrifice your comrades to her ghost, do it with your hands like a man! Arp had signaled his guards. Take them out and give them food and dry garments, he said, buying the men and bring the girl back to me. A hand closed on Yoden's shoulder. He pushed it off impatiently and made a huge stride toward the captain. His lean face was taut with fury. Do you dare treat a simbrian like a slave? He said. Hoi! The guards closed in. Yoden's fist jumped out. One man lurched back with a smashed mouth. Another circled, unsure. Chor growled and reached for the hammer on the floor. The remaining two men forced him away, but had no help to spare with Yoden. A hand gripped Arp's tunic so he choked. The long head bent down toward his. You little spit-licker, said Yoden, I do not know whether to string you to the mast myself or ask your king to do it for me. But I think I shall let him have the pleasure. Arp had shuddered and gestured his guards back, for he had seen monarchs enough and there was no mistaking the royal manner. A king born did not act as if it were possible men could fail to knock their heads on the ground before his boots. Yoden stood unarmed, nearly naked, and shook him back and forth very slowly in time with the words. Now harken! I am Boyeric's son of the Simbri. I have a quarrel with the gods who have treated me ill, but it does not change who I am. I have been searching for a king to hear a message I bear. Since your vessel chanced to pick me up, I will speak first to your ruler. Obey me well, and perhaps I shall forgive you for what you said in ignorance. So... He threw Arpad to the floor. The guardsmen stepped in, hemming him between shields and lifted blades. They glanced at their captain. Arpad stood up. One could never be sure. If that big man was mad, then he might be the walking voice of... of anything. Or else there were so many outlandish tribes, a prince of one might easily have been captured. And, and truly, great Mithridates would be interested to meet such a person, as he was interested in all the realms of earth. The king might even bestow favor on this Yoden, some of which might then reflect on Arpad. Or perhaps the king would have Yoden beheaded, but that annoyance would surely not be considered Arpad's fault, since Arpad had only brought this visitor in the hope of amusing the king. It was not too great a risk. And if the tall one demanded treatment as a guest meanwhile, it was not unduly inconvenient, the ambassador's cabin stood empty. My master, the sublime one who knows all nations must decide this, purred Arpad. His Latin was always equal to titles. We shall seek his august presence. CHAPTER XV The south coast of the Black Sea was good to look upon, where red cliffs and green valleys and their many streams met wine-dark waters. High overhead went summer clouds, blinding whites, and thunder spoke from the Caucasus. Sinop lay on a small peninsula about half way between Byzantium and Caucasus. It was an ancient Greek colony, now become the chief seat of the Pontine kings. Yoden stood in the bow with friny and chore, watching the city grow as they entered its harbor, until the first loveliness of marble colonnades and many colored gardens yielded to a terry workaday bustle where the surface was crowded with galleys from half the east. He was well clothed in white linen tunic, blue clamus, leather belt and sandals, the German sword polished and wetted at his waist. They had even shaved him so he could look civilized and worked the dye from his hair so he could look foreign. He wondered how that would affect his price if Mithridates judged against him. Sure, he said, since your folk have clashed with these before now, are you not in danger of his wrath? I have been wondering if it would not be wiser for you to stay aboard here until... The Alan, clad like his chief but still doggily shaggy-faced, answered with a boy's eagerness. From what I've heard he is not one of those sour Romans. Why, if he is any honor at all, he will send me home laden with gifts just because our raids kept his soldiers amused. He laid a hand on the hammer, slung at his side. Nor do I think anything can go too badly wrong while I bear this. Did we not win a ship, strike off our fetters, thwart our enemies, get pulled from the sea-god's mouth and have a well-fed passage here while I board the smasher? There's luck in this iron. Jotun thought of Wicca and his lips tightened. It may be, he said, though I am unsure what the word luck means. She had ceased to haunt him. First had been all those days when her face on the balefire came between his eyes and the world, though it had not been her, that cold white face, it was dead. But where then had she wandered? He would sleep for a little while and wake up. A few times he woke so happily and looked about for her before remembering she was dead, but since Friny called him to anger, with the biting unjustness of her words, he had been more nearly himself. There was a gold again, the beach forests of the north, with sunlight snared in their crowns and a lark far and far up overhead. Yes, he wanted to go back and search for his childhood, but homecoming was not what it had been in his thoughts. Wicca would not be with him. Well, a man sometimes lived when they cut off a hand or a leg or a hope. He fumbled on as best as he could, and what he had lost hurt him on rainy nights. Jodan shut off the awareness and turned to Friny. Are you certain you will not speak for us, he asked. Our tale is so strange already that it will add small strangeness