Whether that is true or otherwise, this sea disease affected all the Rope Makers, as well as Io, the Lady Drakaina, and many of the crew. With so few able to work, everyone was needed. I joined the sailors who could still keep the ship, sometimes helping with a steering oar, sometimes heaving at a line to trim a sail, sometimes climbing the mainmast (this was difficult because it was so wet) to take in sail or let it out. All this while Nausicaa bucked like Pegasus or wallowed like a boar, making what would otherwise have been mere drudgery into a great contention with the sea. I thought then how happy a sailor's life must be and wished I might join the crew and live as they did; but I said nothing to the captain.

Once indeed it seemed the sea played too roughly with me. I was standing on the rail trying to clear the foreyard arm, which had fouled one of its halyards, when I felt the ship drop from under me and I was cast into the water; but a wave lifted me at once and tossed me onto the deck a little aft of the mainmast. By good luck I landed on my feet, and the crew has treated me with considerable respect ever since. However, I feared the same thing might happen again, and that the sea, seeing me grown proud, would drop me on my head or my buttocks; thus I took care to be as humble toward everyone as I could, to praise the wild majesty of the sea whenever we had time to talk, and to offer a coin I found tied into a corner of this chiton - it is my oldest, which Io suggested I wear because of the bad weather - to the Sea God.

Just after the sun had reached its zenith, the waning wind brought rain. The captain came to talk with me, and I happened to mention the coin, saying that though it had been but copper and small, the Sea God must have accepted it.

He agreed and told me the story (which I set down here as a caution for myself in future days) of King Polycrates, who was so lucky he conquered any place he wished and defeated every army sent against him. Besides all this, he was an ally of the King of Riverland, who was in those times the most powerful monarch in the world, and a great friend of his as well; and at last the King of Riverland grew concerned, saying, "Polycrates, my friend, the gods never raise a man high but to cast him down, as boys carry jars up a tower so they can throw them from the top. Some bad luck is bound to befall you. Of all your possessions, which is most precious to you?"

"This emerald ring," answered Polycrates. "It came to me from my father, and because it looks so fine, all the people of my island counted me as a great man from the moment I put it on. At their request I took charge of their affairs, and I have ruled ever since with the success and good fortune you know."

"Then throw it into the sea to appease the gods," the King of Riverland counseled him. "Perhaps if you do, they will permit you a serene old age."

Polycrates thought about this advice as he was returning from Riverland, slipped off his ring, and hurled it into the waves with a prayer. When he reached home, his people held a great celebration in his honor and brought him many gifts, the loot of the cities he had burned and the ships he had captured, one bringing a rich armor, another a necklace of gold and hyacinth, a third a cloak of byssus, and so on. Last of all came a poor fisherman. "Majesty," he said, "I have nothing to offer you but this fish, the finest I caught today; but I beg you to accept it in the spirit in which it comes to you."

"I will," Polycrates said graciously. "Tonight you and I shall dine together in my royal hall, old man, and you shall see your fish upon my table."

At this the old fisherman was overjoyed. He stepped to one side, took out his knife, and opened the fish to clean it for the king's cooks. But no sooner had he slit its belly than a beautiful emerald ring dropped from it and rolled to lie at Polycrates's feet.

At this all the people cheered, thinking it showed what a favorite of the gods their king was. But Polycrates wept, knowing his sacrifice had been rejected. He was soon proved right, for he was lured to his death by one of the satraps of the Great King, who at that time had not yet conquered Riverland and considered every friend of its king his enemy.

Though the wind grew less it did not die, and before night came we saw the dark loom of the land through the falling rain. All the men from Rope whooped for joy and insisted on landing at once. The captain was very willing we should, for there is no port on this side of the land, and thus it is a hazardous spot for ships. But while the boat was being made ready, he tried to buy me from Pasicrates, offering four minas, then five, and at last six, though he said he would have to have a year in which to pay the final two. "You'll waste him ashore," he said. "He's the best sailor I've ever seen and a favorite of the gods to boot."

