Authors: Jo Graham
Kos let out a cheer, joined by the others. Wilos whooped as Neas lifted the bough from the cloth and held it up.
I smiled. “Oh, well done, Prince Aeneas! Well done!”
With a triumphant smile he gave the bundle into my hands. “For you, Lady. Until the time comes to use it.”
“That will not be long,” I said.
W
E SAILED AGAIN
at the end of the nine days. This time the seas were calm and the winds were fresh but not strong, and two days later we came to the town that watches over the straits where they say the Charybdis lives. Messyna is a good-sized town with strong walls built on the headland, and the harbor is below with a village around it. I was worried at the reception we would find there, and for good reason, because by the time our ships came into the harbor they had assembled all the men of the town to repel us.
Neas had us put our bows below and Xandros called across to them in Shardan. The language is not the same, but it is similar enough for Xandros to make them understand the word “trade” rather than “give us your women and your food.” After that they relaxed somewhat and let small numbers of us come ashore, though they did not unbar the citadel and the people who had fled there remained. Some of the men came down however, and were willing to trade.
Xandros, whose Shardan was best, did most of the talking. From them he learned that pirates were frequent on these coasts, and that there had been a group of Achaians here a few years ago who had made a great deal of trouble. Xandros told them what had happened with the great fleet in Egypt, and that it wasn’t likely the Achaians would be back anytime soon.
We traded Egyptian beer for wine and olives, a fine bronze dagger for foodstuffs, and part of the bag of frankincense I carried for a considerable amount of grain, peas, and lentils, enough to keep us for several weeks. Their temple had had none for a year, with trade so poor. Indeed, we were the first foreign ship to come this sailing season, though we were getting into early summer.
We stayed a week, in the end. They had good port facilities, and Maris wanted to recaulk part of
Pearl
’s bottom where she had a small leak. It wasn’t a big leak, but better to avoid trouble.
“A leak like that could open in a storm,” Kos said. “Best to retar it before it gets worse.”
So I sat, getting heavier and heavier, trying to stay away from the smell of the molten tar that threatened to make me sick. In truth, it was a lovely place to sit, with the air thick with summer and the warm sun playing on the ocean. I sat on the beach, Kianna grubbing in the sand, while Tia dug for clams to make a soup.
Neas came and found us there. He came and sat beside me, stretching his long legs out on the sand, burying his feet in the warmth.
“Another day,” he said. “And then we’re off again.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Shouldn’t it be me asking you?” he said.
I shook my head. “You are the king to be, and as you’ve pointed out, I know nothing about sailing.”
He shrugged. “Northward along the coast, then. They say there’ve been no merchant ships at all this summer. I’m going to take some extra cargo aboard and take it north. We should make some good trades. And also, I want to find out where the swords come from.”
“The Shardana swords?” I said. “They come from here?”
Neas nodded. “Northward up the coast are a people who have the knack of making them. If we’re going to use them we need to know how to repair them and where to get more. They use them here, but they don’t make them. What do you think?”
I spread my hands, my belly burgeoning beneath. “I see nothing. I haven’t these several weeks, since we left the cave on Scylla. The child is taking everything now. I don’t think I’ll be able to see until she’s born. I am too given over to life.”
“A strange mystery,” Neas said.
“Yes, but I have heard it is often so,” I said. Bearing life, I was banished from Death’s kingdom, dwelling above the ground as the Lady does when She casts off Her dark cloak and walks forth into the sunlight, flowers growing beneath Her feet. I had not imagined what it would be like to walk thus, to feel the bright summer air with no hint of the caves beneath it.
“North, then. And perhaps your daughter will put in her appearance soon, so that I am not bereft of my Sybil.” He grinned.
“Not too soon,” I said. “Not until Sothis rises and high summer comes.”
A
ND SO WE SAILED
northward up the coast, stopping at each little town and trading. Most of them were no more than fishing villages, poor places with a few dozen families who ran into the woods when they saw our sails. Sometimes there was no one left to trade with, and Xandros called through empty streets in vain, saying that we were not pirates but honest men, answered only by silence.
A moon later we were off the coast, and I stood by Xandros at the rail after we had left one of these towns.
“Does it seem to you,” I said, “that there should be many more people here? These woods are rich with game, and the waters are full of fish.”
“Good fish too,” said Xandros. “And close inshore. They haven’t been fished out. The seas around Wilusa were getting barren. We had to go much farther to find fish than my father said we had in his boyhood. After the first plunder of the city we fished more than we farmed. But these people don’t seem to fish much. Or there are too few of them to make a difference.”
“Pirates,” I said.
He nodded. “A bunch of these towns sent men to the great fleet, men who decided to take a ship or two and sail with the Shardan. They’re never coming back.”
“They are in Egypt,” I said, “with their foreskins cut, working in Pharaoh’s fields.”
“Or under the sea, where we put them,” Xandros said grimly.
“Their wealth is gone,” I said. “Who will fish the seas?”
“Nobody,” Xandros said. “So they raid one another. All of these tribes are at war with one another. They haven’t got any choice. They just pass the loot back and forth.”
“And it gets scarcer and scarcer,” I said. “And each year there is less grain, fewer olives.” Here too the world foundered, cities fell. Who could plant young olive trees, clear fields for grain, in such times?
“Which means they have to plunder or starve,” Xandros said. “These are desperate men. If we stopped here we could catch enough fish to feed the People, even with only three ships. But how would we hold on to it? Someone desperate would come to plunder us.”
“Could they, I wonder? With the new swords?”
Xandros nodded. “They might not be able to beat us in battle, but they could burn out the camp in short order. We have no walls, no safe place for you and the others to stay. So it won’t do much good for us to fight off an attack if we know that the minute we go fishing they’ll take you all as slaves and plunder everything.”