for a woman to argue on our behalf, and you have more knowledge of this realm and a quicker wit. The girls smiled faintly and shook her head. She wore a white dress our pet had gotten her, and a pala with the hood drawn up. That covered her shortened hair and made a discreet shade across her face. Here in the East a woman was regarded as being much less than a man, so this guard would please by its modesty. I have already told you the small amount I know, and you have been clever to draw much else from the captain, she said. Where does it matter greatly? The knowledge we shall need is how to deal with men, and there, Jodan, you are showing more inborn gifts than any other person I have met. He shrugged, a little puzzled as to her meaning, and watched the harbor. Small boats crawled about the galley's oars, tub-shaped coracles whose paddlers screamed their wares of fruit, wine, sausage, cheese, guidance among the brothels and other delicacies. The people of Sinop were a mixed lot. Most were dark, stocky, curly-headed, big-nosed and hairy, but not all. On the wharfs, Jodan could see Armenian mountaineers with shepherd staffs and crooked knives, a sleek Byzantine merchant, a gaily-robed warrior of pure Gaelic strain, a pair of hobnailed Macedonian mercenaries, a spear-bearing man in fur cap and white blouse and baggy trousers tucked into his boots, whom Chor said delightedly was an Atlantic tribesman, a gray-bearded Jew, a lean Arab. This was not Rome, this Sinop, but it pulled in its share of the earth's people. They docked and Arpad led his guests, or prisoners, ashore with an escort of soldiers. This was an official ship. They stopped for no formalities of bribing the customs agents. The messenger ran ahead of them and they had not reached the palace when he came back to say that King would receive them at once. Jodan went between the shields of marching men, through the city gates and a cobbled street of flat-roofed buildings, shrieking with bazaars, where the escort clubbed away and at last up a hill to the palace. Heavy armored men, with helmet and cuirass, greaves and shield, sword and spear, tramped up and down upon its walls like a moving arsenal. Here and there, squatted lightly, clad archers holding the short Asiatic hornbow. Beneath posed a guard of Persian cavalry, tall, arrogant, hook-faced men, their helmets and horses magnificent with plumes, blue cloaks fluttering about scaly coats of mail, trousered legs ending in boots of silver inlaid leather, lance in hand, axe and bow and small round shield at the saddle. By the thundersnake itself, Mother Chor, how I'd love to sack their barracks! A trumpeter proceeded them through bronze gates. They went over a path beside which roses flared and grecian nymphs leaped marble out of secret bowers. They saw a fountain shaped like Hercules and the Hydra, so skillfully mottled and painted that Jodan grabbed for his sword. Then the stairway opened before them, with sphinxes crouched at the foot, bowls at the head and two polished soldiers rigid on every step. There Arpad's escort was told to wait. The captain himself and his three guests surrendered their weapons to the watch. Not this, protested Chor, holding his hammer. It is my luck. A god, did you say? Asked the Latin-speaking guard who wanted it. He looked at his officer, unsure. There were so many gods, and some of them were touchy. The officer shook his head. No lesser god enters the presence of Mithras, who is always with the king. Leave it here, fellow. You'll get it back. But... Do as he says, Eoden broke in. Chor loosed the thong, his face miserable. I tell you, my luck is in that hammer. Well, maybe your triskel will see us through. Would you keep the king waiting, puffed Arpad. He led the way, his best robe rippling about him, up the stairs and under the red and blue columns of the portico. Slaves prostrated themselves at the doors. Once only, since the king received three such salutes. They were conducted down halls of lifelike murals. Eoden saw with a thrill how often the bull recurred, sacrificed by a youth or shaking great horns beneath a golden sun-disk. Lamps in silver chains gave a clear unwavering light. But when finally the carpeted ways opened on an audience chamber, the sun himself came through a great glazed window behind the throne. It was so bright that Eoden could hardly see the man upon that carven seat, except as a robe of terry in purple and a golden chaplet. He and his companions were held back by the door. Arpad advanced alone, between grave men, long-haired, sometimes bearded, in brilliant garments. Among them stood a few outland envoys, a turban or a shaven pigtailed skull betokent to foreigners. Around the room, motionless between soaring porphyry columns, were a guard of spearmen. A long time passed while King Mithridades read the dispatches handed him, questioned Arpad more closely and dictated to his secretary. Eoden could not hear what was said, the courtiers made so much noise as they circulated and chattered. It would be in Greek or Persian anyhow. But finally the Chamberlain called out something. A hush fell bit by bit and Eoden saw eyes turn his way. He walked forward. Chor and Freini came behind him. It had been arranged thus at her advice. At the ritual distance from the throne Eoden halted. Chor and Freini made obeisance, thrice knocking their heads on the carpet and then remained crouched. Eoden merely bowed his head once upon folded hands. He heard a sigh go around the room, like the wind before a hailstorm. Raising