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diff --git a/59258-0.txt b/59258-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c5b7f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/59258-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8227 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59258 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + The Golden Slave + + POUL ANDERSON + + AVON BOOK DIVISION + The Hearst Corporation + 959 Eighth Avenue + New York 19, N. Y. + + An Avon Original + + Copyright, 1960, by Poul Anderson + + [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence + that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + Published by arrangement with the author + + Printed in the U. S. A. + + + * * * * * + +Cordelia lay on the couch before him + +Light rippled along her gown of sheerest silk, and her flesh seemed to +glow through. + +Beside her the table bore wine and food prepared for two. + +Eodan gaped. + +"Hail Cimbrian," Cordelia raised her hand and beckoned him. "Come," she +said. + +Eodan swayed toward her, the blood roaring in his temples. + +"Will you drink with me?" she asked softly. + +"Yes," he answered thickly. + +Their hands touched as she poured the wine into his goblet, and he felt +his flesh leap with excitement. + +"My husband was wrong to set a king to work in his fields," she +murmured. "Perhaps we two can reach a better understanding." + +She lifted her goblet. "To our tomorrows, may they be better than our +yesterdays." + +They drank in turn. + +Suddenly her arms went around him and her mouth was hot on his. "I +meant this to be leisurely with much fine play," she whispered. "But +that would be wrong with you. I see it now." + + + + + AUTHOR'S NOTE + + +This might have happened. The Cimbri are still remembered by the old +district name Himmerland. Plutarch describes the battle at Vercellae, +which took place 101 B.C., and its immediate aftermath. Other classical +writers, such as Tacitus and Strabo, and a treasure of archeological +material enable us to guess at the Cimbri themselves. Apparently +they were a Germanic tribe from Jutland, with some elements of +Celtic culture; by the time they reached Italy they had grown into a +formidable confederation. + +King Mithradates the Great (more commonly but less correctly spelled +Mithridates) is, of course, also historical. His expedition into +Galatia in 100 B.C. is not mentioned by the scanty surviving records; +but it is known that he had already fought with that strange kingdom +and annexed some of its territory, so border trouble followed by a +punitive sweep down past Ancyra is quite plausible. + +At that time the area now called southern Russia was dominated by +the Alanic tribes, among whom the Rukh-Ansa were prominent. They are +presumably identical with the "Rhoxolani" whom Mithradates' general +Diophantus defeated at the Crimea about 100 B.C. + +The tradition described in the epilogue may be found in the +thirteenth-century _Heimskringla_ and, in a different form, in the +chronicle of Saxo Grammaticus. + +Otherwise my sources are the usual ancient and modern ones. I have +tried to keep the framework of verifiable historical fact accurate. For +whatever brutality, licentiousness and unreasonable prejudice is shown +by the people concerned, I apologize, adding only that by the standards +of the modern free world the era was a good deal worse than I care to +describe explicitly. + +For the sake of connotation, cities and other political units are +generally referred to by their classical rather than contemporary +names. It should be obvious from context where any particular spot lies +on the map. However, the following list of geographical equivalents may +be found interesting. + + Ancyra: Ankara, Turkey + Aquitania: West central France + Arausio: Orange, France + Asia: In ordinary Roman usage, the modern Asia Minor plus India + Byzantium: Istanbul, Turkey + Cimberland: Himmerland, northern Jutland, Denmark + Cimmerian Bosporus: A Greek kingdom in the Crimea + Colchis: Mingrelian Georgia, U.S.S.R. + Dacia: Rumania + Galatia: Central Turkey + Gaul: France + Halys River: Kizil River, Turkey + Hellas: Greece + Hellespont: Dardanelles + Helvetia: Switzerland + Macedonia: Northern Greece + Massilia: Marseilles + Narbonensis: Provence, i.e., southern France + Noreia: Near Vienna, Austria + Parthian Empire: Iran and Iraq + Persia: Iran + Pontus: Eastern half of northern Turkish coast, and southward + Sinope: Sinop, Turkey + Tauric Chersonese: The Crimea + Trapezus: Trabzon, Turkey (medieval Trebizond) + Vercellae: Vercelli, Italy, between Turin and Milan + + + + + 100 B.C. + + +The Cimbrian hordes galloped across the dawn of history and clashed in +screaming battle against the mighty Roman legions. + +Led by their chief, Boierik, and his son, Eodan, the hungry and +homeless pagan tribes hurled back the Romans time after time in +their desperate search for land. But for all the burning towns, the +new-caught women weeping, the wine drunk, the gold lifted, the Cimbri +did not find a home. + +And now it was over. At Vercellae the Roman armies shattered them +completely. Only a few survived--and for them death would have been +more merciful. + +Eodan, the proud young chieftain, had been caught and sold into +slavery, his infant son murdered and his beautiful wife, Hwicca, taken +as a concubine. + +But whips and slave chains could not break the spirit of this fiery +pagan giant who fought, seduced and connived his way to a perilous +freedom to rescue the woman he loved. + + + + + The Golden Slave + + + + +I + + +The night before the battle, there were many watchfires. As he walked +from the Cimbri, out into darkness, Eodan saw the Roman camp across the +miles as a tiny ring of guttering red. Now the search has ended, he +thought; this earth we shall have tomorrow, or be slain. + +He thought, while his blood beat swiftly, I do not await my death. + +Only the ghostliest edge of a moon was up, and the stars seemed blurred +after the mountain sky. He felt Italy's air as thick. And the ground +underfoot was dusty where tens of thousands of folk, their horses and +cattle, had tramped over ripening grain. A poplar grove nearby stood +unmoving in windless gloom. Suddenly, sharp as a thrown war-dart, +Eodan recalled Jutland, Cimberland--great rolling heathery hills and +storm-noisy oaks, a hawk wheeling in heaven and the far bright blink of +the Limfjord. + +But that was fifteen years ago. His folk, angry with their gods, had +wandered since then to the world's edge. And now the Cimbrian bull must +meet for one last time that she-wolf they said guarded Rome. It was +unlucky to call up forsaken places in your head. + +Besides, thought Eodan, this was good land here. He could make it a +pastureland of horses ... yes, he might well take his share of Italy on +the Raudian plain, beneath the high Alps. + +The night was hot. He rested his spear in the crook of an arm while +he took off his wolfskin cloak. Under it he wore the legginged coarse +breeches of any Cimbrian warrior; but his shirt was red silk, made +for him by Hwicca from a looted bolt of cloth. The twining leaves +and leaping stags of the North looked harsh across its shimmer. He +wore a golden torque around his neck, gold rings on his arms and a +tooled-leather belt heavy with silver god-masks. The dagger it held +bore a new hilt of ivory on the old iron blade. The Cimbri had reaved +from many folk, until their wagons were stuffed with wealth. Yet it was +only land they sought. + +There was not much more air to be found beyond the watchfires than +within the camp. And it was hardly less full of noise here: the cattle +lowed enormously outside the wagons, one great clotted mass of horned +flesh. Eodan remembered Hwicca and turned back again. + +A guard hailed him as he passed. "Hoy, there, Boierik's son, are you +wise to go out alone? _I_ would have scouts in the dark, to slice any +such throat that offered itself." + +Eodan grinned and said scornfully, "How many miles away would you hear +a Roman, puffing and clanking on tiptoe?" + +The warrior laughed. A Cimbrian of common mold, the wagons held +thousands like him. A big man, with heavy bones and thews, his skin was +white where sun and wind and mountain frosts had not burned it red, his +eyes were snapping blue under shaggy brows. He wore his hair shoulder +length, drawn into a tail at the back of the head; his beard was +braided, and his face and arms showed the tattoo marks of tribe, clan, +lodge or mere fancy. He bore an iron breastplate, a helmet roughly +hammered into the shape of a boar's head and a painted wooden shield. +His weapons were a spear and a long single-edged sword. + +Eodan himself was taller even than most of the tall Cimbri. His +eyes were green, set far apart over high cheekbones in a broad, +straight-nosed, square-chinned face. His yellow hair was cut like +everyone else's, but like most of the younger men he had taken on the +Southland fashion of shaving his beard once or twice a week. His only +tattoo was on his forehead, the holy triskele marking him as a son of +Boierik, who led the people in wandering, war and sacrifice. The other +old ties, clan or blood brotherhood, had loosened on the long trek; +these wild, youthful horsemen were more fain for battle or gold or +women than for the rites of their grandfathers. + +"And besides, Ingwar, there is a truce until tomorrow," Eodan went on. +"I thought everyone knew that. I and a few others rode with my father +to the Roman camp and spoke with their chief. We agreed where and when +to meet for battle. I do not think the Romans are overly eager to feed +the crows. They won't attack us beforehand." + +Ingwar's thick features showed a moment's uneasiness in the wavering +firelight. "Is it true what I heard say, that the Teutones and Ambrones +were wiped out last year by this same Roman?" + +"It is true," said Eodan. "When my father and his chiefs first went to +talk with Marius, to tell him we wanted land and would in turn become +allies of Rome, my father said he also spoke on behalf of our comrades, +those tribes which had gone to enter Italy through the western passes. +Marius scoffed and said he had already given the Teutones and Ambrones +their lands, which they would now hold forever. At this my father grew +angry and swore they would avenge that insult when they arrived in +Italy. Then Marius said, 'They are already here.' And he had the chief +of the Teutones led forth in chains." + +Ingwar shuddered and made a sign against trolldom. "Then we are alone," +he said. + +"So much the more for us, when we sack Rome and take Italy's acres," +answered Eodan gaily. + +"But--" + +"Ingwar, Ingwar, you are older than I. I had barely seen six winters +when we left Cimberland; you were already a wedded man. Must I then +tell you of all we have done since? How we went through forests and +rivers, over mountains, along the Danube year after year to Shar Dagh +itself ... and all the tribes there could not halt us--we reaped their +grain and wintered in their houses and rolled on in spring, leaving +their wives heavy with our children! How we smote the Romans at Noreia +twelve years ago, and again eight and four years ago--besides all the +Gauls and Iberians and the Bull knows how many others that stood in our +way--how we pushed one Roman army before us across the Adige, when they +would bar Italy--how this is the host they can hope to raise against +us, and we outnumber it perhaps three men to one!" + +The victories rushed off Eodan's tongue, a river in springtime flood. +He thought of one Roman tribune after the next, tied like an ox to a +Cimbrian wagon, or stark on a reddened field among his unbreathing +legionaries. He remembered roaring songs and the whirlwind gallop +of Cimberland's young men, drunk with victory and the eyes of their +dear tall girls. It did not occur to him--then--how the trek had +nevertheless lasted for fifteen years, north and south, east and west, +from Jutland down to the Balkan spine and back to the Belgic plains, +from the orchards of Gaul to the gaunt uplands of Spain. And for all +the burning towns and weeping new-caught women, all the men killed and +all the gold lifted, the Cimbri had not found a home. There had been +too many people, forever too many; you could not plow when the very +earth spewed armed men up into your face. + +"Well," said Ingwar. "Well, yes. Yes." He nodded his bushy head. "It's +plain to see whose son you are. His youngest, perhaps, not counting +the baseborn, but still son to Boierik. And that's something. Me, I am +only a crofter, or will be when I get my bit of land, but you'll be a +king or whatever they call it. So remember me, old Ingwar that bounced +you on his knee back home, and let me bring my mares for your fine +stallions to breed, eh?" + +"Eh, indeed." Eodan slapped the broad back and went on into the camp. + +The wagons were drawn up in many rings, the whole forming a circle +bound together by low breastworks of earth and logs. It seethed with +folk, there among the wheels. Even from his own height, Eodan could not +see far across that brawl of big fair men and free-striding girls. + +Here a band of boys whooped and wrestled at a campfire, while an old +wife stirred a kettle of stew, naked towheaded children rolled in the +dust, dogs barked and horses stamped. There a gang of men knelt about +the dice, shouting as the wagers went, betting all they owned down to +their very weapons--for tomorrow they would settle with Marius and own +Rome herself. An aged bard, chilly even in summer, huddled into a worn +bearskin and listened dumbly to the war-song of a beardless lad whose +hands had already been bloodied. A youth and a maiden stole between +wagons, seeking darkness; her mother shook her head after them in some +bitterness, for it was not like the time when she was young--all this +rootless drifting had ended the staid old ways, and no good would +come of it. A thrall from the homeland, hairy and ragged, grabbed +lumberingly for a timid lass stolen out of Gaul, and got a kick and a +curse from the warrior who owned them both. A man whetted an ax against +tomorrow's use; beside him snored three friends, empty wine cups in +their hands. Here, there, here, there, it became one great whirl for +Eodan, and the voices and feet and ringing iron were like the surf he +had not heard in fifteen years. + +He pushed his way through them all, grinning at those he knew, taking +a horn of beer offered by one man and a bite of blood sausage from +another, but not staying. Out there, alone in the night, he had +remembered Hwicca, and it came to him that the night was not so long +after all. + +His own wagons stood near his father's, which were close to the +god-cars. In two of these lived the hags who tended the holy fire, took +omens and cast spells for luck--ugh, they looked like empty leather +sacks, and it was said they rode broomsticks through the air. But +another held the mightiest Cimbrian treasures, ancient lur horns and a +wooden earth-god and the huge golden oath-ring. Eodan and Hwicca had +laid their hands on that ring last year to be wedded. The Bull rode in +the same wagon, but tonight Boierik had ordered it set in an open cart, +that all might see it and be heartened. It was a heavy image, cast in +bronze, with horns that seemed to threaten the stars. + +They had wandered far, the Cimbri, and they had lost much of old habit +and belief and belongingness. They were not even the Cimbri any longer. +That was only the chief tribe of many which had joined their trek. +There were other Jutes, driven from Jutland by the same succession of +wild wet years when no harvest ripened and hail fell like knuckle-bones +on Midsummer Eve. There were Germans gathered in along the way; +Helvetians from the Alps and Basques from the Pyrenees, neighbors to +the sky; even adventurous Celts, throwing in with these newcomers who +so merrily ransacked all nations. They had no gods in common, nor did +they care much for any gods; they had no high ancestors whose barrows +must be sacrificed to; they had not even a single language. + +Red Boierik and the Bull held them together. Eodan, with scant +reverence for anything else, shaded his eyes in awe as he passed the +green, horned bulk of it. + +Then he saw his own wagon and his best horses tethered beside it. A low +fire was burning, and Flavius was squatting above it, poking with a +stick. + +"Well," said Eodan, "are you cold? Or afraid?" + +The Roman stood up, slowly and easily as a cat. He wore only a rag of +a tunic, thrown him one day by his master, but he wore it like a toga +in the Senate. Men had advised Eodan not to trust such a thrall--stick +a spear in him, or at least beat the haughtiness out, or one day he'll +put a knife in your back. Eodan had disregarded them. Now and then +he would knock Flavius over with a single open-handed cuff, when the +fellow spoke too sharply, but nothing worse had been needed; and he was +more use than a dozen shambling Northern oafs. + +"Neither," he said. "I wanted a little more light, to see the camp +better. This may be my last night in it." + +"Hoy!" said Eodan. "Speak no unlucky words, or I'll kick your teeth in." + +He made no move against the Roman. War or the chase were one thing; +beating those who could not fight back was another, a distasteful work. +Eodan laid the whip on his thralls less often than most. Lately he had +given Flavius the job, and the Roman had shown Roman skill at it. + +"After all, master, I could have meant that tomorrow we will sleep in +Vercellae, and a few nights thereafter in Rome." Flavius smiled, the +odd closed-lipped smile with drooping eyelids that made Cimbrian men +somehow raw along the nerves but seemed to draw Cimbrian women. In +his mouth the rough, burring Northern language became something else, +almost a song. + +He was about ten years older than Eodan, not as tall or as broad of +shoulder, but more supple. His skin was nearly as fair, though his hair +curled black; his face was narrow, smooth, with wide red lips, but his +jaw jutted, and his nose was curving chiseled beauty; his rust-colored +eyes had lashes a woman might envy. Four years as a Cimbrian slave had +put certain skills in his hands, but did not seem to have dulled his +gaze or numbed his tongue. + +Eodan gave him a hard stare. "If I were you, not tied to the wheel +tonight and my fellows close by, I'd slip from here. You'd have a +better chance of escaping now than you ever had before." + +"Not a good enough chance," said Flavius. "Tomorrow you will win and +I would be scourged or killed if caught. Or the Romans will win and I +shall be released. I can wait. My folk are older than yours--you are a +nation of children, but we are schooled in waiting." + +"Which makes you less trouble to me!" laughed the Cimbrian. "You can be +my overseer, when I build my garth. I'll even get you a Roman wife." + +"I told you I have one. Such as she is." Flavius grimaced delicately. +Eodan bristled. It meant nothing for Flavius to bed with thrall +women--any man would do that if no better were to be had. The ugly, +hardly understandable gossip about boys could be overlooked. But a +man's wife was his _wife_, sworn to him in the sight of proud folk. +Even if he did not get on with her, he was less than a man for speaking +her name badly before others. + +Well-- + +"What is the Roman consul's name?" went on Flavius. "Not Catulus, whom +you beat at the Adige, but the new one they say has been given supreme +command." + +"Marius." + +"Ah, so. Gaius Marius, I am sure. I have met him. A plebeian, a +demagogue, a self-righteous and always angry creature who actually +boasts of knowing no Greek ... indeed. His one lonely virtue is that he +is a fiend of a soldier." + +Flavius had murmured his remark in Latin. The Cimbric, the speech +of barbarians, could not have been used to say it. Eodan followed +him without much trouble; he had had Flavius teach him enough Latin +for everyday use, looking forward to the day when he dealt with many +Italian underlings. + +Eodan said, "In my baggage cart you will find my chest of armor. Polish +the helmet and breastplate. I would look my best tomorrow." He paused +at the wagon. "And do not sit close to here." + +Flavius chuckled. "Ah--I see what you have in mind. You are to be +envied. I know all Aristotle's criteria of beauty, but you sleep with +them!" + +Eodan kicked at him, not very angrily. The Roman laughed, dodged and +slipped off into darkness. Eodan stared after him for a little, then +heard him strike up a merry melodious whistling. + +It was the same air Gnaeus Valerius Flavius had been singing at Arausio +in Gaul, to hearten his fellow captives. That was after the Cimbri had +utterly smashed two consular armies, while Boierik was sacrificing all +the prisoners and booty to the river god. Ha, but the hag-wagon had +stunk of blood! Eodan had been a little sickened, as one helpless man +after another went to be hanged, speared, cut open and brains dashed +out--the river had been choked with the dead. He had heard Flavius +singing. He did not know Latin then, but he had guessed from the kind +of laughter (the Romans had laughed, waiting to be murdered!) that the +words were bawdy. On an impulse he had bought Flavius from the river +for a cow and calf. Later he had learned that he now owned a Roman of +the equestrian class, educated in Athens, possessor of rich estates and +tall ambitions, serving in the army as every wellborn Roman must. + +Eodan went up two steps and drew aside the curtain in his doorway. This +was a chief's wandering home, drawn by four span of oxen, walled and +roofed against the rain. + +"What is that?" The low woman-voice was taut. He heard her move in the +dark wagon body, among his racked weapons. + +"I," he said. "Only I." + +"Oh--" Hwicca groped to the door. The dim light picked out her +face--broad, snub-nosed, a little freckled, the mouth wide and soft, +the eyes like summer heavens. Her yellow hair fell so thickly past the +strong shoulders that he could hardly see her crouched body. + +"Oh, Eodan, I was afraid." + +Her hands felt cold, touching his. "Of a few Romans?" he asked. + +"Of what could happen to you tomorrow," she whispered. "And even to +Othrik.... I thought you would not come at all tonight." + +His arm slipped down under the wheaten mane, across her bare back, and +he kissed her with a gentleness he had never had for other women. It +was not only that she was his wife and had borne his son. Surely it was +not that she also came of a high Cimbrian house. But when he saw her it +was like a springtime within him, a Jutland spring in lost years when +the Maiden drove forth garlanded under blossoming hawthorns; and he +knew that being a man was more than mere war-readiness. + +"I went out to look at things," he told her, "and spoke with some men +and with Flavius." + +"So.... I fell asleep, waiting. I did not hear. Flavius sang me a song +to make me sleep when I could not ... he had first made me laugh, too." +Hwicca smiled. "He promised to bring me some of these flowers they +have--roses, he calls them--" + +"That is enough of Flavius!" snapped Eodan. May the wind run off with +that Roman, he thought, the way he bewitches all women. I come back and +the first thing I hear from my wife is how wonderful Flavius is. + +Hwicca cocked her head. "Do you know," she murmured, "I think you are +jealous? As if you had any reason!" + +She withdrew. He followed, awkwardly taking off his clothes in the +black, cramped space. He heard Hwicca go to Othrik, the small, milky +wonder who would one day sit in _his_ high seat, and draw a skin over +the curled-up form. He waited on their own straw. Presently her arms +found him. + + + + +II + + +The Cimbri met the joint forces of Marius and Catulus on the Raudian +plain near the city Vercellae. It was on the third day before the new +moon in the month Sextilis, which is now called August. The Romans +numbered 52,300; no one had counted the Cimbri, but it is said each +side of their army took up thirty furlongs and that they had 15,000 +horses. + +Eodan led a wing of these. He was not on one of the shaggy, +short-legged, long-headed Northern ponies that had trotted across +Europe--the tall black stallion he had found in Spain snorted and +danced beneath him. He dreamed about herds of such horses, his own +stock on his own land. He would raise horses like none the world had +ever seen. Meanwhile he rode with silver-jingling harness to cast down +Consul Marius. + +His big body strained against a plate of hammered iron; his helmet +carried the mask of a wolf, and plumes nodded above it; a cloak like +flame blew from his shoulders; he wore gilt spurs on boots inlaid with +gold. He shouted and bandied jokes--the lusty mirth of a stock-breeding +people--with comrades even younger than he, shook his lance to catch +the sun on its metal, put the aurochs horn to his lips and blew, till +his temples hammered, for the joy of hearing it. "_Hoy-ah_, there, +Romans, have you any word I can take to your wives? I'll see them +before you do!" And the young riders galloped in and out, back and +forth, till dust grayed their banners. + +Boierik--huge and silent, scarred hawk face and grizzled red hair +beneath a horned helmet, armed with a two-pronged spear--rode more +steadily in the van of the army. And not all the Cimbri who marched +after the horses owned so much as an iron head covering: there were +many leather caps and arrows merely fire-hardened. Yet even some +bare-legged twelve-year-old boy, wielding no more than a sling, might +be wearing a plundered golden necklace. + +The Romans waited, quiet under the eagles, their cuirasses and greaves, +oblong shields and round helmets blinding bright in the sun. Among them +waved officers' plumes and an occasional blue cloak, but they seemed +as much less colorful than the barbarians as they seemed smaller--a +dark short race with cropped hair and shaven chins, holding their ranks +stiff as death. Even their horsemen stood rigid. + +Eodan strained his eyes through the dust that was around him like a +fog, kicked up by hoofs and feet. He could scarcely see his own folk; +now and then he caught the iron gleam of chains by which the Cimbri had +linked their front-line men together, to stand fast or die. He thought, +with a moment's unease, that it aided the Romans, not to be able to see +how great were the numbers they must face.... Then a war-horn screamed, +and he blew his own in answer and smote spurs into his horse. + +Hoofs drummed beneath him. He heard the wild, lowing _du-du-du_ of the +holy lur horns; closer now, the Romans tubas brayed brass and the Roman +pipes skirled. He heard even the rattle of his own metal and the squeak +of leather. But then it was all drowned in the Cimbrian shouts. + +"_Hau-hau-hau-hau-hoo!_" shrieked Eodan into his horse's blowing mane. +"_Hau, hau! Hee-ee-yi!_" So did we shout at Noreia, when Rome first +learned who we are; so did we cry on the Alps, when we romped naked in +the snow and slid down glaciers on our shields; so did we howl as we +ripped up a forest to dam the Adige, break the Roman bridge and wring +the eagle's neck! _Hee-hoo!_ + +It was a blink of time, and it was forever, before he saw the enemy +cavalry before him. A shape sprang out of whirling gray dust, a shadow, +a face. Eodan saw that the man's chin was scarred. He reached into his +belt, whipped out one of his darts, and hurled it. He saw it glance off +the Roman cuirass. He veered his horse to the right and shook his lance +as he went by. + +Around him it was all thudding and yelling. He only glimpsed the Roman +charge, fragments through the dust, a helmet or a sword, once the eye +of a horse. He leaned low in the saddle and reached for his second +dart. The Cimbrian riders were moving slantwise across the advancing +Roman front, and only those on the left actually met that charge. Eodan +edged toward the fighting. + +A mounted man loomed up, sudden as a thunderclap. Eodan threw the dart. +It struck the Roman's horse in a nostril, and blood squirted out. The +horse screamed and lunged. Eodan knew a moment of reproach; he had not +meant to hurt the poor beast! Then he was upon the enemy. The fellow +was too busy with his frantic mount to raise shield. Eodan drove his +lance two-handed into the man's throat. He toppled from his seat, and +the shaft was almost wrenched from Eodan's hands. With a single harsh +movement, he freed it, nearly falling himself. + +Another shape came out of the racketing dust. Eodan was able to see +this one more clearly. He could have counted the iron bands of the +cuirass or the iron-studded leather strips falling down the thighs +above the kilt. He braced his lance in his hands and waited. The +Roman came in at a trot. His shaft struck out. Eodan parried it, wood +smote dully on wood. The horses snorted and circled while their riders +probed. The Roman's steel hit Eodan's shield, where it hung on the +Cimbrian's arm, and stuck there for a tiny moment. Eodan grabbed the +lance with his left hand and shoved his own weapon forward, clumsily, +with his right arm. The Roman's shield blocked him. Eodan whipped his +shaft down like a club, and it hit the Roman's knee. The man yelped and +dropped his shield. Eodan's iron went through his jaws. The Roman fell +backward, dragging the lance with him, strangling in blood. His horse +bucked, brought down a chance hoof and cracked the wood across. + +Panting, Eodan drew his sword and looked about. He could dimly see +that men were skirmishing through dust and heat--the Bull help us, +but it was hot!--and that the battle was moving toward the Cimbrian +right. Sweat runneled from him, stung his eyes and drenched his padded +undergarment. He should have been crowing his victory. Two men slain +for certain; it was not often you knew what a blow of yours had done. +But he felt too choked in the dust. + +He rode after the fight in search of an enemy. Boierik's plan had +worked, to draw the Roman horse away while the Cimbrian foot struck +their center. He could hear the screeches and hammering as men battled +on the ground; he could not see it. + +Slowly his mount gained speed. He was riding at gallop when he saw the +knot of men. Two Romans ahorse were circling about four dismounted +Cimbri, who stood back to back and glared. Eodan felt the heart spring +in his breast. "_Hee-ya-hau! Hau, hau, hau!_" He whirled the great iron +blade up over his head and charged. + +The nearest Roman saw him and had time to face the attack. Eodan struck +down, two-handed, guiding the stallion with his knees. The blow cried +out on the Roman shield, and he felt it shock back into his own bones. +He saw the shieldframe crumple. The Roman whitened and fell from the +saddle, rolled over and sat up holding a broken arm. + +The other one darted to his rescue. Eodan took a savage spear-thrust on +his breastplate; it glanced down and furrowed his thigh. He reached +out, hammering with his sword. It bounced on helmet and shoulder +pieces, clamored against wood and steel. The lance broke across. The +Roman rider sat firm, working his way in, shield upraised. Eodan hewed +at his leg. The Roman caught the blow on his own sword, but the sheer +force of it pushed both blades down. Eodan struck with the edge of his +small shield and hit the Roman on the shoulder, knocking him from his +saddle. The four dismounted Cimbri roared and rushed in. + +A wolf-fight snarled by. Eodan followed it. All at once he found +himself out of the dust cloud. The ground was torn underfoot, and a +dead barbarian glared empty-eyed at a cloudless sky. Not many miles +off gleamed Vercellae's white-washed walls. He could almost see how +the townsfolk blackened them, standing and staring. If Marius fell, +Vercellae would burn. High over all, floating like a dream, remote and +lovely, were the snowpeaks of the Alps. + +Eodan gasped air into lungs like dry fire. He grew aware that his leg +bled ... and when had he been wounded in the hand? No matter. But he +would sell his best ox for a cup of water! + +His eyes went back to the battle. The cavalry skirmished in blindness. +The Cimbrian foot raged against Catulus' legions, and Catulus buckled. +Where was Marius? + +Even as he watched, Eodan saw Roman standards in the dust, a gleam, a +rippling steely line, and the army of Marius came from chaos and fell +upon the Cimbri! + +Eodan jogged back, scowling. It was not well. He could see how the +barbarians were suddenly caught and chopped--and they had the sun in +their eyes, and never had men fought in so much heat.... What had +become of Boierik? + +He entered the dust again. His tongue felt like a block of wood. +Presently he found some of his young riders streaming back to the +main fight. Their cloaks were tattered and their helmets stripped of +feathers; one man's cheek gaped open, and his teeth grinned through. + +"_Hau-hau-hau!_" Eodan gave the war-cry, because someone must, and +hurled himself at the Roman lines. There was a whirling and a shock, +and then the earth came up and struck him. His horse galloped off, a +javelin in its flank. + +Eodan cursed, rose to his feet and ran to the Cimbrian foot. Behind the +chained first rank he saw men who were stabbing with spears, hewing +with axes and swords, throwing stones and shooting arrows. They leaped +into the air, howled, shook their tawny manes and rushed to do battle. +The Romans stood firm, shield by shield, and worked. + +Eodan reached the front-line flank of the Cimbrian host. He faced a +dimly-seen foe; the sun in his brows blinded him almost as much as the +dust and sweat. He heard a whistling, like the wind before rain, and +felt three thumps in his shield. The Romans had launched their massed +javelins. + +Cimbri clawed at whetted iron in their flesh. Eodan was unhurt, but his +shield was useless. What new trick was this? Only one metal pin left in +the javelin head--it was bent and held fast by its crooked point; he +could not wrench it free. He knew a chill. This Marius had thought of +such a trick! + +Casting his shield from him, Eodan joined the charge. + +Elsewhere the invaders were already locked face to face with the enemy; +now this part of their host met him. Eodan struck at a shield. His +sword was blunted; it would not bite. A Roman blade flashed at him. He +dodged it, planted his feet wide and hewed two-handed. A Roman helmet +stopped his swing. He heard neckbones snap across. The man crashed to +the ground. One behind him stepped into line. The legion advanced. + +Gasping, Eodan retreated. It was a hailstorm of blows now--shouts, +shocks, no more war-cries for lack of breath, but always the din of +weapons. And the rising wildcat song of the pipes ... where were the +lurs? No one blew the holy lurs? He yelled and struck out. + +Backward step by step. His boot crushed something, the bones of a face. +He looked down and saw it was Ingwar, with a Roman javelin in his +armpit. He looked up again from the dead eyes, sobbed and hit through +redness at a face above a shield. The Roman had a long thin nose like a +beak. And he grinned. He grinned at Eodan. + +Crash and clang and boom of iron. No more voices, except when a man +hooted his pain. Eodan saw one of the linked Cimbri fall, holding his +belly, trying to keep in his bowels. He died. His comrades dragged him +backward. The man beside the corpse gasped--a slingstone had smashed +his teeth--and sat down. A Roman took him by the hair and slashed off +his head. Four Romans, close together, stepped into the gap and cut +loose. + +The battle banged and thundered under a white-hot sky. Italy's earth +rose up in anger and stopped the nostrils of the Cimbri. + +Eodan slipped and fell in a pool of blood. He looked stupidly at his +hands, empty hands--where had his sword gone? Pain jagged through his +skull. He looked up; the Roman line was upon him. He glimpsed the hairy +knees of a man, drew his dagger and thrust weakly upward. A shield +edge came down hard on his wrist. He cried out and lost the knife. The +shield struck his helmet and darkness clapped down. The legionaries +walked over him. + +He sat up again, looking at their backs. For a little while he could +not move. He could only watch them as they broke his people. There was +a tuba being sounded. Was it in his head, or did it blow victory for +Marius? His wrist was numb. Blood dripped slowly from a forearm gashed +across. + +At least he lived, he thought. The dead around him were thick. Never +had he seen so many dead. And the wounded groaned until he sickened of +their anguish. He sat there for a while longer. The field grew black +with flies. The sun got low, a huge blood-colored shield seen through +dust. + +The Romans took the field, gathered themselves together and +quick-marched after the fleeing. + +Eodan struggled for wakefulness. He kept slipping back into night; it +was like trying to climb out of a watery pit. There was something he +must remember.... Was it his father? No, surely Boierik was dead; he +would not outlive this day. He would fall on his own double-headed +spear if he must. His mother had died two years ago, now let her ghost +thank the earth Powers for that. And Hwicca-- + +It came to him. He reeled to his feet. "Hwicca," he croaked. "Othrik." + +The Romans would take the wagon camp. They would take the camp. The +Cimbri would be slaves. + +Eodan lurched through nightmare across the Raudian plain. The hurt +wailed at him. The gathering crows flew up as he passed and then +settled down again. A riderless horse rushed past; he groped for its +reins, but it was many yards away. The horizon seemed to shrink until +it lay about him like bonds; then it stretched until he was the only +thing that was; he heard the fever-hum of the world's brain under his +feet. + +When he neared the camp, miles beyond the battle, he had to rest for a +while. His legs would carry him no more. He had some thought that there +would be horses about; he and Hwicca and Othrik could get away. Oh, +the wide cool Jutland moors! He remembered how the first snow fell in +winter. + +He saw the beaten Cimbri, such as lived, pouring into the camp. He got +up again and stumbled among them. The Romans were already over the +earthworks, briskly, like men who round up cattle. + +Eodan went among them somehow. He saw the Cimbrian women stand in black +clothes on their wagons, spears and swords in hand, screaming. They +struck at their husbands and fathers and sons and brothers--"Coward! +Whelp! You fled, you fled--" They strangled their own children, threw +them under the wheels or the feet of the milling kine. Eodan passed a +woman he knew who had hanged herself from the pole of a wagon, and her +children were tied dangling at her heels. + +Men who had thrown away their weapons, and saw the Romans gather in +their folk, took what rope they could find. There were no trees here; +they must tie themselves to the horns of the oxen, or by the neck to a +steer's legs, to die. + +The Romans worked hard, prodding prisoners into groups, stunning, +binding. They took some sixty thousand alive. + +Eodan paid small heed. It was happening elsewhere. He was a pair of +feet and a pair of eyes, searching for Hwicca ... no more. + +He found her at last. She stood beside the wagon that had been her +household. She held Othrik to her breast and a knife in her hand. Eodan +slipped, fell, picked himself up, fell again, crawled on hands and +knees toward her. She did not see him. Her eyes were too wild. He had +no voice left to call. + +"Othrik," said Hwicca. Her words wavered. He could barely hear them +above the noise. "Good Othrik." The hand with the dagger stroked across +his fine pale-gold hair as he slept in the curve of her arm. "Be not +afraid, Othrik," she said. "It is well. All is well." + +A Roman squad came from beyond the god-cars. "There's a beauty!" Eodan +heard one of them shout. "Get her!" + +Hwicca sucked in a gasp. She laid the knife at her son's throat. The +blade fell out of her fingers. Two of the Romans ran toward her. She +looked at them at they neared. She picked up the baby by his ankles and +dashed his head against the wagon boards. + +"Othrik," she said numbly, and let the thing drop to earth. + +The Romans--they were both young, hardly more than boys--stopped and +gaped. One of them took a backward step. Hwicca went down on her knees +and fumbled blindly after the dagger. "I am coming, I am coming," she +called. "Wait for me, Othrik. You are too little to go down hellroad +alone. I will come hold your hand." + +The Roman squad was kicking some of Eodan's thralls toward the main +slave group. Their officer looked over his shoulder at the two boys +he had sent after Hwicca. "Snatch her up or she'll kill herself!" he +barked. "You can't peddle dead meat!" + +They broke into a run again. Hwicca's hand touched the dagger. + +Flavius the slave sprang from behind the baggage cart. He put his foot +on the knife. Hwicca stared like a clubbed animal up into his face. He +smiled. "No," he said. + +Eodan hitched himself forward another yard. She had not seen him, even +yet. The two legionaries reached her, pulled her erect and hustled her +off. Flavius went after them. Presently another Roman detachment came +by and found Eodan. + + + + +III + + +Early the next year, only a few days after the feast of Mars had +signaled the vernal equinox, they brought an injured slave to the +master's house. This was on a Samnian latifundium owned by Gnaeus +Valerius Flavius. + +It was a raw day--low smoky clouds scudded over the fields, with a +cold whistle of wind and a few rain-spatters. The rolling land lay wet +and dark, its trees nearly bare save for a clump of pines. A rutted +road gleamed with wind-ruffled puddles, and a few cows and goats, still +winter-shaggy, huddled behind the sheds. The field slaves stamped their +feet, blew on chafed hands and bent to their task; no idleness now, +this was plowing and sowing time, that the flax might clothe Rome next +winter. Their overseers rode up and down the lines, touching a back +here and there with a skilled lash, but lightly; today the air did all +the needful whipping for them. + +Phryne came out of the house and felt how the wind bit. Her stola +skirts streamed from her girdle, and she almost lost the blue palla +before she got it on. Nevertheless, she could not have stayed another +hour in the villa. Mistress Cordelia would have it hot as Ethiopia, and +drown the brazier fumes in enough incense to throttle a mule! + +As she walked over