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.