I released her hair, and, with a hand on each knee, widened them.
She still had her hands before her face. She was trembling.
“Lift up the lamp,” I said to Alcinoe.
I then, gently, put a hand on each of her wrists.
“Please, no, please, no,” she said.
“Master?” I asked.
“Please, no, Master,” she begged. “Please, no, Master!”
I then, as she sobbed, pulled her hands away from her face.
“Aii!” cried Alcinoe, softly.
“Position,” I said to the slave, soothingly, and she put her hands down on her thighs, looking straight ahead.
“Collared!” said Alcinoe.
I took the collar in both hands, turned it, examined the lock, and then, a bit roughly, turned it back into place, so that the lock was at the back of the neck.
“Yes,” I said, “and perfectly.”
It was a common ship’s collar.
I then rose up, bade the slaves be as they would, and, followed by Alcinoe, left the special area, and, in a moment, the larger area, as well.
In a bit we had come to the Kasra keeping area, within which its whip slaves had been served similarly to those of the higher area, bound naked, hand and foot, prone, their switches tied between their teeth.
The other slaves of the Kasra area were on their chains, and most were asleep.
“This is your mat?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, that we not disturb the others.
“Master!” she said, suddenly, frightened.
I cautioned her to silence.
“Strip,
“Strip?” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
She put aside the bit of cloth which had been granted her.
“Now,” I said, “on all fours, on the mat.”
It was a thick, well-plaited mat, narrow. I then picked up the chain, attached to its ring, and snapped it about her ankle, the left ankle.
“Now, turn around,” I said, “and lie down, on your belly.”
I stood up for a few moments, regarding her. Then, suddenly I crouched down beside her, pulled her up, turned her, rudely, and, with a rattle of chain, forced my lips to hers.
I then flung her back on the mat, on her belly, and exited the Kasra keeping area.
I then went to my quarters.
I was much troubled.
I had seen Talena, of Ar.
I recalled, too, we had come to land.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Slaughter!” I heard cry. “Slaughter!”
The alarm bar was ringing, frenziedly.
It was shortly after the first Ahn, and, when I raced up the companionways to the open deck, it was still dark, though there were dozens of torches on the beach. Some small boats were returning to the great ship. Some men were clambering up ropes, drawing themselves over the rail. I heard small boats, below, scraping against the timbers of the ship. Ropes and rope ladders were being cast over the side. Aeacus handed me a glass of the Builders. It was difficult to focus, and there was much movement. I twisted the glass into focus. There seemed madness on the beach, men crowded together toward the shore, trying to board small boats. I saw two founder. Some men were wading into the sea, trying to cling to small boats.
“What is going on?” I said, to anyone, for there were several about, trying to see the beach, perhaps as unclear as I was, as to the confusion, the motion of the torches.
Aeacus took back the glass, and then, in a moment, handed it to another.
“Tarnsmen,” I heard, “to saddle!”
It was the voice of Tarl Cabot.
“No!” said Lord Okimoto, at the rail, barefoot, his robe awry.
I did not know the whereabouts of Lord Nishida.
I saw Tyrtaios, with others, on the ratlines, peering toward the shore.
I heard the poking noise of the crutch of Seremides.
“Roll back the great hatch!” called Tarl Cabot.
“Do not do so!” exclaimed Lord Okimoto. Men drew back.
“Lord!” protested Tarl Cabot.
“No,” said Lord Okimoto.
The secret of the tarns, I gathered, was to be kept.
Some two thirds of the armsmen and mariners, following some fifty Pani, from the men of Lords Nishida and Okimoto, over several Ahn, beginning yesterday evening, had gone ashore.
“Launch the galleys!” cried Aetius, from amidships.
I gathered then that the first galley had been returned to the ship, following the landing.
“No!” said Lord Okimoto.
I gathered that he was unwilling to lose another galley.
Tarl Cabot seized a fellow who was clambering aboard, from one of the small boats. “Go back!” he cried. “Go back!”
“No,” said the man, wildly, shaking his head. “No!”
Cabot struck him to the deck.
“Go back,” he cried to others, returning to the ship.
“The galleys must be launched,” said Tarl Cabot.
“No,” said Lord Okimoto.
Tarl Cabot turned on his heel, angrily, and rushed toward a flung-open hatch. He paused at the opening, looking about, in frustration. It was there I caught up with him. “You will need oarsmen,” I said.
He clasped my hand. “Good Callias,” he said. “Let us be fools together!”
“There will be several below decks,” I said. “They are unclear, as I, as to what has occurred.”
“Summon them!” said Cabot. “Send others about, as well, to summon others.”
“To the galleys?”
“Any who can draw an oar,” said Cabot.
“In whose name?” I asked.
“In the name of Lord Okimoto,” said Cabot.
In a quarter of an Ahn three galleys had been lowered and, half manned, were about the ship, and moving amongst small boats, toward the shore.
I and the others were armed, as we had obtained weapons, in the issuance, hoping to go ashore in our turn.
I glanced back, to see Lord Okimoto, high above, at the rail of the great ship.
Cabot was at the helm of the galley on which I drew an oar. Across from me, alone on his bench, as I was, was Philoctetes. To starboard, back a bit, was another galley, also with a handful of oarsmen, it commanded by
