by Jo Graham
The dark moon was five days off. That night, and the one before and after were our best chances of getting out of the harbor undetected. In the meantime, Xandros found out what he could about the ships that went out regularly, mostly fishing ships of Byblos that went out before dawn on clear days and returned at midday.
“It’s our best chance,” Xandros said as we stood in counsel together. “Yes, our ships look wrong in the water at a close look, but if we’re under sail with the oars stepped, we could manage on a dark night, if we answer them fair if they challenge us.”
“That’s up to you and Jamarados,” Neas said. “Do you think you can manage so they don’t suspect?”
Xandros nodded gravely. “If I don’t have to have a long conversation. I can manage the accent if I don’t have to talk a lot.”
“Keep it short, then,” Neas said. “Dolphin had better go first. The first ship is the most likely challenged as they pass the warships.”
“And the last is most likely caught,” said Amynter.
“That’s why the last is Seven Sisters,” Neas said. “Lady’s Eyes will be second and you’ll follow her with Hunter. Then Winged Night, Cloud, and Swift. Have archers ready in case you need to silence someone.”
Jamarados shook his head. “I’m not sure we’ve got anyone keen enough to silence someone in the dark from the deck of a moving ship. And if we start shooting and only wound someone, they’ll yell and bring the whole place down on us. I think playing dumb is a better choice.”
“Take it as it comes,” Neas said. “If you have an archer that can make the shot, fine. If not, then play dumb. You’ll have to take it as you see it. I trust your judgment.”
Lady, I thought, we need a cloudy night with a land breeze and no rain or bad weather out to sea. I realize this is asking a great deal, but it’s for Your son, so perhaps it could be managed?
THE FIRST NIGHT of the three was pouring rain. The waves in the harbor splashed up waist high on the breakwaters, and the wind was gusty and out of the south. Neas was edgy because he had told the captains to have their men ready, and not to let them out to the taverns and drinking places and temples.
“We can’t go in this,” he said. “Not under sail. We could do it under oar, but they would see that we aren’t fishing ships.”
“Then we wait,” Jamarados said. “It may clear tomorrow.”
IT DIDN’T. All the next day it rained.
At nightfall Neas was pacing back and forth around the courtyard when Amynter came in. “There’s a group of Achaians sitting under an awning down the street. They’re watching us.”
“Are they armed?” Neas asked.
“Of course,” Amynter said.
Neas paced over to the corner. His steps were still a little hesitant, though the wound in his side seemed to be healing well. He turned and looked at me. “What do you say, Lady?” he asked formally. “What are the words of our Sybil?”
I spread my hands and felt the faint tremor of power along them. “It is in your hands, Prince Aeneas. The Lady of the Sea trusts Her son.”
“Then we go tonight,” Neas said. “I know. The weather.” He forestalled Jamarados and Amynter. “But it may not be better tomorrow night, and then the moon will be waxing. And each night we wait the chance is better that Neoptolemos will find out what we’re doing.” He turned to Xandros. “I want you to go make ready at the ships. Tell the men to stand ready. I’ll be there soon.”
Xandros nodded and hurried away.
“What about the Achaians?” Amynter asked.
“We may have to take care of them the hard way,” Neas said. It almost seemed like he was looking forward to it.
ASHTERET’S HAND
Four hundred people cannot sneak anywhere. Four hundred people sneaking through the streets of Byblos is a procession, not a quiet departure. No one, not even the Achaians, could fail to notice.
It was decided that we would make our way to the harbor by ship’s company, in order of our sailing, one ship at a time, in hopes that night and rain would cover us somewhat. Dolphin’s people were to go first. With us would go Neas and five or six picked men who would take care of the Achaians who had been watching the house, if they were still there when the first of us were ready to leave just after midnight.
By midnight it was pouring. The rain fell in sheets, and the streets were tracks of mud and filth. It was completely dark. With my heaviest mantle pulled over her head, Tia was all but invisible from a few steps away. She shivered faintly.
I put my hand on her arm. “Are you all right?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just don’t feel well. There’s nothing wrong.”
“I hate to drag you out in the weather,” I said, “but it’s just a short walk down to the ship, and then you can get into the forward cabin and rest. From then on the work is up to Xandros.”
“Ready?” Neas asked, coming around the corner. He was wearing his leather breastplate, and his sword was at the ready.
Xandros nodded. “We’re ready.”
Dolphin’s people stood silent, carrying as little as possible. Almost all of our goods and food had been taken down to the harbor already and packed aboard.
“Then let’s go,” Neas said. He and his picked men eased the gate open and went out in the rain.
Xandros waited beside me, counting softly under his breath. He looked up at me, his black hair already plastered to his skin with rain. “He said to give him a count of five hundred,” Xandros said. “That’s a hundred five times.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It will be all right.”
Ahead, we heard a muffled shout, almost lost in the rain.
“Wait,” Xandros said. He finished his count.
Then Xandros rolled the gate open again, and we piled out into the driving rain, my hand under Tia’s elbow on the slippery street.
Neas came back to us. In the faint light I could see that his sword was dark with blood. He leaned close to Xandros, but still had to yell to be heard over the rain. “Go,” he said. “We’ve taken care of their watchers. None of them got away. But we don’t have time to waste, not if we’re going to move in small groups.”