the sere lawn, smiling to old gardener Mopsus +but hurrying on (he was a dear, and so lonely since the master sold +his last grandchild--and a Greek--but _how_ he talked), she saw two +field hands approach. They were common dark men, some or other kind +of barbarian, she didn't know what. But the one they supported was +something else. She had not seen so big a man in a long time, and his +unkempt yellow hair and beard tossed a blaze across the sunless sky. + +Why ... he must be a Cimbrian ... one of the very people who had +captured Master Flavius in Gaul! It was a Euripidean situation. Phryne +went down the hill for a closer look. One of the dark men saw her and +bobbed his head with coarse deference--a household slave, personal +attendant to the mistress herself, was not common folks. + +"What is the matter?" asked Phryne. "What happened?" + +The Cimbrian lifted his head. He bore a strongly molded face, heavy +about the jaw and brows but almost Hellenic of nose. His eyes were wide +apart beneath a tattooed triskele (how had the yelping barbarians of +Thule ever come on that most ancient symbol?) and a green color like +winter seas. He was white about the lips. His left leg dragged. + +"He got hurt by a bull," said the first of the dark slaves. "The big +white stud bull broke out of the pen and come ramping down in the +field. Gored one man." + +"They didn't dare kill him," added the other. "He's worth too much, you +see. And we couldn't lay a rope on him. Then this fellow got in, took +him by the horns, threw him and held him down till help come." + +Phryne felt how the blood flew into her face. "But that was wonderful!" +she cried. "Another Theseus! And only hurt in the leg!" + +The Cimbrian laughed, a short inhuman bark, and said: "I would not +have been hurt at all--we used to throw bulls every year at the spring +rites--but when those trained pigs of cowherds let him up they held the +ropes too slack." His Latin was rough and ungrammatical, but it flowed +quickly. + +"Foreman says get him to the barracks and fix the bone," said one of +those who upbore him. "Best we go." + +Phryne stamped her foot. At once she realized that she had driven her +small shoe into the mud. She saw the Cimbrian's eyes slide down, and a +grin went like a ghost over his mouth. He looked back at her and nodded +wryly. He knew. + +She blurted in confusion: "Certainly not! I know what you would do, +have that fool of a blacksmith splint it--and he will limp for the rest +of his life. Up to the villa!" + +They followed her, bashfully. No, not the Cimbrian--he jumped +one-footed--but, when they entered the kitchen and put him in a chair, +he sprawled as if he owned it. He was caked with mud, he had on only a +sleazy gray tunic, there were shackle scars on his wrists and ankles, +but he said, "Give me some wine," and the chief cook himself poured a +full stoup. The Cimbrian emptied it in three long gulps, sighed, and +held it out again. + +Phryne went off after the house physician. He was Greek like herself, +all the most valuable slaves were Greek, even as the only valuable +free folk had once been--an aging man, with a knowledge of herbs and +poultices to ease Cordelia, who suffered loudly and would not be +without him. He came readily enough, looked at the wound, called for +water and began sponging it. + +"A clean break," he said. "The muscle was little torn. Stay on a crutch +for a few weeks and it should heal as good as new. But first we'll +hear some of those famous Cimbrian howls, for I must set it." + +"Do you take me for a Southlander?" snorted the hurt man. "I am a son +of Boierik." + +"There are philosophers in _my_ family," said the physician, with an +edge in his voice. "Very well, then." + +Phryne could not look at the leg, nor could she look away from the +barbarian's face. It was a good face, she thought, it would be handsome +in a wild fashion if some god would smooth off the slave-gauntness. She +saw how sweat spurted out on the skin, when his bones grated, and how +he bit his lip till the blood trickled. + +The physician splinted and bound the leg. "I will see about a crutch," +he said. "It might also be well to speak to the major-domo, or the +mistress. Otherwise, if I know the chief field overseer, they'll put +this man back at work before he is properly healed." + +Phryne nodded. "You may go," she said to the gaping sowers. The cook +bustled off on some errand. Phryne found herself alone with the +barbarian. + +"Rest a while," she said. She noticed his cup was empty for the second +time; she risked the steward's wrath and poured him a third. + +"Thank you." He nodded curtly. + +"It was heroic of you," she said, more clumsy with words than she was +wont. + +He spat an obscenity. "The bull was something to fight." + +"I see." She found a chair and sat down, elbows on knees, looking at +her folded hands. + +"What is your name?" he asked. + +"Phryne." Though it meant nothing to him, she was obscurely grateful +to hear no sniggering reference to her historic namesake's profession; +why did they never remember that the first Phryne had modeled for +Praxiteles, and forget what else she had been? + +"I am Eodan, Boierik's son. Are you a Roman?" + +She started, met a smoldering in his eyes and laughed a little. "Zeus, +no! I am a Greek. A slave like yourself." + +"A well-tended slave," he fleered. He was drunk--not much, but enough +to loosen the wariness learned in the dealers' pens. "A darling of the +house." + +Anger leaped in her--it stung that he should snap when she had offered +only help--and she said, "Are you so brave to make war on me with your +tongue?" + +He checked himself. As he sat rubbing his shaggy chin, she could almost +see him turning the thought over in his mind. Finally, pushed out with +an effort that roughened it: "You are right. I spoke badly." + +"It is nothing," she said, altogether melted. "I think I understand. +You were a free man. A king, did you say?" + +"We have ... we had no kings," he mumbled. "Not as you seem to mean the +word here--what little I've heard. But truly I was a free man once." + +A gust of rain went over the tiled roof. The hearthfire leaped and +sputtered; smoke caught Phryne's eyes, and she coughed and threw back +her cloak. Eodan's gaze fixed on her. + +She knew that look. Every woman in the Roman world knew it, though the +high-born paid it no heed. A slave girl must. It was the look of a +man locked away from all women for months and years, lucky to have a +rare hurried moment in a strawstack at festival time. The penalty for +attacking expensive female property could be death, if her owner cared +(Phryne doubted Cordelia would) ... still, a desperate hand might seize +her one night. She stayed close to the villa when she was here. + +She said quickly, "I have heard Master Flavius telling he was a +prisoner among your folk for four years." + +Eodan laughed, deep laughter from full lungs, but somehow grim. At last +he answered, "Flavius was my slave." + +"Oh--". A hand stole to her lips. + +Still he looked at her. She was not tall, but she was lithely formed. +The simple white dress fell about long slim legs, touched the curve of +thigh and waist, drew over small firm breasts. Her hair was of deep +bluish-black, piled on a slender neck and caught with a bone fillet. +Her face did not have classic lines; perhaps that, and her quietness +when Roman men were about, was why she remained a virgin at twenty. But +more than one lovesick slave had tried to praise deep violet eyes, +smoky-lashed under arching brows, a wide clear forehead, tilted nose +and delicate chin, soft mouth and pale cheeks. + +Eodan lifted his cup. "Be not afraid," he said. "I cannot leave this +chair before they bring me a staff." + +Phryne received his bluntness with relief. Some of the educated +household men simpered about so she could vomit. She could give no +better reason, in all honesty, for not taking a lover or even a +husband. Cordelia had not forbidden her, and the memory of a certain +boy was chilly comfort. + +"I should think," she whispered, leaning close lest it be overheard, +"that if you treated Flavius kindly--and he did not look much abused +when he came back--he could have found something better for you than +field labor. That destroys--" She stopped, appalled. + +Eodan said bleakly, "Destroys men. Of course. Do you think I have not +seen what a few years of it do to a man? He could have done worse, I +suppose--resold me to the games I hear tell of, or as a rower on a +ship. But he could never trust me running about a house, even another +man's house, as freely as you do." + +"Why not? You can have no more dreams of escape. You have seen +crucified men along the roads." + +"Some things might be worth a crucifixion," said Eodan. He made no +great point of it; his tone was almost matter-of-fact, wherefore Phryne +shuddered. + +"Hercules help me, why?" she breathed. + +Eodan said from a white face, "He took my wife." + +He drained his cup. + +Phryne sat very still for a while. The wind mourned about the house, +wailed in the portico and rubbed leafless branches together. Another +rain-burst pelted the roof. + +"Well!" said Eodan at last, "Enough of that, little Greek. I should +not have said anything, but for the wine, eh, and this leg feels as if +there were wolves at it." The arrogance slipped from him and she looked +into eyes hurt and helpless, which begged her to leave him his last +rags of pride. "You will not speak of what I said?" + +"I swear so," she answered. + +He regarded her for a very long while. Finally he nodded. "I think I +can believe that," he said. + +Steps sounded on the brick floor. Phryne stood up, folding her hands +before her and casting duly meek eyes downward. Eodan remained as he +was, his gaze challenging those who entered. They were the major-domo +and Mistress Cordelia. + +The major-domo, an Illyrian grown fat and bald in his own +self-importance till he could imagine nothing more than accounts and +ordering other slaves about, said: "Here the Cimbrian is, I am told, my +mistress. I shall call porters and have him carried back down to his +barracks." + +Cordelia said: "Wait. I told you I would like to speak with this bull +wrestler." + +Phryne raised her eyes, suddenly afraid for Eodan. He was so proud, +too much so for his own good. Slaves whom the dealer failed to break +inwardly, so that they let him chain their spirits as well as their +hands, might sometimes rise high and even regain freedom; but they were +more likely to end on a cross or in the arena. And Eodan was drunk +and--O sea-born Cyprian--he was looking at his owner's wife as he had +looked at her! + +"You are a bold man," said Cordelia. + +Eodan nodded. + +She laughed. "And not overburdened with modesty," she went on. "Do not +tell me we have another of these barbarian kings!" + +Eodan replied: "If you are Flavius' wife, then we have your husband's +one-time owner." + +Phryne's heart seemed to crash to a halt. She stood for a brief space +feeling blood drain from her. Now the gods would have their revenge, +when a man bore his head so high. + +Cordelia stepped back. For a moment she flushed. + +She was a tall woman of Etruscan stock, perhaps descended from Tarquin +himself and some jewel of Tarquin's harem. Thirty years old, she had +the fullness of body that would turn to fat in another decade but was +as yet only superb. A silken dress violated every sumptuary law the +Republic had ever passed to emphasize hip and bosom, insolently. Her +hair was thick, its black copper-tinged, her face curve-nosed and +heavy-lipped, her eyes like southern nights. She had the taste to wear +only one ornament, a massive silver bracelet. + +The major-domo turned red and gobbled his indignation. Cordelia glanced +at him, back at Eodan, then suddenly she laughed aloud. + +"So this is what he looks like! And my husband, who has wearied Roman +dinners this half a year with his stories of the Cimbri, did not bring +you to show off!" + +She paused, looked closely into Eodan's face--their eyes met like +swords--and murmured, "But I see why." + +Phryne leaned against the wall; she did not think her knees would hold +her unaided. Now they were on a well-marked path; she knew what came +next. The final fate of Eodan was hidden--it could be gay or gruesome, +but this part of the way was mapped. + +Young Perseus had entered the Gorgon's lair and come back alive. + +She wondered why she felt like weeping. + + + + +IV + + +"He has deserved well of us," Cordelia said. "Let him be kept in the +household, at least till he is properly healed. Give him good raiment +and light work. And first of all a bath!" + +Thereafter she did not hurry matters. Eodan limped about with a +crutch, ate and drank and slept enormously, scoured pots or helped old +Mopsus the gardener. He spent much time down at the stables, where +he soon had the friendship of the head groom, a dour Cappadocian who +was believed to have been hatched rather than born since not even a +mother could have loved him. Phryne did not understand how a man of +intelligence--and Eodan had a good mind in his rough way--could sit +hour after hour talking about currycombs and fetlocks and spavins and +whatever else there was; but so it went and, after all, divine Homer +dwelt lovingly on horses. + +Washed, shaved, his hair cut and combed, a white tunic and sandals on +him, Eodan might almost have been a Homeric warrior himself--Diomedes, +perhaps, or Ajax the haughty. As he grew rested and fleshed out, his +manners became milder, he snarled or cuffed at men less often, his +smiles were sometimes nearly warm instead of a mere wolfish baring of +teeth. But he dropped his green eyes for no one, and the house slaves +who shared their room with him were kept at a frosty distance. + +The major-domo was afraid of him. "I would not trust that barbarian, +not one inch," he told Phryne. "My dear, you should have seen his back +when he first bathed. I would not even try to count all the whip scars. +And many slashes were new--he got them here, in the months we have had +him, the last of them perhaps only yesterday! Mark my words, it is the +sign of an unruly heart. It is such men who lead slave revolts. If he +were mine, I would geld him and sell him to the lead mines." + +"Some men were born gelded," said Phryne coldly, and left. She +could almost see the crisscrossing of thin white lines on Eodan's +shoulderblades. She avoided him for a while, uncertain why she did so. + +And the springtime waxed. Each day the sun stood higher; each day a new +bird-song sounded in the orchard. One morning fields and trees showed +the finest transparent green, as if the goddess had only breathed +on them in the night. And then at once, unable to wait, the leaves +themselves burst out and the orchard exploded in pale fire. + +It happened Cordelia was complaining of a headache again; she must lie +in a dark room and make everyone creep by. Phryne, who considered her +mistress as strong as a cow, found an excuse to leave the villa. She +would gather apple blossoms and arrange them for Cordelia's delight. + +The morning was still wet, after a short rain. Where the sun struck +the grass, it flashed white. A thrush sat on a bough and chanted of +all bright hopes; a milk cow grazed in a meadow, impossibly red. When +Phryne went among the gnarled little trees, they shook down raindrops +upon her. She took a low branch in her arms and buried her face in its +flowers. + +"Poor blooms," she whispered. "My poor babies. It is wrong to take away +your springtime." + +The knife bit at the twigs; she filled her arms with apple blossoms. + +Eodan came from the villa. He crutched along as readily as a +three-legged dog, bound for the stables carrying a mended bridle. The +endlessly gossiping slaves had told Phryne the barbarian was clever +with his hands. + +But when he saw her he halted. He had never thought much about +beauty--land, workmanship, live flesh was good or bad, no more. Now, +briefly, the sight of a girl's dark head and slim waist, with dew and +white radiance between, went through him like a spear. + +The moment passed by. He thought only as he swung about toward her +that--by the Bull!--it was a new year and she was a handsome wench. +"_Ave_," he called. + +"_Atque vale_," said Phryne, smiling at him. His hair needed cutting +again, and it was uncombed, tangled with sunlight. + +"Hail and farewell? Oh, now, wait!" Eodan reached her and barred the +path. "You have no haste. Come talk to me." + +"My task here is finished," she said in a quick, unsure voice. + +"Must they know that?" Eodan's coldest laugh snapped out. "I've learned +how to stretch an hour's task into a day. You, having been a slave +longer, must be even more skilled at it." + +The fair planes of her cheeks turned red. She answered, "At least I +have learned not to insult those who do me no harm." + +"I am sorry," he said, contrite. "My people were not mannered. Is that +why you have kept yourself from me?" + +"I have not," she said, looking away. "It--it only happened ... I was +busy--" + +"Well, now you are not busy," he said. "Can we be friends?" + +The gathered blossoms shivered on her breast. Finally she looked up and +said, "Of course. But I really cannot stay here long. The mistress has +one of her bad days." + +"Hm. They say in the kitchen that's only from idleness and overeating. +They say her husband sent her down here because her behavior made too +much of a scandal even for Rome." + +"Well--well, it was a--a rest cure...." + +Ha, thought Eodan, I would like to help Mistress Cordelia rest her +tired nerves! The story went that Flavius needed her family's help +too much in his political striving to divorce her. And, if ever a man +deserved the cuckoo sign, it was Flavius! + +Eodan clamped on that thought and tried to snuff it out. He could taste +its bitterness in his throat. + +He said: "You have a Cimbrian habit, Phryne, which I myself was losing. +You do not speak evil of folk behind their backs. But tell me, how long +have you been here?" + +"Not long. We came down perhaps a week before your accident." Phryne +looked past a stile, over the meadow to the blue Samnian hills. Tall +white clouds walked on a lazy wind. "I only wish we could stay forever, +but I'm afraid we will go back to the city in a few months. We always +do." + +"How do you stand with the mistress?" asked Eodan. He hitched himself a +little closer to the girl. "Just what is your position?" + +"Oh--I have been her personal attendant for a couple of years. Not a +body servant; she has enough maids." + +Eodan nodded. His thoughts about Cordelia's younger maids were +lickerish, and their eyes had not barred him. But so far there had been +no chance. He listened to Phryne: + +"I am her amanuensis. I keep her records and accounts, write her +letters for her, read and sing to her when she wants such diversion. It +is not a hard life. She is not cruel. Some matrons--" The girl shivered. + +"You are from Greece?" + +She nodded. "Plataea. My grandfather lost his freedom in the war of--No +matter, it would mean nothing to you." She smiled. "How tiny our +vaunted world of Greeks and Romans is, after all!" + +"So you were born a slave?" he went on. + +"In a good household. I was educated with care, to be a nurse for their +children. But they fell on evil times two years ago and had to sell me. +The dealer took me to Rome, and Mistress Cordelia bought me." + +He felt a dull anger. He said, "You wear your bonds lightly." + +"What would you have me do?" she replied with a flash of indignation. +"I should give thanks to Artemis for a situation no worse than this--my +books, at least, and a measure of respect, and an entire life's +security. Do you know what commonly happens to worn-out slaves? But my +mind will not wear out!" + +"Well, well," he said, taken aback. "It is different for you." And +then wrath broke loose, and he lifted his fist against heaven. "But I +am a Cimbrian!" he shouted. + +"And I am a Greek," she said, still cold to him. "Your people did not +have to come under the Roman yoke. You could have stayed in the North." + +"Hunger drove us out. We were too many, when the bad years came. Would +you have us peaceably starve? We did not even want war with Rome, at +first. We asked for land within their domains. We would have fought +for them, any enemies they wished. We sent an embassy to their Senate. +And they laughed at us!" Eodan dropped the bridle, leaned against his +crutch and held out shaking claw-curved fingers. "I would tear down +Rome, stone by stone, and flay every Roman and leave their bones for +ravens to pick!" + +She asked in a steel-cool tone: "Then why do you think it evil of them +to do likewise to you, since the gods granted them victory?" + +He felt the tide of his fury ebb. But it still moved in him; and the +ocean from which it had come would always be there. He said thickly, +"Oh, I do not hate them for that. I hate them for what came afterward. +Not clean death, but marching in a triumph, shown like an animal, while +the street-bred rabble jeered and pelted us with filth! Chained in a +pen, day upon day upon day, lashed and kicked, till we finally went up +on a block to be auctioned! And afterward shoveling muck, hoeing clods, +sleeping in a hogpen barracks with chains on, every night! That is what +I have to revenge!" + +He saw how she shrank away. It came to him then that he had his own +purposes for her. He forced a stiff smile. "Forgive me. I know I am +uncouth." + +She said with a break in her voice, "Were you put on the block? Did it +only happen that Flavius bought you?" + +"Actually, I was not," he admitted. "He had inquiry made for me, and +bought me directly. He saw me and said with that smile of his that he +wanted to be sure of my fate, so he could pay me back the right amount +of both good and evil. Then I was walked down here with some other new +laborers." + +"And your--" She stopped. "I must go now, Eodan." + +"My wife?" He heard his heart knocking, far away in a great +hollowness. "He told me that he had Hwicca, too--in Rome ..." + +His hands leaped out. He seized her by both arms so she cried out. The +apple blossoms fell from her grasp, and his foot crushed them. + +"_Hau!_" he roared. "By the Bull, only now do I think of it! You attend +the mistress? And she still shares her husband's town house? Then you +have seen Flavius in Rome this winter! You have seen _her_!" + +"Let me go!" she shrieked. + +He shook her so her teeth rattled. "How is she? You must have seen her, +a tall fair girl, her name is Hwicca. What has become of her?" + +Phryne set her jaws against the pain. "If you let me go, barbarian, I +will tell you," she said. + +His hands dropped. He saw finger marks cruelly deep on her white skin. +She touched the bruises with fingers that trembled while tears ran +silent down her face. She caught her lip in her teeth to hold it steady. + +"I am sorry," he mumbled. "But she is my wife." + +Phryne leaned against the tree. At last she looked up, still hugging +herself. The violet eyes were blurred. She whispered, "It is I who must +ask pardon. I did not realize it was the same--I did not know." + +"How could you have known? But tell me!" He held out his empty hands +like a beggar. + +"Uicca ... I saw her once in a while. The Cimbrian girl, they all +called her. She seems well thought of by Flavius. He keeps her in a +room of her own, with her own servants. He is--often there. But no one +else sees her much. We never spoke. She was always very quiet. Her +servants told me she was gentle to them." + +"Flavius--" Eodan covered his eyes against the unpitying day. + +Phryne laid a hand on his shoulder. It shuddered beneath her palm. "The +Unknown God help you," she said. + +He turned around and looked upon her, then reached out and gathered her +against him. He kissed her so her mouth was numb. + +She writhed free, scraped down his ankle with a sandaled foot and +clawed with her nails until he let her go. She was white; her loosened +dark hair fell about her like a thunder-cloud. + +"You slobbering pig!" she cried. "So that is all you miss of your wife!" + +She spun about and ran. + +"Wait!" he cried. "Wait, let me tell you--I only--" + +She was gone. He stood upon the fallen blossoms and cursed. Hwicca +would have understood, he thought in wrath and desolation; Hwicca is a +woman, not a book-dusty prune, and knows what the needs of a man are. + +He looked down, and up again, and finally north, toward Rome. Then he +picked up the bridle and went on to the stables. That day he contrived +to be given a task at the forge, shaping iron, and the courtyard rang +with his hammerblows until dark. + +The days passed. The flax was sown. They paid less heed to the ancient +festivals now than formerly; once these acres had belonged to free men; +now it was all one plantation staffed with slaves. But some custom +still lived. The week of the Floralia was observed, not as immoderately +as in Rome, but with a degree of ease and a measure of wine. + +On the day before the Floralia the physician examined Eodan's leg. "It +has knit," he grunted. "Give me back my crutch." + +Eodan asked wearily, "Will they return me to the fields?" + +"That is not my province." The physician left him. + +Eodan walked slowly out of the villa into the walled flower garden +behind the kitchen. His leg felt almost a stranger to him. No matter, +he would be running in an hour. Running hence? They were _not_ going to +make a field hand of him again! It ground away, not only the body, but +mind and pride and hope, until a mere two-legged ox remained. + +Phryne was talking with one of Cordelia's maids. She saw him and said, +"Enough. Come with me." The girl's eyes lingered on Eodan as she went +by. He swore at Phryne; in all the time since the orchard morning, she +would not speak to him--the winds take her! He considered how to get +the maid alone. + +"There you are! And well at last! You've been loafing too long, you +lazy dog, and eating like a horse the while! Come here!" + +Eodan strolled toward the major-domo. He rubbed his fist, looked at it +and back at the man's nose, nodded and said: "I did not hear you. Would +you repeat your wish?" + +"There, there are some--heavy barrels to move," stammered the +major-domo. "If you will kindly come this way ..." + +Eodan was willing enough to trundle the wine casks about. It was +a glory to feel his strength returned. And the villa was all in a +bustle--they were hanging up garlands everywhere, the girls giggled and +the men laughed, o ho ho, tonight! Eodan drew a pretty wench, a maid, +into a corner, they scuffled a little, she whispered breathlessly that +she would meet him in the olive grove after moonrise or as soon as she +could get away.... + +The Roman correctness of household eased. Men helped themselves openly +to wine, laughed with their overseers, drew buckets of water to pour +over sweaty skin, combed the fleas from their hair and wove garlands. +Eodan, rolling a great cheese from the storehouse, chanted a Cimbrian +march for his friend the groom. + + "_High stood our helmets, + host-men gathered, + bows were blowing + bale-wind of arrows--_" + +But no one understood the words. + +At sundown the lamps were lit with those sulfur-tipped sticks Eodan +still thought a rash risk of Fire's anger. The villa glowed with a +hundred small suns of its own. He stood in the garden with Mopsus. "I +must go in now and help feed my fellows," he said. + +"So, so. A good feed tonight. A good feed. My granddaughter used to +live for Floralia night--or was it my daughter, she was a baby too, +once ... I wonder, though, why Mistress hasn't asked any high-born +guests. It isn't like Mistress not to have fun when she can." + +Eodan shrugged. He had seen Cordelia often enough, seated on a couch +or borne in a litter, but his world had been far from here, even in +the house; she rarely entered the kitchen or the stables. She was only +a task his little maidservant must finish before joining him under the +olive trees. + +He went back into the villa. At its rear were the rooms where the +household's male property ate and slept. As he passed out of the +kitchen toward those chambers, he saw Phryne. + +The lamp that she held turned her pale skin to gold. He moved forward, +smiling, a little tipsy, meaning only to explain himself to her. She +lifted her hand. "Stop." + +"I'm not about to touch you," he flared. + +"Good!" Her mouth twisted upward. He had seldom heard so whetted a +voice. "I was sent to fetch you. Come." + +She turned about and walked quickly toward the atrium. He followed. +"But Phryne, what is this?" + +Her fist clenched. "You do not know?" + +He halted and said harshly, "If I am about to be sent back to the +barracks--" + +She looked over her shoulder. Tears stood in her eyes. "Oh, not that," +she said. "Be not afraid of that. Be glad! You are about to be honored +and pleasured." + +"What?" + +"In fact, the highest honor and the noblest pleasure of which _you_ are +capable." She stamped her foot, caught her breath and strode on. He +followed in bewilderment. + +They crossed an open peristyle, where the first stars mirrored +themselves shakenly in a mosaic pool. Beyond was a door inlaid with +ivory, Venus twining arms about beautiful Adonis. A Nubian with a sword +stood on guard. Eodan had seen him about--a huge man, cat-footed, but +betrayed by his smooth cheeks and high voice. + +Phryne knocked on the door. "Go in," she said. "Go on in." + +Someone giggled, down in the flickering darkness of the corridor. Eodan +pushed his way through, and the door swung shut behind him. + +He stood in a long room, marble-floored, richly strewn with rugs and +with expensive furnishings. Many lamps hung from the ceiling, till +the air seemed as full of soft light as of incense. The window was +trellised with climbing roses. + +A table bore wine and carefully prepared food for two. But there was +only one broad couch beside it. + +Cordelia was stretched out on the couch. Light rippled along her gown. +It was of the sheerest silk; her flesh seemed to glow through. She sat +up, smiling, so that her copious breasts were thrust at him. "Hail, +Cimbrian," she said. + +Eodan gaped. The blood roared in his temples. + +She stood up, took a big two-handled silver cup and walked across to +him. Her gait was a challenge. When she stood before him he could look +down the loose open front of her dress. "Will you not drink with me?" +she asked. + +"Yes," he said, in his own tongue, for Latin had no such simple way of +agreeing. He took the goblet and hoisted it in hands that shook. He was +no judge of wine, nor would he have cared tonight, but he noticed dimly +that this was smooth and strong. + +"I have watched you go about," said Cordelia. "I wanted to thank you +for your--services--but it seemed best to let your wound heal first. +And then today I saw you lift a cask I would have set two men to carry. +I am very glad of that." + +He handed her back the cup, still mute. "All of it?" she laughed. "But +I wanted to share it with you. As a pledge of friendship. Now we must +pour another." + +Her thigh brushed his as she turned. He gulped for air. "Come," she +said, took his hand and led him to the couch. + +The flask gurgled as she poured from it. "My husband was wrong to set +a king to work in his fields," she went on. "For I will not believe +you were anything less than a king of your people. Perhaps we two can +reach a better understanding--for a while ..." She looked up at him, +slantwise. "It will depend on you, largely." She lifted the beaker +again. "To our tomorrows. May they be better than our yesterdays." + +They drank in turn. She sat down and drew him beside her. "I have tried +and tried to pronounce that barbarous name of yours," she said. "I will +give you another. Hercules? Perhaps!" + +Suddenly her mouth was hot upon his. + +She stood up, breathing heavily. "I meant to eat first," she said, +quick slurred words through curling sweet smoke. "It would be +leisurely, civilized, with much fine play. But that would be wrong +with you, I see that now." She reached out her arms. "Take off your +tunic. Take off my gown. Let us keep the Floralia." + +Much later, when the wine and the food were gone, the lamps burned out +and the first thin gray creeping into the eastern sky, she ruffled his +hair and smiled sleepily. "I will surely call you Hercules." + + + + +V + + +After festival time, the latifundium went back into harness. Up in the +villa there was the measured pace of days--housework, garden work, +much dawdling until some overseer went by, backbiting gossip, petty +intrigues for women and position, sometimes after dark a furtive +Asiatic ritual of magic or mystery. A womanish world. Eodan considered +himself well out of it. + +But riding through the fields, where the sun and the whip blistered +a hundred naked backs and all a man's dreams finally narrowed to the +day's hoeing and the night's shackled sleep, Eodan wondered with a +chill how he had remained himself even for those few months he served. +Winter had helped--days on end where he sat idle with the others, +dozing, cracking fleas, once or twice knocking a tooth out of someone +who offered him loathsome consolations.... Nevertheless, he searched +himself as no Cimbrian had done before and knew that his servile time +had indeed touched him. He went more warily through life, slowly +learning how to guard his words. He would never again live wholly in +the moment's joy; he would always be thinking beyond--where would the +next attack come from, or how should he himself attack? + +Even when Cordelia taught him some new pleasure--and she had given her +life to such arts--a part of him wondered how long this would endure. +For the rest, however, it had been a good month, or whatever time had +passed. He had the name of bodyguard, though only the surly Nubian was +allowed to bear weapons. He accompanied her on impulsive journeys about +the countryside, organized hunts in the forests for her to watch, +matched himself in athletic exhibitions with the brawnier slaves from +this and surrounding farms. A few times she even sent him on errands +of two or three days, as to a town to arrange for certain supplies. +He thought of using the chance to escape--but no, he knew too little +of Italy; they would snare him and tie him up to die. Wait a little +longer, make careful plans, or even win freedom for himself and Hwicca +within this Roman world. It was not impossible, given patience.... +Meanwhile, aloneness with a blooded horse, among hazy hills and through +woods where only dryads and charcoal burners dwelt, was a gift to him, +almost like being free again. + +Now he was coming back from such a trip. He rode at an easy mile-eating +pace, soothed by hoof-plop and saddle-squeak, the breeze in his face +amid the clean summery odor of his mount. He was richly clad; his +tunic, cloak, and boots were of simple cut and muted color, but he +liked the sensuous fabrics. His hair fluttered in the light wind, +and he sat straight as a lancer; and, when he saw the villa itself, +dark against a sky turning pink and gold with sunset, he was close to +letting out a Cimbrian whoop. After all--Cordelia! He checked the noise +and merely grinned instead, but he set the horse to a gallop, and they +came ringing and snorting into the rear courtyard. + +"_Hoy-ah!_" Eodan jumped to the flagstones, tossed his reins at a +stableboy and strode quickly toward the garden gate. The shortest way +to the atrium was through the roses. + +As he passed into their fragrance, he stopped. Phryne was alone between +the walls, gathering a few early blooms. A great cloud of hot bronze +lifted far, dizzyingly far above her head; the sky beyond it was taking +on the color of her eyes. + +"Hail," he said. + +She straightened herself. The plain white stola fell in severe folds, +but could not hide a deerlike grace. She had not Cordelia's opulence, +and she barely reached to his heart; yet it came to him that he had +never thought of her as boyish, nor as just a little bit of a thing. + +Her face, all soft curves and a few pert, nearly rakish angles, +stiffened. She turned as if to go, but resolve came back; she continued +her work, ignoring him. + +He did not know why, unless it was that his small journey had given +certain unseen chain-galls time to heal, but he went toward her and +said, "Phryne, if I have wronged you, how can I mend it unless you tell +me what I did?" + +Her back was turned, her head bent. Under the softly piled black hair, +he saw that her nape was still almost childish. Somehow that filled him +with tenderness. She said, so low he could scarcely hear it, "You have +not harmed me." + +"Then why have you circled so wide of me? You never answered when I +greeted you in passing. You have said me no word in weeks." + +Her voice rose a little but shook: "Well, some women may be glad of +your pawing. I was not!" + +Eodan felt himself flush, as deeply as the western sky. He responded +clumsily, "Why have you given me no chance to say what I meant? It was +wrong of me to--to kiss you. I ask your pardon. But I was driven; there +was a Power in that place--and did I hurt you so much?" + +Then she looked up at him and said in a tone heavy with unshed tears: +"It was chiefly yourself you harmed." + +Eodan looked away. For a moment he trod from her, up and down a +graveled path that mumbled beneath his feet. The bronze cloud cooled +toward newly blown roses. In the west, just above the crumbling +vine-covered wall, he could see a green streak, unutterably clear. +Somewhere a cow lowed; otherwise it was very quiet. + +Eodan said at last, slowly, word by word, as he hammered it into shape +within himself: "I understand. But you do not understand me. They say +you are still a maiden. Well, you have called a curse on me for doing +something of which you have no knowledge." + +Phryne's fingers clenched about a rose stalk. The thorns bit. She +stared at the bright blood drops, wiped them on her gown in a blind +fashion and said through unfirm lips: "Perhaps it is true. I thought +one thing of you. When you did something else, _that_ is how you hurt +me. But perhaps I have indeed not understood." + +"I am not wont to speak of these matters," he told her, with effort. +"Among the Cimbri, it was not so--so twisted together. Wives did not +betray their husbands. Husbands--well--a man is otherwise than a +woman. He has other needs. I was driven by the Powers of earth; the +Bull was within me that day, Phryne. And more than that--Can you +understand how it felt to hear you tell what has--has become of my +wife, the mother of my son, whom she killed to keep him free? Can you +understand how I would turn for any--what is the word?