I looked at the woman. She had eyes like thunderheads and seemed far more lovely to me than the woman painted on our sail. I did not wish to think this, but I thought that if Pindaros was a slave, I might somehow buy her and her child. "And are we friends," I asked her, "since we've traveled together?"
"We met at the rites of the God of Two Doors," the woman said. She smiled then, remembering something I could not recall; and I felt she would not object, that she would be content to live with me and leave her husband wherever his fate might take him. "Then the slaves of the Rope Makers came," she said, "and while Pindaros and the black man faced their first antagonists, you killed three. But the others were going to kill Io and me, and Pindaros stepped in front of you and made you stop. For a moment I thought you were going to cut him down, and so did he, I think. Instead you dropped your sword, and they bound your hands and beat you, and made you kiss the dust before their feet. Yes, we're friends."
I said, "I'm glad I've forgotten that surrender."
Pindaros nodded. "I wish I could forget it too; in many ways, your state is a most enviable one.
Nevertheless, now that the Shining God has directed you to the Great Mother, you'd better go to her and be cured if you can."
"Who is this Great Mother?" I asked him. "And what does the child's poem mean?"
Then he told me of the gods and their ways. I listened intently as he spoke, just as I had to Hypereides's account of the Battle of Peace; but though I do not know what it was I hoped to hear from each, I knew when each was finished that I had not heard it.
Now the sun is hidden behind our sail, though I sit in the bow again; the ship rocks me as a mother rocks her child. There are voices in the waves, voices that laugh and sing and call out one to another.
I listen to them too, hoping to hear some mention of my home and the family and friends I must surely have there.
Chapter 9 Night Comes
Across the sea, black shadows race like chariots. Though it will soon be too dark for me to write here, I will write as much as I can, and if I cannot write everything where I am, I will go to one of the fires and write there, then sleep.
I had hardly put away this stylus when the kybernetes spoke to the sailors, who stopped gambling and talking to furl the sail, strike the mast, and run out their oars.
It is wonderful to travel in such a slim, swift ship under sail; but it is far more so when the rowers strain at the oars and the ship leaps from the water at every stroke and falls back shouting. Then the wind is not behind the ship, but the ship makes her own, which you feel full in your face though silver spray blows across the bow.
Then too the flute boy plays, and the sailors all sing to his piping to keep the stroke; their song calls up the sea gods, who come to the surface to hear it, their ears like shells, their hair like sea wrack. For a long time I stood in the bow watching them and seeing the land brought ever nearer, and I felt that I myself was a god of the waters.
At last, when the land was so close I could see the leaves on the trees and the stones on the beach, the kybernetes came and stood beside me; and seeing that he meant to give no order for a few moments more, I ventured to tell him how beautiful I thought his ship and the others, which we had outdistanced and now saw behind us.
"There's none better," he said. "Hardly one as good. Say what you please about Hypereides, but he spared no expense on Europa. You may say it was to be expected, because he meant to take the command himself; but there's many another who did the same and got his timber cheap anyhow. Not Hypereides. He's got the wit to see that his honor's gone aboard her as well as his life."
"He must be brave too," I said, "to take charge of this ship himself when he could have stayed safely at home."
"Oh, he couldn't have done that," the kybernetes told me, glancing at the beach. "They're foolish enough in the Assembly at times, but never such fools as to let the men who supply the army and navy stay clear of the fighting. Not that Hypereides would have been safe in the city anyway; the barbarians burned it. Still, he could have served on land if he wanted. A good many did. But look at Clytia there.
She's a fine ship too. My brother's kybernetes on her. Do you know what that poet said to me?"
Not knowing who the poet might be, I shook my head.
"He said her oars, with the foam on them, made her look like a bird with four white wings. And it's true - just look. He may be a pig from Cowland, but he's a fine poet all the same. Were you there when he sang for us last night?"
I said, "I'm afraid I don't remember."
"Ha, ha! You drank too much and fell asleep!" He slapped my back. "You've the soul of a sailor.
