know…’
‘Fins?’ queried Zidantas.
The shipwright stared at him coldly. ‘Interruptions are irritating. They disturb the flow of my thoughts. Kindly wait until I have finished.’ He leaned forward for extra emphasis, but his hat flopped down over his eyes. Angrily he wrenched it from his head, and swung back towards Helikaon. ‘As I was saying… you know I had deep planking bolted to the hull, fore and aft, to help keep the ship upright when beached?’
‘A sound idea,’ said Helikaon.
‘Indeed so. However, it is serving a separate and wholly beneficial purpose while at sea. The jut of the fins is countering the shallow draught. I should have realized it when I was designing them. I might have extended them further.
They should also make it easier for the steersman. It is my understanding you have to aim the boat at a point above – or below, depending on the current and the wind – the point at which you wish to beach. My feeling is the boat will sail straighter, with less drift. Very pleasing.’
‘Well, let’s hope they also add some speed,’ said Zidantas. ‘There is a storm coming up behind us. It would be nice to beach before it hits.’
‘Oh, you can’t do that,’ said Khalkeus.
‘We can’t beach?’
‘Of course you could. But then the storm you speak of would wreck the Xanthos.’
‘It can’t wreck us on land!’
Helikaon cut in. ‘What Khalkeus is saying, Ox, is that we cannot fully beach the Xanthos. She is too large. We don’t have the men to haul her completely out of the sea, and if we did, we couldn’t float her again.’
‘Exactly!’ said the shipwright.
‘Surely we can get enough of her on the sand,’ insisted Zidantas.
‘If the storm is a violent one the ship would break up,’ said Helikaon. ‘Half on solid ground, half being thrashed around on the water. The stresses would crack the hull.’
‘Then what do we do?’ asked Zidantas.
‘You need to ride the storm – or find a sheltered edge of land,’ Khalkeus told him.
‘Ride it! Are you mad?’
‘Apparently I am,’ answered Khalkeus. ‘Ask anyone. Even so I have better things to do than swap insults with an imbecile.’ With that he strode from the rear deck.
The giant took a deep breath, and held it for a moment. ‘There are times when I imagine myself taking my club to that man.’ He sighed. ‘We could make for Bad Luck Bay, drop anchor offshore, and use the oars to stop us being driven onto the beach.’
‘No, Ox. Even with a full crew that would be nigh impossible,’ said Helikaon.
‘Fighting a storm for an hour would exhaust them. What if it lasts all night?
We’d be hurled onto the beach and wrecked.’
‘I know – but then we’d survive, at least. There aren’t any other choices.’
Helikaon shook his head. ‘There is one. As Khalkeus said, we will ride it.’
‘No, no, no!’ said Zidantas, leaning in close and dropping his voice. ‘The Xanthos is untried in heavy weather. She is a good ship, right enough, but my back is already aching. This is going to be heavy, Helikaon. Like a hammer.’ He paused. ‘And the crew won’t stand for it. They are already frightened. Running for the beach may break up the ship, but they know they’ll live. There’s no way even you could convince them to turn into the storm.’
Helikaon looked at his friend, and saw the fear in his large, honest face.
Zidantas adored his six daughters, and had spoken often in the last year of leaving the sea and watching them grow. Helikaon had given him a share in all profits, and Zidantas was now a rich man. There was no longer any need to risk his life on the Great Green. It was a difficult moment. Zidantas was too proud to speak the truth from his heart, but Helikaon could read it in his eyes. The big Hittite was as terrified as the crew would be.
Helikaon could not look at Zidantas as he spoke. ‘I must ride this storm, Ox,’
he said at last, his voice gentle. ‘I need to know if the Xanthos has a great heart. So I am asking you to stand beside me.’ He glanced back at the giant.
‘I’ll always be there when you need me, Golden One,’ said Zidantas, his shoulders sagging.
‘Then let us rest the crew for a while. Then we’ll put them through some gentle manoeuvres. By the time the storm is apparent to them we will be too far from land for them to do anything but follow orders and ride it out.’
‘We have a lot of new men aboard,’ said Zidantas. ‘You are taking a huge risk. A clash of oars as we turn, or panic among the oarsmen, and we’ll be swamped.’
‘You chose this crew, Ox. You never hire cowards.’ He gave a broad grin. ‘It’ll be something to tell your grandchilden. We swam with Poseidon on the greatest ship ever built.’
The forced humour was wasted on Zidantas. ‘I’ll look forward to that,’ he muttered despondently.
Helikaon glanced along the lines of the Xanthos.
And hoped the Madman from Miletos was right.
VI
Poseidon Swims
i
Xander had begun to doze in the sunshine. A sailor tripped over him, and cursed. Xander muttered an embarrassed apology and climbed to his feet. Then he realized someone was calling his name. He spun round, and almost fell as the ship pitched. He saw it was Zidantas summoning him, and ran to the rear deck. ‘Take water to the rowers,’ said the big man. ‘It’ll be damn hot down there. Tell Oniacus to rest the men, and allow them on deck in sections of twenty.’ ‘Sections of twenty,’ repeated Xander. ‘Well, go on then, boy.’
‘Yes, Zidantas.’ He paused. ‘Where will I find water?’
‘There are full skins on hooks at the centre of both the oar decks.’
Xander moved down to the hatch, opened it and clambered down the vertical steps.
It was gloomy and hot here. With the ship under sail now he saw that the rowers had lifted their oars, locking the handles into leather loops. Finding the water skins he unhooked one then carried it to the first rower on the port side, a broad-shouldered young man with thickly curled black hair.
‘Where is Oniacus?’ he asked, as the sailor pulled out the wooden plug and hefted the water sack. He drank deeply.
‘That would be me.’
‘Zidantas says to rest the men and allow them on deck in twenty sections.’
‘Sections of twenty,’ corrected Oniacus.
‘Yes.’
‘You are sure of the orders? We don’t normally rest this close to land.’
‘I am sure.’
The man grinned at him. ‘You’d be Xander. Your father spoke of you. Said when you were seven or eight you took on a pack of wild dogs.’
‘It was one dog,’ said Xander. ‘It was attacking our goats.’
Oniacus laughed. ‘You are very honest, boy. And I can see your father in you.’
He passed the water sack back to Xander. Then he called out, ‘We’re going to see some sunlight, lads. Every third man aloft – and make sure those oars are sheathed tight.’ Men began to ease themselves from the