his eyes, he locked gaze with Mithridades' upodore. The king of Pontus was a giant, tall as Eoden and broad as Chor, his hands ropey with veins in sinew like any huntsman's. With the mane of curly dark hair and bearded jawline his head was nearly Greek. A wide brow, grey eyes, straight nose, rounded shaven chin. It lifted straight from the pillar of his throat. He was only in his mid-thirties, Freini said, but he owned half this eastern sea. At Rome itself feared he might take all Asia. "'Do you not bow to the throne?' he asked, almost mildly. His Latin came as easily as any Senators. "'My lord,' said Eoden, I beg forgiveness if I, a stranger, have unknowingly offended. I gave to you that sign of respect we have in the North, when one of royal blood meets a greater king.' He had mated up himself the day before, but no one had to know that. He hazarded a cruel death, far safer to proclaim himself dust beneath the royal feet, but as one more humble supplient among thousands he could not have hoped for much. Mithridates leaned back and rubbed his chin. "'Curious,' thought Eoden in a far part of his being, the king's nails are blue at the base. "'My captain told me what little you would say to him,' murmured the pontine. "'I trust you will be more frank with me.' "'Great king,' said Eoden, "'I have so little to bring you, I am ashamed. May you live forever. All the world lays its wealth in your hands. I can but offer the salvage price of my ship, paid at Rhodes, which our pad insists is his. I leave to your judgment, wise one, whether the monies do indeed belong to him or to me, who would give them as an offering to your majesty.' "'But one gift at least I bring, if you will accept it. My story. What I have done since leaving my own realm, and what I have seen from Tully to Rhodes and from Dacia to Spain. Since this tale is my gift to you, I did not think it fit that our pad, your servant, should have its maiden-head.' Mithridates opened his mouth and bellowed with laughter. "'Well, your gift is accepted,' he said at last, and I shall not be miserly myself if the tale be rich.' "'For what country are you?' "'Cimberland, great king.' "'I have heard somewhat of the Simbri. Indeed, one of my neighbours sent them an embassy a few years ago. Surely this will be a knight's entertainment, though you humble my pride by making me hear it in Latin.' "'Cimberland, see to it that these three are given a suite, changes of remit, and whatever else they require.' Mithridates said it in the Roman tongue, doubtless for Yodan's benefit, since he must repeat it in Greek. "'Go, I will see you at the evening meal. And now, our pad, about those monies.' "'Great king of all the world,' wailed our pad, flat on his belly, "'may your children peeple the earth. It was but that I, your most unworthy subject, thought to offer you.' As he went to the guest chambers, Yodan asked the slave who led him, an Italian he saw with glee, what the king had met that he was ashamed to hear the tale in Latin. "'No, master,' said the boy, that our puissant Lord keeps no interpreters on his own staff, for he himself speaks no fewer than two and twenty languages. You must indeed have come from far away.' The suite was as luxurious as one might have expected. Freini said doubtfully. "'We build our hopes on Vesuvius. The soya there is surpassingly rich, but sometimes the mountain buries it in fire. I will be happy if we can get from here unscathed.' "'Why?' said Yodan, surprised. "'I would have thought you could dwell here more gladly than any place else in the world. They are a mannered folk, it seems. They are more alien to me, a Greek than the Romans, or the Sumatians, or the Simbri. She looked out the window, down to gardens where paths twisted so a man could lose his way. If we stay long enough, you will understand.' "'It may be. Nonetheless, I have a feeling no few arts could be learned here that might take root in the north.' She went over to her. Though one of the greatest could be taught me by yourself. She turned about with an eagerness that astonished him. "'What do you mean?' Her face flushed, and she lifted her hands like a small girl. "'I mean this craft of writing. Not that we would have much use for it in the north, and yet who knows?' "'Oh!' she looked away again. "'Writing. Indeed. I will teach you when the chance comes. It is not hard.' Near sundown, an obsequious eunuch informed them they would soon dine. They left Franey to a solitary meal. Women did not eat before the king, and followed him to a lesser feasting-hall. Music sounded from a twilight peristyle. Flute, lyre, drum, gong, cystrom, and other instruments Yodin had not heard, yelling like cats. The diners, arrayed in their silks and fine linens, gold and silver and jewels, lay about a long table on couches, in somewhat the Grecian manner. Mithridates came last to trumpets, and all but Yodin prostrated themselves. There was silence. A slave brought forth a cup and knelt to offer it to the king. Mithridates looked over his half-hundred guests. "'Tonight I drink hemlock, in memory of Socrates.' A kind of unvoiced whisper ran about the assembly as he drained the beaker. Now, he said, let the feast begin. Yodin, who was hungry, pay little heed to the succession of artifice deviance. Cordelia had offered him enough of that. Let a man be nourished on rye and beef with a horn of ale to wash it down. He took enough mutton to fill himself and barely tasted the rest. For the hour or so in which they ate, this was no elaborate banquet, only the