We'll train you to the oar when that head wound heals."
"Were they good poems?"
The kybernetes nodded. "The men couldn't get enough of him. I'm going to ask Hypereides to make him perform for us again tonight. Not that I'll have to ask, I expect." He raised his voice. " Easy now!
Easy! "
"Are you going to beach the ships here?"
"Bet on it, stick. The wind's favoring, so we might round the cape before sundown; and if we hadn't a day to spare, I'd try it. But if there was trouble, we'd have to spend the night at sea, and that's no joke.
I told Hypereides we ought to put in, and he agreed. There's a little place called Teuthrone not far from here, and we may be able to buy some fresh food - what we got from Tower Hill's about gone."
He shouted another order, and all the oars on one side remained raised when they left the sea. The ship spun about like a twig in an eddy. In a moment more, the oars were backing water, rowing us backward to the shore. Half a dozen sailors dove from the stern and swam to the beach like seals. Two more threw them coils of rope.
" Ship oars! " the kybernetes shouted. Then: " Over the side! "
I must have shown how astonished I was, because he rubbed his hands and said, "Yes, it's a good crew. I chose most of them myself, and the rest are men who worked for Hypereides before the war."
By that time there was hardly a score of people left aboard - the kybernetes and I, the soldiers (whose breastplates and greaves would have sunk them like stones had they dived into the sea), the bowmen, the black man, the three prisoners, and Hypereides. Without her crew, the ship seemed so light I was afraid she might turn over.
"Come here!" the kybernetes called. He waved, and the soldiers and prisoners joined us in the bow, making the stern rise a bit more.
Ashore the sailors were heaving at their ropes. I felt the keel scrape, come free, then scrape again.
The deck began to tilt and we grabbed the railing.
"Don't jump now," the kybernetes said, seeing that I was considering it. "That's a rock bottom."
The deck was almost too steep for us to keep our footing when we made our way aft, but from there it was easy to climb over the taffrail and onto the beach without so much as getting our feet wet.
By the time I stood on land, the sailors were already gathering driftwood for a fire and the other ships were backing water a stade or so from the beach. The black man and I helped collect wood, having seen that it was a point of honor with the sailors to get the best before the crews of the other ships reached shore.
This coast is low and rocky, with a few scrubby trees; and yet it cannot really be said that beauty ends where the clear seawater comes to shore. While I watched, a hawk came racing down the ridge, caught the updraft from the sea, and soared on it like a gull, never moving a wing; when I saw it, I saw this rocky land too for what it is, a finger of the forest on a hand held out to the sea.
Hypereides took three soldiers and a score of sailors and went into the village to buy supplies. Acetes posted two more soldiers on the ridge as sentries. The rest of us threw off our clothes and plunged into the water to swim and wash. Even the prisoners, I noticed, were allowed to wash, though because of their chains they could not swim. I myself swam only a little, careful to keep the bandages on my head out of the water. I noticed that the bowmen went some distance away so they might wash out of sight of the rest of us.
When I returned to the beach, the child was sitting on a stone beside my possessions. I thanked her for watching them, and she said, "I didn't want anyone to take your book, master. Then you wouldn't know who you are, or who I am."
"Who are you?" I asked her. "And why do you call me master?"
"I'm your slave Io."
I explained that I had thought her the daughter of the couple with whom she had been chained.
"I knew you did," she said. "But we only met them a little while ago. I'm your slave, given you as your personal property by the Shining God when you were in Hill."
I shook my head.
"That's the truth, master, I swear by the club of Heracles. And if you'll just read your book you'll find out all about it, and about the curse the Great Mother laid on you. Then you'll see it isn't right for me to be like this" - she held up her chain to show me - "when you're free. I should be free too, to serve you."
I tried to recall what the woman had told me this morning. "The soldiers captured us when we were going somewhere."
"Not these soldiers, master. Those were the slaves of the Rope Makers. They beat you, and they treated me like a woman and made me bleed there, though I'm not a woman yet. Hilaeira says I won't have a baby, but she might." Io sighed, recalling much pain and weariness, I think, that I have forgotten.