Xandros nodded, turning to Kos. “Come on then. Straight down to Dolphin.”
I hurried along with Tia right behind Xandros, the others behind. There were three or four bodies at the end of the street, where it met the main road down to the harbor. One of them was still moving.
A young man lay in the contents of his stomach and bowels, trying to retch from a stomach he no longer had. A sword had opened his entire abdomen, and the blood pooled around him, spreading in the rain.
“Go,” I said to Tia, and turned to him.
I bent down so he could see my face, white even without paint beneath the black hood. I put my hand on his forehead. “Depart,” I said in Achaian. “Find your way safe to the River, and to the lands of undying sun.”
He could not speak, but I saw his eyes widen, then move in assent as Xandros came and stood beside me.
“Xandros?” I said.
He nodded tightly, drawing his bronze knife from its sheath. With one stroke he cut the young man’s throat. I jerked back, the fountaining blood spattering my robe. My foot slipped and I fell down in the muddy street.
Xandros took my elbow and hauled me to my feet. His mouth was set. He said nothing. There was no need. We followed the rest to the ship.
WE WERE THE LAST to reach Dolphin. Kos had helped Tia aboard. Xandros boosted me up and turned back to keep watch, I supposed. I went below in the forward cabin, where Tia was with the nine-year-old boy and his mother, Polyra. Bai was there too, moving our bundles around to make a comfortable place for Tia. She was soaked to the skin and shivering. Bai opened up one pack he’d brought aboard earlier and pulled out a fine warm wool cloak to wrap around her. “I’m fine,” she said, but she smiled rather than flinched at his touch.
He went back out on deck and I knelt down beside her. Th
e boy was changing into a dry tunic while his mother scolded him. It was very cramped in the cabin with all our things, as well as six big sacks of lentils that were packed into the very point of the prow and the dozen or so big jars of green olives packed in brine that were in the corners.
And then we waited. After a while, I went back on deck. The rain was still falling hard, and there was no sign of dawn. I saw a movement down the dock. A child was being handed up to Seven Sisters’ deck, while several others waited to board. It was Wilos, I thought, from the stooped back of the man on deck who reached down to get him, probably Anchises.
I went aft. Kos was standing at the tiller, one hand on the rope that tied us to the dock. “Where is Xandros?” I asked.
“I thought he was forward with you,” Kos said.
“No,” I said. “He never got onboard. I thought he was keeping watch.”
“I haven’t seen him,” Kos said.
“He might be on the dock,” I said. “Or talking to Neas. I’ll find him.” A nervous energy gripped me. I could not simply sit below, huddling among the stores, waiting for someone to hear us leaving. I slid back over the side and onto the dock, making my way along the planks toward Seven Sisters. They had almost all of their people aboard. Neas was helping the last woman over the rail. He turned to me.
“Where is Xandros?” I asked.
“Here,” Xandros said. He was coming along the dock, bareheaded, a cloaked figure behind him. It was a youth with honey skin and black hair pulled back from a high, clean brow, beautiful even in the rain.
“Oh no,” Neas said. “Xandros, no.”
“This is Ashterah,” Xandros said, “and she’s coming with us.”
“She is not,” Neas said. “We have enough mouths to feed as it is.”
“I can’t send her back to the temple now,” Xandros said. “She knows where we’re going. We have to take her with us.”
The youth’s eyes flicked from one to the other. He did not speak Wilusan, not much anyway. Even soaked, even without the gorgeous clothes, he was almost unbearably graceful.
“We could dump her in the harbor,” Neas snapped, “and then she’d not tell anyone.”
Xandros’ hand moved toward his belt, tightened. “You wouldn’t do that. But the Achaians would, if we leave her.”
Their eyes locked.
Neas looked away, grimacing. “You’re a damn menace. Fine, put her on Dolphin. And get moving! We’re all aboard, and you’re the first ship out!”
The rowers were on their benches. I scrambled over the side. Bai had to reach down to help Ashterah up. It was clear Ashterah had never been on a ship before. I took his elbow and steered him aft, between the rowers’ benches. “There,” I said, pointing to the aft cabin and speaking slowly. “There is where you should go.”
I went back forward, passing Xandros. Bai was back at his bench, his shoulder healed. Kassander, Amynter’s son, stood ready between the banks of rowers to pass orders up and down in a whisper. The rowers could use neither the drums nor chants as we moved in the dark, so all the orders must be passed by runner. He looked nervous. I thought he must be twelve or so, a few years younger than Ashterah.
I put my hand on his shoulder and leaned close. “It will be well,” I said. “We are counting on your skill, and you will not fail. It is so.”
“Thank you, Great Lady,” he said and moved aft, where he could hear the captain.
Bai grinned. “He’s a good boy.”
“Yes,” I said. “Will I be in your way if I stand here?”
“No, but you’ll want to get down if they start shooting.”
Kassander came back down the row, speaking to every second man. “The captain says to unship every other oar and get them in the water as quietly as you can.”
I felt Dolphin move as they complied, saw Kos casting off in the stern. We swung away from the pier.
