Fortune's stroke

There's only one obvious reason a fleet of Ethiopian warships would be cruising along the southern coast of Arabia-we're going to pillage the Malwa somewhere. Damned carrion-eaters!'

Wahsi, standing next to her, was matching her glare with one of his own. Even Ousanas, on her other side, had not a trace of humor in his face.

'None of us thought of it, Antonina.' Ousanas twisted his head, as if searching the deck of the Ethiopian warship for a missing person. Which, in a way, he was.

'I wish Garmat were here,' he grumbled. 'If there's anyone who knows how a bandit thinks, it's him.' Ousanas gestured at the Arab dhows which were trailing in the wake of Antonina's fleet. 'He might figure out how to talk them into going away.'

'I doubt it,' said Antonina, wearily. She stopped rubbing her face and stared at the small armada. The dhows reminded her of buzzards following a pack of wolves. 'The problem is, Ousanas, they're not really pirates. Just dirt- poor fishermen and bedouin, smelling the chance for loot.'

'They'll ruin all our plans!' snarled Wahsi. 'There'll be no way to keep this expedition a secret, with that gaggle of geese following us. Assuming they don't just sell the information to the Malwa outright.'

Antonina was back to rubbing her face. With only one hand, this time, slowly stroking her jaw. Without realizing it, she was half-imitating her husband's favorite mannerism when he was deep in thought.

'Maybe not,' she mused. 'Maybe-'

She glanced up, gauging the time of day. 'It'll be sundown, soon.' She pointed to a small bay just off the port bow. 'Can we shelter the fleet there, tonight?' she asked Wahsi.

The Dakuen commander examined the bay briefly. 'Sure. But what for? You said you wanted us to stay out of sight of land once we got halfway down the Hadrawmat. We're there. We should be putting further out to sea. Make sure we're over the horizon during daylight, until we reach the Strait of Hormuz.'

Antonina shrugged. 'That was for the sake of secrecy. With them following us'-she pointed to the fleet of dhows-'there's no point. We have to keep them out of sight, too. No way to do that without talking to them. That's why I want to anchor in the bay. The dhows will follow, and I think I can set up a parley.'

'A parley?' choked Wahsi.

Antonina smiled. 'Why not?'

Wahsi was glaring at her, now. 'Are you insane? Do you really think you can reason with those-those-'

Ousanas' laugh cut him off. The laugh, and the huge grin which followed. 'Of course she doesn't think that, Wahsi!'

The tall hunter beamed down at the short Roman woman. 'She's not going to appeal to their `reason,' man. Just their greed.'

'Well spoken,' murmured Antonina. She smiled demurely at Wahsi. 'I'm a genius, remember?'

It took hours, of course. Long into the night, negotiating with a small horde of Arab chieftains and subchieftains. Each little dhow had its own independent captain, and each of them had an opinion of his own. Four or five opinions, as often as not.

'We cannot board those great Malwa beasts,' snarled one of the village-notables-turned-pirate-captain. He spoke slowly, and emphatically, so that Antonina could follow him. Her command of Arabic was only middling. 'The one time we tried-' He threw up his hands. 'Butchered! Butchered! Only two ships came back.'

'Butchered, butchered,' rose the murmur from the crowd. The pavilion which Antonina had ordered erected on the beach was packed with Arab chieftains. All of them joined in the protest, like a Greek chorus.

Antonina responded with a grin, worthy of a bandit.

'That was my husband's ship, I imagine.'

The statement brought instant silence. Seventeen pairs of beady eyes were examining her, like ferrets studying a hen. Except this hen had just announced that she was mated to a roc.

Antonina nodded toward Ousanas. The hunter was squatting out of the way, in a corner of the tent. He had been there since the Arabs first entered. After a glance, none of them had paid him any attention. The Roman woman's slave, obviously; beneath their notice.

Ousanas grinned and rose lazily. The tall hunter reached behind him and drew forth his great stabbing spear. Then, hefting it easily, he began rattling off some quick sentences in fluent Arabic. Antonina could only follow some of it, but the gist was not hard to grasp.

Simple concepts, really. Yeah, that's right, you mangy fucks. I was there too. (Here, two of the chieftains hissed and tried to edge their way back into the crowd. No translation was needed-they remembered Ousanas, clearly enough.) It was almost funny the way you pitiful amateur pirates scuttled over the sides-the few of you who still could, that is, after we gutted and beheaded and disemboweled and maimed and mangled and slaughtered-

And so on, and so forth. Fortunately, Ousanas concluded on a happier note.

So let's not hear any crap about what can and can't be done. You couldn't do it, for sure. But nobody's asking you to. We'll do the serious work. All you've got to do is haul away the spoils.

The fishermen/bandits had taken no offense at Ousanas' grisly taunts. But they were deeply offended by his last statement.

Again, Antonina had no difficulty interpreting the gist of their hot-tempered remarks.

What? Do we look like fools? Why would you do all the dangerous work and let us take the loot? Snort, snort. Do you take us for idiots? Lies, lies.

Antonina decided to interject the voice of sweet, feminine reason.

'Nobody said you'd get all the loot, you stupid oafs. Do we look like fools, ourselves?' She pointed imperiously at the fleet of Ethiopian warships moored in the bay. The ships were quite visible in the moonlight, since the tent flaps had been pulled aside to allow the cooling breeze to enter.

'Those, you ignorant dolts, are what are called warships.' Snort, snort. 'As different from your pitiful canoes as a lion from a sheep.' Sneer, sneer. 'You do know what a sheep is, don't you? You should. You've fucked them often enough, since you're too ugly to seduce a woman and too clumsy to catch one.'

The Arabs laughed uproariously. Then, settling comfortably on their haunches, they readied for some serious bargaining. Clearly, the Roman was a woman they could do business with. A marvelous command of insult, even if her words were stumbling and prosaic. But allowances had to be made. Arabic was not her native tongue, after all.

Antonina clapped her hands, like a schoolteacher commanding the attention of stupid and unruly students. The Arabs grinned.

'The Axumite warships are quite capable of bringing down the Malwa vessels. The problem is-they're fighting ships. Not much room, with all the soldiers, to carry off loot.' Her next words, Antonina spoke very slowly, so that imbeciles might be able to follow her simple reasoning.

'We. . will. . take. . what. . we. . can. You. . get. . the. . rest. Do. . you. . understand?'

Suspicion came back, in full force.

Why would you offer us charity? Are we fools? A trap! A trap! One of them began warning his fellows that the treacherous Romans and Ethiopians were trying to steal their dhows, but he was silenced by scowls. Insulting, that was, to their intelligence. The Arabs knew perfectly well the Ethiopians were about as interested in patched-together dhows as they were in camel dung. Still-

Why?

'We are at war with Malwa,' was Antonina's reply. 'We will strike their convoy, but we are not seeking loot as such. After we are done, we will sail east, to storm their fortress at Barbaricum. Burn it to the ground. In war, you must move quickly. We will not have time to plunder the entire convoy and make sure it is completely destroyed. We simply cripple it, take what we can-quickly-and be on our way. You will finish them off.'

She leaned back, gazing on them serenely. Like a schoolteacher, satisfied that she had-finally- hammered home the simple lesson. 'With your help, we strike the hardest blow at Malwa. With our help, you get much plunder. That's the bargain.'