--any comfort +that you could give--or anyone could--Do you see?" he pleaded, facing +her with his hands outspread. + +She rubbed her eyes. "I see," she whispered. + +He doubled up one fist and smote it softly into the other palm, again +and again. "It would help Hwicca not a bit if I let the Bull roar +within me so loud I could think of nothing else," he said. "Indeed it +was a new thought to me, this you bring forth--that what is between a +man and his wife, for good or ill, can in any way be changed by whether +he sleeps alone or not when she is gone." + +"I am not so sure of that," she answered. "No man will say it is true +of her!" When she lifted her face, he saw it was streaked with silent +tears. "But I could be wrong. I do know little of these matters." + +Eodan said, with a sad smile tugging up one corner of his mouth, +"Between the time I wed Hwicca and the time a year afterward, when we +came to the Raudian field, I touched no other woman. It was not that I +lacked the chance, but only that none seemed worth the time I could be +with her. Will you believe that?" + +She nodded dumbly. + +"Well, then." Eodan held out his hand, in the manner he had learned +from the Romans. "Shall we be friends?" + +She caught it tightly. Sunset smoldered to dusk. He could see her as +little more than a paler shadow. + +She said at last, in a tone gone remote from sorrow, "I would not +have you think, Eodan, that I ever condemned you because of some dead +philosopher's thoughts on chastity. It was that I believed your case +was like mine. I have been lonely too, now and then. But I see it was +a false hope. No man, no woman ever has the same destiny; we are all +pursued by our private Furies. Help me remember that, Eodan!" + +He asked her, out of a newly reborn pain, "What happened, Phryne?" + +"There was a boy in the household at Plataea," she said, still in the +small voice that spoke to itself, knowing him only as a shadow under +the evening star. "He was a slave too--not much older.... He walked +like the sun before me. We would have had each other somehow--oh, there +are families among slaves, even a slave can build a home. But then our +master's creditors closed in. Antinous went first. I saw him led off; +they said he would be shipped to Egypt.... Well," she finished wearily, +"that was three years ago. But sometimes at night I still wake up from +a dream where he kisses me." + +Eodan's thought was jagged: His ghost will not let her look on another +man. And even if she did, would she wish to bear a son that might be +sold in Egypt? + +He said aloud, "Phryne, have you heard that the Cimbri do not lie on an +oath?" + +She stirred, as if awakening. "What do you want to say?" + +"The oath-ring on which I was wedded must have been cast into bangles +for some Roman whore," he said bitterly. "However, I shall swear anyway +to lay no hand upon you, as a man does on a woman, unless you ask it +yourself. And I do not expect you will." + +"Why--" + +"I would like you to think you had one friend to trust," he blurted. +And he did not know why he had made such an offer, unless it was that +his memories of Hwicca had begun to shriek again. + +"I will take your oath," she whispered. + +Suddenly she fled. He heard her weeping in the dark. At such times most +folk would liefer be alone. He went on into the villa, heavily. + +Cordelia was sitting in the atrium, lamplight glowing on her; she was a +roundedness of shadow and rich highlights. She was toying with a loom, +because it was fashionable still for Roman matrons to pretend they +were housewives. Outside, among the white pillars of the portico, a +boy-slave from Sicily was singing and playing an illegal lyre. His high +clear tones were so lovely it had been decided he should always keep +them. + +She looked up. Her teeth flashed wet and white. "Hail, my Hercules!" + +"Hail, Mistress," snapped Eodan, not able to smooth his words. He stood +with folded arms, looking down upon her. + +"Well! You have a face like Jupiter's wrath, my friend." Cordelia +leaned back, regarding him through narrowed dark eyes. "Did you have +trouble on your journey?" + +"No trouble, Mistress. Here is the money I did not spend." He slipped +the heavy purse from his belt and flung it on the table. The denarii +crashed so loudly that she started. + +She rose, in one rippling motion, and the thin silk showed him how she +tautened. Her lips parted. A scream would bring the Nubian, the porter +and half a dozen watchdogs to bind him and do whatever she wished. +Eodan felt coldness along his backbone. He had to be more careful. + +The knowledge that he, Boierik's son, must be careful of a woman tasted +like vomit. + +"What is the matter with you?" she asked in anger. + +"I beg your pardon, Mistress." Eodan went to one knee and bowed his +head stiffly. "I felt a little out of sorts." + +Cordelia chuckled in her throat, left the chair and came to him. She +ran her hand through his tangled hair as he knelt. "And why were you so +at odds with the world ... Hercules?" she murmured. + +He saw the answer. "I was parted from you," he got out. Then suddenly, +because he must do something in his shame, he grasped her about the +knees and pulled her to him. His face he buried in soft darkness. + +"Oh," she gasped. "Oh--not here--wait--" But her hands were pressing +his head close. He forced her down to the floor. She laughed without +sound and tried to roll from him. He used his strength to pull her +back. The frail spidery silk ripped open in his fingers. "Beast!" she +said, her lips stretched wide, her eyes closed. + +Outside, the boy faltered for an instant, then recollected his +orders and continued the song. It dealt with a legionary in far Asia +remembering his mother. + +Afterward Cordelia led Eodan to her sleeping chamber. A maid brought +them wine and cakes. She drooped an eye at him, her mouth quivering +faintly upward, and he recalled that once she had agreed to meet him +after moonrise. + +"Hercules," said Cordelia, not heeding the girl at all. She snuggled +herself against Eodan's side, as they lay on the bed, and nuzzled his +cheek. "You big crazy Hercules." + +He did not feel the stallion's contentment she had given him before. +Tonight she had only left him hollow, in some fashion he did not +understand. He had never felt he was betraying anyone--until now. He +held his wine cup in slack fingers and asked, "Mistress, why will you +not try to speak my right name?" + +"Because anyone might bear it," she said, "but there is only one son of +Alcmene." + +He could not speak what he really felt, not if he wished to live. But +he could at least shake off all canine eagerness to please. He could +say bluntly, "Mistress, you have been kind to me, but it was my habit +once to give kindness. It hurts to receive it, and to make no gift in +return." + +He wanted to roar out: I am no pet animal, no toy of yours, I am a +free man with my own name my father gave me. I am not ungrateful for +ease, and chains removed, and your body. But between us is merely a +shallowness. On your part, an amusing few weeks; on my part, a slave's +scrabbling for what he can get, a slave's sly revenge on his master, +and a slave's worry about what will become of him when you grow weary. +I will be no more a slave, I will go hence to my wife. + +But he listened to her say, "Hercules, you have given me more than you +know." + +Startled, he turned to face her. He had not seen her blush before now: +it rose up over breasts and throat and cheeks and brow like a tide. +Her nails bit his wrist, and she did not meet his eyes. He heard the +slurred, hurried tone: + +"Have you ever wondered why I drink and take men and disgrace myself +as well as my husband? Did you think it was simple idleness and lust? +Well, it is in part; I will not say otherwise. But only in part. +Flavius forsook me long before I turned on him. He gave me a few weeks, +and they were sweet, but then he turned elsewhere. I was locked away +to be a proper Roman matron and bear his children. Do you think you +are the only slave in this room, Hercules? When I remained barren, he +hardly spoke to me. For nine years, before he went off to be captured +by you, he hardly said me a word. And yet it was him the gods had +cursed, not me. For hear! I turned in my need to a young lad who +visited our house now and again, a curly-headed boy who loved me, loved +me. And by him I was quickened! It could have been Flavius' son. He +could have set the child on his knee, no one had to know.... He had my +baby destroyed! I could have brought the law on him--perhaps my lover +might have helped--I do not know. Perhaps not. A father has so much +power. I did not try. It was better to come out of the woman's world, +begin to give my own banquets and have many men--many, many. I dared +have no more children, especially when he was away in captivity. I +possess an old slave woman, a witch from Thrace, who knows how to keep +the occasional accident from ever becoming noticeable. I thought it was +as well. I did not wish to carry on my own sickness in the world. Let +it die with me. + +"Hercules--" Her head burrowed into the crook of his arm, she shivered +beneath his touch--"I found a kind of hope in you." + +Eodan thought, Did earth's last happy folk leave their bones on the +Raudian plain? + +Blindly, he drew Cordelia to him. Her hands were cold on his skin. But +the rest of her seemed ablaze. + +And later, humbly, she said, "Thank you." + +The night wore on. They did not sleep. But it was curious how much they +talked, and how dryly, almost like two consuls mapping a campaign, when +they were not kissing. + +"This cannot be too open," she said. "Flavius can endure being +whispered about on my account, for the sake of my father's help. An +equestrian cannot rise far without some such figurehead. And a Roman +wife's affairs with Romans are common enough--but not with barbarians. +That would make him a laughingstock! And he would avenge his slain +political ambitions more than his honor." After a moment, thoughtfully: +"And even if his reputation were not harmed--I am unsure what he feels +toward you, who owned him--" + +"I too," said Eodan, surprised. He had imagined Flavius was grateful +at first, after Arausio, and friendly later, and malicious after +Vercellae. Now it grew upon him that he had only seen chance waves +across a deep and secret pool. Flavius' soul was locked away from him. + +"So we will keep you here, with the title of guardsman," decided +Cordelia. "He seldom comes to this estate. You can arrange to be +elsewhere if he should come. This may take a few months, you realize. I +must work on my father and others; I must make sure that when I finally +do divorce him, I will come at once under some other man's powerful +protection. And, of course, that you come with me." A slow, cruel smile +lifted her lips. "And that _I_ rule my next household. Some Senator, +doddering with age, and very rich.... Then you can be brought to Rome, +Hercules. There will be wealth for you.... many slaves are wealthy in +their own right--or you can even be freed, if you think a change of +title makes any difference." She melted against him. "It does not. You +already have me in freehold." + +He embraced her again. As she trembled in his hands, he wondered how +much of her speaking was real and how much only the she-animal of this +night. + +He waited until she had rested again, and drunk again, and returned to +him on the bronze bed. Then, as he lay tangled in her hair, he said--it +had taken less courage to charge the Roman army--"When can you get +release for my wife?" + +She sprang from him, spitting like a cat. "Do you dare?" she yelled. + +Eodan stood up, smiling by plan, and said, "I would not forget +any--friend--even her. Can she not be bought back, or released somehow?" + +Cordelia paused. Her look grew narrow, as he had seen before. "Do you +think of this brood-mare as merely a friend?" she asked. + +Eodan swallowed. He could not answer, only nod. + +"Then forget her, as you will have to forget all the Cimbri," said +the woman in a cold voice. "I will not arouse Flavius' suspicions by +speaking of that mop-headed sow he has been wallowing with all winter. +Let him sell her to a brothel when he tires of her, as he has done with +so many others." + +Through a shimmering and a humming, Eodan saw how she stood crouched, +ready to escape his violence and call for help. Neither of them +moved--until at last she walked by him, threw herself upon the bed and +beckoned him as she would a dog. + +He came. There was nothing else possible, save to die. + +Toward sunrise, Cordelia murmured drowsily, "I forgive you, Hercules. +We will forget what was said, because of what was done." + +He made his lips touch hers. + +"Now good night," she laughed. "Or is it good morning?" + +He waited until she slept--by the colorless, heartless false dawn she +looked blowsy enough--then put on his tunic and stole from the room. He +felt the need of a bath and, yes, he would borrow a horse and gallop +it for some miles. He was empty with weariness, but there was no sleep +in him. Not even when they bound him amidst the wagons had he felt so +alone. + +"Eodan." + +He stopped under the garden wall. The buildings were blacknesses that +shouldered among paling stars; rails and roofs gleamed with dew. Beyond +the stableyard the land was still full of night. Phryne came to him. +"Are you up so early?" he asked in a small wonderment. + +"I could not sleep," she answered. + +"Nor I," he mumbled bitterly. "Though for another reason. I never +thought I could hate a woman while I embraced her." + +"She must have found that interesting," said Phryne. + +He heard the scorn in her voice; he did not know how much was intended +for him, but he felt the whole burden of it. He said through a +thickness in his lungs, "Why do I not bid them crucify me and be done? +I let her call my Hwicca foul names, and then I kissed her!" + +"You must live," said Phryne gently. + +"Why?" + +"For--well--" She stood beside him, and somehow he came to think of a +certain brook, sun-speckled under airy beeches, long ago in Cimberland. +"Well, for what help you can give your wife," she finished, looking +straight before her, across the Samnian darkness. + +"Which is none," he groaned. + +Suddenly it burst within him. As if the sun had taken him full in the +eyes, he gasped and cried low, "But I can!" + +"What?" Fear shadowed the face that swung to him. "How?" + +"Hear me, Phryne," he whispered, rapidly, shaking with the knowledge of +it. "I will go hence. I know the road to Rome, I walked it the other +way last year. I can find his house there, and steal Hwicca away, +and--O Bull whose horns are the moon, why did you not make it clear to +me before?" + +"You cannot!" A muted shriek. "You do not know the land, the city ... +every man who sees you will know your height and hair and--What use +will it be, to die on a cross or thrown to wild beasts?" + +"Why, if my ghost has any strength at all, it may try again somehow," +he said. "Or if not--well, I tried once. I gave Hwicca a man for a +husband to the very end." He lifted his hands to the eastern light, and +in Cimberland's tongue he called upon the day and the dark, the wind +and sea and all the Powers of earth to witness his promise. + +Phryne flung herself to her knees. "Eodan, Eodan, you are a little +child among wolves! You know not what you say!" + +"I know what I have said," he replied slowly. "I have sworn an oath +that is not able to be broken." + +He felt the cold and the wet gloom before dawn close in on him. What +had he done, indeed? he thought. It was not well to make such enormous +promises without thinking carefully. He had belike pledged himself to +death. + +But, if so, death was his weird and would not be stayed; for he had +invoked the very river of Time. + +He shuddered with the awe of it, his teeth clenched together. "I will +leave in a few days, as soon as I can," he said. "You will forget we +ever spoke of this, will you not?" + +Phryne rose again. She leaned against the wall, her cheek and palms to +its rough brick, her eyes closed. It was as though she drew on her own +roots of strength. At last, in a faraway voice, she answered him: "No, +I shall help you." + + + + +VI + + +Not till four days afterward did Phryne stop Eodan on the portico and +breathe: "I have made ready. Meet me in my chamber--do you know where +it is?--after sunset, and I will try to disguise you. Can you get +horses?" + +His heart raced within him. He thought for a moment, standing under +fluted pillars with a green lawn and broad fields before him, standing +among thunders and drawn swords. At last he nodded. "There are +stableboys who sleep among the animals, but it will be simple enough +to frighten them, if I have any weapon. No one else will know until +morning." + +"Then the gates of Tartarus will be opened!" Her eyes were huge and +her cheeks pale. "Let me see," she murmured. "I will have a sword for +you--I know where such tools are kept--and a couple of daggers as well. +You can overawe the boys, so they let themselves be bound and gagged +one by one. Drop a little word here or there, as if in carelessness, to +make them think you plan to flee into the mountains. That would be the +expected direction, anyhow, to reach Helvetia. Where did you think to +go, in truth, after Rome, Eodan?" + +"I do not know," he said. "North, to some place where men are still +free. I do not know what the best way is." + +"There is none," she told him. "They are all beset." Quickly, +leaning close so he could feel her breath upon his breast, swift and +frightened: "I am not so sure your best hope lies to the north. You +would have to cross too much Roman country. In the east or the south, +now.... But we can speak of that later. We dare not be seen lingering +like this. After dark, then--do not fail! I have contrived that the two +girls who sleep with me be out tonight. My supplies would be discovered +before another such chance came. So tonight!" + +She went from him, almost running, the breeze fluttering her light +white gown about her. Eodan could not hold himself from staring. A +slave with the soul of a chief's daughter, he thought; surely some +Power had sent her across his path. He would have promised sacrifices +if he had known what Power it was, but the gods of this land were +unknown to him, and Cimberland's too far away to have heard about his +trouble. + +Well--tonight! + +He went on into the villa. It was hours till sundown; how would he live +through them without roaring his secret to the world? He would get +Cordelia's permission to go for a gallop. Yes, a good plan, thus he +could spy out his road of escape.... + +He found her in the peristyle. Her maids twittered and giggled, a plump +little scurrying bevy, wisps of cloth gay about a delicious roundedness +fore and aft. They were laying out towels, clean garments, the mistress +was pleased to swim in the pool. Cordelia stood aloof among them. As +she saw Eodan come between the pillars, she drew her half-discarded +stola about her. The dark Etruscan head lifted, and she said with an +unwonted chill, "What would you? Did you not hear the household was +forbidden to come here?" + +"I beg pardon," said Eodan. "I was out--" + +"Out! You have been out far too much. This is the place you are +supposed to guard. Where were you?" + +Eodan thought back. On a certain morning he had made his vow to quit +this kept life. The next night she had still been exhausted, and he +slept in the guards' chamber. Since she had said nothing about it, +he had again slept with the guards the following darkness. The next +morning he offered the cattle overseer to help bring several beasts +of good stock from a neighboring plantation; they had not come back +till well after sundown, and he was tired and went directly to his +pallet.... Yes, by Fire itself, he had scarcely seen Cordelia in three +days! + +"I am sure you knew my whereabouts, Mistress," he answered her. "If you +do not summon me to--to help you--." An uncontrollable giggling tinkled +around the sunlit space; Cordelia frowned and thinned her lips--"I +would not trouble you, Mistress," he finished. + +She said slowly, "Is gratitude, then, not a barbarian habit?" + +"But how have I done wrong?" he asked. He knew very well, and he could +not dissemble bewilderment he did not feel. Cordelia's face darkened. + +"Go, all you women!" she snapped. "Let no one in here." + +They fled, with squeaks of dismay; now Mistress was angry! Cordelia +walked slowly toward Eodan across gleaming mosaic. Her knuckles, where +she held up the loosened ungirdled stola, were bloodlessly taut. + +"If you think so little of me that you will only come on command ... +that you will drive cows till midnight rather than even ask me if that +is my wish--" She was close to him now, speaking through knotted jaws. +"Don't think I have not seen you in corners with that Phryne! If you +find me dull, you may as well go back to the fields!" + +I find you not dull but a foe, he wanted to say. There is too much +blood between us. + +Aloud: "Mistress, I did not understand. I thought you would summon me." + +Something eased within her. She laughed, low, and put her hands on his +shoulders. The gown fell about her feet. It could have been one of the +statues he had seen--Venus, in her aspect of hot sleepless nights--that +stood before him, save that veins pulsed under this skin and sweat +jeweled it in the sun. "Hercules, Hercules," she cried, "can you not +get it into your thick yellow head, I want to be the one commanded?" + +He stepped back, stammering, feeling the will of Venus but remembering +she was Hwicca's enemy. "Mistress ... I cannot ... I am--" + +"Tonight," she said eagerly. "Just at day's end. We will watch the sun +go down and we shall not sleep before it rises again." + +O my weird which I invoked, help me now! he thought. + +It came to him what he must do. And because the day was warm, and she +stood clothed only in sunlight and her loosened dark hair, and he had +slept alone for three nights, and he might be a flayed corpse in a few +days ... he trod forward with the Bull strong and exultant in his soul. + +"Oh!" said Cornelia. "Hercules! No! Tonight, I told you!" + +He grinned, pulled her to him, and held her one-handed with muscles +that had wrestled horned kine to earth, while his lips bruised hers and +his free hand roved up and down her body. "Well," she sighed finally, +"well, just once--" + +When they had rested for a time, he stood up. "Come, into the pool!" +he said. She hung back. Laughing, he sprang. Water spouted, drenching +her. He swam to the edge where she crouched and hauled her after him. +She came up sputtering. He kissed her. She gave in and paddled about, +while he snorted and churned, porpoiselike, darting in again and again, +until at last it was she who urged him back onto the tiles. + +Thereafter she complained that her body was sore from the hardness, so +they sought her bedroom. After a while she clapped her hands and had a +girl bring refreshments. And so it went till sundown. + +As the first darkness came out of the east and up from the lower +valley, like smoke, Cordelia drew Eodan's head down upon her bosom and +held him there, with a grasp made gentle by weariness. "O Hercules," +she whispered, "I thought there were no more men in the world worth +caring for." + +He lay with closed eyes, drained of strength, wishing he could sleep, +wishing this were Hwicca. + +"It is not only that you still my hunger," she murmured. Her voice was +trailing off, swallowed by sleep. "It is yourself. I am not lonely +under your kisses.... Be with me always, Hercules! I ask you--as a +beggar--I who love you...." + +Eodan waited until he was sure she slept deeply. Then he took her arms +from about his neck and sat up. The room was dark and hot. He heard +the night outside, noisy with crickets. It was hard to remember that +he must not be contented with she who lay beside him. For a moment he +cursed his own foolishness, which had laid a weird on him. + +But what was said could not be unsaid. He sighed, got to his feet and +fumbled about after his tunic. When he found it he stood for a little +while looking down at Cordelia; but his eyes were blurred with night. +Finally, not knowing why, he stooped and kissed her, not on the mouth, +but the brow. + +Barefooted, he slipped across marble to the small tiring room beyond. +A bronze mirror caught enough light to prickle him with a thought of +ghosts. Beyond stood Phryne's door. The only bar was on this side, but +he knocked and waited till she opened it. + +She stood with a lamp in her hand, dressed as during the day but with +her hair tumbled about her shoulders. The smoky oil flame touched eyes +that were too bright and lips that lacked steadiness. "So you came +after all," she said. + +"I agreed to, did I not?" Eodan sat down. His knees shook with +exhaustion; he was unable even to feel afraid. He looked dully about +the room--a mere cubicle, three pallets on the floor, a table with some +combs and other things, a shelf holding many rolled-up books. Those +must be hers, he thought. A window faced unshuttered on blackness. + +"I hope you completed your task," spat Phryne. "It would not do to +leave your owner unsatisfied before you go to your dear wife, would it?" + +"Oh, be still," he said. "I had no choice. She would have had me come +to her and stay all night." + +"Did you enjoy your work?" jeered the whisper. + +"I did," he said, flat and cold on the unmoving air. "I do not know how +this concerns you. But, if you are so angry with me, I shall depart +without your help." + +He half stood up. She pushed down on his shoulders. "No, Eodan!" +Suddenly frantic: "Zeus help us, no, it would be your death! I am sorry +for what I said. It was indeed no--no c-concern of mine." + +He looked up, startled. She had turned her head and was wiping her +eyes with her knuckles, like a child. "Phryne," he asked, "what is the +matter?" + +"Nothing. Come, we are spilling time." She drew a shaky breath, squared +her shoulders and went over to the table. From beneath it she dragged +a small wooden box. Squatting on the floor--as he saw her by that +guttering light, against monstrous unrestful shadows, he thought of a +Cimbrian god-wife, but a newly initiated one, young, shy, fair, riven +by the Powers she must now rein and drive--Phryne took out a bundle of +harsh gray cloth, a sheathed Roman sword and two long daggers, some +pots and bowls, and more. + +"I have stolen enough money to fill a purse," she whispered. "And +these clothes will pass for a poor smallholder's. The hat will shade +your face from chance eyes. We will dye your hair black and cover that +barbarous tattoo with a bandage, as though it were some injury. Here, +bend over." + +It was soothing to have her work upon his head, rinsing, rubbing in +the dye, combing. He felt a little strength flow into him. When she +was done she washed her blackened hands, cocked her head and smiled. +"There! Though we must take along a razor and shave that flax stubble +every day." + +"We?" It grew upon him what she meant. He gaped. "But--you are coming, +too?" + +"Of course," she said. "It would be--Eodan, if you tried to go out +alone, hardly knowing the road, not knowing Rome at all, with that +atrocious Latin and--" Her words became feverish. "Oh, Eodan, Eodan, +you Cimbrian mule, would you even know where to buy food? As well fall +on this sword at once and save everyone trouble!" + +"Phryne," he said, wholly overcome, as though he were caught in +floating dreams, "your place here is good. What can I do for you? Why?" + +She bit her lip and looked away. "It would be too easy to find out who +had helped you. I dare not stay." + +He leaned forward, taking her hands. "But what am I to you? Why should +you help me at all, then?" + +She jerked free, angrily. "I am a Greek," she snapped. "My grandfather +was a free man. None of this concerns _you_!" + +Eodan shook his head in wonderment. But indeed, he thought in the +darkling Northern part of his soul, this was brought on when I invoked +the Powers; she is a part of my weird. + +He dared ask no further. There was too much awe about her. Had he +indeed let a vessel of Power touch him, and lived? + +"Freedom, freedom," said Phryne. "In a barbarous land, in sod huts and +stinking leather clothes, with not a book or a harp for a thousand +miles ... oh, truly, I shall be free!" Her laughter rattled. Eodan made +the sign against trolldom. + +"Well, quickly," she said. "I could not be taken for any peasant girl, +so I must be a boy. There are the shears." + +She crouched before him and waited. He took the long +crow's-wing-colored tresses in his hands, feeling that he offended some +spirit of loveliness. But--He cropped away until there were only ragged +bangs falling over her brow and her ears could be seen. She looked in a +mirror and sighed. "Gather them up," she said. "When we make a fire, I +will offer them to Hecate." + +She pointed to the clothes. "Now, put that on! Do not stand there +gawping!" With a movement as of defiance, she undid her girdle, threw +it on the floor and stepped from her gown. Indeed she was beautiful, +thought Eodan. Her womanness did not flaunt itself, bursting through +its clothes like Cordelia's; it waited cool among shadows for one +discoverer. He grunted some apology when she glared, turned his back, +and fumbled on the garments laid out for him--a gray, patched woolen +tunic, scuffed sandals, a felt hat and a long wool cloak. He picked up +the heavy purse, slung a sword next to his skin and put a knife in the +rope belt. + +As he took up his staff, he saw Phryne clad like him. The baggy cloth +would hide the shape of her body; she must hope the dirty old cape +would shield slim legs and high-arched feet. She was turning from the +shelf of books. She had run her fingers over the scrolls, just once, +and tears lay in her eyes. + +"Come," she said. "We have only till morning; then they will start to +hunt us." + + + + +VII + + +To Eodan, Rome had been two things. First was the city of the Cimbrian +dream, all golden roofs above white colonnades, shimmering against a +sky forever blue. Then was the avenue of the triumph, where he bent his +weary head lest the hurled muck take him in the eyes, and thereafter +the slave pens and finally a stumbling in chains, one dawn, out onto +the Latin Way. Neither was of this earth. + +Now he entered Rome herself, and he saw just a little of a city that +toiled and played and sang and dickered and laughed, plotted, feasted, +sacrificed, lied, swindled, and stood by friends--a city of men and +women and children like any others, built by men's hands and guarded +by men's bodies. He had thought Rome was walled, but he found as he +trudged through hours of buildings that she eternally outgrew her +walls, as though she were a snake casting skin, so that the old gates +stood open in the midst of a brawling traffic. He had thought of +Romans as divided into iron-sheathed rankers, piggish man-traders, and +one woman who shuddered in his arms; but he saw a gang of children +playing ball in the dust, a leathery smith in a clangorous tiny shop +and a limping man who cried out the roasted nuts he bore for sale in +panniers slung from a yoke. He saw Romans spread their wares in flimsy +booths while a temple gleamed purity above them. He saw a Roman matron, +in clothes no better than his, who scolded her small boy for being +reckless about passing horse-carts. He saw a young girl weeping, for +some reason he never knew, and he saw two young men, merry with wine, +stop to rumple the ears of an itinerant dog. + +It growled about him, the heavy sound of laden wheels, echoing between +grimy brick walls. A haze hung in the air, smoke and dust, tinged +with garlic, cooked meat, new bread, perfume, horse dung, sewage, +garbage, human sweat. Folk milled about, shouting, waving their arms, +chaffering, thrusting a way past the crowds, somehow, anyhow. Once +Phryne was whirled from Eodan in such an eddy. He gasped with terror, +knowing he was indeed lost without her. She found her way back to him, +but thereafter he held her wrist. + +They threaded their way toward the Esquiline Gate. "We must find an +inn," Phryne said; she had to shout through the noise. "The house is on +the Viminal Hill, but we could not go there clad as we are, nor before +dark in any case." + +Eodan nodded dumbly. He let her lead him under the portal. A distance +beyond it was a shabby district of tall wooden tenements, where the +streets were slimy with refuse and the landless, workless scourings +of war and debt crouched in their rags waiting for the next dole. +He was too tired even to feel anger at the shouts from tooth-rotten +mouths. "Hail, peasant! A son of the soil, there are straws in his +hair! Aha, will you not lend us that pretty boy for a while? No, he +will not--they're a hard-fisted lot, these farmers. Cisalpine Gauls for +certain, see the ox look about 'em. But then where are their Gaulish +breeches? Ha, ha, lost their breeches, did they--now was it at dice or +what?" + +Phryne, gone pale with wrath, led Eodan through twisted alleys until +they found an inn. The landlord sat outside, yawning and picking his +teeth with a thumbnail. "We would have a room for ourselves," she said. +"Half a sesterce," said the landlord. "Half a sesterce for this flea +pit? One copper as!" cried Phryne. They haggled while Eodan shuffled +his feet and looked about. + +When at last he was alone with her, in a windowless box of a room, he +said, "The night winds take you, girl, what do we care for a copper +more or less? I feel a fool every place we stop, listening to you!" + +"I wonder what they would have thought of two people who did not +bargain?" purred Phryne. "That they were in a suspicious haste to get +off the streets?" + +It was too murky to read her face, but he had come to know that tone. +He could almost have traced out the quirk of her mouth and the mockery +of her eyes. "Oh, well, you rescued me again," he said. "I am a +blundering dolt. What shall we do next, captain, sir?" + +"You have a wit like a bludgeon," she said. "Be quiet and let me +think." She threw herself on a pile of moldy straw and looked up at a +ceiling hidden as much by grime as by dimness. + +Eodan hunched among the stinks and choked down his wrath. She had saved +him too often, in the days that lay behind. Her right to badger him was +earned. + +He could have guided the first wild gallop himself, out of the estate +and down ringing dirt roads to the south. When they reached a stream, +they had dismounted and led their horses several miles northerly in its +channel, slipping and stumbling while the dark hours fled them; but he +would have done that, too, to cover his trail. They found another road +at last and went mercilessly along it toward the Latin Way; the horses +were ready to fall down by sunrise. Eodan would have turned them loose +then and gone ahead on foot; Phryne had made him, unwillingly, lead +them into a brushy ravine and kill them. But that was not a thought +Eodan might never have had--it was another trail-covering, after all, +and a chance to sacrifice for luck. She had told him to offer the +beasts to Hermes, whom he did not know, but he felt any god would have +been pleased. + +No, he thought, thus far he could have come without her. He might even +have gone for many miles, sleeping by day and walking by night. But +when he blundered into a sheep-fold, and the dogs flew at him and the +shepherds came to club him for a thief, he could not have fobbed them +off with so ready a tale as Phryne had. He could never have passed +himself for a harmless man when they bought bread and wine on the way; +he would have had to steal his food, with all the risks. He reckoned +himself brave, but he had gone chill when she chattered merrily with a +wagoner chance-met at an inn; yet it ended with two days of riding on +a load of barley while the blisters on their soles eased. (He recalled +seeing in the first dawn how her feet bled from the river stones; but +she had said nothing.) She saved him having to answer any questions +at all in his accent when she remarked calmly that her poor brother +was a mute. The last two days, with houses and villages grown so thick +they dared not sleep out in the grass like vagabonds, she had gotten +rooms for them. (Formerly they had lain side by side, wrapped in +their cloaks, looking up at a sky frosty with stars, and she had told +him unbelievable things that the wise Greeks thought about heaven, +until he begged her to spare his whirling head. Then she laughed very +softly and said he knew the stars themselves better than she.) And now +in Rome--Yes, surely she belonged to his weird, for he saw now how +moonstruck had been his notion of entering Rome alone. + +Nonetheless, at the few times weariness or wariness had not forbidden +them to speak freely, she was apt to be curt with him. He wondered how +he offended her. Once he asked, and she said for him to cease plaguing +her with foolish questions. + +She stirred on the straw. "I will go out and buy us better clothing," +she said. "After sunset I will take you to Flavius' house. I know a way +we can get in. But then it must be you who leads, for I have no more +plans in me." + +"I have none," he said. "I will trust in whatever gods are willing to +guide us." + +"If they guide us not to our doom," she said. + +"That may well be. But if so, what can we do to stop it?" Eodan +shrugged. "I had thought we might steal Hwicca from the house--buy +boy's dress for her too, Phryne--and then if we could all get on a ship +bound somewhere--" + +The girl sighed and left. Eodan stretched himself out and went to +sleep. + +She came back with cloaks and tunics of better stuff than they wore, a +lamp and a jug of hot water and a basin borrowed from the innkeeper. +Once again he submitted to her razor. When she was done, she gestured +curtly at a loaf of bread and a cheese. "Eat," she said. "You may need +your strength." + +He had been tearing at it for some time when he noticed that she sat +unmoving. "Will you not have some?" he asked. + +Her tone was far-off, as if she had small care for what was to happen +to them. "I have no appetite." + +"But you, too--" + +"Let me alone!" she flared. + +Presently they were out again upon the street. It was sunset time and +the crowds had thinned, so they moved quickly over mucked cobbles. "It +is as well to get into a better part of the city before dark," muttered +Phryne. "There could be robbers out." + +Eodan lifted his staff. "I would give much for a good fight," he said. + +Phryne looked at him, his eyes two heads above her own. "I understand," +she said. Her fingers stroked lightly over his arm. "It will not be +long now, Eodan." + +The tightness in his breast grew with every pace. As dusk settled over +the city, he found himself climbing a wide well-paved road up the +Viminal Hill, so that he could gaze down across roofs and roofs and +roofs, here and there a last pale gleam of temple marble, hazy blue +fading into black in the east, and many lit windows making an eldritch +earthbound star-sky, farther than a man could see. Faintly to him came +smoke, a sound of wheels or tired feet, a distant hail that quivered +upon still air. Once a horseman went by, casting the two plebeians an +incurious glance. + +Hwicca, thought Eodan. Hwicca, I have not seen you for a thousand +years. I am going to see you tonight. + +Though all the earth stood up to bar my way, I will hold you again +tonight. + +The darkness thickened, until at last he heard his footfalls hollow on +unseen stones, until the houses on either side were little more than +black blocks. His heart beat so loudly that he could almost not hear +Phryne's final words: "We have found it." But he felt with unwonted +keenness how her hand clenched about his. + +They stood before a sheer ten-foot wall. "The house lies within a +garden," she whispered. "No one watches the rear ... guests come in at +the other side ... there is a gate, but it would be locked now. If you +can raise me to the top, I will tie my belt to a bough I know and you +can follow." + +Eodan made a cup of his hands. She stepped up, in a single flowing +movement, caught at his head to steady herself and murmured, "Now." He +lifted her carefully, but aware of her leg sliding along his cheek. +Then she had scrambled to the top, and he felt his way past rough +plaster until he found the cord she let down. He climbed it hand over +hand. + +"Where is your staff?" hissed Phryne. "Down below," he said. "Have the +gods maddened you, to mark your own path? Back and get it!" she snapped. + +When at last they stood in the garden, Eodan peered through the crooked +branches of a tree. No lights showed on this side. He guessed, from +remembering the villa, that kitchen and slave quarters were at this +end, but there would be a separate corridor on one side that the owners +used. Phryne led him to such a door. It creaked beneath her touch. She +halted, and time stretched horribly while they waited. + +"No one heard," she sighed. "Come." + +Two hanging lamps gave just enough light for them to see down the hall. +"To the atrium," whispered Phryne. "Nobody seems to be there. But the +Cimbrian girl stayed here--" She stopped in front of a door and touched +it with hands that shook. "Here, Eodan." He saw her mouth writhe, as if +in pain. "O Eodan, the Unknown God grant she be here!" + +He found himself suddenly, coldly his own master. His fingers were +quite steady on the latchstring. The door opened upon darkness ... no, +there was a window at the end, broader than most Italian windows; he +had a glimpse of gray-blue night crossed with a flowering vine and one +trembling star. + +He went through. His dagger slid from its sheath. If Flavius was here, +Flavius would not see morning. But, otherwise, he told himself, he must +keep Hwicca from yelling in her joy. Put a hand over her mouth, if he +must, or at least a kiss; silence was their only shield. + +He padded over the floor, Phryne closing the door behind him. They +stood in shadows. + +"Hwicca?" he whispered. + +It rustled by the window. He heard a single Latin word: "Here." + +He glided toward it. Now he saw her, an outline; she had been seated +by the window looking out. Her long loose hair and a white gown caught +what light there was. + +"Is it you?" she asked, uncertainly. She used the "thou" form of +closeness, and it twisted him. + +He reached her. "Do not speak aloud," he said, low, in the Cimbric. + +He heard her breath drawn in so sharply that it seemed her lungs must +rip. He dropped his knife and made one more step, to take her in his +hands. She began to shiver. + +"Eodan, no, you are dead," she cried, like a lost child. + +"If he told you that, I shall tear his tongue out," he answered in a +wrath that hammered against his skull. "I am alive--I, Eodan, your man. +I have come to take you home, Hwicca." + +"Let me go!" Horror rode her voice. + +He caught her arms. She shook as if with fever. "Can you give us light, +Phryne?" he asked in Latin. "She must see I am no nightwalker." + +Hwicca did not speak again. Having risen, she stood wholly mute. Her +hand brushed him, and he felt the palm had changed, had gone soft; she +had ground no grain and driven no oxen for nigh to a year. Oh his poor +caged darling! He let his own grasp go about her shoulders and then her +waist. He raised her chin and kissed her. The lips beneath his were +dead. In an overwhelming grief, that she should have been so hurt, he +drew her to him and laid her head on his breast. + +Long afterward Phryne found flint and steel and a lamp. A tiny glow +herded immense misshapen shadows into the corners. Eodan looked upon +Hwicca. + +She had not altered greatly to his eyes. Her skin was white now--the +sun had touched it seldom, the rain and wind never; but the same dear +small freckles dusted across her nose. She had taken on weight; she +was fuller about breast and hip. Her hair streamed in a loose mane past +a Roman gown and a Roman girdle, thin sheer stuff broidered with gold; +she wore a necklace of opals and amber. He did not like the perfume +smell, but--"Hwicca, Hwicca!" + +Her eyes seemed black, wrenched upward to his. They were dry and +fever-bright. Her shaking had eased, until he could only feel it as a +quiver beneath the skin. "I thought you were killed," she told him, +tonelessly. + +"No. I was sent to a farm south of here. I escaped. Now we shall go +home." + +"Eodan--" The cold, softened hands reached down, pulling his arms away. +She went from him to the chair in which she had been seated when he +came in. She sat upon it, her weight against one arm, and stared at the +floor. The curve of thigh and waist and drooping head was a sharp pain +to him. + +"Eodan," she said at last, wonderingly. She looked up. "I killed +Othrik. I killed him myself." + +"I saw it," he said. "I would have done so, too." + +"Flavius brought me here," she mumbled. + +"That was not your wish," he answered, through a wall in his throat he +had raised against tears. + +"There was only one thing that gave me the strength to live," she said. +"I thought you had died." + +Eodan wanted to take her in one arm, lead her out, hold a torch in the +other hand; he would kindle the world and dance about its flames. He +went to her, instead, and sat down at her feet, so she must look at him. + +"Hwicca," he said, "it was I who failed. I brought you to this land of +sorrow; when we were wedded, I could have turned our wagon northward. I +let myself be overcome by the Romans. I even left you my own task, of +free--freeing our son. The anger of the gods is on my head, not yours." + +"Do you think I care for any gods now?" she said. + +Suddenly she wept, not like a woman but like a man, great coughing +gulping sobs that pulled the ribs and stretched the jaws. She lifted +her head and howled, the Cimbrian wolf howl when they mourn for their +slain. Phryne stepped back, drawing her knife by the door, but no one +came. Perhaps, thought Eodan, they were used to hearing Flavius' new +concubine yell. + +Hwicca reached for him with unsteady hands and brushed them across his +mouth. "You kissed me," she cried. "Now see what you kissed off." He +looked upon a greasy redness. "My owner likes me painted. I have tried +to please him." + +Eodan sat in numbness. + +Hwicca fought herself to quiet. Finally she said, stammering and +choking, "He brought me here. He left me alone ... for many days ... +until I had used up all my tears. At last he came. He spoke kindly. He +offered his protection if--if--I should have asked him for a spear in +my heart. I did not, Eodan. I gave him back his kindness." + +He had thought many ugly fates for her. This he had not awaited. + +"Go," she said. "Go while it is still dark. I have money, I will give +you what I have. Leave this place of men's deaths, go north and raise +me a memory-stone if you will--Eodan, I am dead, leave the dead alone!" + +She turned away, looking into night. He got up, slowly, and went to +where Phryne was standing. + +"Well?" said the Grecian girl. "What is the trouble?" Her tone was +unexpectedly stinging, almost contemptuous; it jerked him like a whip. + +He bridled with an anger at her that drained off some of the hurt +Hwicca had given. "She yielded herself to Flavius." + +"Did you expect otherwise?" asked Phryne, winter-cold. "It is one thing +to fall on your own sword in battle's heat--another to be a captive +alone, and get the first soft word spoken in weeks! Romans have long +known how to harness a soul." + +"Oh ... well--" Eodan shook his head, stunned. "It is not that. I +looked for nothing else, I have seen too many women taken ... But she +will not come with me now, Phryne!" + +The Hellene stared across the room at Hwicca, who sat with her face +hidden in her hair. Then she glanced about at clothes and jewels and +whatever else a man was blind to. She nodded. + +"Your wife told you she did not merely obey," she said to Eodan. "She +tried to please Flavius. She wanted to." + +He started. "Are you a witch?" + +"Only a woman," said Phryne. "Eodan, think, if you are able. She +believed you dead, did she not? I heard the gossip in this household +last winter. And Flavius was a man, and there was life in this woman, +enough life to draw you here into the she-wolf's throat to get her +back! What would you have her do?" + +Phryne brought down her foot so the floor thudded. Beneath the +boy-cropped dark bangs she regarded Eodan with eyes that crackled. Her +scorn flayed him: "She feels she has betrayed you because, for a while, +she kissed Flavius willingly. She will send you off and remain here, +caged, waiting for him to tire of her and sell her to a brothel and so +at last to destruction and a corpse rotting in the Tiber. She will damn +herself to that, for no other reason than that she remained a living +woman! And you, you rutting, bawling, preening man-thing, you think you +might actually go from her as she asks?" + +Phryne snatched up a vase and hurled it shattering at his feet. "Well, +go then," she said. "Go, and the Erinyes have you, for I am done with +you!" + +Eodan stared, from one to another of them, for very long. Finally he +said, "What thanks I owed you before, Phryne, can be forgotten beside +this." + +He went to Hwicca, stood behind her, pulled her head back against him +and stroked her hair. "Forgive me," he said. "There is much I do not +understand. But you shall come with me, for I have always loved you." + +"No," she whispered. "I will not. There is no luck in me. I _will_ not!" + +He wondered, with a deep harsh wound in the thought, how wide of the +mark Phryne, too, might have been. But if they lived beyond this +night--if his weird should carry him back to Jutland horizons--he would +have their lifetimes to learn, and to heal. + +But first it was to escape. + +Boierik's son said calmly, "You are going with us, Hwicca. Let me hear +no more about that." + + + + +VIII + + +But still they tarried. A new thought had come to Eodan. When he asked +Phryne, she said it was good--less hopeless, at least, than most things +they might attempt. + +They sat in the chamber and waited. Little was spoken. Hwicca lay on +the couch, after Eodan told her to rest. She stared at the ceiling; +only her lungs moved. Eodan sat beside her, stroking her hair. Phryne +kept her back to them. + +The night grew gray. Hwicca had said Flavius was out to some banquet. +Eodan began to wonder if her own slave-girls might not come in to +attend her before the Roman returned. That could be a risky thing, +capturing them! + +The Cimbrian had not dreamed he would be glad to see Flavius again, +save as an object of revenge. But when "_Vale!