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.