"I can't sell him for any price," Pasicrates answered. "He's the regent's, not mine. Perhaps you're fortunate at that - a favorite of the gods is a dangerous man."

Thus we landed in the rain, with all the men from Rope rejoicing at one moment to be off the ship and swearing at the next while they tried to keep their armor and their rations dry. I had expected to see a city, but there was only a camp of tents and huts, with ships drawn up on the beach. Io knew nothing of Sestos; so I asked Drakaina, who told me the city was a hundred stades inland. She liked the rain no better than the Rope Makers did, but she looked so lovely with her wet gown clinging and her eyes ringed with starry drops that the men from Rope ceased to complain whenever she was in their sight, throwing out their chests instead and pretending no weather could ever trouble them.

Pasicrates, however, stood upon a great rock and studied the sea. I saw the worry in his face and asked him what the matter was when he came down. "This rain signals the end of the sailing season," he said. "Soon the leaves will turn, and there will be storms worse than the one this morning. It will be hard to get supplies, and to return home when the city falls." He gave me a crooked smile and added, "You must hurry." I was not sure what he meant, but Io says I am to take the city for the regent of Rope, though no one knows how.

Our march to Sestos was long and cold. The Rope Makers wrapped themselves in their scarlet cloaks, and Drakaina hired two sailors to make a litter covered with sailcloth for her. I sheltered Io and myself under my cloak as well as I could, and I think that because there were two of us, we were warmer than all the rest.

"How big you're getting," I told her. "When I think of you it's always as someone much smaller, but your head comes to my ribs."

"Children my age grow fast," she told me. "Then too, traveling with you I've had sunshine and plenty of exercise, which most girls don't get. Good food too, while we were with Hypereides and Kalleos.

Kalleos gave you this cloak, master, so you could wear your sword on the streets at night and not be stopped by the archers. I know you don't remember, but it was the night Eurykles bet he could raise a ghost."

"Who's Eurykles?" I asked her.

"A man we used to know. A magician. He's gone now, and I don't think he'll ever come back.

Kalleos will miss him, I suppose. Do you still have your book?"

"Yes, I put it in my pack. I've got your clothes and your doll too."

"My doll's broken." She shrugged. "I like keeping it, though. Are you sure all that isn't too heavy for you? I could carry my own things. I'm your slave, after all."

"No. I could carry this pack a long way, and I suppose I'll have to. I doubt that it's any heavier than the loads the Rope Makers are carrying, with their helmets and spears, their armor and their big hoplons."

"But they have their own slaves to carry their tents and rations and the other things," Io pointed out.

"When we were on Redface Island, they made their slaves carry everything except their swords. I don't understand why they don't do that here. Do you think they're afraid the slaves would slip in the mud if they had to carry so much?"

"They would only beat them," I told her. "This is the Empire, and they know we might be charged by the Great King's cavalry."

Io turned her dripping face to stare at mine. "How do you know that, master? Are you starting to remember?"

"No. I know those things, but I don't know how I learned them."

"Then you have to write all this down when we get to Sestos. Everything you remember from today, because I may not always be with you. And master, I heard the captain trying to buy you. Write that you're not a slave, even if - "

"I know," I told her. "But I wanted us to stay on the ship, if we could. A merchant ship visits many ports, and there are men in them from many others."

"So maybe you could find your home. I understand."

"Besides, I like the work, though not the idea of deserting my patron."

Io lifted a finger to her lips.

We still have not seen the walls. Darkness came long before we reached this place and pitched our tents. Pasicrates, Io, and I will sleep in this one, with Pasicrates's slaves. Drakaina shares a tent with two Rope Makers, I think so that neither can molest her.

We had beans, onions, and twice-baked bread tonight, and it seemed very little after so long a march through the rain, though there is still some wine. The Rope Makers joked about going to Sestos for more food, and some of them, I think, stole food from the soldiers of Thought. I find it easy to see why there is so much ill feeling between these two cities, even though they are allies, friends, as it is said in their tongue. Allies must be friends in deed and not only in word, if they are to have more than a sham alliance.