_" and laughter sounded +in the hall, and a little afterward the latch went up, he drew his +sword and glided to the door with more happiness than the night had yet +given him. + +Flavius entered. He wore a wine-stained toga and a wreath slightly +askew. He saw Hwicca sitting up on the couch and raised his free arm. +"Are you awake, my dear? I did not mean to be so late. It was tedious +without you--" + +Eodan put the sword against his back and laid a hand on his shoulder. +He closed his fingers as tightly as he could, so that Flavius gasped +with pain. "If you cry out, you are a dead man," said Eodan. + +Phryne closed the door. Flavius turned about with great care. Lamplight +gleamed on steel. For a moment the Roman's narrow, curving face was +nearly fluid, as he struggled to cast off bewilderment and wine. +Then it steadied. The dim light sparkled wet across his brow, but he +straightened himself. + +"Eodan," he said. "I did not know you at once, with your hair black." + +"Not so loudly," said Phryne. She barred the door and circled about, +her own dagger cocked for an underhanded stab in the way Eodan had +shown her. + +"But where did you find this handsome boy?" asked Flavius as if a gibe +would armor him. + +"No matter that," snapped the Cimbrian. He looked into the other man's +rust-colored eyes. A lock of hair had fallen across one of them. Eodan +thought of Hwicca's hands brushing it back, and for a moment he stood +in flames. + +A year ago he would have seen Flavius' heart. A few months back, he +would have found some quiet place and stretched his revenge through +days. But, on this night, he shuddered to stillness. His blade was +almost at Flavius' throat; the Roman had backed against the wall, +panting, trying to shed his clumsy toga. + +Eodan skinned his teeth and said, "You owe me a heavy blood price. You +can never pay it, not with all your lands. So for my honor I should +kill you. But I will forego that. It is more to my honor that we three +here gain our own lives back." + +"I could manumit you," whispered Flavius through sandy lips. + +Eodan laughed unmirthfully. "How long afterward would we live? No, you +shall see us to safety. Once we are beyond Rome's reach, we can let you +go. Meanwhile, you shall not be without us. This sword will be under my +cloak. Do not think to trick us and call for help, because, if it even +looks as if we are not going to get free, I will kill you." + +Flavius nodded. "Let me past," he said. Eodan drew the blade back a few +inches. Flavius walked to a table, shedding his toga. Eodan followed +each step. Flavius took a wine jug and poured into a chalice; he drank +with care. + +Then, turning about and looking straight up at Eodan: "I would be +interested to know how you escaped. It is a leak I must plug, when this +affair is over." + +The Cimbrian answered with relish: "Part of the road went through your +wife's bed." + +"Oh, so." Flavius nodded again. His wits had returned; they had never +flown far. His face was almost a mask, save that the shadow of a smile +played now and then across it. He moved with the wildcat ease Eodan +remembered, unshaken and unhurried. + +"No matter!" snapped Phryne. "I have thought what we must do." Flavius +regarded her with measuring eyes. "At this season, ships leave each day +for all ports. You will engage passage for a short trip--that can be +done without exciting too much gossip--let us say to Massilia in Gaul. +We shall all four go." + +"Massilia is subject to Rome," Flavius reminded her. + +"But it is not many days' travel by horse to the frontier. Beyond lies +Aquitania, which is free. Even I have heard how the Gauls are still in +upheaval after the Cimbrian trek. We can make our own way among them. +And you can return home from there." + +Flavius stroked his chin. "Phryne, is it not?" he mused. "Cordelia's +slave, become a most charming boy. Do you think to instruct the +barbarians in Greek?" + +"Enough," growled Eodan. + +"I think you have breathed fever-mists," said Flavius. "Do you really +believe you can make your way through all Rome and Gaul--alive?" + +"We have come thus far," said Phryne. In the earliest sky-lightening, +Eodan saw how her eyes were dark-rimmed from weariness. He himself felt +bowstring tense; sleep would be his enemy. + +"What have we to lose?" he added to the girl's words. + +Flavius looked over at Hwicca. She sat on the bed's edge, white-mouthed +and red-eyed, watching them like a leashed dumb beast. "Much, my +friend," said Flavius. "As runaway slaves, you should be killed, or at +least whipped and branded, but I could still save you. I could say you +went on a secret errand for me. I could not save you if you were caught +after having taken a Roman citizen hostage." + +"Would you spare us even now?" snorted Eodan. "What oath can you give +me?" + +"None," said Flavius. "You would have to chance my mood. But be sure +I have no complaint against Hwicca--yet. If she is taken with you, +though, abetting your flight and my capture, she will also die, piece +by piece." He shook his head. "Eodan, Eodan, you meant to save this +girl, but you will give her to death!" + +"Better that than you!" + +"Do you not understand?" said Flavius gently. "It would not be a quick +throat-cutting. The least she could await would be the arena beasts, +under the eye of all Rome. But the people have developed more refined +tastes in such matters--and they are savage in their fear of slave +mutiny. A servile war was ended only months ago in Sicily; I do not +think she would merely face lions." + +It was as though some hand closed on Eodan's heart. His wrist went +slack, the sword drooped downward. + +"Hwicca," he mumbled, "what have we done to the Powers?" + +Flavius smiled in his own locked manner and held out his hand. "Will +you give me that sword?" he asked. + +Phryne whirled upon Hwicca. "You lump!" she yelled. "Is it you that he +would die for?" + +The Cimbrian girl shook herself. She got to her feet and moved across +the floor like a sleepwalker. "No, Eodan," she said in their own +tongue. "Hold fast." + +There was scant life in her voice, but it tapped the wells of his +inward self. Eodan drew his head up again, so that he loomed over them +all, and laughter grew in his mouth. He jabbed at Flavius' throat, +forcing the Roman back. "We sail today," he said in Latin. "Or else you +shall be spitted on this. And I will be swift enough afterward to kill +the girls and fall on the blade myself." + +Flavius caught a breath as though to speak, met Eodan's green gaze and +blew out again. He spread his hands and shrugged. + +"Now," said Phryne, "we must have a plausible story for your sudden +departure. Eodan and I are Narbonensian Gauls who have brought you an +urgent message from your kinsman Septimus, who resides in Massilia." + +"You kept your ears wide while you ate my salt, Phryne," said Flavius, +with a sidelong glance at Hwicca. + +The Grecian girl swiped the air, angrily, and went on: "You need say +little more. Speak of a chance to invest money, and all will expect +you to be close-mouthed. No one knows Eodan, so he will accompany you +about the house; but you will stay within doors, sending your slaves +out on the needful errands. When the social calls are paid you in the +forenoon, your doorkeeper must turn them back on the plea that you are +sick from too much wine. I shall remain here, lest I be recognized. +Food will be brought to this door for Hwicca and myself, but no one is +to enter save you two." + +She turned to the Cimbrian as she continued: "Eodan, do you know about +writing--the marks made by stylus or quill? Good. Be sure he writes +nothing that I do not see him write. Also, be sure that he speaks only +in Latin. If he says two words running that you do not understand, kill +him!" + +Flavius pursed his lips. He regarded her for a long while before he +said, very softly, "And I hardly knew you existed, little one." + +"Well, go!" She stamped her foot. "It will take time to find out about +ships. Rouse a man now to inquire." + +Eodan draped his cloak around the sword, which he carried bare under +his left arm, and followed Flavius out. + +The morning dragged. There was a clepsydra in the atrium. Once, when +Eodan asked, Flavius told him how it counted time. Thereafter the +Cimbrian sat listening to its drip, drip, drip, and shuddered under a +tightly held calm; for this was trolldom, where each falling drop eked +out another measure of a man's life. + +This waiting was the hardest thing he had yet done. Flavius himself +suggested a casual remark to be made to the porter, explaining why the +Gauls had not been seen entering the house--he had heard them talk +beneath his garden wall, climbed a ladder in curiosity and invited +them over! He dealt smoothly enough with his stewards and errand boys. +He reclined on the couch, chatting plausibly of Gallic affairs, when +food was served him and Eodan. He seemed to enjoy the scandalized +faces of his older retainers when they saw a Roman so familiar with a +provincial. Why, it was unheard-of--they went to the privy together! +But chiefly there was nothing to do but wait. Eodan stayed within a +quick lunge of Flavius, never taking eyes off him. Flavius shrugged +lightly, called for some books and lay on a couch reading when he did +not nap. It had never before seemed to Eodan that hours on end of +silence could be a torment. + +Word came about noon--a small galley was to leave Ostia for Massilia +next sunrise. It carried only cheap wares, glass goods made in slave +factories for barbarian markets ... perhaps a chance person or two +paid a few sesterces for space on deck, carrying their own food. +Surely the great Master Flavius would not travel in such a tub? And +with three companions! In another few days a fine trireme with ample +accommodations would depart--Well, if Master Flavius insisted--Well, if +he would pay that generously, the officers would turn their cabin over +to his party and sleep under canvas themselves, but of course Master +Flavius must not expect the cabin to be very comfortable; one would +advise that he bring his own mattress.... + +And then it was again to wait. + +Once Eodan caught himself nodding. His eyes had closed; all at once +he realized it and opened them with a gasp. Flavius looked up from a +scroll and chuckled. "You only slept for a heartbeat," he said. "But +how long do you think you can keep awake?" + +"Long enough!" spat the Cimbrian. + +The household bustled, shouted, chattered, a whirl of pompous orders +and acknowledgments. There would be a hive's buzzing about this, +thought Eodan, his mind creaking with weariness. And some of Rome's +mighty folk would hear and wonder. No matter, though. He would be at +sea by that time, ahead of any messages. Once out of Massilia town, +with a saddle beneath him and a string of remounts, he could race the +whole Roman army to Aquitania. + +They left for Ostia, in mid-afternoon, with four chariots. Flavius +drove one, reckless and skilled. Eodan stood beside him and knew +unsureness, as he hung onto the bumping, bouncing, rattling thing, not +knowing whether he would be able to wield sword and not lose his feet. +Hwicca and Phryne paced them in another. The Cimbrian girl held reins +and whip; she had never driven such a wagon before, but she kept an +even distance behind Flavius, and looking back Eodan saw in a glad leap +of his heart that she smiled! The other two cars bore only a man apiece +and the needful travel goods; also some purses, fat with auri, to see +them through this land where gold had more strength than iron. + +Even in these days of a dying Republic, when new wealth openly flouted +old laws, this was no common faring on the Ostian Way. Wagoners, +horsemen, foot travelers, porters, donkey drivers, men in tavern doors +and cottage windows and haughty gates, the rich matron in a litter and +all her bearers, child and laborer and aged beggar--all must stare at +four galloping chariots with a Roman guiding one and a yellow-haired +foreign woman the next. Well, let them talk too, thought Eodan. He +wished he could give Rome a redder memory of his passage. + +Though this road was broad and superbly paved, there were miles to +go. Once they stopped to change teams. It was after dark when they +entered the Ostian streets. Torches flared; the horses stumbled on +cobblestones. Flavius looked wind-flushed at Eodan and laughed. "Thank +you for a good ride, at least! Now, shall we to an inn?" + +"No." It was hard to think clearly, with a skull full of sand. But +every stop, every man they spoke to, was another hazard. "Let us go +aboard at once." + +Flavius clicked his tongue, but turned the chariot down toward the +waterfront. There was just enough light, from the city and the pharos +in the outer harbor, for Eodan to see a world of ships. Their spars +hemmed in the sky. Many of them were lit by torch or firepot, so that +slaves could continue loading. Such was the galley they sought. + +It was, indeed, neither large nor beautiful. It was battered, in need +of paint, reeking of tar and slavery. The small bronze figurehead was +so corroded you could not tell what it had been intended to depict. Ten +ports on a side showed where the oars would emerge; through them came +a sound of chains and animal sleep. Phryne gagged at the smell. A line +of near-naked dock workers moved up and down a gangplank, bearing cases +to be stowed in the hold, while an overseer and an armed guard watched. +There was also a stout, dark, bearded man with a rolling gait who +came up, gave a bear's bow and said he was Demetrios, captain of this +vessel. He had not been expecting his distinguished passengers yet. + +"Take us to our cabin," said Flavius. "We would sleep a few hours +before you leave." + +"The noise, master," said the captain. "You would not sleep at all, I +fear." + +Eodan looked wildly about. He had not thought of this ... if the +Demetrios man grew suspicious--what to do, what to do? + +Flavius winked and jerked his thumb at Hwicca and Phryne. "I should not +have said 'sleep,' captain." + +"Oh," said Demetrios enviously. "Of course." + +They went up on deck. There was a high poop, where the great steering +oar was lashed; the stem-post curled up over it like a flaunting tail. +The forecastle stood somewhat lower, bearing a rough tent erected for +the officers. The free deckhands would bed in the open, as always. +Amidships rose the single mast, with a flimsy cabin just aft where +Flavius' attendants laid down his gear. A lamp showed it windowless, +though crannies let in ample cold air, and bare save for a little +wooden sea-god nailed to his shelf. + +Demetrios bowed in the doorway. "Good night, then, noble master," he +said. "I hope we'll get a pleasant voyage." + +Flavius smiled graciously. "I am sure we will." + + + + +IX + + +"Well, now!" said the Roman when they sat behind a closed door. He +stretched himself across one of the mattresses, boylike on his belly, +and reached for a leather bottle of good wine. His grin leaped at the +others. "Thus far, my friends, well done. Shall we pledge our mutual +success?" + +Eodan opened his cloak and let the sword slide to his knees. His left +arm was stiff and pained from holding the blade pressed to his ribs, +hours at a time. He looked with sullen red eyes at his enemy and said: +"No. I will pledge your ghost in your own blood, nothing else." + +Phryne hugged her knees and stared from a drawn small face. "It is best +that Flavius not leave this cabin all the voyage," she said. "He can +plead seasickness. Two of us must be with him at any time, awake." + +"Oh, one will do," said Eodan. His jaws felt rusty. "At least, if the +other two are here, asleep but ready to be called." + +"Bind him," said Hwicca timidly. + +Flavius raised his brows. "If a sailor should chance to look in upon us +and saw me bound--" he murmured. + +"It is true." Eodan's head drooped. He jerked it back again. "Be as +wise in our behalf as you have been, Roman, and you will see Rome +again." + +Flavius poured himself a cup. "Do you think so?" he asked lightly. "I +doubt that." + +"I have promised." + +"How much will your word be worth to you, once we reach a wild land +where you have no further need of me for shield?" Flavius' eyes rested +candidly on Hwicca, above the rim of his cup. A slow, deep flush went +up her throat and cheeks. She drew herself into a corner, away from +them all, but her gaze remained locked with his. + +"Not that I expect us ever to get that far," went on Flavius. "Your +luck has been good until now--" + +"A Power has been with me," said Eodan, and touched his forehead where +the holy triskele lay under a grimy cloth. + +"So you may think. But what educated man can take seriously those +overgrown children on Olympus?" The Roman nodded at Hwicca. "We spoke +of this now and then, you and I. Do you remember? There was a time you +gathered jasmine blossoms--" + +"Be still about that or I will forget my word!" roared Eodan in the +Cimbric. Hwicca huddled back and lifted an arm, as though to ward off a +blow. + +"As you wish," said Flavius, unruffled. "To continue--" A crash +outside, and the sound of swearing and a whip, interrupted him--"I +myself do not believe in any Power except chance. There are blind +moieties of matter, obeying blind laws; only the idiot hand of chance +keeps each cycle of centuries from being the same. Now it is very +possible, by chance, to throw the same number at dice several times +sequentially. It is not possible forever, my friend. I think you +have thrown about as many good numbers as any man in the world ever +did. Soon your luck must turn. You shall be found out through some +happenstance. You will then try to kill me. One way or another, we +shall all die. You and Phryne and Hwicca and myself, all dead--mold in +our mouths and our eye sockets empty." Flavius tossed off his wine and +poured another cup. "It is inevitable." + +Eodan snarled, out of a chill, dreary foreboding, "If you say more such +unlucky words, I will--no, not kill you--each such word will cost you a +tooth. Now hold your mouth!" + +Flavius shrugged gracefully. Phryne closed her eyes. Beneath the +booming and the voices on deck, there was silence. + +Finally Eodan turned to his wife. She would not meet his look. When he +took her hand, it lay slack on his palm. + +"Hwicca," he said, burred Cimbric low and unsure in his throat. "Pay +him no heed. We shall be free." + +"Yes," she said, so he could scarcely hear it. + +"That 'yes' was not meant," he told her. His heart lay a lump in his +breast. + +She said in a torn voice: "There is no freedom from that which was." + +"Little Othrik," said Eodan. He looked at his wife's hand and +remembered how his son's baby fingers had curled about his thumb. He +shook his head and smiled. "No--him we shall always mourn.... But it +would be worse if we sailed off leaving him to grow up a Roman's beaten +beast. You could not have done otherwise. There will come more children +to us, and some of them will die of this or that; so it has ever been. +But some will live, Hwicca." + +She shook her head, still averting herself. "I am dishonored." + +"Not so!" he said harshly. "If you would--" He glanced at Flavius, +who raised brows and smiled. Then he put his lips by Hwicca's ear to +breathe: "I gave him no true oath. We can sacrifice him in Gaul; that +will remove all stain from you." + +"_No!_" She cried it aloud, pulling free of him. The face he looked +upon was filled with terror. + +"As you like," he floundered. "Whatever you wish. But remember, I am +your husband. It is for me to say if you are guilty, and I say you are +not." + +"Let me alone," she pleaded. "Let me alone." + +Eodan sat listening to her dry sobs. He hefted his sword, dully +thinking about its use. He had never fought with such a weapon; the +Cimbrian blades were for hewing, and this was for stabbing.... + +Phryne crept over the narrow space and touched his arm. "Wait," she +whispered. He saw a helpless look in her eyes, as if she sat watching a +child being burned out by fever. "Give her time, Eodan. I know not what +the Cimbrian law is--I suppose your women were chaste--it means more to +her, what has happened, than you can know." + +"I do not understand," he said. "There is some witchcraft here. I do +not understand her any longer." + +"Wait, Eodan. Only wait." + +He squatted into his own corner, under the low roof, and looked across +to Flavius. The Roman had closed his eyes and stretched out; could he +really sleep now? + +At last the noise ended. Eodan saw Hwicca fall asleep herself, curled +like a child. There was that much to thank the dark Powers for. Phryne +and he seemed too weary to rest, or too taut. Yet no thoughts ran in +his head; it felt hollowed out, and time did not flow for him. When a +new clamor began, and he felt the ship move, it was a jarring surprise. +Already! + +He opened the door and looked out. The deckhands had cast loose, the +oars were walking, he heard rowlocks creak and the muffled gonging of +the stroke-setter beneath his shoes. They slipped through a channel +between many hulls still one dark mysterious mass. Ostia and Italy +behind her lay misty under the first saffron clouds; ahead, the +Tyrrhenian Sea caught a few wan gleams. There were stars in the west. + +The sailors, shivering in tunics or mere loincloths, scurried over the +deck doing things unknown to Eodan. They were a ruffianly-looking lot, +swept from many ports of the Midworld Sea--a hairy Pamphylian, a brown +Libyan, a big-nosed Thracian, a brawny red-faced Gaul, another two or +three whom Eodan could only guess about. Captain Demetrios walked among +them, a sword at his waist, a light whip in his hand. He saw Eodan and +came over, beaming snag-toothed in his beard. + +"Good morning," he said. "You had a--hah!--pleasant night with your +woman and your boy?" + +Eodan grunted. "How long to Massilia?" + +"Oh, perhaps five days, maybe more, maybe less. Much depends on the +wind. I've a fear it will turn against us." Demetrios cocked his head. +"Where are you from? I thought I'd seen 'em all, till you turned up." + +Eodan said in Cimbric, "You Southland swine!" + +"And where's that?" asked Demetrios. But Eodan had closed the door +again. The cabin was smoky and foul after the deck. He wondered if he +could really smell the human agony that seeped up from the rowers' pit. + +Flavius opened an eye. "Have you foreseen you might get sick from the +waves?" he asked amiably. + +"I have foreseen kicking your ribs in!" grated Eodan. + +Flavius nodded at Hwicca, who had also awakened. She sat up with chin +on knees and shivered. "Do you see, my dear, it is too much to expect +that I should be released if we ever get into Aquitania," he murmured. +"It would be asking more of your husband than one may even ask of a +god." + +Hwicca gave Eodan a forlorn glance. He laid himself upon a mattress +near her. "You will swear he shall have his life, will you not?" she +asked fearfully. + +He said, out of his bitterness: "You are loyal to your owner, Hwicca!" + +She shrank back with a little whimper. + +"No more of that," said Phryne sharply. "We are certain not to outlive +this trip if we quarrel among ourselves." She regarded Hwicca closely. +"You look strong," she said, "and I daresay you have some knowledge of +weapons." + +The Cimbrian girl nodded, wordless. + +"Well, then," said Phryne, "Eodan and I can do no more without rest. +You have slept a while, now watch Flavius for us. It is simple enough. +Hold this sword. Stay out of his reach. If he makes a suspicious move, +call us. If it looks as if he might escape, stab!" + +Hwicca took the heavy blade. "That much ... yes," she said in the +Cimbric. + +Eodan laughed, without mirth, but not uncomforted. He curled on his +side to face her. The last sight he had, before sleep smote, was the +unsure smile with which she looked at him.... + +Her scream wakened Eodan. + +He sprang to a crouch. He had a moment's glimpse of Flavius' tall form +stooped beneath the roof. The Roman was at the door, and Hwicca was +plunging toward him. Flavius kicked out. He got her swordbearing arm. +She cried aloud, fell and tried to seize his feet. He fumbled with the +latch, kicking her again. + +Eodan roared and sprang, but it was too narrow a space. He stumbled +over Hwicca. Phryne had just come awake. Sleep spilled from her, +and she grabbed for her knife. Eodan picked himself up from his +entanglement with Hwicca as Flavius got the door open. Eodan rushed for +him. + +They went backwards out on the deck. Eodan reached after Flavius' +throat. The Roman's knees were doubled up before his stomach. He +straightened them enough to fend off the Cimbrian, rolled over and +shouted. + +"Help! Captain! Slave mutiny! Help!" + +Eodan grasped for him, missed again and saw the Libyan sailor's legs +pounding up. The Libyan was swinging a club. Eodan scrambled back from +the blow and bounced to his feet. The Libyan yelled and raised the club +high. Eodan's fist leaped, and he felt bone and flesh crunch under his +knuckles. The Libyan choked and sat down. + +Wildly, Eodan looked toward the bow. He had a glimpse of sea that +sparkled blue beneath a sun close to noon. The ship rolled gently, but +to an opposing wind; they were still only oar-powered. The land was +a thin streak to starboard. Flavius stood in a knot of men under the +forecastle, pointing back to the cabin and yelling. + +"Give me that sword!" bawled Eodan. + +Phryne came out with it. The wind rumpled her short dark hair, the sun +blinked on her knife blade. Her tilted face looked forward in the calm +of--hopelessness? No, Hwicca sobbed behind her, saying, "There are +worse endings. Kill me, Eodan." + +"No!" he cried. "Come, follow me! _By the Bull_--" + +He lifted his sword and ran aft. The sailors in the bow milled, unsure. +Demetrios exhorted them. Up on the poop, the steersman gaped and let go +his oar. The ship heeled as the wind brought it about. Eodan stumbled, +regained his feet and reached the hatch he wanted. + +It stood open. The stench of the grave boiled from it. Even in that +moment he was close to retching. But--"Down in there!" he rapped, and +sprang first, ignoring the ladder. + +He struck a platform where the gong-beater stood, staring, mouth open +like a fish. Eodan stabbed once. The gong-beater screamed, caught at +his belly and sank to his knees. + +Eodan looked down the length of the pit. Overhead was the main deck. +Before him was an oblong well, with ten benches on either side and a +man chained to each. He could not see them as more than a blur--here +a bleached face, there a tangle of hair. A catwalk ran down the +middle, above the seats. Light came in shafts through the hatch and +the oar-ports. As the ship rolled, a sunbeam would sickle up and down, +touching a rib or a strake or a human face, and then flee onward. It +was noisy here--timbers groaned, waves slapped the hull, rowlocks +creaked, chains rattled. + +The overseer came at a run along the catwalk. He was a big man with a +smashed, hating face. He was bearing a whip with leaded thongs and a +trident for prodding or killing. "Pirates!" he whooped. "Pirates!" + +A beast-howl lifted from the benches. Oars clattered in their locks; +the men stood up and barked, grunted, yammered. Eodan could not tell +whether it was fear or wrath. And his life depended on which it was. + +As the overseer reached him, Eodan crouched. The overseer stabbed. +Eodan swayed his body aside, as though this were a bull's horn in the +Cimbrian springtime games. He should have thrust in his turn, but habit +was too strong. He struck downward with his sword. The overseer's +trident was wrenched loose and went ringing to the platform. + +The man's mouth opened. Perhaps he cursed, but Eodan could not hear +above the slave-racket. His fingers clawed for a hold, to wrestle the +Cimbrian. Eodan got him by belt and throat, heaved him up over his +head, and roared aloud. + +"Here! He's yours!" + +And hurled the overseer into darkness. + +"Eodan," cried Hwicca. Her hands fell frantic upon his body. He looked +into wild eyes. "What would you do?" + +"No time to hunt for keys to the locks," he rapped. "Pick up that +trident. Pry the shackles off these men!" + +Hwicca stood back, staring. The slaves hooted and jumped about. A +swift sunbeam caught bared teeth down in the murk. They could hear the +overseer being ripped apart. + +"Can you hold the crew off long enough?" called Phryne. + +"I had better!" said Eodan. + +He pulled off his cloak and whirled it around his left arm. The +gong-beater caught feebly at his heels. He stamped down the hand and +bounded up the ladder. + +The sailors were nearing. All of them had weapons, such as were kept +against pirates. Demetrios was bearing a shield and helmet as well. +Flavius was walking beside him. + +"There he is!" bellowed the captain, and feet thudded on the planks. +Eodan went down again and waited. + +There was grunting and cursing at his back. Once the girls had a man +or two free, it would go faster.... But if I were a slave, he thought, +with the mind beaten out of me, I might not use a sudden woman for +anything but--Here is a man to fight! + +It was the Libyan, with a broken nose to avenge. He came down the +ladder quickly, facing forward in sailor fashion, bearing a short +spear. In the shifting gloom he was not much more than another shadow. +Eodan poised himself. The spear punched at his stomach. He caught the +point in his wadded cloak, shoved it aside and stepped in. The Libyan +howled, but was scarcely heard above the howling of the galley slaves. +Eodan slid the sword into him. The sailor did not seem to feel it. He +backed against the ladder, pulled his spear free and struck. Eodan did +not quite sidestep it. The edge raked his shoulder. As the Libyan moved +in, Eodan chopped at the wooden handle of his enemy's weapon. Roman +iron bit; he caught it. The Libyan wrestled him for the shaft. Eodan +jerked. The Libyan lost his balance, slipped in his own pouring blood +and fell into the pit. + +Eodan glanced up. The sky in the hatch blinded him. He could only see +that someone was looking down. As if from far away, he heard Demetrios: +"Throw a kettle of boiling water. He cannot withstand that!" + +"He can retreat onto the catwalk," said Flavius, "and come back to meet +the next man we send. No, let one sailor carry that kettle down the +ladder. The barbarian cannot attack him without being scalded. Two or +three others can come directly behind--" + +Gasping, Eodan turned toward the benches. It had quieted a little. He +heard links clash in the darkness. A staple screamed as it was torn out +of a timber. + +"Follow me!" shouted Eodan. "Break your oars for clubs! There are no +more than six or seven men up there! You can be free!" + +They shuffled and mumbled in the dark. He glimpsed a few who had been +released holding up their dangling chains in a dull, wondering way. +They were loathsome with sores and scars. + +A voice yelled back to him: "We can be crucified, no more!" + +"They have swords," another whispered. "They are masters." + +Eodan shook his red blade high and yelled in rage: "Is there even one +man among you?" + +A moment longer, then a booming from the foul night before him: "Get +these god-rotted irons off me, boy, and you'll have at least two more +hands!" + + + + +X + + +The man who sprang up onto the catwalk and joined Eodan was huge--not +as tall as the Cimbrian, but with a breadth of shoulder that made him +look almost square. His arms, hanging down toward his knees, were +cabled with muscle. His hair and beard were matted filth, but they +still had the color of fire. Small blue eyes crackled under bony brows; +the dented nose dilated, sucking air into a shaggy bow-legged frame +clad only in its chains. + +He trumpeted at the darkness: "Hear me! You had courage enough to +kill one stunned man, tossed down to you. Now you've no hope for your +flea-bitten lives but to fight. Whether you touched the overseer or +not, d'you think the Romans would spare a man of us after this? They'll +grind you up for pig-mash! Follow us, beat in a few heads--after all +the beatings you've taken, it's your turn--and we'll have the ship!" + +Whirling on Eodan, he said with a wolfish glee, "Come, let's at +'em--the rest will trail us!" + +"There's a spear somewhere," said the Cimbrian. + +"Ha! I have my chains!" The big man whirled the links still hanging on +his wrists. + +Eodan thought of Hwicca, of his son and his father, and of Marius' +triumphal parade. He swung up the ladder. + +The crew were gathered nearby on guard. One of them shouted as Eodan's +head emerged and ran forward, holding a pike. Eodan braced himself. +As the metal thrust at him, he caught its shaft and forced it up. He +jerked back while he took the last few rungs. The sailor fell to one +knee. Eodan came out on deck, yanked the pike away and tossed it under +the legs of the two nearest men approaching him. They went down. + +"Haw, well cast!" bawled Redbeard. + +A man was going up the ladder to the poop deck. Over the heads of +two or three sailors, Eodan saw that he had a bow. "See up there!" +he cried, as he danced back from the Gaul's sword-thrust. Redbeard +grunted, whirled his chain and let fly. The Thracian deckhand screamed +as the staple end smashed across his face, and dropped his ax. The +redbeard picked it up, took aim and threw it. There was a gleam in the +air and a meaty whack. The bowman fell off the ladder, wailing, the ax +standing in his shoulder. + +"Back to back," snapped Eodan. The crew were circling him, looking +for a chance to rush in. He counted four--the Gaul, the Greek, the +Pamphylian, and a stocky fellow with a leather apron, belike a +carpenter. The Thracian, who rolled about moaning, and the archer, who +lay bleeding to death, were out of the fight. + +And here, from around the cabin, leaving their hot-water kettle, came +Demetrios and Flavius! + +Redbeard wrapped a chain about his right hand--the links on his left +he kept dangling--and twirled it. "Hoy, down there in the pit!" he +shouted. "Get off your moldy butts and come crack some bones!" + +The Pamphylian and the Greek moved in side by side, facing Eodan. +The first of them leaped about, thrusting lightly with his sword, +not trying to do more than hold the Cimbrian's eyes. Then the Greek +worked in from the left. Eodan's blade clanged against his. At once the +Pamphylian darted close. Eodan could just whip his sword around in time +to wound him and drive him back. It gave the Greek an opening. Eodan +saw that assault from the edge of an eye; he got his cloak-shielded arm +in the way. The Greek struck for his hip, but the thrust only furrowed +Eodan's flesh. Then Redbeard swatted his chain-clad hand around, and +the Greek reeled back. Eodan thrust savagely at the Pamphylian, who +retreated. Redbeard batted the carpenter's pike aside with his right +hand. The chain on his left wrist snapped forth and coiled around the +Pamphylian's neck. Redbeard pulled him close, took him by an arm and +kicked him down the hatch. + +"You puking brats!" he roared into the pit, as the sailor fell. "Do I +have to send 'em to you?" + +Demetrios and Flavius were among their men now--only the Gaul, the +Greek, and the carpenter! Eodan screamed and shook his sword at them. +"_Hau-hau-hau-hau-hoo!_" + +"Form ranks!" barked Flavius. + +"Best we get back under the poop," panted Redbeard. + +Eodan drifted aft across the deck, growling. Five men left, no more. +But they marched in a line, their timidity gone. Two could not hope to +stop them for long-- + +The slaves came out. + +Not all had so much courage, perhaps ten. But those fell upon the +crew with broken oars, chains, and bare hands. Eodan saw Flavius turn +coolly, lift his sword, and sheathe it in a throat; pull it free and +gouge the next man open. The sailors fell into a ring, the yelping +slaves recoiled. + +"_Hau-hau-hee-yi!