"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."