"Then we met some real soldiers, shieldmen with helmets and big spears. They made the slaves of the Rope Makers give us up. I hid your book because I was afraid they'd take it from you, and they made us go to Tower Hill, but I don't think the people in Tower Hill wanted to keep us - they're afraid of the Rope Makers like everybody else, and they didn't want to have prisoners that were taken from them. But they're afraid of the People of Thought too, and the soldiers from my city helped burn theirs. So after a while they gave us to Hypereides. He separated us, but I could see he liked you, so when you came to talk to me I gave your book back. I had it under my peplos, with the cords around my waist. Did you read it? I told you to."
"I don't know," I said.
"Maybe you did. But if you didn't write anything afterward, it doesn't matter now."
"You're a very knowing little girl," I told her, pulling on my chiton.
"It hasn't helped me much. I was owned by a pretty nice family back in Hill. Now I'm here, and all I've got out of the trip is a bath. Will you talk to Hypereides and ask him to let me take off my chain?"
While I tied my sandals, I said, "You can't take off a chain as though it were one of these."
"Yes, I can. They have them to chain up bad sailors and barbarian prisoners, so they aren't made to fit somebody as little as me. It's tight, but I can get my foot out. I did it last night."
"Show me."
She crossed her chained foot over her knee, stuck out her tongue, and tugged at the shackle, which was indeed too large. "I was sweating a little then," she said. "I guess that made it easier. Now it's got sand under it."
"You'll take the skin off."
"No, I won't. Master, put your hand right here, and your thumb against my heel. Then pull with your fingers and tell me what you think."
I did so, and the shackle slipped from her foot as easily as an anklet. "You were joking," I said.
"Why, you might almost have stepped out of it."
"Maybe I was, a little bit. You're not angry at me, are you, master?"
"No. But you'd better put it back on before someone sees you."
"I don't think I can," she told me. "I'll say it fell off in the water, and I couldn't find it."
"Then you'd better hide it under one of those stones."
"I know a better place. I found it while you were swimming around. Look at the edge of this big rock."
It was a hole the size of a man's head. When I thrust my arm into it, I discovered that it went almost straight down.
"I wouldn't do that," Io said. "Something smells bad down there." She dropped the chain and shackle into it. "I don't think they'll put another one on me. They'll be afraid that will get lost too."
One of the sailors who had reboarded the ship had returned now with a bronze fire-box. I was surprised to see how bright its vents seemed. The sun was setting behind the finger of land, plunging the beach into shadow.
"I'll go and get our food, master," Io said happily. "That's one of the things I ought to do for you."
"It won't be ready yet!" I called after her, but she paid no attention. I had picked up this scroll and started to follow her when someone tapped my shoulder.
It was one of the bowmen. I said, "She'll do no harm; she's only a child."
He shrugged to show he was not concerned about Io. "My name is Oior," he said. "I am of the People of Scoloti. You are Latro. I heard the man and woman speak of you."
I nodded.
"I do not know this land."
"Nor I, either."
He looked surprised at that but went on resolutely. "It has many gods. In my land we sacrifice to red fire and air the unseen, to black earth, pale water, sun and moon, and to the sword of iron. That is all. I do not know these gods. Now I am troubled, and my trouble will be the trouble of all who are here." He looked around to see whether anyone was watching us. "I do not have much money, but you will have all I have." He held out his hand, filled with bronze coins.
"I don't want your money," I told him.
"Take. That is how friends are made in this land."
To please him, I took a single coin.
"Good," he said. "But this is no good place to talk, and soon there will be food. When we have eaten and drunk, go high up." He pointed to the ridge, between the sentries who stood black against the sky to the north and south. "Wait for Oior there."
Now I am waiting, and I have written this as I wait. The sun has set, and the last light will soon leave the western sky. The moon is rising, and if the bowman does not come before I grow sleepy, I will go to a fire to sleep.