_" shrieked Eodan, and charged. + +It was Flavius' head he wanted, but the Greek's he got. The sailor, his +face puffy from the chain-blow it had taken, stabbed. Eodan went to one +knee and let the point tear his wadded cloak. He thrust upward. Blood +ran from the Greek's thigh, but the man stood firm. Eodan jumped to +his feet, got two hands on the Greek's sword wrist and put his weight +behind them. He heard the arm leave the socket, and the Greek went +down. Eodan saw that the fight had departed this place; the slaves were +clubbing loose. He followed. A rower emerged from below, saw the Greek +and the Thracian lying helpless and battered them to death. + +Eodan glimpsed Redbeard across the ship, locked bare-handed with the +carpenter. Those were two strong men. The carpenter broke free and ran, +pursued by Redbeard. Under the forecastle stood a rack of tools. As the +carpenter picked up a hammer, Redbeard smote him with a chain, and the +hammer dropped. Redbeard caught it in midair, roared and struck the +carpenter. + +But now the battle had ended. The Gaul had fallen, pounded to ruin. +Only Flavius and the captain still lived. They fought their way aft, +to the poop; half a dozen wounded slaves and three dead lay behind +them. When they stood on the upper deck and defended the way with their +swords, the mutineers fell back. + +For a while there was silence. The ship rolled easily, waves clapped +the strakes, wind hummed in the rigging. The hurt men moaned, the dead +men and the wreckage rolled about. But those were not loud noises, +under so high a heaven. + +Redbeard went to the foot of the poop and shook his hammer. "Will you +come down, or must I fetch you?" he cried. + +"Come if you will," said Flavius. "It would be a service to rid the +earth of Latin as atrocious as yours." + +Redbeard hung back, glowering. One by one, the rowers drifted up to +join him. Flavius arched his brows at them and grinned. His hair was +flung disarrayed by the breeze, his tunic was ripped and a bruise +purpled one calf, but he stood as though in Rome's Forum. Beside him, +Demetrios mouthed threats and brandished his blade. + +Eodan went to the hatch. He heard the remaining slaves clamor down +there, and a sickness choked him. By the Bull, he thought, if those +creatures have so much as spoken to Hwicca or Phryne, the fish will get +them--cooked! + +"Hoy!" he shouted. "Come up, we have won!" + +Something stirred on the ladder. And then the sun caught Hwicca's +bright blowing hair. She trod forth, dropping the trident in an +unaware gesture. One leg showed through a rent in her gown. Her broad +snub-nosed face was still bewildered; the blue eyes were hazed, as +though she had not fully awakened. + +"Hwicca," croaked Eodan. "Are you hurt?" + +"No...." + +He flung his sword to the deck and drew her to him. "We have the ship," +he said. "We are free." + +A moment only, her fingers tightened on his arms. Then she pulled away +and looked over the blood-smeared deck. "Flavius?" she whispered. + +"Up there." Eodan pointed with a stabbing motion. "We'll soon snatch +him down!" + +Hwicca stepped aside. She shivered. "It does not seem real," she said +in a child's high, thin voice. + +Phryne's boy-figure emerged. She was holding a dripping dagger. She +looked at it, shook her head, flung it from her and bent shut eyes down +upon clenched fists. + +Eodan laid a hand on her shoulder. He had been wild at thinking of harm +to Hwicca; now a strange tenderness rose in him, and he asked very +gently, "What happened, Phryne?" + +She raised a blind violet stare. "I killed a man," she said. + +"Oh. No more than that?" Thankfulness sang within Eodan. + +"It was not so little." She rubbed a wrist across her forehead. "I +think I will have evil dreams for a long time." + +"But men are killed daily!" + +"He was a slave," said Phryne without tone. "Hwicca and I went among +them. She pulled out the staples, and I guarded her. This one man +shouted and seized her dress. He would have had her down under the +bench. I struck him. I struck him twice in the neck. He slumped back, +but it took him a while to die. A sunbeam came in. I saw that he did +not understand. He was only a man--a young man--what did he know of us? +Of our purpose down there? Of anything but bench and chains and whip +and one niggard piece of sky? And now he is among the shades, and he +will never know!" + +She turned away, went to the rail and, stared out at the horizon. + +Eodan thought for a moment. He would have given blood of his own to +comfort her, though this seemed only some female craziness. At last: +"Well, do you think it would have been better for him to dishonor the +woman that wanted to free him?" + +Phryne paused before answering. "No. That is true. But give me a while +to myself." + +Eodan picked up his sword and went to the poop ladder. The slaves +milled about, grumbling. Their bodies were mushroom-colored, and +they blinked in the bright day; they had not been starved, for their +strength was worth money, but sores festered on them and their hair +and beards were crusted. Only the big red man seemed altogether human. +Belike he had not been long at the oars. + +He turned about, bobbed his head awkwardly and rumbled: "I lay my life +at your feet. You gave me back myself." + +Eodan grinned. "I had small freedom to choose! It was get help or be +cut down." + +"Nonetheless, there is fate in you," said Redbeard. He lifted his +hammer between both hands. "I take you for disa--for chieftain. I am +your hound and horse, bow and quiver, son and grandson, until the sky +is broken." + +Eodan said, moved to see tears on a giant's face, "Who are you?" + +"I am called Tjorr the Sarmatian, _disa_. My folk are the Rukh-Ansa, a +confederation among the Alanic peoples. We dwell on the western side +of the Don River, north of the Azov Sea. I carry _disa_ blood myself, +being a son of the clan chief Beli. The Cimmerian Greeks caught me in +battle a few years ago. I went from hand to hand, being too quick of +temper to make a good slave, until at last they pegged me into this +floating sty. And now you have freed me!" Tjorr blew his nose and wiped +his eyes. + +"Well, I am Eodan, Boierik's son, of the Cimbri. We can trade stories +later. How shall we dislodge those two up there?" + +"A bow would be easiest," said Tjorr, brightening, "but I'd liefer +throw things at them." + +Flavius went to the deck's edge and looked down. "Eodan," he called. +"Will you speak with me?" + +The Cimbrian bristled. "What can you say to talk back your life?" + +"Only this." Flavius' tone remained cool. "Do you really think to man +a ship with these apes? They know how to row. Can they lay a course, +hold a rudder, set a sail or splice a line? Do you, yourself, even know +where to aim, to reach some certain country? Now Captain Demetrios has +mastered all these arts, and I, who own a small pleasure craft, have +some skill. Eodan, you can kill us if you wish, but then you will be +wrecked in a day!" + +There was buzzing among the slaves. The ship heeled sharply, under a +gust, and Eodan felt spray sting his face. + +Phryne left the rail and came to him. "I have not seen much of the +sea," she said, "but I fear Flavius is right." + +Eodan looked back along the deck, toward Hwicca. She stood watching the +Roman in a way he did not know, save that it was not hate. Eodan raised +his sword until it trembled before his eyes. The blood running down the +blade made the haft slippery. I had no real quarrel with any of the men +whose blood this was, he thought. + +Then he regarded the sea, where it curled white on restless greenish +blue, and the sky, and the far dim line that was Italy. He spat on +the planks and called, "Very well! Lay down your arms and be our deck +officers. You shall not be harmed." + +"What proof do you have?" snorted Demetrios. + +"None, except that he wants to reach land again with his wife," said +Flavius. "Come." He led the way down the ladder. The rowers muttered +obscenity. Two of them moved close, their pieces of oar lifted. Tjorr +waved them back with his sledge. Flavius handed his sword to Eodan, who +pitched it down so it rang. + +"I advise you to assert your authority without delay." Flavius folded +his arms and leaned against the poop, amused of face. "You have an +unruly band there." + +By now the remaining oarsmen had come on deck. Eodan counted them. All +told, he had sixteen alive, including Tjorr, though several of these +had suffered wounds. He mounted halfway up the ladder. "Hear me!" he +cried. + +They moved about, stripping the fallen sailors, shaking weapons they +had taken, chattering in a dozen tongues. Several edged close to +Hwicca. "Hear me!" roared Eodan. Tjorr took Demetrios' helmet and +banged on it with his hammer till ears hurt from the noise. "Heed me +now or I throw you overboard!" shouted Eodan. + +When he had them standing, squatting or sitting beneath him, he began +to talk. There was little art of oratory among the Northern folk, but +he knew coldly that he must learn it for himself this day if he wanted +to live. + +"I am Eodan who freed you," he said. "I am a Cimbrian. Last year, +having destroyed many Roman armies, we entered Italy. There our luck +turned, we were beaten and I was taken for a slave. But my luck has +turned again, for you see that I captured this ship and struck the +irons off you. And I shall give you your own freedom back!" He played +for a while on the thought of no more manacles or whips, sailing to a +land where they could find homes and wives or start out for their own +countries. When he had them shouting for him--he was astonished how +easy that was--he grew stern. + +"A ship without a captain is a ship for the sea to eat. Now I am the +captain. For the good of all, I must be obeyed. For the good of all, +those who do not obey must suffer death or the lash. Hear me! It may +well be needful for you to row again, but you will row as free men. He +who will not pull his oar is not chained; he is welcome to leave us +over the side. He whose gluttony takes more than his ration shall be +cut into fish bait to make up for it. Hear me! I show you two women. +They are mine. I know you have been long without women, but he who +touches them, he who so much as makes a lewd remark to them, will be +nailed to the yardarm. For I am your captain. I am he who will lead you +to freedom and safety. I am the captain!" + +A moment's stillness, then Tjorr whooped. And then they all shouted +themselves raw, clapped, danced and held their weapons aloft. +"_Captain, captain!_" Eodan leaned on the ladder while the cheering +beat in his face. Now, he thought drunkenly, now I can forgive Marius +that he made a triumph! + +But the ship was bucking, drifting before the wind. While Tjorr went +among the men, binding hurts and learning what skills they might have, +Eodan conferred. Beside him were Hwicca, who held his arm and looked +gravely at him, and Phryne, who stood with feet braced wide against the +roll and fists defiantly on her hips. Demetrios, red with throttled +anger, faced Eodan; Flavius sat on a coil of rope, his chiseled +features gone blank. + +"First we must know where to betake us," said Eodan. "I do not think we +could sail unquestioned into Massilia harbor as we are! Could we put in +elsewhere on the shore of Gaul, unseen?" + +"It's a tricky coast for a lubber crew," said Demetrios. + +"Narbonensis is thickly settled," added Phryne. "Even if we landed in +some cove, I doubt we would get far on foot before some prefect tracked +us down." Her gaze went west, toward the sun. "Indeed, nearly all the +Midworld seacoasts of Europe are Roman." + +"There is Africa," said Flavius. + +Phryne nodded thoughtfully. It struck Eodan (why had he never noticed +it before, with her hair so short?) that the shape of her head was +beautiful. + +"Mauretania," she murmured. "No, that is well west of us. A long way to +go across open sea, with so tiny and awkward a crew. Numidia must be +nearly south ... but so is Carthage, where Romans dwell. Then I hear +Tripolis and Cyrenaica are desert in many places, down to the very +sea--" + +Eodan said, "By the Bull, we could sail around Gaul to Jutland!" + +Flavius laughed noiselessly. Demetrios rumbled like some fire mountain +before he achieved words: "Would you not rather bore a hole in the +ship? That would be an easier way to drown!" + +Phryne smiled at the Cimbrian. "I should have awaited such a plan from +you," she said. "But he is right. It is too long a voyage, and the +Ocean is too rough for the likes of us." + +"Well, then," he snapped, "where can we go?" + +"I would say toward Egypt." Eodan started; he had not often seen Phryne +redden. She lowered her eyes but went on, hurriedly: "Oh, we could +not sail into Alexandria like any mariners. The King of Egypt has no +more desire to encourage slave revolt than the Roman Senate. But there +should be smaller harbors, or we could run into the Nile delta after +dark, or--It is a world-city, Alexandria, even more than Rome. Let us +once enter it afoot, a few at a time, with just a little money, and +surely we can be better hidden than in the wildest desert. And those +who would go further can find berths with eastbound ships or caravans. +You could go as far as the Cimmerian Bosporus, Eodan, Hwicca, and +thence make your own way north through the barbarian lands to your +home!" + +Eodan looked at Demetrios. The captain grunted. "I suppose it might be +done, this time of year," he said. "You'll let me off unhurt, won't you +now? The gods will hate you if you break your word to me." + +Flavius said calmly: "Chance abets your scheme, Phryne. This wind is +right for doubling around Sicily." + +Eodan whipped his sword up, threw it so it stuck in the bulkhead, +toning, and laughed. "Then we sail!" + +He found much to do in the next few hours. He had to organize the crew, +giving duties to all the men; he had to visit the whole ship; he had to +count the stores and guess what ration of moldy hardtack, wormy meat, +sour wine and scummed water could be handed out each day. His crew +elected to sleep below, in the pit; most of them feared sea monsters +would snatch an unconscious man off the deck, a yarn often spun galley +slaves to keep them docile. A cleared space in the forecastle peak +was turned over to Tjorr, Flavius and Demetrios, who must always be +on call. The prisoner-officers would stand watch and watch the whole +journey, supervised by captain or mate. Not trusting himself, Eodan +said Tjorr would guard Flavius. + +Having cleaned the decks and gotten rid of the dead--they promised +Neptune a bull when they came ashore, to pay for polluting his +waters--the crew made some shambling attempt to become human. It was +almost a merry scene. Tjorr dragged a forge out on deck; iron roared +as his hammer and chisel struck off men's fetters. Beyond him stood a +black Ethiopian, who hacked off as much hair and beard as shears would +take; a tub of sea water and a sponge waited; and they could put on the +tunics or loincloths of the fallen sailors--shabby indeed, but more +than a benched slave had. And a stewpot bubbled on the hearth forward +of the mast, and an extra dole of wine was there to pour for the gods +or drink oneself. Overhead strained the single square sail, patched and +mildewed but carrying them south from Rome. + +A thought reached Eodan. He said, dismayed, "But Phryne, I have not +found any quarters for you!" + +She looked at the cabin, then back at him and Hwicca. Sunset burned +yellow behind her slight form. "I can use that canvas shelter up on the +forecastle deck," she said. + +"It seems wrong," he muttered. "Without you, I would be dead a hundred +times over ... or still a slave. You should have the cabin, and we--" + +"You could not be alone enough in a tent on deck," she said. + +He heard Hwicca's breath stumble, but she uttered no word. + +The sun went down, somewhere beyond the Pillars of Hercules. The moon, +approaching the full, rose out of Asia. The men yawned their way to +sleep; Eodan overheard one young fellow say it had been a trying day. +Presently only the watch was above decks--a lookout in the bows and one +in the crow's-nest, a steersman and Demetrios on the poop, two standbys +dozing under the taffrail. + +Phryne said to Eodan, "Will you not sleep, too?" + +"Not till Tjorr relieves me," he said. "Would you trust that captain +man?" + +"I can oversee him, and call for help if--" + +Eodan's mouth lifted wryly. "Thank you, Phryne. But it is not needful. +Later, perhaps. Now I think we shall watch the moon for a bit." + +"Oh." The Greek girl was a whiteness in the night; she seemed very +small within the great ring of the sea. Her head bent. "Oh, I +understand. Good night, Eodan." + +"Good night." He watched her go to her tent. + +Hwicca stood by the larboard rail. Her hair, loosened, rippled a little +in the wind. He thought he could still see a tinge of its golden hue. +Otherwise the moon turned her to silver and mist; she was not wholly +real. But shadows drew the deep curves of her, where the torn dress +fluttered and streamed. Eodan's temples beat, slow and heavy. + +He walked to her, and they stood looking east. The moon dazzled their +eyes and flung a shaken bridge across darkly gleaming waters. There +were not many stars to be seen against its brightness, up in the +violet-blue night. The sea rolled and whispered, the wind thrummed low, +the ship's forefoot hissed and its timbers talked aloud. + +"I had not awaited this," said Eodan at last, because she was not going +to speak and he could find no better words. "To gain our own vessel!" + +"It seems more of a risk this way," she answered, staring straight +before her. The hands he remembered--how fair was a woman's hand, laid +beside the rough hairy paw of a man!--were clenched on the rail. "It is +my fault. Had I not failed you this noontime--" + +"How did the Roman get to the door?" he asked. "You could have called +me, or at least put your sword in him, when he neared it ... could you +not?" + +"I tried," she said. "But when he began to move that way, slowly, as if +by mere chance, talking to me all the while--he was so merry, and he +was saying me a verse--I did not want to--" She took her head, her lips +pulled back from her teeth and she said harshly: "Once I attacked him, +were not all our lives forfeit? Was it not to be done only if death +stood certain before us? I waited too long, that is all--I misjudged +and waited too long!" + +"You could have warned him not to move further." + +"He talked all the time--his verse--I had no chance to--" + +"You had no _wish_ to interrupt him!" flared Eodan. "Is that not the +way of it? He was singing you some pretty little lay about your eyes +or your lips, and smiling at you. You would not break the mood with +anything so rude as a warning. Is that not how he used you?" + +Her head bent. She slung to the rail and arched her back with the +effort not to scream. + +Eodan paced up and down for a time. Somewhere out in the water a +dolphin broached, playing with the moonlight. There was strangely +little wind to feel when you sailed before it, as though the hollow, +murmurous canvas above him had gathered it all in. When he turned his +face aft, he caught only the lightest of warm, wandering airs. It was a +fair night, he thought, a night when the Powers were gentle. + +It was a night to lie out with your beloved, as you carried her home. + +Eodan said finally, with more weariness than he had thought a man's +bones could bear: + +"Oh, yes. I too have learned somewhat of these Southlanders. They are +more skilled and gracious folk than we. They can speak of wisdom, +opening the very heavens as they talk; and their wit is like sunshine +skipping over a swift brook; and their verses sing a heart from its +body; and their hands shape wood and stone so it seems alive; and +love is also a craft to be learned, with a thousand small delights we +heavy-footed Northfolk had not dreamed us. Yes, all this I have seen +for myself, and it was foolish of me to suppose you were blind." He +came back behind her and laid his hands on her waist. "Is it Flavius +then that you care for?" + +"I do not know," she whispered. + +"But you were never more than a few months' pleasure to him!" cried +Eodan. His voice split across. + +"He swore it was otherwise." Her fingers twisted together, her head +wove back and forth as if seeking flight. "I do not know, Eodan--there +is a trolldom laid on me, perhaps--though he said he would raise me +from all darkness of witches and gods, into a sunlight air where only +men dwelt--I do not know!" She tore herself free, whirled about and +faced him. "Can you not understand, Eodan? You are dear to me, but I +care for him, too! And that is why I am dishonored. It is not that I, a +prisoner, lay with him. But I was _his_!" + +Eodan let his arms fall. "And you still are?" he asked. + +"I told you I do not know." She stared blindly out to sea. "Now you +have heard. Do what you think best." + +"You can have the cabin for yourself," he said. He wanted to make it a +gentle tone, but his words clashed flatly. + +She fled from him, and he heard the door bang shut upon her. + +After a long while he looked skyward, found the North Star and measured +its position against the moonlit wake. As nearly as he could tell, they +were still on course. + + + + +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. Eodan, whose height and accent could never be +taken for Italian, followed Phryne's advice and told them he was a Gaul +out of Massilia for Apollonia; and then they dipped under the marching +horizon. + +That first day passed somehow. Eodan busied himself with Tjorr, +learning what seamanship a surly Demetrios could pass on. He dared +hardly speak to Flavius, but the Roman stayed in the forecastle most of +the time the Cimbrian was on deck. Hwicca kept her cabin, whelmed by +sickness from the roughening sea. It had never before occurred to Eodan +that the ills of the body could be merciful. + +"Do you stay with her the voyage," he told Phryne. "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 Tjorr went roaring among +them with instruction in the deckhand arts. He had to knock down a +couple before he got some obedience. + +"It were best you keep all the weapons," he said to Eodan. + +The Cimbrian nodded. With a dim try at a jest: "Even yours?" + +"If you wish," said Tjorr, 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 Eodan. "But what would you with that tool?" + +"I found it a good weapon yesterday, though a little too short in +the haft. It needs more strength to wield than a battle-ax--but I +am strong, and it will not warp or break when needed most." Tjorr's +red-furred hand caressed the thing. "And then, we of the Rukh-Ansa are +a horse-loving folk, who honor the smith's trade above all others. +It feels homelike to carry a sledge again. And last, but foremost, +Captain, this hammer broke the chains off me. For that it shall have a +high place in my house on the Don, and I shall offer it sacrifices." + +Eodan found himself warming to the Sarmatian. He asked further. The +Alans were only barbarians in the sense of doing without cities and +books: they were a widespread race, many tribes between the Dnieper +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," rumbled +Tjorr. "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 +Ansa, 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 Don River," said Eodan. He turned from the +Alan, knowing he hurt him by such curtness. But he could not speak of +hope when Hwicca lay farther from him than Rome from Cimberland. + +Could it but be judged by the sword, between him and Flavius! But death +was no remedy, thought Eodan; 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 white in the south. The former +captain jerked a thumb at the sight. "There you are," he said. "That +marks Sicily. We'll round Lilybaeum today. Then we'll have to come +about on an east-southeast course. Don't like cutting over open sea +myself, but we can't get lost very bad. Daresay we'll raise Africa +around Cyrenaica, then follow the coast to Egypt." + +"And abandon the ship on some unpeopled beach," nodded Eodan. + +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 helmsman remained apart. Tjorr 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 Eodan's chilling +green gaze. A burly man in the rear began to herd them along, slapping +at stragglers. They drifted toward the Cimbrian. + +"Well?" said Eodan. + +The youth ducked his head. "Master Captain," he began. "I am called +Quintus. I'm from Saguntum in Spain. The men have chosen me, fair and +open, by free vote, to speak for us all." + +"And?" Eodan 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, "we're not unmindful of being +freed. Though none of us was asked, and some would not have voted to +desert their posts, if it had 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 Eodan. + +"Oh, of course not, Master!" The boy washed his hands together, +servilely, 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 oar to prod the reluctant into place. + +"There is money aboard," said Eodan. "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, maybe 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." + +Eodan thought grimly, It is another thing I had not understood, 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 those 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 Tjorr. "You want to +turn sea bandits, is that the way of it?" + +The Spanish youth shrank back, swayed forward again and chattered: +"Pirates, so, pirates, Master Captain. Free companions of the Midworld +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 had good times before!" + +"Pirates," mumbled the crew. "Pirates. We'll be pirates." + +Tjorr leaped down to the main deck so it thudded beneath him. He +walked forward in a red bristle, his hammer aloft. "You fish-eyed +slobberguts!" he roared. "Back to your duty!" + +The burly man hefted his broken oar. "Now, Master Mate," he said. "Be +calm. This was voted on--uh--" + +"Democratic," supplied Quintus. + +"So now a ship is to be a republic?" called Flavius from the poop. "I +wish you joy of your captaincy, Eodan!" + +The Cimbrian closed fingers about his sword. He could not feel the +anger that snapped from Tjorr; it seemed of no great importance when +Hwicca had cloven herself from him. + +"I do not wish this," he said mildly. + +Emboldened, the Spaniard 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 rights of our own, is all we ask." + +"I'll treat you like an anvil first!" snorted Tjorr. His hammer lifted. + +"No, wait." Eodan caught the mate's arm as Quintus scuttled back +squealing. "Let them have their way." + +"_Disa!_" said Tjorr with horror. "You'd turn into a louse-bitten +pirate, who could be a king of the Rukh-Ansa?" + +"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." Eodan 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 Tjorr. +"I know this breed. Yellow dogs! They'll lick your feet or pull out +your throat, but naught in between." + +"It is not my pleasure to fight our own men," said Eodan coldly. + +"But--but--Well, so be it, my chief." + +Eodan 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." + +Eodan shook his head. + +"Well--will you lead us against any ships we may happen to find before +you depart?" + +Eodan shrugged. "As you like, provided I think it is safe." + +"Oh, indeed, Master, indeed!" The boy 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 Tjorr. + +Demetrios gulped and looked appealingly at Flavius. The Roman smiled, +winked and came down the poop ladder. "Your watch," he said. + +After a while Eodan began to regret not following Tjorr's counsel. His +crew had become still more slatternly. 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. Eodan told him they +should first practice being sailors. Quintus argued. He would not stop +arguing until Eodan finally knocked him to the deck; then he slouched +off, muttering, to find his big friend. + +Toward evening, Hwicca came on deck. She was supported by Phryne, and +her face was pale. Eodan's heart turned over. He went to her and asked, +"Do you feel well, my darling?" + +"Better," she said dully. "But so tired." + +Phryne, who had not followed their Cimbric, said angrily to Eodan: "She +shivers with cold. _I_ have no warmth to give her!" + +He said in the Northern language, "Would you have me stay with you +tonight, Hwicca?" + +"As you wish," she said. "You are my husband." + +Eodan left her, went to the hearth and struck the cook with his fist +for a bad supper. + +Presently Hwicca returned to the cabin. Phryne sought Eodan. Was it +only the sunset that reddened her eyes? She 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 Eodan bitterly, "and I will +roll a blanket on deck, since it appears we must all be sundered from +each other." + +"Before Hades, I wonder now if she may not be right!" yelled Phryne. +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 Hwicca's dresses, too large for her. +Quintus, squatting by the rail with his friend, the big man called +Narses, stared after the Greek girl and smacked his lips. + +Eodan paced the deck in wrath, wondering what unlucky thing he had +done. Well, the night wind take them all! Phryne, who would not help +his wife when she needed help, and Hwicca, 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 balefire 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 thunderbolt smote him. The ship ran onward, dropping the dark mass +of Sicily astern; the last red clouds in the west smoldered to ash and +then to night; the moon stood forth, insolently cool and fair. Eodan +had no wish to sleep, but he saw that Demetrios was dangerously worn, +so he sent the man aft to rouse Flavius and Tjorr. + +"We can hold this course all night, they tell me," he said to the Alan. +"The wind is falling, so we won't go too far. Call me if anything seems +to threaten." + +"_Da._" Tjorr's small bush-browed eyes went from Eodan to the closed +cabin door. He shook his head, and the moonlight showed a bemused +compassion on his battered face. "As you will, Captain." + +Flavius hung back, well into the shadows. He did not follow Tjorr and +the new watch aft until Eodan had departed. + +The Cimbrian rolled himself into his blanket forward of the mast, +so the sail's 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 tonight 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. Eodan opened both +eyes. Some noise, mice--no, it was heavier. He glanced aft. He could +see Flavius and the helmsman, Tjorr 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. + +Eodan sat up. But where was the man in the bow? He remembered dimly +that, yes, the Narses man had traded for that watch about sundown. +Narses' hulking shadow did not show above the forecastle. There was +only Phryne's tent. + +With a cold thought of long-necked monsters raiding ships' decks for +their food, Eodan sprang to his feet. Sword out, he glided toward the +forecastle. Up the ladder--The struggle was within the tent. + +Eodan howled and lifted its flap. Moonlight splashed Quintus' grinning +face. He knelt on Phryne's arms, one hand over her mouth and the +other on her breast. "No one has to know, my beautiful," he had been +whispering. Narses' knees held her thighs apart; he was just lifting +her tunic. + +Eodan struck. He felt his blade grate along a rib. Narses' hands +loosened. He straightened on his knees, plucking at the steel in his +side. Eodan pulled it out, and Narses coughed up blood. Eodan 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, men, +help!" + +Phryne struggled from beneath Narses. Her tunic was drenched black +under the moon with his blood. "Are you harmed?" croaked Eodan 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?" bawled Tjorr. "Stand fast!" + +The crew boiled from the hatch. Eodan put his foot on Narses' 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 +offal before I kill the rest of you!" + +They swirled and screamed on deck, blue shadows mingled in the white +relentless moonlight. Tjorr went among the crew, striking with the butt +of his hammer. Eodan 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 Eodan +stood before Quintus and said, "This creature tried to violate a woman. +You have heard the punishment. Nail him up!" + +"No, no, no," chattered 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--" Their eyes all went forward, where Phryne +wept as she stood at a water bucket sponging Narses' 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?" + +Tjorr 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 Roman 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 Eodan. "This is nothing worth talking about." + +Hwicca came from her cabin. "What is it?" she asked. "What has +happened?" + +She looked so young and alone that a Power seized upon Eodan. +Willy-nilly, he must go to reassure her. And meanwhile Flavius waved +an angry Tjorr 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 his agony tomorrow? 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, are overcome at your first battle. What of it, +says your captain, safely ashore--" + +"Now that's muck-bespattered enough!" growled Tjorr. "One more word +from anybody and I'll spray his brains on deck." + +"Hail, free companions of the sea," declaimed Flavius, and stepped +aside. + +Phryne left the pail, her body glistened wet as she ran, and when +she caught Eodan's hands her own were like some river nymph's. He +remembered again cool forest becks in the North, when he was small and +the world a wonder. "Eodan," she cried. "You'll not do any such thing!" + +"But he would have--" + +"He did not succeed. And even if he had, would it restore what I lost? +Eodan, I am the one wronged, and I should give judgment." + +He felt himself suddenly exhausted--O great dark Bull, breathe sleep +upon me! He said to her: "Well ... thus did we Cimbri set blood price. +What would you have me do to this animal?" + +Phryne 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," she said. "He +will not harm me again." + +Quintus fell to his knees. "I am your slave, bright goddess of mercy," +he sobbed. + +Eodan snapped, "Had you kept still, I would have let you go wholly +free. You jabber too much. Ten lashes!" + +Hwicca's lips thinned. "You are too soft, Eodan," she said. "I would +have put him on the yardarm." + +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 ... Hm, 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." + +Eodan thought that trouble was being cooked for him. But he could only +stop such mumbles by cutting out every tongue on board. Fire burn them +all! He would do what he could, and the rest lay with that weird he had +called down upon himself. + + + + +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. Eodan thought of making Flavius go into the +pit for a while. He glanced at Phryne, who sat pensively looking out +toward Egypt, and decided she would think it an unworthy deed. + +Hwicca 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. Eodan 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." Hwicca 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 weightily--let him not urge +himself too fast--and answered: "Yes, I could become as much a +shipwright 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 +Cimberland?" she asked. + +"If not to the same place, somewhere near," he said. "I remember my +father speaking of tribes not far eastward, Goths and Sueones, 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 liefer 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." + +"Hm, thanks," he said, gripping his temper tight. "Since the dye will +linger, Phryne told me, I'd best shave myself." + +"How did it happen Phryne came with you?" asked Hwicca, a little too +lightly. + +"She attended a matron at the farm, Flavius' wife. We came to know each +other." + +"How well?" Hwicca arched her brows. + +"She is my friend," he fumbled. "Nothing else." + +"Cordelia is a bitch," said Hwicca, flushed, "but her maids have an +easy enough life. What drove this Phryne to forsake it?" + +Eodan bridled. "She wanted freedom for herself. She has a man's soul." + +"Oh," purred Hwicca. "One of those." + +He said in a rage, "You learned 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 deckhand told off to this task among all others, +gave him a surly glance and obeyed. Eodan 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 Hwicca. Her +face was bent from Eodan, but he saw woe in her twining hands. The +Roman did not smile this time; he spoke gravely. + +Eodan clapped a wild hand to his sword haft. By all the hounds on +hellroad! 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 Hwicca 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. Eodan dismissed the question with +scorn--this galley was armed, that one in plain sight of two others.... +The man would go off muttering. Tjorr said nothing, but took the +carpenter's tools and worked on a boarding plank. + +Toward sundown, Phryne, 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 Eodan 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 he was belike the first Cimbrian +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 +will 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, Eodan saw that Flavius was again talking to Hwicca. +She showed more life than the last time--by all cruel gods, but she +was fair!--and once mirth 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. Eodan kept his tunic. Hwicca 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. Eodan grew tense. "Stand by to come about!" he said. + +"Row down there, you clotheads!" bellowed Tjorr. "You may be rowing to +your fortunes!" + +Eodan 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, +open 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. + +Eodan 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: "Ho, +there! This is the _Bona Dea_ of Puteoli, bound for Miletus with a +cargo of wine! Who are you?" + +Eodan repeated his old lie. "Well," replied the stranger, "give us some +sea room, then." + +"I sail where I please!" yelled Eodan. + +"Come closer and I'll think you're a pirate." + +"Think what you want!" + +The ships converged. Eodan waited, coldly, until he heard the alarms +and the running feet. Then he gave a crewman the steering oar, 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 counted 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, "_Hau-hau-hau!_ +Break out the blades!" + +The men on deck roared. Tjorr had to knock one over-eager rower back +down the hatch before the oars would move again. Eodan called two men +to him, pointing out Flavius and Demetrios. "Bind them," he said. + +Flavius held out his wrists. "Are you afraid we two will attack your +gang from the rear?" he asked mildly. + +"I would not trust you with the women," said Eodan. He slipped +Demetrios' helmet pad on his head. The helmet itself followed. O wild +war-gods, he bore a helmet once more! + +"Over here!" cried Tjorr. "This way, you moth-eaten monkeys!" The +deck planks grated beneath the heavy, grapneled boarding plank he had +fashioned. + +Spears gleamed along the other ship's rail. Its captain stood in +plumed helmet and polished breastplate, laughing down at the handful +on Eodan'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!" + +Eodan 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 graybeard snivel over there--this pirating had never been +any idea of his. Narses was the best of a bad lot, and Narses lay on +the sea bottom. Well, Eodan and Tjorr 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 rowers. + +He saw Hwicca and Phryne 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 Hwicca'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 Phryne led her into the +cabin. + +Eodan 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 _Bona Dea_ +loomed like a cliff above him. He saw sunlight blink on shields and +blades up on her deck. + +Tjorr had spiked the boarding plank to the deck. It was elevated by +two men with ropes, its claws poised to grab. Tjorr held his hammer +up as he gauged the distance. "Now!" he shouted, and swung the mallet +down. The two men let go, and Eodan 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 splinter hurled into his thigh +and wailed. The grapple struck. Its sharpened iron bit deep. The two +ships shuddered to a halt. + +"_Hau!_" yelled Eodan, and went up the plank. + +Two shields glided into place before him and locked. From behind the +men, two pikes reached after his guts. Eodan 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, _disa_!" + +Eodan heard the angry bee-buzz and ducked his head. Tjorr's whirling +hammer was released. It struck a face behind one of the shields. The +shield went down, its man upon it. + +Eodan 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 to ward his belly, fell backward to escape. Eodan stabbed +his mate. The other shield-bearer turned and attacked from the right. +Tjorr reached around Eodan and put a sword in the man's neck. + +Then Eodan and Tjorr were back to back upon the high deck, holding +off the crew. A tall blond man, a German of some kind, ran at Eodan +with a longsword uplifted. "I want that blade!" said the Cimbrian. +He fell to one knee, holding the shield over his head. The German's +glaive smashed down on it. Eodan cut at the German's legs, and the man +staggered back. Eodan got up again and battered loose. It was no way to +use a shortsword. The German limped out of reach and swung his great +weapon up for a cleaving. Eodan raised his own, faster, and threw it. +The German sat down, holding death in himself. Eodan darted forward, +snatched up the longsword and came back to Tjorr. + +The Alan, shieldless, had picked up his hammer again. He smote +right-handed with it, a ringing and belling and sundering, while his +left wielded his 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 whetted steel flashed around those two +and blood dripped into the sea. Eodan shrieked at them over the din: +"If we lose this fight, you will all go to Rome!" + +A man down there hefted an ax, set 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. + +Eodan, looking over a wall of helmets, considered the youth's face. By +the Bull, he had just made himself second mate! + +Their line 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. Eodan 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, Tjorr," +he said. + +"Aye." The Alan 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 Eodan. His sword whined +and thundered. An Italian sailor thrust at him from behind a shield. +Eodan 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 bayed +his anguish and dropped from the line. Eodan slashed at the legs of the +man beside him. That one stumbled, fell and rolled from the pursuing +sword. Tjorr stepped into the widening gap and struck with his hammer. +The pirates, heartened, moved in. The defensive force broke up into +single men. + +Panting, Eodan 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. Eodan 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 lives 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 a while, 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 Eodan. "Lay down +your arms and live!" + +As he returned to the deck, he heard the fight resume uncertainly. +Neither side pressed too hard, now that a truce might be close. Eodan +saw the graybearded pirate cutting the throat of a wounded man, in the +shelter of a bollard. The oldster shrank back from him, afraid. Eodan +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, Eodan 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. + +Eodan 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 yardarm. 