It seemed very loud to me, but I suppose the sound was muffled by the rain and the slap of the water against the dock. Or perhaps it was not so loud at all.
We began to move. Even though the rain was beating down and the wind freshening, I felt a slow exhilaration rising. We were moving, we were going back to sea, we were escaping Neoptolemos and the Achaians, we were in Her hand once again.
“Aphrodite of the Waves, watch over us,” I whispered, and felt the wind like Her breath against my face.
She Who Was Pythia had been right, I thought, as we met the first waves, mounting each roller steady and sweet. Like calls to like, and the blood of the Sea People was in my veins. I had never been seasick, not even in the storm that took us to the Island of the Dead, and my sea legs were as steady as Xandros’.
I heard the guards on the breakwater call out, but did not understand the words. They had seen us. I guessed from their tone that they had not recognized who we were, but wondered what we were about.
Xandros answered them, a little hesitantly.
They called back, a man’s voice with authority this time.
Xandros gave a one-word answer.
Another reply, closer and more preemptory. They were not reassured. I could hear that from the tone.
Another voice answered from our aft deck, a boy’s voice, high and clear. It sounded innocent and perplexed, rattling off words in the language of Byblos. Ashterah.
“Aphrodite Cythera, Ashterat of the Sea, I didn’t expect You to answer my prayers quite so immediately!” I whispered.
Ashterah was chatting with them. There was a laugh from the breakwater. We slid past, the oars held above the water on the left side on Xandros’ order.
And then we were past them, out of the harbor into the open sea. Dolphin pitched, rearing like a horse scenting his freedom. We leaped forward as the sail spread, catching us on the rising wind, speeding us southward to Egypt.
THE WEATHER didn’t improve. Dawn found us running south under low scudding clouds over a choppy sea. From the shelter of the rowers’ rail I could see three other ships spread out, running with the storm as we did—Winged Night, Hunter, and Lady’s Eyes. The others must be behind or ahead, too far apart to see. I went aft and climbed up on the deck with Xandros, who was at the tiller. The wind gusted and threw me hard against the rail.
“Careful,” Xandros yelled. “It’s rough.”
“Are the other ships here?” I asked.
“They all made it free of the harbor without any trouble. But I haven’t seen any of the others since then. Impossible to stay close together in this weather,” Xandros shouted.
Kassander came weaving his way along the deck, spray flying. He looked frightened. “Lady, Kos said that you need to go forward right now. That Tia needs you.”
I hurried forward to the cabin, knowing what I would find.
Tia curled on the sacks of lentils, her robe soaked below the waist.
“Her water has broken,” Polyra said. “And her pains have just come on her hard.”
I drew her back toward the door. “Isn’t it too early?” I whispered.
She nodded. “A full moon, I think. We need Lide. She’s the most skilled midwife among us.”
“Lide is on Seven Sisters,” I said. “We are too far apart. I couldn’t even see Seven Sisters when I was on deck. And if we were within sight, there’s no way we could come alongside and get her over in this weather.”
Polyra let out a long breath. Then she drew one in. “Have you ever assisted at a childbirth?”
“Me? No. I am forbidden to shed blood or see it shed. I’ve never been anywhere near a childbirth.”
“I’ve had two of my own,” Polyra said. “And I was about when my mother was delivered of my younger sister when I was a maiden. That’s something. I know how it should go, at any rate.”
“I will do as you say,” I said. “I will help in any way I can.”
Polyra drew a deep breath again. “Take my son aft to the rear cabin. It’s not seemly for him to be here, as old as he is. And get Xandros’ knife. I’ll need a sharp blade when
the time comes.”
I took the boy aft and put him into Kos’ keeping. Kos gripped at my arm and invoked every god he could think of. “You’ll keep her safe, won’t you?” he pleaded.
“Polyra and I will do what we can,” I said, detaching his fingers from my sleeve and pressing them. “Tia is young and strong. It will go well.”
I did not speak for the baby. I could feel Her wings hovering near. A full moon early, born on the tossing seas to a girl scarcely a woman herself, in a place with no warmth, no fire, it had little chance.
I made my way forward again, past the rowers with their heads down, dripping in the rain, the salt spray flying and soaking me. Gracious Lady, I prayed, I knew Your hand was on this child. I pray that I was not wrong in divining how.
I felt Her like the pulse of my own heart. Blood has been shed in the Sea Lady’s city, the blood of Her people. Death must answer for death.
I said none of this, and hoped it did not show in my face when I opened the door. I sat by Tia and said soothing words, brought her sweet fresh water to drink. There was time between pains.
Day came, gray and fitful, as we ran before the winds, the seas heaving and fighting.
Each wave of pains racked her, her back arching, her lips bloody where she had bitten them. And then subsided, like waves on the sea. I could not tell if they were closer together or not. They seemed endless, and yet there was time between.
Night came, and the storm was worse. The wind blew an eerie song through the gaps in the planking overhead.
Tia drank and dozed a little between each crest, dropping into a stupor with her eyes half open. Polyra shook her head. “It has been nearly a whole day since her water broke. She must deliver soon if she is to deliver a live baby.”