king's evening meal, no person spoke. Yodin did not miss the talk, and the music he ignored. The dancers were another matter. He studied the acrobatic boys closely. This or that trick could be useful in combat. When the supple women came out with dessert and dropped one filmy garment after the next as they swayed about, he knew his hurts were scarring over. He would have traded all these for Huica, yes, all women who lived, but since she was gone and they were here. Finally, with some decorum restored, there was general conversation. Mithridates talked impatiently to various self-important persons, dismissed them at last with plain relief and roared the length of the table. Cymbrian, now let us hear that tale you promised. Mithridates followed his beckoning arm to lay beside the king himself. Envious eyes trailed him. Not everyone listened. The whole room buzzed with talk, but he was glad of that. He had not wished to make this Cymbrian destiny a knight's idle amusement, but to this grey-eyed man, himself a warrior, it was fitting to relate what Boyeric had done. Now and again Mithridates broke in with a question. Is it true that Skye and See run into one up there, as Pythias has written? How high does the sun stand at mid-summer? Do they know of any poisons? This is a self-preserving interest of mine. Too many kings have died of a subtle drink. I take a little each day, so that now they cannot harm me, neither hemlock nor arsenicum nor nightshade nor but continue. The lamps burned low, slaves stole about filling them with fresh oil. Jodan's throat horcened. He drank one cup of wine after another until his head buzzed like all summer's bees in a clover meadow in Jutland. Mithridates matched him, goblet for goblet, though the king's was larger and showed no sign of it. And at last Jodan said, Then, your ship found us and brought us hither. So it may be the gods have ended their feud with me. That Oremon has, corrected Mithridates, but he is the common enemy of all men. And could it be, I wonder, that the bull in whose sign you wandered the world was the same that bleeds upon the altars of the mystery? But enough. His hand cracked down on Jodan's shoulder and he raised his cup clashing it against the Cymbrians. What a journey! He cried. What a journey! I thank your majesty, but it has not ended yet. Are you certain? Mithridates looked at him, with gravity falling like a veil. I wonder if you are not too much a man to be flung back on any northward wind. Would you like to fight Rome? Jodan answered harshly. There is blood of my blood on their hands. I count it defeat that I shall not meet the man Flavius again. I will set up a horse-skull in the north and curse him, but it is not enough. Your chance could come, said Mithridates. There will be war between Rome and Pontus. Not yet, not for some years, but it is brewing and it will be pitiless. I shall need good officers. I have not the skills, great king, said Jodan. You could learn them, I think. See here! This very month I am leading an expedition against the Tectosages. Their tetrarch has been a thorn in my side since I took Galatian territory. We have had border skirmishes, and all the Gallic cantons lean toward Rome and intrigue against me. They must learn who is master. It will not be a great war. An outright conquest would alarm the Romans too much at this stage of things, only a punitive expedition. But the fighting will be brisk and the booty sufficient. I would like to have you and your Atlantic friend in my following. I think you could serve me well, and you would gain in both wealth and knowledge. I should be honoured, great king, said Jodan. One did not refuse such an offer, and indeed it could be profitable, and to ride a warhorse again. So be it. We shall talk further. Now, hmm, did you say your Grecian girl was a maiden and wishes to remain so? I would not stand for it. I took it for granted, till you related otherwise, that you too held her in common. She lifted me from slavery, Lord. It is a small thing to repay her. Well, as you wish. If she is indeed learned, she can tutor the younger children of palace officials. Mithrideti's grinned. Meanwhile, you and the Allen have certain needs. I take it you both prefer women? He beckoned his secretary and gave orders. Everything was not far off when Jodan and Chor entered their room, none too steadily. A maid-servant accompanying them woke Frani, who came from her chamber wrapped in a mantle. Her eyes were dark in the lamp-glow. What has happened, she asked. Much, said Jodan. It is well for us. But now you shall have a private room and a servant of your own. Why? Frani's look turned forlorn. It fell on a couch in the corner and on the two who sat there. Long gowns and demure veils did not hide what they were. She grew white. She stamped her foot and cried out, You could have let your wife grow cold in death before this. Jodan, weary, startled by her rage, snapped back. What good would it be for her ghost if I remained less than a man, just because you are less than a woman? Frani drew her mantle over her face and departed. Jodan stared after her, tasting his own words poisonous on his tongue. But it was too late now, was it not? The slave-girl came over to him, knelt and pressed his hand to her forehead. He saw through the thin silk that she was young and fair of shape. He said in an ashen tone, The king is kind. Da, mother chore! But I know not, I know not! All this we gained when my hammer was elsewhere. I wonder how much luck is in such gifts. End of Chapter 15