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 Tjorr, eight pirates were +hale. Eleven merchant crewmen stood on their feet; but their captain +had quit the world bravely. "This should cool our lads off," said the +Cimbrian. "I scarcely think they will want to try piracy again." + +"They can raise their numbers, _disa_," Tjorr 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." +Eodan looked glumly down the boarding plank to the smaller craft. "I am +sick of blood. Can you set matters to rights here?" + +"_Da._ I'll try not to bother you." The redbeard's look was so gentle +that Eodan wondered how much he understood--surely not a great deal; it +was growing upon Eodan 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 Eodan'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. + +Eodan sighed and went to the cabin. Hwicca and Phryne stood there. The +Cimbrian 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. + +Eodan looked across her shoulder at Phryne, 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." + +Hwicca stepped back, her face hurt and bewildered. Eodan went past her +into the cabin. Phryne brought him a sponge and a bucket of salt water. +He cleansed himself and lay 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. + +Hwicca 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 Cimbric. + +"Yes," she answered, very quietly. "Tjorr 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 out a leather bottle. "He said to give you this." + +Eodan ignored it. He stepped to 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, hoarse voices chanted and laughter went raw under a +sky of reborn wind and hurried clouds. + +"What is that foolishness?" he snapped. + +Hwicca came to stand at his side and look, almost frightened, at the +Tartarus-view. A naked black outline, hair and beard one mane, 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 Hwicca. + +"Oh ... oh, yes. I remember now. And Tjorr let them have the cargo?" + +"He told me he could not stop them. It seemed best to grant them this +night's drinking. Then tomorrow we could all take the big galley--" + +"And let the crew of that one have this. Hm. It is not such a bad +thought." + +"You would let them go?" asked Hwicca, 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." Hwicca +pointed to a bowl of stew. "I fear it got cold while you slept." + +Eodan 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. + +"Phryne could have guarded me," he said. + +Hwicca reddened. "Is Phryne 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 she 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. + +Eodan 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. + +Eodan 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, Eodan." + +Long afterward, when the lamp had gone out of itself, she whispered, "I +think it must always, really, have been you." + + + + +XIII + + +When Phryne saw Hwicca go in to her husband and close the door behind, +she felt this ship would be no place for anyone else tonight. 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. Tjorr 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. Phryne +went to the Sarmatian. "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. + +Tjorr scratched in 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. + +Phryne looked at one who was trying feebly to stanch 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 hurts. Let me see to the +wounded." + +"Waste of time," said Tjorr. "If they're not too badly cut, a swathe +of rags and maybe a few stitches will save 'em. The rest it would be +kinder to throw overboard." + +Phryne 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, Phryne had horror to do. Twice she +stopped--once to cast up at a certain sight and once to change +her blood-stiffened gown for a tunic. It was hot and foul in the +'tween-decks 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 Galilee or some such +dusty place. + +She came out at last, unable to do more--now Aesculapius and Hermes +Psychopompos 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. Tjorr 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 hulk could +carry so much wine and stay afloat. The lads will mutiny if we don't +feast tonight, and I can't say I blame 'em!" + +Phryne 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 we'll not go far, and Demetrios says +there are no places to run aground hereabouts. You look wearied enough. +Go call Eodan, and we'll all have a stoup." + +"He is with his wife," she said. + +"Hm? Oh. Oh, I see. Well, I'll just go knock at their door with a +bottle, and then they can do as they please." Tjorr's 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, unoffended. + +"Well, I only thought I'd ask. Best stay in earshot of me tonight, +though. Not all the men are so honorable as me." + +"I would wash now, and have fresh raiment," said Phryne. + +"Aye. Go in the cabin there. I'll have someone draw a tubful for you." + +Phryne 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 outsize 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. + +Phryne stepped back with a stab of terror. Master Flavius looked at +her. He carried a bucket in either hand. + +"I think it amused the redbeard to have me wait on you," he said. His +mouth quirked. "He has not heard that Rome has festivals every year +wherein the Roman serves his own household slaves." + +"But I am no more a slave!" said Phryne, 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 Etruscan +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 levelly. "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 Midworld 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, flickering 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 jamb. "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 Cimbrian 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 +cursedly lonely breed of animal." + +His grin flashed. "Now, to be sure, if you would like to help assure--" + +She drew her knife. "Get out!" she screamed. + +Flavius raised his brows, but left. Phryne 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 felt calmer--on the +surface; underneath was a dark clamor in an unknown language. Sundown +blazed among restless clouds; the mast swayed back and forth in heaven. +Tjorr sat on a barrel under the forecastle, drumming his heels as he +raised a stolen chalice. Elsewhere men crowded shrieking about lashed +casks, and the deck that had been bloodied was now stained purple. +Phryne shivered and drew the wool closer about her. This was going to +be a night where Circe 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 rowers' benches down +there. + +Tjorr boomed at her, "Hoy, shield maiden! Come drink with me! You've +earned it!" + +Phryne joined him. One man snatched after her. Tjorr tossed his hammer, +casually. The man screamed and hopped about, clutching his bare toes. +"Next one insults my girl gets it in the brisket," said Tjorr without +rancor. "Now bring me back that maul." + +Phryne 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?" + +Tjorr 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 Flavius cockroach, little one. Were 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. But I've 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 Don again." +Tjorr tossed off his cup and dipped it in once more. + +"Where would you yourself go?" he asked. + +Phryne 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!" Phryne went from +him, up the ladder and into the bow. + +She huddled there a long time. No one ventured past Tjorr; she could be +by herself. Down on the main deck the scene grew more wild and noisy +each hour; by torch and hearth-light she glimpsed revels as though Pan +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. + +Phryne 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 won ship, +it had flamed up--perhaps Antinous was in Alexandria, perhaps she +could find him again! Too long had he kissed her only in dreams. She +hearkened 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 Antinous. + +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 Eodan +toward his barbarian goal, most likely to his death along the way, but +suppose they did get back to this Cimberland, what then? Eodan 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 Eodan 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 +hiccoughed some last song, but, mostly, they were all snoring to match +the wind. Phryne 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. O 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," Phryne heard, +"who 'at? c'mere, old frien', c'mere f' little drink--" + +Flavius struck coldly with his bar. Two hammers beat as one, _thock, +thock_--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!" + +Phryne 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. + +Phryne 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! + +Phryne inched to the ladder. Down, now. Moonlight fell on Tjorr, +sprawled back against the weapon chest. His mouth was open and he was +making private thunder in his nose. Phryne crouched beside him. He was +too massive; her hands would not shake him enough. "Tjorr! Tjorr, it is +mutiny!" she whispered. "Tjorr, wake up!" + +"What's that?" A ragged, half-frightened cry from the guard. Phryne saw +him against the sky, peering about. + +"Uh," mumbled Tjorr. He swatted at her and rolled over. + +Phryne drew her knife. The guard shaded his eyes, staring forward. "Is +somebody awake there?" he called. + +She put her mouth to the Alan's ear. "Wake, wake," she whispered. "You +sleep yourself into Hades." + +A man's head rose over the hatch coaming. "Somebody's astir up there," +chattered the sentry. + +"We'll go see," said the man. His burst-off chains swung from his +wrists; it was the last mutiny all over again. How the gods must be +laughing! Another followed him. Phryne recognized Quintus' ferret body. + +"Ummmm," said Tjorr and resumed his snoring. + +Phryne put her dagger point on a buttock and pushed. + +"_Draush-ni-tchaka-belog!_" The Sarmatian came to his feet with a howl. +"What muck-swilling 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!" + +Phryne dashed past him. Eodan 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. "_Yuk-hai-saa-saa!_" +chanted Tjorr. "You're next, Quintus!" + +The youth ran back, almost parallel to Phryne. 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. + +Phryne 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!" + +Phryne 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 +shoulder 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." + +Phryne 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. + +Phryne 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 Phryne; she stood up +in the moonlight on the bobbing, twisting plank and opened her arms. +"Well," she cried, "are you man enough to follow?" + +He stumbled onto the gangway. She 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. + +Phryne crawled over the plank. Great Mother of Mercy, she thought, what +had she done? But now it was to rouse Eodan. Up on the other ship, +Tjorr stabbed and hammered, crying to his drunken followers to waken. +Twenty men pressed in upon the Sarmatian, driving him back by sheer +weight from the weapon chest. + +Phryne beat on the cabin door. "Eodan, Hwicca, come out!" she called. +"Come out before they kill you!" + +It opened. The Cimbrian stood tall against blackness, armed only with a +yard-long sword. Behind him Hwicca still blinked sleep from her eyes. +Even in that moment, Phryne saw how fulfillment had made her beautiful. + +Iron clanged in the windy moonlight. Phryne's breath choked. So they +had the weapons now! Flavius was already worming over the gangplank, +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 +ax and one with a spear. Phryne and the Cimbrians were naked. + +Eodan sprang forward to meet Flavius before he crossed. The Roman 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 Eodan's slash and smiled. + +"Come," he said, "let us end this Iliad." + +Eodan snarled and moved in. He had more reach, which his blade +immensely lengthened. But Flavius' shield seemed always to be where the +Cimbrian blows landed--over his head, in front of his breast, even down +to his knees. The battle banged and roared between those two. + +Phryne and Hwicca faced the Roman's companions. The men grinned and +walked in at their leisure. Phryne 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. + +Hwicca, a long knife in her hand, circled about with the axman. She +spat at him, wildcatlike. 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 Eodan and Flavius fought across the deck and back, sword on +shield, the Roman boring in behind his shelter and the Cimbrian holding +him off with sheer battering force. + +A bloody, tattered giant loomed over the rail of the other galley. +Tjorr sheathed his sword in one final man, who tumbled down between the +hulls. The Alan jumped onto the gangway. + +The man who was guarding Phryne saw him coming. "I must deal with him," +he said, not unkindly. "Farewell, girl. We'll meet beyond the Styx." He +drew back his pike. Phryne had no more will or strength to dodge. She +waited. + +Tjorr stopped on the middle of the gangplank, braced his legs and +whirled the hammer. Phryne 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. + +Tjorr bounded down, fell upon the axman from behind and wrenched the +weapon loose. The axman kicked with a shod foot. Tjorr 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. + +Hwicca sped toward Eodan. She called out something--Phryne did not know +the rough word, but surely no voice had ever held more love. As Eodan's +gaze shifted toward her, Flavius stepped in close and brought the upper +edge of his shield beneath Eodan's jaw. The Cimbrian lurched back, and +his sword clattered from his hand. He leaned his back against the rail +and shook his head like a stunned bull. + +Flavius poised his blade. Hwicca flung herself across Eodan's body--and +the sword struck home. + +Flavius stared stupidly as she went to her knees. Eodan caught her and +eased her to the deck. He did not seem aware of the Roman any longer. + +Tjorr broke his opponent's neck, picked up the fallen ax and thundered +toward Flavius. The Roman bounded away, up onto the gangplank. He +reached the other ship and faced back; but he was masked by shadow. + +Tjorr 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. Tjorr ran along the rail, cleaving lines. +A few arrows fell near him as he cranked the anchor windlass. The gale +caught the two ships and drove them apart. + +Tjorr came back to Phryne. "If we set our canvas we can run away from +'em while they kill the last pirates," he croaked. "I see no other +chance. Do you think you and I can unfurl the sail alone?" + + + + +XIV + + +Arpad of Trapezus, 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 penteconter and a +picked 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 Hellespont 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, +Arpad was obsequiously sent on his way. + +Thereafter 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 mouths. + +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--Graeco-Persian-Asiatic +on the Black Sea coast, a source of timber, minerals and the +fantastically lovely murrhine glass. And one had heard of its king, +the great Mithradates, 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 wrest back his heritage. But +this Mithradates Eupator had not been satisfied with one throne--no, +it seemed he must have all the Orient. He skirmished and intrigued +among the Cappadocians, Galatians, Armenians, until no neighbor king +sat easy. He fought his way up the eastern coast and took Colchis 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 Maeotis or the Azov Sea or +whatever it was called. Northward was only barbarism till you reached +the night and glaciers of Ultima Thule! What could the excellent +Captain Arpad tell us of his lord's Tauric provinces? Did Colchis 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 stay became delightful, and he left with regret. But it +was now early summer, and soon the etesian winds would make eastward +sea traffic all but impossible. + +By some quirk--by the ill wind of Ahriman, 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. When +at last he recognized the island of Rhodes, smoky blue through the +squalls, Arpad decided to put in and wait out this weather. + +Beating through rain and spindrift, he saw another galley. It had a +sail up, recklessly, no oars out at all, the ports shuttered.... 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 were seen on the other deck. +Two of them fought their yardarm, trying to pull it about so they would +not be blown so directly toward the island. The third stood by a +lashed steering oar. 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 redbearded fellow, his +broad battered face speaking of Sarmatian plains. There was a young +woman whose figure would have been good, in the skinny Greek manner, +had she 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 eremite, 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 +manacle scars. Slaves, then. And doubtless the woman was, too. Their +captured weapons had been laid at Arpad's feet--a rusty longsword, an +ax and an iron-headed maul. + +"Do you speak Greek?" asked Arpad. 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--were 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 +Arpad 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 +Phryne, but I stand between Eodan of Cimberland and Tjorr of the +Rukh-Ansa." + +"I know _them_!" said Arpad. + +"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, Crete or Cyprus or wherever the gods willed, whence we +might make our way to Cimmeria. 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 Arpad. "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 port 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 redbeard: "But +Eodan, _disa_, they'll flay us!" + +"Then thus the Powers will it," said the tall one in a dead voice. + +The girl, Phryne, 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 Eodan +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 understood you had suffered loss when Hwicca +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!" + +Arpad signaled his guards. "Take them out and give them food and dry +garments," he said. "Bind the men and bring the girl back to me." + +A hand closed on Eodan'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 Cimbrian like a slave?" he said. + +"_Hoy!_" The guards closed in. Eodan's fist jumped out. One man lurched +back with a smashed mouth. Another circled, unsure. Tjorr growled and +reached for the hammer on the floor. The remaining two men forced him +away, but had no help to spare with Eodan. + +A hand gripped Arpad's tunic so he choked. The long head bent down +toward his. "You little spitlicker," said Eodan, "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." + +Arpad 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. Eodan stood unarmed, nearly naked, and +shook him back and forth very slowly, in time with the words: + +"Now hearken. I am Boierik's son of the Cimbri. 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 Mithradates 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 Eodan, some of which might then reflect +on Arpad. Or perhaps the king would have Eodan 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." + + + + +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 white, and thunder spoke +from the Caucasus. Sinope lay on a small peninsula about halfway +between Byzantium and Colchis. It was an ancient Greek colony, now +become the chief seat of the Pontine kings. + +Eodan stood in the bow with Phryne and Tjorr, watching the city grow +as they entered its harbor, until the first loveliness of marble +colonnades and many-colored gardens yielded to a tarry workaday bustle +where the surface was crowded with galleys from half the East. He was +well clothed in white linen tunic, blue chlamys, leather belt and +sandals, the German sword polished and whetted 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 Mithradates judged against him. + +"Tjorr," 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 doggedly shaggy-faced, answered +with a boy's eagerness: "From what I've heard, he is not one of those +sour Romans. Why, if he has 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 bore the Smasher? +There's luck in this iron." + +Eodan thought of Hwicca and his lips tightened. "It may be," he said. +"Though I am unsure what that 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 and wake up; a few times +he woke so happily and looked about for her before remembering she was +dead. But since Phryne called him to anger, with the biting unjustness +of her words, he had been more nearly himself. There was a goal again, +the beech 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 home-coming was not what it had been in +his thoughts. Hwicca 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 he could, and what he had lost hurt him on +rainy nights. + +Eodan shut off the awareness and turned to Phryne. "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 girl smiled faintly and shook her head. She wore a white dress +Arpad had gotten her, and a palla 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 +garb 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. "Nor does it +matter greatly. The knowledge we shall need is how to deal with men, +and there, Eodan, 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 Sinope were a mixed lot. Most were dark, stocky, curly-headed, +big-nosed and hairy, but not all. On the wharfs Eodan could see +Armenian mountaineers with shepherds' staffs and crooked knives, a +sleek Byzantine merchant, a gaily-robed warrior of pure Gallic 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 +Tjorr said delightedly was an Alanic tribesman, a graybearded Jew, a +lean Arab--this was not Rome, this Sinope, 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. Since this was an official ship, they stopped for +no formalities of bribing the customs agents. A messenger ran ahead of +them, and they had not reached the palace when he came back to say the +king would receive them at once. + +Eodan 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 a way, 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, ax and bow and small +round shield at the saddle--"By the thunder-snake itself," muttered +Tjorr, "how I'd love to sack their barracks!" + +A trumpeter preceded 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 modeled and painted that Eodan grabbed for his sword; +then the stairway opened before them, with sphinxes crouched at the +foot, bulls 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 Tjorr, 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," Eodan broke in. + +Tjorr loosed the thong, his face miserable. "I tell you, my luck is in +that hammer. Well, maybe your triskele 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; Eodan saw +with a thrill how often the Bull recurred, sacrificed by a youth or +shaking great horns beneath a golden sun-disc. 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 Eodan could hardly see the man upon that carven +seat, except as a robe of Tyrian 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 +pig-tailed skull betokened foreignness. Around the room, motionless +between soaring porphyry columns, were a guard of spearmen. + +A long time passed while King Mithradates read the dispatches handed +him, questioned Arpad more closely and dictated to his secretary. Eodan +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 Eodan saw eyes turn his way. He walked forward. Tjorr and +Phryne came behind him; it had been arranged thus at her advice. At the +ritual distance from the throne, Eodan halted. Tjorr and Phryne made +obeisance, thrice knocking their heads on the carpet and then remaining +crouched. Eodan 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 Mithradates Eupator. The King of +Pontus was a giant, tall as Eodan and broad as Tjorr, his hands ropy +with veins and sinew like any hunts-man's. Within a mane of curly dark +hair and bearded jawline, his head was nearly Greek--a wide brow, gray +eyes, straight nose, rounded shaven chin; it lifted straight from the +pillar of his throat. He was only in his mid-thirties, Phryne said, but +he owned half this eastern sea, and 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 Senator's. + +"My Lord," said Eodan, "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 made it 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 suppliant among thousands he +could not have hoped for much. + +Mithradates leaned back and rubbed his chin. Curious, thought Eodan +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 Eodan, "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 Arpad +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 Thule to Rhodes and from Dacia to Spain. Since this tale +is my gift to you, I did not think it fit that Arpad, your servant, +should have its maidenhead." + +Mithradates 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. From what country are you?" + +"Cimberland, Great King." + +"I have heard somewhat of the Cimbri. Indeed, one of my neighbors +sent them an embassy a few years ago. Surely this will be a night's +entertainment, though you humble my pride by making me hear it in +Latin. Chamberlain! See to it that these three are given a suite, +changes of raiment and whatever else they require." Mithradates said +it in the Roman tongue, doubtless for Eodan's benefit, since he must +repeat it in Greek. "Go, I will see you at the evening meal. And now, +Arpad, about those monies." + +"Great King of All the World," wailed Arpad, flat on his belly, "may +your children people the earth! It was but that I, your most unworthy +subject, thought to offer you--" + +As he went to the guest chambers, Eodan asked the slave who led him--an +Italian, he saw with glee--what the king had meant, that he was ashamed +to hear the tale in Latin. "Know, 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. Phryne said +doubtfully, "We build our hopes on Vesuvius. The soil 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 Eodan, 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 +Sarmatians--or the Cimbri." 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." Eodan 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 Phryne 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, +sistrum, and other instruments Eodan had not heard, yowling 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. Mithradates came last, to trumpets, and all but Eodan +prostrated themselves. + +There was silence. A slave brought forth a cup and knelt to offer it to +the king. Mithradates 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!" + +Eodan, who was hungry, paid little heed to the succession of artificed +viands. 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. Eodan 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 Hwicca--yes, all +women who lived--but since she was gone and they were here.... + +Finally, with some decorum restored, there was general conversation. +Mithradates talked impatiently to various self-important persons, +dismissed them at last with plain relief and roared the length of the +table: "Cimbrian! Now let us hear that tale you promised!" + +Eodan followed his beckoning arm, to lie beside the king himself. +Envious eyes trailed him. Not everyone listened--the whole room buzzed +with talk--but he was as glad of that. He had not wished to make the +Cimbrian destiny a night's idle amusement; but to this gray-eyed man, +himself a warrior, it was fitting to relate what Boierik had done. + +Now and again Mithradates broke in with a question. "Is it true that +sky and sea run into one up there, as Pytheas has written?... How high +does the sun stand at midsummer?... 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. +Eodan's throat hoarsened; he drank one cup of wine after another, +until his head buzzed like all summer's bees in a clover meadow in +Jutland.... Mithradates matched him, goblet for goblet, though the +king's was larger, and showed no sign of it. + +And at last Eodan said: "Then your ship found us and brought us hither. +So it may be the gods have ended their feud with me." + +"That Ahriman has," corrected Mithradates, "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 Eodan's shoulder, and he +raised his cup, clashing it against the Cimbrian's. "What a journey!" +he cried. "What a journey!" + +"I thank Your Majesty. But it has not ended yet." + +"Are you certain?" Mithradates 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?" + +Eodan 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 Mithradates. "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 Eodan. + +"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 Alanic +friend in my following. I think you could serve me well, and you would +gain in both wealth and knowledge." + +"I should be honored, Great King," said Eodan. One did not refuse such +an offer, and indeed it could be profitable. And to ride a war-horse +again! + +"So be it. We shall talk further. Now, hm, 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 two 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." Mithradates grinned. "Meanwhile, you +and the Alan have certain needs. I take it you both prefer women?" He +beckoned his secretary and gave orders. + +Morning was not far off when Eodan and Tjorr entered their room, +none too steadily. A maidservant accompanying them woke Phryne, who +came from her chamber wrapped in a mantle. Her eyes were dark in the +lamp-glow. "What has happened?" she asked. + +"Much," said Eodan. "It is well for us. But now you shall have a +private room, and a servant of your own." + +"Why--" Phryne'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!" + +Eodan, 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?" + +Phryne drew her mantle over her face and departed. + +Eodan 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_," muttered Tjorr. "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." + + + + +XVI + + +Summer had burned hot on the Asiatic uplands, but winter would be +very cold. The day after he left the city Ancyra, Eodan felt the wind +search through clothes and flesh toward his bones. Overhead the sky was +leaden, with a dirty wrack flying beneath it. Dust smoked off harvested +fields. There were not many of these; the rest was wild brown pasture, +cut by tiny streams and bare hills. He was on the edge of the Axylon, +the vast treeless plateau running south to Lycaonia, with little more +sign of man than some sheep and goat herds. + +He wrapped his cloak more tightly about him and thought of autumn gold +and scarlet in Jutland, where forests roared on long ridges. Why had +three Gallic tribes left such a country, nearly two hundred years ago, +and wandered hither? + +But so they had, conquering Cappadocians and Phrygians until a new +nation stood forth around the Halys. They let the natives farm and +trade as ever, save for taxes and a share in the crop. The invaders +rooted their three tribes in separate parts of the country, each +divided into four cantons with a chief and a judge above it; a great +council imagined it guided the entirety. Mithradates had remarked +once it was no mean feat to combine so carefully the worst features +of a monarchy and a republic. The Gauls shunned cities, holding to +fortified villages clustered around the castles of chiefs. There they +practiced the skills of war, heard their bards and Druids, remained in +fact--under all the proud trumpets--a wistful fragment of the North. + +"Maybe the Powers were not so unkind after all," said Eodan. "It might +have been worse for the Cimbri had they overcome Rome." + +Tjorr shook his head, puzzled. "You are a strange one, _disa_," he +said. "Half of what you speak these days I do not understand at all." + +They trotted on southward, into the wind off the high plains. Some +miles ahead lay the Pontine army, where Mithradates was getting ready +to march home. The lancers who jingled after Eodan and Tjorr were +a detachment sent to fetch certain hostages, who would assure the +behavior of Ancyra's Phrygians as well as of the Tectosagic overlords. +Eodan had recognized the commission, small though it was, as a mark of +royal favor. For himself, he was chiefly pleased that the Greek he had +been studying as chance offered was now good enough to serve him. He +could not live in Asia without learning its universal second language. + +Tjorr glanced complacently at his own outfit. Like the Cimbrian, he +wore the garb of a Persian cavalry officer, though he had added thereto +a treasure of golden bracelets. "This has been a good war," he said. +"We have seen new lands and new folk, done some lively fighting--ha, do +you remember how we attacked them at the river, drove them into its +waters and fought them there? And those castles we won were stuffed +with plunder!" + +"I saw them," replied Eodan shortly. + +He did not know why his mood should be so gray. It had indeed been a +fine campaign, and he had learned more about war and leadership than +he could reckon up--much of it simply from watching Mithradates, who +was a noble chief to follow and often a good mirthful restless-minded +friend to converse with. The battles had gone well--one could forget +the unforgotten during a few clangorous hours of charge and fight +and pursuit--until the Tectosages yielded the terms and indemnities +demanded. He, Eodan, had been granted enough booty to pay the expenses +of Sinope's court; now his own star could follow that of Mithradates +until both, perhaps, lit all the Orient sky. + +Nevertheless, winter lay in his soul, and he rode to his King without +gladness. + +Tjorr went on, eagerly: "The best of it is, we've not to garrison here +in winter. Back to Sinope! Or Trapezus? There's a city! Do you remember +how we stopped there?" It had been politic to march eastward first, +entering Galatia through the country of the Trocmi, who had already +been subdued; for Rome watched jealously the stump of independent +Paphlagonia that lay between Sinope and Ancyra. + +Eodan smiled one-sidedly. "I remember how you hired a bawdyhouse just +for yourself." + +"Oh, I invited my friends, of course. A pity the King wished to talk +geography or astronomy or whatever it was with you that night. Still, +we've picked up some nice wenches here and there, not so?" Tjorr sighed +in reminiscence. "Ah, Satalu! She was as sweet and bouncy as a stack +of new-mown clover. Not that I say anything against my concubine in +Sinope, though I may buy another one or two for variety." He rubbed the +hammer at his side. "There's luck in this old maul, I tell you. Maybe +even something of the lightning." + +Eodan's thoughts drifted pastward. Perhaps his forebodings were no +more than a recollection--now, when he was not too hurried to consider +it--of how the captured Galatians had stumbled in clanking lines, north +to the slave markets of Pontus. + +Or it might be a certain aloneness. Phryne had not understood--maybe +no woman could understand--how a man was driven to one after another, +by the ruthless force of the Bull, merely so that he could sleep +afterward ... when the only one he truly wanted had dwindled to a small +burning star on a windy sea. Wherefore Phryne had coldly avoided him. +In the bustle of an army that made ready to go, he had found no chance +to seek her out and gain back a friendship he missed; there was little +privacy in an Eastern palace. He contented himself with making certain +she would have an honorable, paid position in the household. + +Could I write, he thought, my words would have reached her during these +months. But since I lack that great witchcraft, I was only able to make +sacrifices, hoping the gods would bring her a dream of me. + +He had offered to many powerful gods: Cimberland's Bull, who was also +in some way Moon and Sun, and Hertha the Earth Mother, whom they called +Cybele down here; even Jupiter and the fork-tongued thunder-snake that +Tjorr invoked. He would have given Mithras precedence, that being +the favored god of Pontus, but the king explained it was forbidden +to call on him unless one had been initiated into his mysteries. And +thereafter: "But you can be instructed this winter, when we have come +home, and I myself will stand as your sponsor. For our hearts are much +alike, Eodan." + +The Cimbrian was ready enough to go under the banner of Mithras, who +was not only strong but consoling. He had been born of a virgin through +the grace of Ahura-Mazda the Good, that all his followers might live in +heaven after death--which seemed a better fate than that granted the +puzzled quiet shades of the Greeks. Perhaps Mithras could even call +Hwicca back from the night wind, though Eodan dared not hope it. The +god's midwinter birthday was a cheerful occasion, where men feasted +and exchanged gifts. One day, when evil Ahriman rose up for a last +onslaught, all those warriors whom Mithras had been guesting in heaven +would ride with him to battle. + +Eodan thought sometimes that the North might welcome such a god, more +humanly brave than the dark, nearly formless wild Powers of earth and +sky. But it seemed unsure that he would ever again see the North. + +"There, now! Shall we enter in the horseman's manner?" + +Eodan looked up, blinking to awareness. The camp was in view, not very +far ahead. "Indeed," he said, wondering where the time had gone. It was +mid-afternoon. He signaled his trumpeter, and the call rang out, cold +and brassy in the gray cold light; the wind made it ragged. But the +troopers raised their lances and smote with their spurs. As one, they +came a-gallop under streaming flags, through the tents and a burned +village to the castle walls. + +Eodan jumped to the ground and flung his reins at a groom. The captain +of the watch saluted him before the gates. "Let it be known," said +Eodan, "that the Cimbrian has returned from Ancyra as ordered and will +see the king when the king pleases. May the king live forever!" + +After quartering the hostages, he walked toward his own tent. There was +much he did not like in Asia, he reflected, and this crawling before +the high, in both words and flesh, was not the least. Mithradates +deserved respect, yes, but a man was not a dog. Nor was a woman an +animal, to be kept for breeding or pleasure alone. A few months of +giggling Eastern wenches had shown Eodan how sheer tedium could drive +so many men to catamites. He thought of Phryne, born a slave, less +chained in her soul than the High Queen of Pontus. It is better in the +North, he thought, overwhelmed by his earliest years. They are still +free folk on Jutland's moors. + +"Master!" + +Eodan paused before his tent. Tjorr, who had just left him, returned +quickly. A slave bent his knee to him. "Master, the great king would +see the Cimbrian at once." + +"What?" Eodan looked down at his mail, flowing trousers, spurred boots +and flapping red cloak--all dulled with dust. Well, Mithradates was a +soldier, too. "I come." + +"What might it be?" asked Tjorr, pacing him as he hurried back under +the grassy earth wall. "Has something happened?" + +"Surely it has," said Eodan, "or the king would allow me a rest and a +bite to eat first." + +"Maybe a new war has begun somewhere?" + +Eodan grinned with a sour humor. "We're not so important, you and I, +that we're summoned in person to plan the royal strategy. I think this +concerns us--me, at least--alone." + +He paused at the castle gate to surrender his longsword. Tjorr scowled +unhappily. "I shall wait here," he said. "Perhaps my hammer will fend +off bad luck." + +Eodan said, with the bleakness of wind and treeless uplands taking him, +"I think our luck has already passed these doors and is waiting inside." + +He crossed a flagged courtyard, where guardsmen drilled among the +lesser buildings. The keep was a gloomy stone hall, sod-roofed and +galleried. Beyond its entryroom was a long feasting chamber, where +Mithradates had established his court. Fires burning in pits along the +rush-strewn dirt floor gave some warmth, though not all their fumes +went out the smokeholes. The king had added charcoal braziers and had +hung his lamps from captured swords thrust into wooden pillars carved +with gods. He sat in the canton chief's high seat, which was shaped +like the lap of stag-horned Cernunnos. A robe of Sarmatian sable and +African leopard warmed Mithradates' huge frame; his golden chaplet +caught the unsure light like a looted halo. Around the room gleamed his +unmoving hoplites; a few courtiers and some mustached Gauls huddled at +one end, where a boy plucked an unheeded lyre. + +Eodan put his helmet under his arm, strode to the king and bowed to one +knee--a special favor, granted for his blood of Boierik. "What does My +Lord wish from his servant?" + +"Stand, Cimbrian." Eodan saw a troubled look on the heavy face. "Today +there came an embassy." Mithradates leaned toward a runner who crouched +under the secretary's feet. "Bring them in." + +Eodan waited. The king said slowly: "You have been welcome at court +and camp--not for your knowledge and tales of far places, though they +delighted many hours of mine; not for your sword, though it has sung +me a gallant song; but for something that is yourself. Whatsoever may +happen, Eodan, remember what has been between us. The gods themselves +cannot take away the past." + +A door at the far end was flung wide. Two came through it. + +One was a man in a toga; Eodan could not see his countenance by the +dim unrestful light. But even through a long, hooded mantle he would +know the shape and gait of the other. His blood pulsed with a quick +unreasonable gladness; he forgot himself in the king's presence and ran +toward her with his hands outstretched. "Phryne!" he cried. Reaching +her, he grasped her by the elbows and looked down into the pale +heart-shaped face and said in his lame Greek: "Now I can tell you with +your homeland's speech how I have missed you." + +"Eodan--" She shivered violently, as if winter had come with her all +the way down from the north. "Eodan, my only gift to you is woe." + +He raised his eyes, most carefully, and looked upon Gnaeus Valerius +Flavius. + +Eodan howled. He sprang back, snatching for his sword, but the empty +belt mocked him. The Roman lifted an arm. "_Ave_," he said. His +closed-mouth smile creased cheeks grown gaunt; Eodan could see how the +bones stood forth in his face. + +Eodan remembered the king, motionless on the knees of a conquered god. +He choked back his breath; one by one easing muscles that had stiffened +to leap at a certain throat, he wheeled and marched to the high seat +and prostrated himself thrice. + +"Great King whose glory lights the world," he said thickly, returning +to the Latin he could best use, "forgive your slave. This Roman slew my +wife. Give him to me, lord of all the earth, and I will afterward eat +that fire for your amusement if you wish." + +Mithradates leaned back. He considered Flavius, who saluted him with +no more respect than a high-born Roman was allowed to show any foreign +despot. Lastly his glance fell upon Phryne, kissing the floor beside +Eodan. + +"Who is that?" he asked. Then, with a sudden chuckle of pure +pleasure--the laughter of a little boy shown some wholly unawaited +novelty--"Why, it is the Greek girl who fled with the two men. This I +was not told. Rise, both of you. Woman, explain your arrival here." + +Eodan stood up. His jaws were clenched so they ached. He looked across +a few feet at Flavius--no, he would not look--he shifted his eyes to +Phryne. She stood before the king, her bowed head shielding her face, +and said in Greek: + +"Merciful Monarch, I am no one, only a slave girl named Phryne, who +escaped from Rome with the Cimbrian and is now free by your grace. May +the sun never set upon you. As the King has heard, this Roman came to +Sinope with armed escort, saying he had a commission to bring back +the Cimbrian. When he learned that Your Majesty was being served by +the Cimbrian down here, he arranged for horses and rode with Pontine +guides--for who would leave a Roman unwatched?