No moon and no stars tonight, only a thin drizzle that is almost a mist. I sit in the doorway of our tent, where the smoking fire gives just enough light for me to write. They say firewood is scarce already, but with a hundred Rope Makers and more than two hundred armed slaves at his command, Pasicrates will have all he needs, so I throw on more whenever the flames sink too low.

When I was a child, we saved the prunings from our vines to burn - I remember that. I remember my mother's singing as she crouched by the fire to stir a little black pot, and how she watched me as she sang to see whether I enjoyed her song. When my father was there, he would cut a pipe from reeds, and then the reeds sang her song with her. Our god - I have just remembered this - was Lar. My father said Mother's song made Lar happy. I remember thinking I understood more than he, and being proud and secretive (as little boys are) because I knew Lar was the song, and not something apart from it. I remember lying under the wolfskin and seeing Lar flash from wall to wall, singing and teasing me. I tried to catch him and woke rubbing my eyes, with Mother singing beside the fire.

Chapter 39 Engines of War

Siege towers and battering rams are everywhere on the landward side of the city, each with a few hundreds to protect it from a sally. That is so the barbarians will not know whence the attack will come, as Xanthippos, the strategist from Thought, explained. Pasicrates of course asked where it would come, but Xanthippos only shook his head and looked wise, saying he had several sites under consideration. It seemed to me he had not decided because no place is yet weak enough to permit an assault.

But perhaps I am driving my dog before the cattle. I should say first that Pasicrates, Drakaina, and I went to Xanthippos this morning; and that he is a man of about my own height, gray at the temples, with an affable yet reserved air Drakaina said is characteristic of the old aristocracy of Thought.

He welcomed us cordially to a tent bare of any sign of wealth or luxury, with a worn-out sail for a ground cloth and simple stools that appeared to have been made on the spot. "We are delighted," he said, "that the Rope Makers have chosen to join us. How encouraging to see our ancient friendship renewed in the face of our common enemy. Am I to take it that the other ships were blown from their course by yesterday's storm? Let us hope they arrive safely today."

"Why?" Pasicrates asked bluntly. "Are you in need of troops?"

"No, not at all. What I have real need of is a hole through those walls." Xanthippos chuckled, his keen gray eyes including all of us in his merriment. "There are only about five hundred barbarians inside, all told. Some thousand Hellenes, but I expect them to change their allegiance once the assault begins."

Pasicrates nodded. "We Hellenes are notorious for it - save for the men of my own city. And our assault will be ... ?"

"As soon as the walls are breached. That will be in another month, I should say. May I ask whether it is King Leotychides or Prince Pausanias who commands?"

"Neither," Pasicrates told him. "Nor will there be more ships. There was only one, and we have come."

It was not possible to tell whether Xanthippos was really surprised or merely feigning to be. He seemed to me the sort of man who has mastered his feelings for so long that he no longer knows them, and may be furious or overcome by love without being conscious of either.

"I am the regent's man." Pasicrates took an iron signet from his finger and gave it to Xanthippos. "I come for him."

"Then allow me to congratulate him, through you, on his great victory. It will give me the deepest pleasure to do so in person upon some future day. No doubt you yourself took a leading part in that glorious battle. Alas that I was with the fleet! Would you care to cast aside, if only momentarily, that sometimes awkward briefness in speech for which your fellow citizens are so well known and describe for me - for my enlightenment as a strategist, I may say, as well as my delight - just what it was you did?"

"My duty," Pasicrates told him. He then questioned him about the progress of the siege but learned very little.

"So you see" - Xanthippos spread his hands - "the great thing is to retain the flexibility that enables one to seize, and indeed to recognize, opportunity."

"But you expect Sestos to fall in a month."

"Or a trifle longer, perhaps. Certainly before the onset of winter, though we may see some of its earlier stages. There is very little food in the city, I'm told, and they are not Rope Makers there, accustomed to living on a bite of bread and a handful of olives."