I thought about that and saw no way around it. Building fortifications took a great deal of time, and as far as I knew there was no man among us who even knew how. Most of the men who had escaped Wilusa were seamen, not builders and townsmen.
M
Y PAINS CAME
on the third night after Sothis rose. We were sailing just short of sunset, looking for a beach that was not too rocky to stop for the night. I had been feeling strange all day, elated and tired by turns, with a backache that would not go away. I was standing in the bow watching the waves and walking back and forth when my water broke standing there, drenching my skirts.
I cried out and Tia came running, passing off Kianna to Kos, who stood dumbfounded.
“Come on, now,” Tia said. “Let’s go below.”
“I don’t want to,” I said. Somehow the idea of going into the cabin filled me with dread, maybe because I had seen Tia suffer there so long. “I want to stay here holding the rail.” And then a wave of pain took me and I clutched the rail and held on.
When I opened my eyes again, Xandros was shouting across to
Seven Sisters.
The pains came again as I watched
Seven Sisters
coming toward us, and when they receded Xandros was stretching out his arms to help Lide aboard as they rode alongside.
Lide came bustling over. I was holding on to Tia’s arms. “Here, let me see,” Lide said.
“I won’t go below,” I said.
“Fine,” she replied. “Kos, tell those men to mind their business. Tia, you’re going to help me, and it will all go well. Sit down, Pythia. Let me see.”
She got me down on the deck with my legs spread and made humming noises. Another wave of pain took me. When it cleared I looked at her.
“How long has this been happening?” she asked.
“Just a little while,” I said. “Since my water broke. But I’ve been feeling strange all day and my back hurt.”
She nodded. “Coming on hard, is it? Chances are it’s been going all day, you just didn’t notice. The babe is well down, and you’re opening fast. Probably hurts quite a bit, but it should make it go faster. Tia, ask Xandros if we can make shore. If she won’t go below I’d rather get on land.”
Another pain took me.
Lide pressed my hand and I rode it out. Polyra had come back and crouched on the other side of me. “Good, good,” Lide said. “Opening nicely. Pains close together and fast. You’re doing fine.”
I didn’t feel fine. But I didn’t feel frightened either. It was like having Her inside me again, being possessed by something much larger. Life, I thought. By some strange goddess.
“Again,” Lide said.
I heard Tia’s voice somewhere far above. “Xandros says he’s going to get in as close as he can to this beach. It’s rocky, but it looks like small stones and we can get fairly close in.”
Some part of me that was far away thought with amusement that it was unlike Tia to give a beach forecast, repeating Xandros word for word. Perhaps she was afraid.
“It’s not like it was with you,” Lide said to her over my head, and I knew I was right. “You were too young and the baby was early. She’s ready. She’s more than ready.”
Waves cresting and receding. I could hear the waves on the beach. I clutched Tia’s hand. Somewhere above the pain I could hear Xandros giving the order to ship oars, his voice breaking on the call. Water splashing around the bow.
“Come now,” Lide said, taking my elbow and helping me up. “Between pains. Let’s get you over on the beach. Tia, tell your husband to go build a fire. We’ll need the warmth. Polyra, where’s my knife?”
“Don’t cut me,” I said.
Lide pressed her hand against my cheek. “It’s not for you, girl. It’s for the cord. You’re open all the way. I can see the top of the baby’s head.” Her voice changed. “Kos, get over here and help me lift her!”
Between the pains Kos took me up in his arms and got me over the side. Another wave, stronger than before, took me. I could hear him breathing hard, the splash of the seawater around his knees.
“Put me down,” I said. “Kos, put me down!” I flailed.
“Kos, put her down!” That was Tia.
Waves, pushing me and pushing me.
“Not in the water, you idiot!” That was Lide.
My feet splashed ankle deep in seawater. “I have to. I have to,” I said. I crouched down, grabbing Tia’s arm.
Lide swore at Kos. “Another few paces wouldn’t have killed you!”
The sounds of them running the ship in. Xandros’ voice.
Tia ordering Kos: “Go take the ship. Go on. They’re trying to run up.”
I grabbed her arm tighter. Time stopped in a place beyond pain. Three drops of blood fell between my spread legs, dropping into the seawater. With an exhalation the child slid out, long, wide body dropping into Lide’s hands, cord slithering after. One leg landed in cold seawater, and the child screamed.
It wasn’t a tiny mewing sound like Kianna had made, but a full-throated yell, indignant and loud. The knife flashed. The cord parted, and Lide lifted the child from the dragging water.
“Ah there,” she said with satisfaction. “What a big strong boy! You have a fine son, Sybil.”
I felt Tia’s arms around me, supporting me, and I reached out one hand to where Lide held him dangling free. Yes, he was a boy. His little phallus was erect and his scrotum swollen from the birth, olive skin and wide shoulders, a thick cap of dark hair on his head. His face was squinched up with screaming, his eyes clenched shut.
“Oh, oh, oh...” I said.
Another wave of pain, but I hardly noticed. “There’s the afterbirth,” Lide said. “All nice and in one piece. Hold still.”
The sea took it. Salt water stung me on the incoming wave.
“Let me hold him,” I said.
Tia helped me up. “Come this way. Bai is getting a fire going. Come out of the water.”
I stood and Lide put him in my arms. His little fist opened and closed against my collarbone, and he cried like a bleating lamb.
“He’s so big,” I said.
They led me, half leaning on Tia, to the fire Bai was lighting, sat me down on someone’s cloak with a blanket around me.
“He’s a fine big boy,” Lide said. “And a good healthy wail. Sit down now.”
The fire flared. I held my son in my arms.
“He’s twice Kianna’s size,” I said.
“Just about,” Tia said. Her skirts steamed. We were all soaked with seawater.