--through Paphlagonia and +Galatia to find you. It went as a diplomatic party, but its purpose is +hostile, that the King may be deprived of the Cimbrian's services. All +this I was told through the household. Some of Your Majesty's favor +has come down to me; Your Majesty made rich gifts to all our party +when we arrived, though I was not summoned to thank you. And then +there were my earnings, and some gifts from the parents of children I +instructed. With all this I was able to buy a strong eunuch to guard +me. The captain of the Pontine escort kindly allowed me, on my plea, to +accompany them--" + +"Did you have that much money, besides the slave's price?" asked +Mithradates dryly. + +"I was to give him my eunuch when we reached the King's camp," +whispered Phryne. + +"And be alone and penniless among soldiers?" Mithradates clicked his +tongue. "Cimbrian, you have a loyal friend indeed. I did not believe +any woman capable of it." + +He leaned forward. "Come here, Phryne. Stand before me." His hand +reached out, throwing back her hood, then reaching for her chin to tilt +her face up to his. Eodan saw how the blue-back hair had grown in the +summer--still too short but softly gathered above a slim neck--yes, she +was surely a woman! + +"Why was I not told about you before now?" murmured the king. + +Flavius said with a tone that gibed at Eodan: "Your Majesty, she +would not speak to me all the trip, but when she found herself--as +Your Majesty phrased it--alone and penniless among soldiers, with no +way into the royal presence, it entertained me, as I hoped it might +entertain Your Majesty, to offer her help and protection which she must +accept. It was at my expressed desire that she was allowed to wait +outside with me." He raised his shoulders and his brows. "Of course, +it might have been more amusing to see what she would have tried to +gain admittance. A woman is never quite penniless; she has always one +commodity--" + +Mithradates held Phryne's head, watching the blood and the helpless +anger rise in her. Finally he released the girl. "The Flavius +misunderstood me," he said. "We shall let you speak your case, Phryne." +He nodded toward Eodan. "However, that the Cimbrian may know your +mission, Roman, state it first." + +Flavius' head lifted, as though on a spear shaft. His tone rang out, +with more depth and harshness than Eodan had yet heard from him: + +"Your Majesty, this barbarian and his associates are more than runaway +slaves. They have murdered free men, even citizens. There is a wise +Roman law that orders that if a slave kills his owner, then all the +slaves of that owner must die. How else shall free men, and their wives +and daughters, be safe?" + +"No writ runs here but mine," said Mithradates calmly. + +"Your Majesty," pursued Flavius, "the Cimbrian and his allies did still +worse. They committed piracy. And that is an offense against the law of +all nations." + +"I have heard this tale," said Mithradates. "I feel it was more an act +of war than of piracy." His teeth gleamed in the same child's delight +as before. "But, if you are the very man whom the Cimbrian overcame, +tell me your story. What happened on that other vessel?" + +"We destroyed his mutineers, Great King, and rowed to Achaea, whence +I returned overland as fast as horses would bear me. When the facts +of this outrage were laid before the Senate, it was decided that the +Cimbrian must be punished, did not Neptune strike him down first? But +not until lately did intelligence reach me, who had been given charge +of the hunt, that these outlaws had insinuated themselves into Your +Majesty's grace. I came at once, to free your majesty of such odious +creatures. Now--" + +"Enough." Mithradates turned to Phryne. "Well, girl, what is it you +wished so badly to say to me?" + +She might have fallen at his feet; but she stood before him like a +visiting queen. Her tones fell soft: "Great King, I would do no more +than plead for the lives of two brave men. My own does not matter." + +"For that," said Mithradates, "I shall surely never let you go." + +Flavius said with a devouring bitterness: "Your Majesty, the Senate +of Rome does not feel this female slave is of great importance, nor +even the Alanic barbarian. It is not recommended to Your Majesty that +you leave them alive, but I feel the King will soon discover that +for himself. However, the Cimbrian, ringleader and evil genius of +them all, must be done away with. We would prefer he die in Rome, but +otherwise he must die here. I have already presented Your Majesty with +the written consular decree of the Republic. May I say to the Great +King, in the friendliest spirit, knowing that a word to the wise is +sufficient--should I return with this decree unfulfilled, the Senate +may be forced to reckon it a cause for war." + + + + +XVII + + +"You bid me surrender a guest, who has fought well for me to boot," +Mithradates said gravely. And then, with an imp's grin: "Also, I doubt +the reality of your threat. If the Cimbri were all like this one, +Europe must still be too shaken to go adventuring in the East. Ten +years hence, perhaps ... but no one would hazard so rich a province as +Pergamum just to capture a man. I have read your official documents, +Flavius, and they convey nothing but a strong request." + +"Great King, it was never my intention to threaten," answered the Roman +with a smooth quickness. "Forgive clumsy words. We are blunt folk in +the Republic. But of course the King understands that the Senate and +the people of Rome will welcome so vital a token of a most powerful and +splendid monarch's good will toward them. I am authorized to make a +small material symbol of the state's gratitude, to the amount of--" + +"I have seen what the bribe would be," said Mithradates. "We shall +discuss all this at leisure tonight." His gaze flickering between +Eodan and Flavius, he chuckled deeply. "There will be a feast at which +you two old friends may reminisce. In the meantime, I forbid violence +between you. Now I have work to do. You may go." + +Eodan backed out, taking Phryne's arm at the door. "Come to my tent," +he said. "You should not have been so reckless as to travel hither." + +"I would not hold back from you even the littlest help," she whispered. +She caught at his cloak, and her tone became shrill. "Eodan, will he +give you up to them?" + +"I hardly think so," said the Cimbrian. Bitterness swelled in his +throat. "But neither will he give Flavius up to me!" + +They started across the courtyard, and the wind snatched at their +mantles. Eodan looked back and saw Flavius emerging from the keep. + +"Wait," he said to Phryne. "There are things I would talk about that no +one else has a right to hear." + +"You will disappoint the king," she said in an acrid voice. "He is +looking forward to the subtlest gladiatorial contest." + +Eodan strode from her. Flavius wrapped his toga more closely against +the cold bluster of the air. He smiled, raising his brows, and stood +waiting; his dark curly hair fluttered. But somehow no youth or +merriment were left in him. + +"Will you be kind enough to assault me?" he asked. + +"I am not a fool," grunted Eodan. + +"No, not in such respects.... Since your life hangs now on the king's +pleasure, you will heel to his lightest whim like any well-trained +dog." Flavius spoke quietly, choosing each word beforehand. "Thus it is +seen--he who is born to be a slave will always be a slave." + +Eodan held onto his soul with both hands. At last he got out: "I will +meet you somewhere beyond the power of both Rome and Pontus." + +Flavius skinned his teeth in a grin. "Your destruction is more +important to me than the dubious pleasures of single combat." + +"You are afraid, then," said Eodan. "You only fight women." + +Flavius clenched his free hand. His whittled face congealed, he said +in a flat voice: "I cannot help but smite those women whom you forever +make your shields. Now it is a Greek slave girl. How many more have you +crawled behind, even before you debauched my wife?" + +"I went through a door that stood unbarred to all," fleered Eodan. + +"Like unto like. Will it console you to know, Cimbrian, that she has +divorced me? For she grows great with no child of mine, a brat I would +surely drown were it dropped in my house." + +Eodan felt a dull pleasure. This was no decent way to hurt an enemy, +yet what other way did he have? "So now your hopes for the consulate +are broken," he said. "That much service have I done Rome." + +"Not so," Flavius told him. "For I allowed the divorce in an amicable +way, not raising the charges of adultery I might. Thus her father is +grateful to me." He nodded. "There are troublous years coming. The +plebs riot and the patricians fall out with each other. I shall rise +high enough in the confusion so that I will have power to proscribe +your bastard." + +It had never occurred to Eodan before, to think about the by-blow of +his women. He had set Hwicca's Othrik upon his knee and named him +heir, but otherwise--Now, far down under the seething in him, he knew +a tenderness. He could find no good reason for it; there was a Power +here. He would have chanced Mithradates' wrath and broken the neck of +Flavius, merely to save an unborn child, little and lonely in the dark, +whom he would never see. But no, those guardsmen drilling beneath the +walls would seize him before he finished the task. + +He asked in a sort of wonder: "Is this why you pursue me?" + +"I bear the commission of the Republic." + +"The king spoke truly--they are not that interested in one man. This +decree is a gesture to please you, belike through your father-in-law. +You are the one who has made it his life's work to destroy me." + +"Well, then, if you wish, I am revenging Cordelia," said Flavius. His +eyes shifted with a curious unease. + +"I spared you at Arausio. And what was Cordelia to you, ever?" + +"So now you call up the past and whine for your life." + +"Oh, no," said Eodan softly. "I thank all the high gods that we meet +again. For you killed my Hwicca." + +"_I_ did?" cried Flavius. His skin was chalky. "Now the gods would +shatter you, did they exist!" + +"Your sword struck her down," said Eodan. + +"After you flung her upon it!" shrieked Flavius. "You are her murderer +and none but you! I have heard enough of your filth!" + +He whirled and almost ran. Phryne, small and solitary at the gate, +flinched aside from him. He vanished. + +Eodan stood for a while staring after the Roman. It came to him +finally, like a voice from elsewhere: So that is why he must hate me. +He also loved Hwicca, in his own way. Indeed the soul of man is a +forest at night. + +He thought coldly, It is well. Now I can be certain that Flavius will +never depart my track until one of us has died. + +Phryne joined him as he left. As they went mutely from the castle, +Tjorr rushed up to them. "There are Romans come!" he bawled. "A dozen +Roman soldiers in camp.... I'd swear I saw Flavius himself go by.... +Phryne! _You_ are here!" + +"Have you any further information?" asked the girl sweetly. + +They walked toward Eodan's tent, and she explained to the Alan what had +happened. Tjorr gripped his hammer. "By the thunder," he said, "it was +well done of you! But what help did you think you could give us?" + +"I did not know," she answered unsteadily, "nor am I certain yet. A +word, perhaps ... one more voice to plead, with a flattering abasement +impossible to Eodan ... or some scheme--I could not stay away." + +Tjorr looked at the Cimbrian's unheeding back. "Be not angry with him +if he shows you cold thanks," he said. "There has been a blackness in +him of late, and this cannot have lightened it." + +"He has already rewarded me beyond measure," she said, "by the way he +greeted me." + +They entered the tent. Eodan slumped on a heap of skins and wrapped +solitude about himself. After some low-voiced talk with Phryne, it +occurred to Tjorr to take her out and show her to his and Eodan's +personal guards, grooms and other attendants. "She is not to be +insulted. Obey her as you would obey me. Any who behaves otherwise, +I'll break his head. D'you hear?" + +When they came back it was approaching sunset. Eodan was sitting before +a small pile of silks, linens and ornaments. "A slave brought these for +you, Phryne," he said. "The king commands your presence at his feast." + +"The king!" She stared bewildered. "What would the king with me?" + +"Be not afraid," said Eodan. "He is only cruel to his enemies." + +Tjorr's eyes glittered. "But this is wonderful!" he cried. "Girl, your +fortune may be made! I'll get a female to help you dress--" + +When she had gone he muttered, "She did not appear overly glad of the +king's favor." + +"She is too frightened on our behalf," said Eodan. + +"Do you think she has good reason to fear?" + +"I do not know--nor care, if I can only lay hands on Flavius." + +As twilight fell, an escort of torchbearers came to bring them to the +castle. Entering the feasting hall, Eodan saw it aglow with lamps. Some +attempt to make it worthy of the king was shown by plundered robes +strewn on the floor; musicians stood in the murk under the god-pillars +and caterwauled. It was no large banquet Mithradates gave this +night--couches for a score of his officers, with Eodan on his right and +Tjorr beyond him, Flavius on the left. Cimbrian and Alan wore Persian +dress, to defy the plain white tunic of the Roman. The rest clad their +Anatolian bodies in Greek style, save that the king had thrown a +purple robe over his wide shoulders. + +Eodan greeted Mithradates and the nobles as always, and reclined +himself stiffly. The king helped himself to fruit from a crystal bowl. +"Never before has this place known such an assembly of the great," he +declared with sardonic sententiousness. "And yet our chief guest has +not been summoned." + +"Who might that be, Lord of the World?" asked a Pontine. + +"It is not our custom that women dine with men," said Mithradates. "We +feel it a corruption of older and manlier ways." That was a malicious +dart at Flavius, thought Eodan. "Yet all you nobles would consider +it no insult to guest a queen; and many philosophers assure us that +royalty is a matter of the spirit rather than of birth." + +"Though the Great King shows that when spirit and birth unite, royalty +comes near godhood," said an officer with practiced readiness. + +"I am therefore pleased to present to you all a veritable Atalanta--or +an Amazon princess--or even an Athena, wise as well as valiant. Let +Phryne of Hellas stand forth!" + +She walked from the inner door, urged by a chamberlain. Her garb was +dazzling--long lustrous gown and flowing silken mantle, her hair and +throat and arms a barbaric blaze of finery. It came as a wrenching in +Eodan that she should look so unhappy. She advanced with downcast eyes +and prostrated herself. + +"No--up, up!" boomed Mithradates. "The King would have you share his +place." + +Eodan heard a muffled snicker at the table's end. Blood beat thickly in +his temples; what right had some Asiatic to laugh at a Greek? His eyes +ranged in search of the man, to deal with him later. By the time he +looked back, Phryne had reclined beside Mithradates on the royal couch. + +"Know," said the ruler in his customary Greek, "she spent her last +wealth and risked life, freedom and honor to journey here from Sinope +that she might plead the case of her comrades. And before then she had +shared the perils of flight from Rome and battle at sea--and she is +learned enough to instruct the children of noblemen. Therefore I say +a queen's heart lies behind those fair breasts, and it shall have a +queen's honor. Drink, Phryne!" + +He took up his huge silver chalice and gave it to her with his own +hands. A low, envious gasp sighed down the length of the table. + +Phryne lifted her decorous veil to put the cup at her lips. "Ha, ha!" +shouted Mithradates. "See, she is beautiful as well! Let the feast +begin!" + +It was no banquet at all, compared to the least meal in Sinope--little +more than a roast ox and several kinds of fowl, stuffed with rice and +olives. No acrobats or trained women being available, some young Gauls +offered a perilous sword dance, and a Phrygian wizard showed such +tricks as releasing doves from an empty box. Thus Tjorr enjoyed it +better than any he had attended before; his guffaws rang between the +guardsmen's shields until even Flavius had to smile a little. Eodan +hardly noticed what passed his eyes and teeth; he was too aware of the +Roman. + +When the meal was at last over, an expectant silence fell. Mithradates +leaned toward Flavius. "Your account of your adventures was +ungraciously curt today," he said smiling. "Now we would hear more +fully. You can be no ordinary man, who so endangered the Cimbrian." + +"Your Majesty flatters me," said Flavius. "I am a most ordinary Roman." + +"Then you flatter your state. Though you belittled it earlier, in +contending that one man might be so great a danger to it." + +"Would not Your Majesty alone be the greatest danger to us, were we so +unfortunate as to lose your good will?" + +"Ha! Let it not be said your race makes poor courtiers. Your +compliments are only less polished than the orations in which you +describe your own bluffness." Mithradates drained his chalice and set +it down; at once a slave refilled it. His gaze went from Flavius to +Eodan and Tjorr, and back to Phryne. "Surely there is a purpose here," +he mused. "Lives are not often so entangled. I must take care to reach +a decision that will accord with the will of the Most High." + +Eodan sat up. "My Lord," he said raggedly, "give weapons to us two, or +our bare hands, and watch who heaven favors!" + +Mithradates murmured thoughtfully: "I have heard you speak of yourself, +Eodan, as a man whom the gods hate." + +"For once he spoke truth, Your Majesty," said Flavius. "It would be an +impiety if--if I, at least, suffered him to live." + +"Would you meet him in single combat, then?" asked Mithradates. + +"It is an uncouth German custom, Your Majesty," said Flavius. "It is +not worthy of a civilized man." + +"You have not answered my question." + +"Well ... I would meet him, Great King, if there were no better way." + +Eodan sprang to his feet. "At once!" he yelled. + +"Give me my hammer, and I'll take care of his following!" said Tjorr. + +Phryne sat up on the couch. "No!" she gasped. + +"Back!" cried Mithradates. His face was flushed with the wine; he +drained a second cup in three gulps. "Back, lie down--I cannot have +this. You are both my guests!" + +The room grew very quiet, until only the crackling fires and the heavy +breathing of men had voice. And outside the wind prowled under the +walls. + +"This may not be," said the king finally. "I am a civilized man, too. +Let the world be sure I am no barbarian. We shall settle this dispute +by reason and principle. Hear me and obey!" + +"The King has spoken," came whispers from around the long room. + +"These people sought my roof," said Mithradates, "and it was granted +them to stay. They are under my protection." + +"The hospitality of Your Majesty is known throughout the world," said +Flavius. "But no guest may remain forever. Dismiss them from your +presence, Great Lord, and I will wait for them outside your borders." + +"You have not yet given me a reason to send them away," Mithradates +told him. + +"Your Majesty," said Flavius, becoming grave, "I have charged them with +revolt, murder, theft and piracy. They are foes of civilization itself, +and the Roman state is certain that all civilized men will recognize +that fact. Let me tell the King a tale. + +"At their request, the Cimbri sent an embassy to Rome while they were +still in Gaul. Their terms were refused, of course--should we allow +wild men within our borders?--but they were shown about the city. +Has the King heard what they thought most wonderful? The feed bags +on dray-horses! It is truth I tell. They could not take their eyes +off; they laughed like children. They were also shown that Grecian +statue called the Shepherd, which the King has surely heard is one of +our greatest treasures, the image of an old man with all the tragedy +and dignity of age upon him. The wondered why anyone had troubled to +picture a slave so old and lame as to be worthless!" + +Flavius leaned forward, gesturing, his orator's voice filling the +hall with richness and warmth. "Great King, beyond our realms are +the barbarians, the howling folk without law or knowledge. We have +thrilled at your exploits when you broke the Scythians; there you +served Rome, Your Majesty, even as Rome served Pontus on the Raudian +plain. Our fore-fathers were not the same, Great King: yours were +Persian shahs and mine were Latin freeholders. But the same mother +bore us--Hellas--and we honor her alike." He pointed at Eodan. "There +he sits--the enemy--who would stable his horses in the Parthenon +and kindle a fire with Homer. It is more that I hunt than this one +barbarian, O Protector of the Greeks. It is barbarism itself." + +Stillness fell again. Mithradates drained another cup. Eodan crouched, +waiting for he knew not what. The king looked at him. "What have you to +say to that?" he asked. + +Eodan thought dimly, I might play upon his honor, as Flavius did on +his pride. I daresay he would allow me to remain in Pontus the rest of +my life, did I show him a scar or two won in his service. But I am a +Cimbrian. + +He said heavily, in his rough Greek: "I ask no more than the rights of +a man, My Lord." + +"A barbarian is not a man!" snarled Flavius. + +Mithradates shifted the weight on his elbow till he stared down at +Phryne. "Well," he said, "we have one pure Hellene here. What does she +think?" + +"A Greekling slave!" exclaimed Flavius. "The King jests. He knows a +slave is even less a person than a barbarian." + +Phryne sat up and flung at him: "You were a better man's slave after +Arausio. You needed the whole Roman army to make him yours in turn. +Must we raise ancestors from Hades? Well, then, where were yours when +mine fought at Salamis?" + +Mithradates put on a frown. "_Mine_ were in Persian ships," he said. + +"Yet now you are called the protector of the Greeks," she answered +promptly. He grinned. "Great King, who deserved better of you--the man +who freed even one little Greek, or the man whose people laid Corinth +waste?" + +"I cannot believe you are at feud with all the gods, Eodan," said +Mithradates. "At least one must love you, to send you so fair an +advocate." + +He sprawled lionlike, turning his maned head toward Flavius. "These +people are still of my household," he said. "Let no man do them harm. +The King has spoken." + +Eodan's heart lifted, however somberly, as Flavius bent his stiff neck. +"I hear and obey, Your Majesty," he mumbled. + +"Well," said Mithradates, his solemnity leaping to become genial, +"remain a while. Accompany us back to Sinope. There is much I would ask +of you, and you shall not go home empty-handed. Now fill all flagons +and drink with me!" + +Phryne stared at Eodan a moment. Then her face sank into her hands. + +"But what is the matter?" said the King. "You have won your cause, +girl." + +"Forgive me, Lord. That is why I weep." + +"Come, drink of my cup. Those eyes are too beautiful to redden." + +She accepted, shakily. Tjorr plucked at Eodan's sleeve. "We seem to've +escaped that snare," he muttered. "Now we'll have to devise one for +Flavius." + +Eodan glanced across at the Roman, who was shaking in rage but somehow +achieving mannered discourse with a Pontine officer. "Hm. Perhaps +the King will let me pursue him when he departs.... No, I fear not, +it would be an open act of war. It may be I shall have to wait until +there is actual war with Rome." His fingers strained crooked upon the +cushions. "Give it be otherwise!" + +"Make not too free with such wishes," cautioned Tjorr. "They are often +granted, in ways we mortals did not look for." + +Eodan drank deep, as it was one means of easing the hate and the +hurt within himself. He saw Flavius do likewise. Mithradates was in +conversation with Phryne; none dared interrupt him. Eodan drifted +about, playing some pachisi with one man--he played badly tonight--and +talking of cavalry tactics with another. Time went. + +He heard Mithradates at last, when the deep voice crashed through all +the babble around: "Come with me now." + +He swung about, suddenly cold. The king was standing up. Phryne had +risen, too; her hands were lifted, and behind her thin veil he saw +horror. + +"What does My Lord mean?" she said, almost wildly. + +Mithradates threw back his head and bellowed laughter. "You cannot be +that much a maiden," he whooped. "They only raise them like that in +Asia, for a novelty." + +She sank to her knees, so that his bulk loomed up in shadow and she was +only a little heap of gaily colored clothes before him. "Great King, I +am not worthy," she stammered. + +"What the skulls and bones is this?" muttered Tjorr at Eodan's ear. +"Her luck has found her and she won't go with it!" + +The Cimbrian's gaze swept the hall. Most of the court was too drunk to +heed the byplay; a few watched with lickerish interest. Flavius stood +under a pillar, grinning. + +Truly, thought Eodan in the darkness of his head, some god had rewarded +Phryne. A royal concubine was rich and honored; it was by no means +impossible to become a royal wife; and Mithradates, they said, was man +enough to satisfy all his harem. The Cimbrian took a step forward, +feeling his skin prickle. He grew aware that his hand felt after a +sword he did not have. + +Phryne, huddled at the king's feet, looked sideways. Her look met +Eodan's; it was black with ruin. He glided toward her, hardly knowing +what he did. Phryne shook her head at him, and he jerked to a halt. O +Bull of the Cimbri, what Power used his limbs tonight? + +"You have shown yourself well worthy," said Mithradates on an impatient +note. "Rise and come." + +Perhaps only Eodan saw her lips tighten. She beat her head on the +floor. "Lord, forgive your slave. The Moon forbids me." + +"Oh. Oh, indeed." Mithradates stepped back, a primitive unease on his +face. "You should have told me that earlier." + +"I was too bedazzled by My Lord," she said. Her regained wit bespoke +some resolution taken. Eodan wondered with a chill what it had been. + +"Well ... rise." Mithradates stooped for her hand and pulled her up as +if she were weightless. She stood trembling before him. "A week hence, +my tent will be decked with kings' robes for you," he said. "In the +meantime, you shall have a tent and servants of your own, and ride in +the Tetrarch's litter." + +"Great King," she whispered--had Eodan not been close, he would not +have heard it--"if your handmaiden should in any way be displeasing +to you ... should somehow wrong Her Lord ... you will not hold it the +fault of her friends? They knew nothing of me save that I waited in +Sinope to do the King's will, even as they wish only to do it." + +"Indeed," said Mithradates roughly. "I am no fool. And have I +not raised my shield above them?" He clapped his hands. "Let the +chamberlain see to her well-being. Find me a couple of Gallic girls for +tonight." + +Phryne went past Eodan. She threw him only the quickest of glances, but +never had he seen a look more lonely. The hurried whisper drifted to +him: "Do not be troubled on my account. I do what is best. Make your +own way in the world." + +He stared after her. The Power drained from him, he felt tired and +empty. He heard Tjorr rumble answer to Mithradates: "No, Lord, I'm sure +she's not one of these women who hate the touch of men, even if she has +stayed maiden uncommonly late. Haw! On the contrary, Lord, the man she +likes will have enough to do!" + +"I thought so myself," said Mithradates. "It is a good omen, that she +was kept for me alone." + +It went through Eodan like a sickness--they dared speak thus of his +oath-sister! He would have challenged the king himself if--if--An exile +ate bitter bread. He had only changed one slavery for another. + + + + +XVIII + + +In the morning, after a few dark hours of wakefulness or nightmare--he +was unsure which--Eodan rose to take up his officer's duties. The +Pontines would start home at dawn the next day; though the army itself +could have struck camp in an hour, its train of plunder, captives and +tribute was something else. Eodan was glad enough to lose himself in +a whirl of horses. Now and then he glimpsed the Romans, fully armed +before their little resting place--no more than a decury, and yet they +had crossed half Asia to make a demand upon the king in his host. It +came to him, even in his anger, that he was honored to have one child +who would be Roman. + +This day was also cold and blustering. Dust flew about his boots, up +into his eyes and nose and gullet; the clash of iron and brass had a +somehow wintry sound. Up over the Axylon bulked monstrous blue-black +clouds with rain or snow in their bellies, but the earth remained +mummy-dry. Tent canvas cracked in the wind. + +About mid-morning Eodan saw a royal runner weave between the mules +whose roundup he was overseeing. He thought nothing of it until the boy +plucked at his foot. Then he looked down from the saddle and heard: +"Master Captain, the king commands your instant attendance." + +"I hear and obey," said Eodan's training. He snapped an order to a +younger horseman to continue the task and trotted through the scurry of +the camp. Inwardly he felt a tightening. What would the ruler want of +him now? + +When he yielded his sword he felt wholly alone. He had not even a +mail-coat today, only dirt-streaked tunic and breeches in the Persian +manner, a plumed helmet to mark his rank. The guards at the gate +squinted against wind and dust, making their faces somehow inhuman. +Eodan crossed the courtyard and entered the keep. + +The hall was nearly empty; one never thought of the rigid troopers +around the walls, of the secretary with tablet and stylus or the +runners crouched at his feet. Mithradates paced before a fire-pit, +where flame welled up. He himself was Persian clad; a ruby upon his +brow gleamed like a red third eye. He wore a dagger at his hip; from +time to time he half drew it and then snicked it back into the sheath +as though into an enemy's heart. + +Eodan advanced until he caught the royal glance and made his usual +obeisance. + +"Down on your face, barbarian!" roared Mithradates. + +That was no moment to haggle about pride. Eodan threw himself flat. +"How have I offended My Lord?" The upsurge of his own wrath came to him +as a shock. He had thought this man was his friend. + +"Where is the woman Phryne?" the voice thundered over his head. + +Eodan leaped to his feet. "Is she gone?" he shouted. + +"I gave you no command to rise," growled Mithradates. + +"Is she gone?" yelled the Cimbrian again, out of a feeling that fire +had touched him. + +Mithradates stared at him for a long while. Slowly, the king's visage +softened. "Then you do not know?" he asked quietly. + +"By my father's ghost, Lord, I swear I do not." + +"Hear, then. Her maids entered her tent this morning to help her +arise. She was not there. The eunuch on guard says he knows nothing. +I believe him, though he shall still drink poison for his stupidity, +and be pardoned only if my new antidote saves him. There was a hole +in the tent, at the rear; she must have slashed it with a knife among +her possessions. When word of this finally came to me, I had inquiries +made. An under-groom of your own, Cimbrian, says she came to him in +the night, demanding horses, clothing, arms and food, and rode off. He +says he had received orders to give her whatever she wished without +question." + +"That is true, Great King, but--I never thought--I never--Why would she +have gone, whose destiny had just blossomed?" + +"And into the Axylon! She was last seen riding south on the road into +the Axylon!" + +"Surely there is witchcraft here," said Eodan. "She never showed any +sign of madness, Lord. An evil spirit must have seized her, or some +spell--" + +Inwardly, coldly, his mind raced and dodged, like a hare with wolves +behind. He did not know what might haunt these dreary plains; perhaps +she was indeed harried out by a troll. He was thinly surprised that he +did not cower at the thought, as once he would have done, but wished +only to find that creature and sink iron into it. Yet maybe she had +done this of her own will, for some reason unknown to him. He found it +hard to imagine his cool Phryne, who knew what the stars were made of, +seized by some misshapen Phrygian shadow; or was it just that he dared +not imagine it? + +Whatever the truth, he wanted to go after her himself. No yapping +Asiatics would carry her back in ropes to the king's bed. It was not +meet! + +Eodan's green gaze narrowed upon Mithradates. He saw the terrors of a +thousand generations, who had muttered in dark huts and brewed magic +against a world they peopled with demons, flit over the lion-face. Let +him dissect as many criminals and cast as many learned horoscopes as he +wished; Mithradates remained only half a Greek. + +"They deal in black arts here," said the king. His finger traced a sign +against evil, the Cross of Light that stood on the banners of Mithras. +"I'll hale the wizard we saw up onto a rack before this hour is out." + +A scheme sprang into Eodan's head. His heart leaped with it. + +"Or the Romans?" he said. + +"What? No, their law forbids magic." + +"I have seen much Roman law broken by Romans, Great Master. Also, this +may not be sorcery after all; it may be some trick of theirs." + +Mithradates whirled on a runner. "Bring me the Flavius," he rapped. + +Thereafter he paced, up and down, up and down; the only noise being his +boots thudding, the fire that hissed in the pits and the wind whining +outside. There was much smoke in the hall today; it stung tears from +Eodan's eyes. + +He thought back to the night before ... how small she had been, under +the tower which was the king ... and why had she been so afraid that +his displeasure with her might be visited on her comrades? When the +king tired of a concubine, even if she had only been with him one +night, he did not rage about it. He always had enough women. He gave +her to some noble, as a special mark of favor, and of course the noble +would never be anything but gentle toward such a token. Usually he made +her his chief wife. So Phryne's luck had come golden to roost on her +shoulder, by the mere fact of a royal command to bed. + +Yet she had looked upon Eodan with desolation. And she had thrown him a +final furtive word, not to trouble himself about her, for she would do +what was best. + +He thought, stiffening: It was so little to her liking, to enter a +harem, that she rode forth alone. Out there is a land of wolf, bear, +lynx and herdsmen wilder than they; south are Lycaonia and Parthia, +where a woman is also only an animal. If she is not slain along the +way, there will come a time when she must turn her dagger against +herself. + +Flavius entered. "Hail, King of the East," he said. He saw Eodan and +stopped. The Cimbrian remained unmoving. + +Flavius bit his lip. Then: "How may I serve Your Majesty?" + +"You can tell me what you know of Phryne's vanishing," spat Mithradates. + +"What?" Flavius took a step backward. His eyes flickered to Eodan, then +returned--and suddenly a faint smile quivered upon his mouth. + +"I know nothing, Lord," he murmured. "Yet I would venture that she fled +in the night?" + +"It is so told," Mithradates answered. "Is this any work of yours?" + +"Of course not, Great King! I suggest--" + +"He _says_ it was not caused by him," snapped Eodan. "Yet My Master +knows he was never a friend to me or mine. Nor is Rome itself a friend +of Pontus. What better way to harm us all at one blow?" + +Flavius looked at Mithradates, who rumbled like a beast in the arena. +Then, slowly, the Roman's ruddy-brown eyes sought Eodan's, held them +and would not let go. "This was your plan to strike at me, was it not?" +he murmured. + +"I know nothing of it!" shouted Eodan. "I only know--" + +Flavius shook his head, smiling. "Cimbrian, Cimbrian, you have laid +down your natural weapons and tried a womanish trick. You will gain no +victory with it. There is never any luck in demeaning oneself." + +Eodan sought for words, but he found only a black mist of his rage +and fear. And of his shame--that he should have tried to use Phryne's +plight as a dagger in a Roman back. Yes, he thought, shaken, I have +called down evil upon myself and now I must somehow endure what comes. + +Flavius turned back to Mithradates. He flung out speech as crisp as +though to an army: "Great King, you are insulted by so clumsy an +attempt at dividing me from your royal favor. Is it not likelier that +this man, who knows the girl--we have only his word and hers that she +is even a maiden--this man plotted with her to flee? Surely she had +more chance to conspire with him and his friend than me; the caravan +master who brought us here from Sinope will testify that she shunned me +the whole trip, whereas she was in Eodan's tent yesterday afternoon. +And would she go out into that desert with no hope of succor? Would +she not assure herself of an accomplice, a captain who could ride out +from the army whenever and wherever he wished--to bring her food, +protection, ultimately to smuggle her back?" + +Mithradates hunched his thick frame. His knuckles stood forth white on +the knife hilt; he glared with three red eyes at Eodan and hawked out: +"What have you to say?" + +"That I serve the King and this Roman does not," answered the Cimbrian +frantically. + +He felt himself driven back by Flavius' marching phrases: "Protector +of the East, there is a simple explanation for what has occurred. +Rather, there are two. First, the barbarian and the Greekling feared +what would happen when you, their master, learned she had lied to you +and was only the leavings of a runaway slave. Thus he sent her out and +will try to lead her back in the wake of the army; she may live with +him, disguised, in Sinope itself; or conceivably he lured her forth +with some such promise, murdered and buried her. Second, it is possible +that he himself speaks truth for once, and it was her decision alone +to flee. Like unto like--she, a slave born, would rather lie with some +Phrygian goatherd than with the King!" + +Mithradates bellowed, as though he had been speared. He seized a lamp, +broke its chains with a jerk and hurled it into the fire-pit. When +his working face came under Eodan's eyes, the Cimbrian knew where he +had seen such a look before--in small children, about to scream from +uncontrollable rage. + +"She will follow that lamp into the flames," said the Pontine. It was +almost a groan. + +"The Roman lies!" Eodan stalked toward Flavius, raising his hands. The +worn eagle face waited for him with a smile of mastery. "I will tear +out his throat!" + +Remembering himself, he turned about and cried: "We do not know it was +not witchcraft, Lord." + +Mithradates swallowed hard. He beat a fist into his palm, walked back +and forth under the twisted Celtic gods and, inch by inch, drew a +cover across his wrath. Finally his giant striding halted. He searched +Eodan's countenance somberly and asked, "Will you swear, by all which +is holy to you, you have never known her body, and this is no work of +yours?" + +"I swear it, My King," said Eodan. + +"A barbarian's word," jeered Flavius. + +"Be still!" crashed the voice of Mithradates. "I know this man." + +Then for a while longer he brooded. "Or does any man know another, or +even himself?" he asked the wooden gods. + +Decision hardened over the moltenness in him. "Well," he said heavily, +"it seems that she went because of something in her own will, or an +enchantment. In neither case is she a fit vessel for royal seed. Let +the Axylon have her." + +Eodan's muscles began to ease. He thought, in a remote part of himself: +Flavius turned my own foolishness against me, but perhaps Phryne left +her good genius here to watch. For now it has all become as she must +have wished--herself riding off unpursued and no disfavor caused Tjorr +or me. + +"She is only another female, after all," said Mithradates. "I could +send men to fetch her back and let her die an example, but it is +unworthy of a civilized man." + +"She would doubtless kill herself when your riders came in view, Your +Majesty," said Flavius. "Unless, of course, the barbarian here were +sent after her--" + +"Would you truly split him from me?" croaked Mithradates. Sweat studded +his face; Eodan knew suddenly what a combat the king was waging in +himself. "Go, both of you!" + +"At once, Your Majesty," said Flavius. "The Lord of the East is wise, +knowing that if she fled in rebelliousness she will be most amply +punished. A herdsman who spied her from afar would know how to stalk +her and pounce unsuspected." He bowed a little toward Eodan. "If the +King permits one more word from me, I should like to withdraw my hints +as to treason by the barbarian. It is clear that he has abandoned the +girl to the Axylon. So if ever he did conspire with her, he is now +aware of his rightful duty toward his true benefactor." + +The fires burned higher in the king's eyes. His tone cracked the barest +trifle: "So. Let neither Cimbrian nor Alan leave the army, even for +minutes, until we come home." His lips writhed upward. "It is not that +I doubt your oath, Eodan--" But you do, mourned a thought through the +Cimbrian's upsurging wrath, you do! Flavius knows well how to sow +dragon's teeth--"merely to silence tongues." + +Eodan saw Flavius waver; the hall and its grinning gods became unreal. +He threw back his head to howl. + +And then everything drained from him. He stood empty of anger, or hate, +or even sorrow. There was only a road, with night at its end, and the +knowledge that he must walk it or cease to be himself. + +"Lord," he said, "let your servant depart." + +Mithradates started. "What do you mean?" + +"I was honored to serve the Great King, but it cannot be any more. Let +me go out upon the Axylon." + +Flavius caught a gasp between his teeth. Mithradates drew his knife +in a hand that shook. The slaves at the room's end cowered back into +shadow; some half-sensed ripple went along the lines of guardsmen, and +all their eyes swung inward toward Eodan. + +"I must thank the Roman," he went on. "I would have let her die out +there, or worse than die. He showed me my shame. I am not certain why +she is gone: it may be a spell cast on her or it may be of her own +choosing, for some reason I do not understand. But she watched over me +while I slept among foemen. I cannot offer her less now than my own +help." + +"You--would bring her back--here?" Mithradates said it with a +stubbornness that dug in its heels. He would not believe anything else. +"Well, perhaps so--" + +"With the Alan kept hostage for his return, Your Majesty," put in +Flavius. + +Eodan shook his head. "Tjorr has nothing to do with this, My Lord. That +is why I ask leave to depart the King's service. I do not think it +likely Phryne wishes to return hither." + +"And you would set her will above mine?" asked Mithradates in a stunned +voice. + +"What I would like," said Eodan, "is that you give her freely into my +hands, so that I could bring her back here and let her do or not do +whatever she wished. But I have no art of wheedling; I ask merely for a +dismissal." + +"You will get your head on a gatepost!" exclaimed Flavius in a blaze of +victory. + +Mithradates stood stooped, his breath rattling in his lungs. His head +swung back and forth, as though he were a bull looking for a man to +gore. + +Suddenly he leaped forward, and his knife flashed. Eodan stepped aside. +The knife struck a pillar, drove in and snapped off short. "Guards!" +bellowed the king. "Seize this traitor!" + +Eodan stood quietly. Hands fell upon him, spears touched his ribs. +He glanced at Flavius. The Roman laughed aloud, bent close while +Mithradates screamed and shredded his cloak, and whispered, "Did you +think, you fool, he would let you go? You have all but said before +his household, Phryne left because she would not be taken by him. You +insulted more than the king's majesty, you insulted his manhood!" + +"I knew what I said," Eodan answered. + +Mithradates raged up, flung Flavius and a guardsman aside, and smote +the Cimbrian's face with his hand. + +Eodan shook a ringing head, licked the blood that ran from his mouth +and said in Greek, "I did not know it was the custom of civilized men +to strike a guest." + +Mithradates fell back as though from a sword thrust. + +Then for a while he paced, snarling and mewing. Flavius began to talk, +but a lion roar silenced him. "Wine!" said the King at last. A slave +hurried up with a flagon. Mithradates snatched it, kicked the kneeling +man in the stomach, drained the cup and crumpled its heavy silver +between his fingers. + +"Another," he commanded. + +It was brought him. He drank it with more care. He flung himself onto +the high seat, slumped for a while, looked up into the darkness above +the rafters and finally began to laugh. It was a raw, barking laugh, +with little humor, but at the end he stood up and spoke calmly. + +"Release him," he said. The guards fell back, and Eodan waited. +Mithradates folded his arms. "After this," he continued, almost in +a light tone, "you will not care to stay. It is a delicate question +whether you are my guest, my soldier or my slave, but civilized people +must be generous. Let the Cimbrian take the horse, the arms and the +monies he got from me. Let him ride off wherever he wishes, so he come +not back to this army." The wind piped around the hall; the fire-pits +roared. "Well, begone!" cried Mithradates. + +Eodan bent his knee and backed out, as though he were leaving on some +royal errand. And would the Powers it were so, he thought dully, +knowing a wound took hours to feel pain. + +He heard Flavius say, in a voice that quivered: "Great King, will you +also let this guest depart?" + +As if from immensely far away, the voice of Mithradates came: "There is +a destiny here. I would stand in its way if I dared--but I am only a +man, even I.... Tomorrow at dawn, when we march north, you may quit the +camp." An animal scream: "Now leave my eyes! All of you! Every man in +here, leave the King to himself!" + +They streamed out, almost running, terror written beneath the bright +helmets; for the king sat at a heathen god's feet and wept. + +Eodan saw Flavius stalk toward his own tent. They exchanged no words. +He went to his place, clapped for a groom and donned his Persian +war-garb. A saddled gray stallion was led forth. Eodan sprang upon it +and trotted quickly from camp. + +He would follow the highway south, hoping for a sign. + +An hour afterward, when the Pontine army was only smoke on a gray +horizon, he saw the dust cloud behind. It neared, until he could see +the black horse that raised it, and finally he heard the drumbeat of +its hoofs--and Tjorr's red beard flaunted itself in the wind. + +"Whoof!" said the Alan, pulling up alongside him. "You might have +waited." + +Eodan cried aloud, "It was not needful. You should have stayed where +your luck was." + +"No--now, what luck would come to a man that forsook his oaths?" said +Tjorr. "I was weary of Pontus anyhow. Now we will surely drink of my +Don again." + + + + +XIX + + +"Since gossip brought you the tale so swiftly," Eodan said, "you must +also have heard the Romans will be after us at dawn tomorrow. They have +money, and the Gauls here favor them; they'll hire guides, dogs and a +string of remounts." + +"I have hunted and been hunted on plains before now," replied Tjorr. "A +flock of sheep to confuse the scent, a trackless waste as soon as we +leave this road--Oh, we can race them all the way to Parthia with good +hope of winning." + +"But that is what we may not do, and why you had best return before the +King learns of your absence. I left only on Phryne's account. I shall +have to find her before undertaking such a trip, and it may consume all +the time between me and the pursuit." + +Tjorr cocked an eye at him knowingly. Eodan felt his wind-beaten face +grow hot. He said angrily, "She is my oath-sister. Did she think I +would forget what that means?" + +"_Da_," nodded the Alan, "or she would have given herself to +Mithradates with no fuss." He squinted down the rutted dirt road, which +wound among boulders and sere grass until it lost itself in stormy +black clouds. "Now our task is to trail her, and she would have made +herself hard to trail. We can only follow this, I think, till we come +on someone who's seen a boyish-looking horse archer go by ... for thus +I take it she equipped herself." + +"So my groom told me, and he was too frightened to make up a lie. Come, +then!" + +They jingled through unspeaking hours. + +At day's end they passed a goatherd in a stinking wool tunic and +knitted Phrygian cap. He gave them a sullen look and mumbled his own +language, which they did not understand, through greasy whiskers. +Eodan felt grimness. Bad enough to be entering wilds where few if any +could speak with him; but this was also a land where the half-Persian +warriors had made themselves hated. He thought, as darkly and coldly as +the whistling twilight, that Flavius might well overhaul him tomorrow +before he had any word of Phryne. He might be wholly doomed; the gods +feared proud men. + +Well, if such was his destiny, he would give no god the pleasure of +seeing him writhe under it. + +"_Ho-ah!_" cried Tjorr. + +Eodan looked up from his thoughts. The Alan pointed westward, where a +single dirty-red streak beneath steel and smoke colors marked sunset. +"A horse out there," he said. Eodan spied the beast; it was trotting +wearily north over the plain. + +Horror stood up in him and screamed. He clamped back an answer of his +own, struck spurs into his mount and left the highway. The wind snapped +his cloak and tried to pull him from his seat. Once his horse stumbled +on a rock, unseen in the gloom, but he kept the saddle, swaying lightly +to help the animal muscles that flowed between his knees. And so he +drew up to the other horse. + +It was a chestnut gelding with silvered harness; a light ax was +sheathed at the saddlebow--thus did the riders of Pontus equip +themselves. The beast shivered in the heartless wind; its tail +streamed, but the mane was sweat-plastered to a sunken neck. Worn out, +it groped a way back toward the king. + +Eodan felt as if the heart had been cut from him, leaving only a +hollowness that bled. "Hers," he said. + +"None else," said Tjorr. "A lone alien, with arms and armor worth ten +years of a shepherd's work ... a sling ... and the steed bolted--" He +looked down upon his useless hands. "I am sorry, my sister." + +Eodan let her horse go. He began to follow the way it had come, as +nearly as he could judge. He would not leave Phryne's bones to whiten +on this plain. Surely the gods cared for her, if not for him. They +would lead him to her and grant him the time to make a pyre and a cairn +and to howl over her. + +Dusk thickened. After some part of an hour, he heard a furtive +scuttering in the grass. He rode after it, and a naked man squeaked +forlornly and dodged from him. It was a Phrygian, wholly bare; he had +not even a staff, but he clutched something to his breast as he ran. +Eodan drew rein and watched him go. + +"What happened to him?" asked Tjorr, clasping his hammer; for this was +an uncanny thing to meet on a treeless autumnal plain at nightfall. + +"I do not know," said Eodan. "Robbers--the same who killed Phryne?--or +some trolldom, perhaps, for we are in no good country. We cannot speak +with that man, so best we leave him alone to his weird." + +They trotted on. But it grew too dark to see, and Eodan would not risk +passing by his oath-sister. In the morning the kites would show him +from afar where she lay. Then the Romans would come, and he would stand +by her grave and fight till they slew him. + +"I would like a fire," said Tjorr. He fumbled in the murk, caring for +his horse. "The night-gangers would stay away." + +"They will anyhow," Eodan told him. "It is not fated that we should be +devoured by witch-beasts." + +Tjorr said, with awe heavy in his tones: "I will believe that. You are +something more than a man tonight." + +"I am a man with a goal," said Eodan. "Nothing else." + +"That is enough," said Tjorr. "It is more than I could bear to be. I +dare not touch you before dawn." + +Eodan rolled himself into the saddle blanket, put his head on his +wadded cloak and lay in cold, streaming darkness. The earth felt sick, +yearning for rain, and the rain was withheld. He wondered if some of +the lightning Tjorr called on had indeed been locked up in the hammer. +When they died tomorrow, the rain might come; or perhaps, thought +Eodan, the first snow, for he is the rain but I am the winter. + +I am the wind. + +He lay listening to himself blow across the earth, in darkness, in +darkness, with the unrestful slain Cimbri rushing through the sky +behind him. He searched all these evil plains for Phryne; the whole +night became his search for Phryne's ghost. There were many skulls +strewn in the long dead grasses, for this land was very old. But none +of them was hers, and none of them could tell him anything of her; +they only gave him back his own empty whistling. He searched further, +up over the Caucasus glaciers and then down to a sea that roared under +his lash, until finally he came riding past a bloody-breasted hound, +through sounding caves to the gates of hell; hoofs rang hollow as he +circled hell, calling Phryne's name, but there was no answer. Though +he shook his spear beneath black walls, no one stirred, no one spoke, +even the echoes died. So he knew that hell was dead, it had long ago +been deserted; and he rode back to the upper world feeling loneliness +horrible within him. And centuries had passed while he was gone. It +was spring again. He rode by the grave mound of a warrior named Eodan, +which stood out on the edge of the world where the wind was forever +blowing; and on the sheltered side he saw a little coltsfoot bloom, the +first flower of spring. + +Then he rested with gladness. The earth turned beneath him; he heard +its cold creaking among a blaze of stars. Winter came again, and +summer, and winter once more, unendingly. But he had seen a coltsfoot +growing.... + +"There is light enough now." + +Eodan opened his eyes. The gale had slackened, he saw. The air felt a +little warmer, and the wind had a wet smell to it. Southward, the world +was altogether murk. It must be snowing there, he thought dreamily. The +wind would bring the snow here before evening. Strange that the first +snow this year should come from the south. But then, perhaps the land +climbed more slowly than the eye could see ... yes, surely it did, for +he had heard that the Taurus Mountains lay in that direction. + +"The Mountains of the Bull," he said. "It may be an omen." + +"What do you mean?" Tjorr was a blocky shadow in the wan half-light, +squatting with a loaf of bread in his hands. + +"We must cross the Mountains of the Bull to reach Parthia." + +"If we live that long," grunted the Alan. He ripped off a chunk of +bread, touched it with his hammer and threw it out into the dark. +Perhaps some god or sprite or whatever lived here would accept the +sacrifice. + +"That is uncertain," agreed Eodan. He shivered and rolled out of his +blanket. "Best we be on our way. The enemy will start at sunrise." + +Tjorr regarded him carefully. "You are a man again," he said. "A +mortal, I mean. You are no more beyond hope, and thus not beyond the +fear of losing that hope. What happened?" + +"Phryne lives," said Eodan. + +Tjorr reached for a leather wine bottle and poured out a sizable +libation. "I would name the god this is for, if you will tell me who +sent you that vision," he said. + +"I do not know," said Eodan. "It might have been only myself. But I +thought of Phryne, who is wise and has too much life in her to yield +it up needlessly. She would have known that one Pontine soldier, on a +single jaded horse, would invite a race between robbers and Romans. But +who heeds a wandering Phrygian, some workless shepherd?" He laughed +aloud, softly. "Do you understand? She stopped that man we saw--at +arrow point, I would guess--and made him lay down all his garments. She +could make her wish clear by gestures. Doubtless she flung him a coin; +I remember how he held something near his heart. When he had fled, she +rode on until her horse was too tired to be of use. Then she buried her +archer's outfit, taking merely the bow and a knife, I suppose, and went +on afoot." + +Tjorr whooped. "Do you think so? Aye, aye--it must be! Well, let's +saddle our nags and catch her!" He ran after his own hobbled animal. +When he had brought it back, he looked at Eodan for a moment in a very +curious way. + +"I am not so sure the witch-power I felt last night has left you, +_disa_," he murmured. "Or that it ever will." + +"I have no arts of the mage," snapped Eodan. "I only think." + +"I have a feeling that to think is a witchcraft mightier than all +others. Will you remember old Tjorr when they begin to sacrifice to +you?" + +"You prattle like a baby. To horse!" + +They moved briskly through the quickening light, Eodan ripping +wolfishly at a sausage as he rode. Now Flavius was going forth to hunt. +The Cimbrian would need strength this day. + +The brown grass whispered; here and there a leafless bush clawed in +an agony of wind. Mile after mile the sun, hidden by low-flying gray, +touched the Axylon, until finally Eodan and Tjorr rode in the full +great circle of the horizon. A hunter could see far in this land. + +They spied a sheep flock, larger than most, but spent no time on its +watchers. Phryne would be able to see at a distance, too; the need was +to come within eye-range of her. Close beyond, Eodan discerned what +must be the home of the owner or tenant or whoever dwelt here. It was +better than usual, being not of mud, but was still only a small stone +house--windowless, surely with just one room, blowing smoke from a +flat sod roof. There were a couple of rude little outbuildings, also +of moss-chinked boulders, and some haystacks. Nothing else broke the +emptiness, and nothing moved but a half-savage dog. The women and +children must be huddled terrified behind their door as the gleaming +mail-coats rode by. Eodan felt a sudden hurt; it was so strange to him +he had to think a while before he recognized it--yes, pity. How many +human lives, throughout the boundless earth and time, were merely such +a squalid desolation? + +A king, he thought, was rightfully more than power. He should be law. +Yes, and a bringer of all goodly arts; a just man, who tamed wild folk +more with his law than his spear--though he was also the one who taught +them how to make war when war was needed--so far as the jealous gods +allowed, a king should be freedom. + +And afterward, he thought wryly, when the king was dead, the people +would bring back all the reeking past in his now holy name. But no, not +quite all of it. Doubtless men slid back two steps for every three they +made; nevertheless, that third step endured, and it was the king's. + +Phryne could show me how, he thought. + +As if in answer, he saw the little figure rise from the bush where it +had lain concealed. Dwarfed by hundreds of yards, she came running in +her Phrygian goatskin and rags; but Eodan's gray horse hammered those +yards away, and he leaped from the saddle and caught her to him. + +She held him close, weeping on his cold steel coat. "It was not what I +wanted, that you should come. It was not what I wanted." + +"It was what I wanted," he said. He raised her chin until he could +smile down into her violet eyes. "I will hear no reproaches. Enough +that I found you." + +"I shall never run from you again," she said. "Where you make your +home, there shall Hellas be." + +Hoofs clumped at their backs. Tjorr coughed. "Uh-hm! The enemy is on +his way, with hounds and remounts. And we've only two beasts. Best we +flee while we can." + +Eodan straightened. "No," he said. "I, too, have run far enough." + + + + +XX + + +They rode up to the shepherd's house. Phryne struck the dog on the nose +with her staff when it flew at her throat. It ran away, and she strung +her bow and nocked an arrow. Eodan stayed mounted, the German sword in +his hand. Tjorr went afoot to the door and beat on it with his hammer. + +"Open!" he bawled. Nothing stirred. He hefted the maul, swung it high +and sent it crashing against the latch. The flimsy bolt cracked in two. +Voices piped with fear in the dark hut. A shaking graybeard barred the +entrance, holding a rusty old ax. Tjorr grabbed him by the tunic and +threw him to the ground, not unkindly. "Out!" he said, gesturing. + +They shambled forth. There was only one woman, shapeless in a sacklike +gown, and a dozen children. They looked so unlike that Eodan decided +fatherhood was divided among the three herdsmen who had left their +flock and were hovering timidly half a mile away. + +"Must we turn bandit?" asked Phryne in a troubled voice. + +Eodan considered her, clad in the same foul garments as the shepherds, +but shining through it. He said bluntly, "This is no otherwise than +smiting that whelp they kept." But because of her look he remembered +certain thoughts about a king and fumbled in his purse. He tossed some +coins to the ground. The grandsire sucked in his breath and crawled to +shaky feet; the three men edged closer. + +"Does anyone here speak Greek?" called Eodan. They stared. "Well, you +shall understand my signs then, with a kick if your minds lag, for our +time is short. I will give you ten times the worth of these hovels." He +turned to Phryne. "Do you watch over Tjorr and me. Let them not talk +much among themselves. Shoot the first who shows treachery. And now let +us work!" + +Dismounting, he peered into the house. Enough light came through +the door and smokehole to show him a littered earth floor, piled +sheepskins, a few stone tools and clay vessels, a dung fire. But the +ceiling was what he looked at. Branches hauled from some remote forest +many years ago were laid across the walls, and turf piled on them to +make a roof. He nodded. "Thus I thought," he said. + +Tjorr rounded up the family and made them watch him. A child whimpered +as he climbed the rough wall to the roof and began throwing off its +sod layers. He flung the child a coin. At once the oldest boy grinned +brashly, swarmed up and helped. Tjorr laughed, clambered down and went +to the shed. Using Phryne's staff for a lever, he pried a few rocks +out of its wall. The same child studied his face carefully and tried +another whimper. Tjorr gave it another coin. The mother giggled. Tjorr +urged her to the task. + +Then for some hours he and Eodan made the shepherd folk demolish +their roof and their outbuildings. Phryne paced the dusty grounds, +watchfully, her bow always in her hand. The wind blew from the high +country and the snow clouds moved closer. + +There were stout wooden posts at the corners of the shed. Tjorr dug +them out and dragged them to the roofless house. He set two of them +upright on the floor--one close to the entrance and one a yard from the +rear wall; across them he laid a third. Then he put the branch-rafters +back, crossing his heavy timber piece, and heaped a layer of turf on as +before. The shepherd people gaped, blinked, made signs against the evil +eye, which these surely crazed men must have, but helped him after a +few blows. He had them form a line and pass him stones from the wrecked +outbuildings. These he laid on the turf, within a yard of the rear +wall, layer upon layer. Finally the branches beneath sagged, and even +the timber upbearing them started to groan. Quickly, then, he threw +enough sod on his roof of boulders to hide what it was. + +Meanwhile Eodan was digging inside the house, at its rear end. He sank +a pit nearly eight feet deep and drove a shaft from that, several yards +outward, so that it ended below the grounds; he left the wooden shovel +there and came back out. Rather his crew of men and children did this, +even as most of the roof work had Tjorr merely overseeing. They would +need their whole strength later. + +At the end, hours past the time they began, Phryne looked at the +completed task. She saw merely a shepherd hut with a somewhat thicker +roof than was common, and wreckage behind it. "Do our lives hang on no +more than this?" she asked wonderingly. "Would it not have been better +to flee across the plain?" + +"Once they found our trail," said Tjorr grimly, "they could have +changed horse and horse while our own ran themselves dead. No, our +chances here are not good, but I think the _disa's_ plan has made them +better for us than if we played mouse to the Roman ferret" + +"One more thing to do," said Eodan. He kindled a stick, went over and +touched it to the haystacks. The shepherds moaned. Eodan grinned, with +a certain pity, and tossed the grandsire his full purse. "There's the +price of your flocks and home and a winter's lodging. Go!" He waved +his sword and pointed south. They stumbled from him, out onto the +plain, looking back with frightened animal eyes. "Why those bonfires?" +asked Tjorr. "Not that I don't like the warmth on this bitter day, +but--" + +"Hay could be stacked around the house and lit," said Eodan. "I do not +wish to die in an oven." + +Tjorr tugged his ruddy beard. "I had not thought of that. Is it a heavy +burden to be forever thinking, _disa_?" + +Eodan did not hear him. He took Phryne's hand in his. "Have I any hope +of making you depart until the fight is over?" he asked. + +Her dark head shook. "In all else will I obey you," she said, "but I +have a right to stand with my man." + +"I made you a promise once," he began, shaken. + +"Oh, I hold you to it," she laughed. It was a very small and lonely +laugh, torn by the wind. "You shall not kiss me against my will. But, +Eodan, it is now my will." + +He touched his lips to hers, with an unhurried tenderness; if they +lived, there would be more than this. Tjorr said: "I make out a dust +cloud to the north, _disa_. I think horsemen." + +"Then let us go within," said Eodan. + +It was dark in the hut; stones covered the smokehole, now, and the +sagging door was closed behind them. They sat on the earth and waited, +Phryne lying in the circle of Eodan's arm. Presently hoofs rang on the +ground outside, and weapons clashed. They heard a dog bark. + +"The place seems deserted," said a voice in Latin. "Maybe the fire in +that hay drove its people off." + +"And they left two hobbled war-horses?" snapped Flavius. "Look in and +see if anyone lairs." + +Tjorr planted himself by the doorway, raising his hammer. The door +creaked open. Chill gray light outlined a Roman helmet and shimmered +off a Roman cuirass. Tjorr struck down, and the helmet gonged. There +was the noise of crunching bones. The man fell and did not move again. + +"Here we are, Flavius!" cried the Alan. + +Phryne loosed an arrow out the door. Someone cursed. Eodan, glimpsing +horses and men, sprang to the entrance and peered out. Ten living +Romans and a couple of Gauls in battle harness--a dozen men, then, +against two men and a woman.... "I reckon, Eodan," said Tjorr, "you and +I must each strike six blows." + +Flavius rode into the Cimbrian's view. His ravaged face stiffened +beneath the plumed helmet. He spoke almost wearily: "I still offer +pardon, even liberty and reward, to your companions. It is only you I +want, and only because you murdered Hwicca." + +"I would most gladly meet you in single combat," said Eodan. + +"We have been over this ground before," said Flavius. "Let me ask you +instead--do you really wish the Sarmatian and the Greek girl to die on +your account? Would it not be most honorable of you to release them +from whatever vows they gave you--even command them to depart?" + +"He is our king," said Phryne from the darkness. "There are some +commands that no king may give." + +Flavius sighed. "As you will, then. Decurion, seize them!" + +It was a narrow doorway; only one person at a time could go through. +The Roman decurion advanced with an infantryman's long shield to guard +him. Eodan waited. The decurion charged in, behind him a pikeman. +Eodan smote at the first Roman's knees as the pike thrust for his +face. Tjorr's hammer struck from the right, knocked the pike aside and +snapped its shaft against the doorway. The decurion stopped Eodan's +sword-blow, and his own blade darted out. It hit the Persian mail-coat. +Eodan chopped at the arm behind it. He lacked room for a real swing, +but his edge hit. The decurion went to one knee. Eodan struck at his +neck--a hiss and a butcher sound in the air. + +Another man followed the decurion, stepped up on the dying officer's +back and thrust mightily. Eodan slipped aside. Overbalanced, the Roman +stumbled and fell into the hut. Tjorr's hammer crashed on his helmet. +One of the Gauls sprang yelling through the undefended entrance. Phryne +fired an arrow, and the Gaul staggered; it had caught him in the arm. +Eodan attacked him from the side, and the German sword went home in his +leg. He fell down, screaming. Tjorr finished him off while Eodan went +back to the doorway. + +"Nine men left," he panted. + +The Romans stood away from him, where he stood dripping Roman blood. No +one moved for a while, although Flavius dismounted and paced. The other +Gaul came into view. Eodan remembered now that he had heard thumpings +overhead. "This roof is made of stones, Master," said the Gaul to +Flavius. "We can tear it down, I suppose, but not easily. It would cost +us men." + +"Likewise to break through the walls," said the Roman. He spoke +impersonally, as though this were no more than a school problem. Eodan +wondered how much was left the man of joy and hope and even hate; the +demons pacing Flavius had bitten him hollow. + +"Arrows," he said at last. + +Eodan watched them make ready. Four soldiers were shield to shield, +a few yards away. If he made a dash, they would be on him, and even +a Cimbrian could not hold off four good men in the open. Three more +strung their bows and put arrows point down in the ground before +them--slowly, carefully, grinning into Eodan's emotionless face. +Flavius and the Gaul dragged a post from a torn-down shed into view. + +When everything was ready, Flavius stepped forth. "Do you see what +I plan?" he called. "You can stand where you are and be filled with +arrows, or you can close that door, which is only leather hinges, and +wait for us to break it down." + +"I think we will wait," said Eodan. + +He shut the door, and darkness clamped upon his eyes. He heard the +Roman arrows smite and wondered what impulse of fury made Flavius order +them fired. He trod on a dead man's hand and wondered what woman and +child and horse would wait till time's end for its caress. + +"Back," he said. "Into the pit, Phryne." + +She kissed him, a stolen instant among shadows, and was gone. + +Feet thudded outside. The door, which he had not barred, flew open. Two +black blots staggered through, the timber in their arms. + +Tjorr met them as they reeled. His hammer boomed on iron. "_Ho-ah!_" +he cried so it rang. "_Yuk-hai-saa-saa!_ Come in and be slain!" + +He stood in the middle of the room with Eodan. Each had a Roman shield +and his chosen weapon, maul or longsword. They waited. + +Dimly seen, a man pushed close to Eodan. His sword cut low, feeling for +the Cimbrian's legs. Eodan sprang back. His huge German blade whirled +up so it touched the low ceiling. Down it came again, and the shield +edge crumpled under it. Eodan raised his weapon once more, struck home +and felt blood spurt over his hand. + +Another shape, another thrust. He caught that one on his own shield, +and the metal glided aside. The Roman shield pushed against the +Cimbrian's right arm, giving no room to use a sword. His hobnailed +boot trampled down on Eodan's foot, and pain jagged in its path. Eodan +drove the boss of his shield into the Roman's face and he heard a +splintering. The Roman sank to the floor, dazed. + +There were two more, now, in the belling, clanging gloom. They came in +on either side, to catch him between them. He kicked out to the right, +and his spur flayed open a thigh. As the shield dropped a little in the +man's anguish, Eodan smote. He struck a helmet, but the sheer force of +it snapped the Roman's head down. The man went to his hands and knees +and crawled away. + +Eodan had been holding the other off left-handed, keeping his shield +as a barrier. Now, whipping about, he slid the rim aside and then back +again, so that he locked shields with his enemy and held him fast. He +reached over the top with his longsword and drove the point home. + +"_Ho-yo-yo!_" chanted Tjorr, battering till it thundered. Eodan might +have let out a Cimbrian howl, but he had no more wish for it. "Back!" +he gasped to the Alan. "Back before they hem us in!" + +Eyes were now used to the shifting twilight, the pale gray dazzle of +the doorway. Eodan and Tjorr stood side by side, just in front of the +rear support timber they had erected. Blood ran from their arms and +painted their breasts; blood stained the sweat on them, and it was not +all Roman this time. But men lay stricken before them; Eodan did not +count how many. He looked across three slippery red yards of trampled +earth and saw five men still on their feet. None were unwounded. + +But weariness shuddered in him. His sword, nicked and blunted, had not +bitten well; it was an iron bar in his hand, heavy as sorrow. He could +barely hear the deep hoarse breathing of Tjorr, his own heartbeat and +thirsty-throated breath were so loud. + +Now that all the hunters were inside his den, it was time to destroy +them. + +Flavius crouched by the door. "Form a line!" he rapped. "Wall to wall! +Drive them back and cut them down!" + +Four Roman shields filled that narrow room, Flavius standing behind. +Eodan raised his weapon and called, "Will you not try the edge of this +even once, murderer?" + +Flavius screamed. For one blink of time, over the advancing shields and +helmets, through the wintry gloom, Eodan looked upon madness. It came +to him that he should not have taunted an unbearable grief. The gods +are too just. + +Flavius raised his sword and flung it above the soldiers. + +Eodan felt it strike him in the head. He staggered back, suddenly +blinded with his own blood. The pain seared through his skull until he +stood in a world that was all great whirling flame. He thought as he +toppled, This also must a king have known, what it is to be slain. + +The Romans cried their victory and moved in on Tjorr. The Alan threw +down his shield, picked Eodan up with one arm, and swung his hammer. +Even as it hit the pillar he had raised, he leaped into the pit and the +tunnel beyond. + +The timber slipped sideways. The piece it had helped carry, running +lengthwise, fell. The thin branches cracked, and the roof of stones +came down. + +Eodan heard it dimly, from far away. Now the sky has been shattered, +he thought, and gods and demons die in the wreck of their war. A star +whirled by me and hissed into the sea. + +He lay in the tunnel, as though in a womb, while the stones buried +his hunters. There followed a silence that tolled. He heard Tjorr and +Phryne calling to each other in utter night. Her hands groped for him. +He lay in her hands and let the pain reach full tide. + +It ebbed again. Tjorr dug a few feet upward. Breaking out into the +open, he reached down, hauled forth Eodan and Phryne and whistled at +what he saw. + +"Best I catch the horses," he said awkwardly. "You can see to him, can +you not?" + +She kissed her man for answer. + +Eodan looked up at the sky. "Lie still," whispered Phryne. "Lie still. +It is well. We are safe." + +The wind blew softly, almost warm. The first snow fell on his face. +"Have I been badly hurt?" he asked. + +She told him plainly: "Your left eye is gone. Now I must love the right +one twice as much." + +"Is it no more than that?" he sighed. "I thought my debt was greater. +The Powers are kind." + + + + +XXI + + +North of the city Tanais the Don River wound like a shining snake, like +the lightning itself in a godlike calm, through rolling plains where +horses pastured. In early summer the land blazed blue with cornflowers. + +On the west side of the Don, from the Azov Sea as far northward as +their might would take them, dwelt the Rukh-Ansa. They were a proud +folk--warriors, horse breeders, and weapon makers; their women walked +with long fair locks garlanded and dresses of linen wind-blown around +their tall bodies; their chiefs rewarded a bard's song with golden +rings. + +Nonetheless, these were ill times, and, when Tjorr the Red came home, +folk sacrificed bullocks in the hope that he carried better luck. From +wide about the chiefs came riding, until Beli's hall rang with their +iron and the ale flowed merrily. They guested Beli not only to hear +what his returned son could tell them of far farings, but because there +had been tales of a king whom Tjorr had brought with him. Sorely did +the Rukh-Ansa need a wise king. + +His was a strange band when it rode to the river's east bank and was +ferried across with gifts from awed tribesmen. Tjorr himself did not +lead it, though the redbeard shone in Parthian mail and glittered with +Grecian silver. He was captain of the warriors, several score Alanic +horsemen guarding a rich baggage train; his own wagon was full of gold, +armor and three lovely concubines. When he related how all this had +come to him through the luck in his hammer, many folk went on their +faces; surely that hammer held lightning. + +And yet Tjorr acknowledged another man his _disa_--a very tall man with +long wheat-colored hair, a lean withdrawn face, the sun written on his +brow, and one green eye. This Eodan did not dress much like a king; his +mail was serviceable but unadorned; he claimed no trolldom or god-power +in his weapons. Moreover, he had only one wife--a slight girl with dark +hair and violet eyes who rode like a man but nursed a son in her arms +and had one a year older in a carrying-cradle at her saddlebow. Eodan +would not even accept the overnight loan of another woman; he smiled in +his distant way, thanked his host and then returned to his Phryne. + +So the Rukh-Ansa wondered at Tjorr ... wondered even if the Phryne girl +were not a witch who had ensnared both him and her husband ... and +then they would come to speak with Eodan, and after a while they would +understand why Tjorr called him King. + +Fires burned high in Beli's feasting hall. The chiefs of the Rukh-Ansa +clans sat at table and raised ox horns heavy with silver and beer, to +the honor of Tjorr and Tjorr's lord. + +Gray Beli blinked dim eyes at his son. "Will you not tell us the whole +tale of your wanderings?" he asked. + +"Not in one day," said Tjorr. "There are many winter evenings' worth +of telling. Let it only be said now that I was sold through Greece and +Italy until I ended in a Roman galley. But then Eodan and Phryne freed +me. We seized the ship and sailed eastward, until we found the court of +King Mithradates." + +"The same whose general hurled us back three summers ago from the +Chersonese?" asked Beli. + +Tjorr nodded. "Aye. I wish I had fought with you, but at that very +time, as the gods willed it, I was fighting on Mithradates' behalf, +down in Galatia. He was a good master to us. Why did you war on his +realm?" + +Beli shrugged. "It was a hungry year. We have had many hungry years +of late; there are too many of us. But the raid failed, and now the +Chersonese is barred to our horses." + +"I will have somewhat to counsel you about that," said Eodan. He had +already learned the Alanic tongue, as it was said he knew several +others, besides reading and writing. Yes, a man of deep mind, with +witch-powers he would not show to just anyone--yes, yes. + +"Where then did you go?" asked Beli. + +"We fell out with Mithradates," said Tjorr, "and for a while we +were two men and a woman, alone on a cold plain. But we had killed +some Romans, who had fat purses. So we bought huts and sheep from +the Phrygians, to live that winter. In spring we continued through +Lycaonia; it is too friendly with Rome these days, so we did not stay, +simply bribed our way past. There are tribes in the Mountains of the +Bull, hunters and warriors, who made us welcome. We aided them and +lived there a year since my king's first son had to be born. Next +spring we came to Parthia with a following of young men and offered +the lord there our services, he being Rome's foe. There we had it well +since the favor of nobles came to us, once they saw what a man they +had in my king. We dwelt in a fine city and had only enough warlike +missions on the border to keep us amused. Yet we longed to be among our +own sort of men again. So this spring we got leave to go, and came up +through Armenia and behind the Caucasus until we found Alans--and thus +your home, My Father." + +"Much have you seen," said Beli. The war-chiefs of the Rukh-Ansa +clashed their ale horns under his words. + +"I have seen less with two eyes than my King has with one," said Tjorr +humbly. "He has learned the arts of many nations. He would teach his +own people whatever of it they can use." + +"Where are your folk?" asked Beli of the stranger. + +"North," said Eodan. "They were the Cimbri once. Now they are any who +dwell where heather blooms and beech forests blow." + +"We will go north, my king and I, to rule in his land," said Tjorr. +"There are not many dwelling in it. No few of the Rukh-Ansa could +follow us, find new homes in the North and become great." + +"Some of the younger ones might," agreed Beli. + +"Might?" cried Tjorr. "Why, if I know my clans, they will be at +spearheads over the right to come!" + +"Not all," said Beli. "Not even most. For if you fare north you will +become something else than what you are." + +"That is true," said Eodan. "Yet what is it to live, than to become +something else?" + +"Forgive me," said Beli, "but there are men who would not follow a +one-eyed king." + +"Let them stay home, then," snorted Tjorr. "I'll pasture my horses on +the edge of the world if he leads me there." + +"Yes," nodded Beli. "Yes. There are such kings. But how did it happen +you lost your eye, Lord?" + +Eodan smiled. It was a wry smile, not ungentle, but wholly without +youth. He had known too much ever to be young again. He said, "I gave +it for wisdom." + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +It was told from olden days, and written in the books of Snorri +Sturlason, that the Asa or Ansa folk came from the land of Tanais +to the North. They soon became overlords; from the high hall they +raised at Upsala their power spread, until even the German tribes +drew chieftains and learning from them. For they were good masters, +who brought their new people not only wealth but knowledge. They +gave to the North crafts of both peace and war, such as the building +of longships and the breeding of fine horses, the writing of runes +and the mustering of armies, foreign trade and foreign travel, much +leechcraft and many wise laws. By all this the folk were strengthened +and helped, so that they lifted themselves from rude forest dwellers +to mighty nations who finally overthrew the Roman power and peopled +Europe afresh, in the time of the Wanderings. Above all did they +shape the country called England, and there they kept much of the old +freedom-shielding law that the Asa men first brought. + +Every king in the North reckoned descent from the Asa lords, who +themselves came to be worshiped as gods after they died. The first Asa +king was called Odin, and he was the chief of the gods. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Slave, by Poul Anderson + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59258 *** |