“Ricky trapped in a place where there’s no beer or cigarettes,” he snickered. “He must be making life hell for those man-eating little fuckers.”
“That’s funny to you? He lived the rest of his life— forty years or more—with those animals.” She was appalled.
“You don’t know Ricky, honey. He wouldn’t have made thirty the way he was living. Staying in Bedrock is maybe the best thing that could have happened to him. Like prehistoric rehab.”
“That’s it? What happened to ‘no man left behind?’” she stammered. It made him laugh harder.
“I’ll tell you this,” he said once he’d recovered. “I am sure-as-shit curious about what went down after we left.”
The Lion of Ba’al rowed into the sheltered harbor of Rhodes a lamb.
With the ferocious ram and breastworks gone and the war shields stowed below deck, she looked like any other trader plying the seas and raised little notice as Ahinadab guided her toward the opening in the ring wall that encircled the harbor. Lazy soldiers leaned on spears atop the wall and watched the ship cruise past without comment or challenge.
The city of Rhodes hugged the natural curve of a bay, buildings gleaming white under a clear afternoon sky. A carpet of red-tiled rooftops led up toward grander structures of marble pillars and a walled fortress of stone stucco-ed with lime. At the end of a pier stood the Colossus of Rhodes—one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. It was a statue of a naked Helios, a titan of Greek mythology. It stood ten stories tall at the crown of leaves atop its head and another thirty or so feet of an extended arm holding a torch.
It was all bronze from the knees up and probably gleamed like a new penny when it was first put up. Now, after twenty or more years, a dull patina covered the surface, and the head and shoulders were dusted white with bird shit. A flock of gulls was perched along the top even now, and there was a pelican nest atop Helios’ head.
Caroline studied it with open amazement as they scudded beneath it. To Dwayne, it looked like a gay Statue of Liberty.
The Colossus did not stand astride the sea gate as legend portrayed it. It stood on a massive plinth set at the end of a pier that jutted into the sea with massive marble feet close together and one knee slightly bent.
The Lion, sail furled and oars backing, warped to a berth where men waited to catch lines and secure the vessel to the quay against stout wooden mooring piers. Ahinadab, in his best robe with his girdle polished, was the first to step down onto the quayside. The captain, accompanied by Xin, tossed copper coins to the dock men who tied up the Lion’s lines. Xin left his ax with the rowing boss. As Caroline surmised, the ax was a badge of rank as well as a weapon of intimidation. The rowing boss was skipper while the captain and first mate were ashore. Traders looking to do business met Ahinadab when he and Xin were only a few steps onto land.
Praxus explained that ships that sailed from the sight of land were rare and the most daring captains were highly sought after. A talented Phoenician trader could make Carthage or Ostia or Alexandria weeks ahead of more cautious competitors who hugged the coastline. Ahinadab was most prized because he was thought to be thoroughly mad but highly favored by the gods.
“I’ll swear to that on both counts,” Dwayne said when Caroline had translated.
“When will we be sold?” Caroline asked Praxus.
“I cannot know. Perhaps we will be purchased outright. Most likely we will be taken to auction.” Praxus shuddered at that and said no more.
The cause of Praxus’ anxiety became clear to Caroline when she and Dwayne and the boy were brought to the marketplace. They were manacled wrist and ankle. Dwayne was bound with ropes. Nooses were looped over their throats and secured to a single leash, which was used to pull them along the deck and out onto the quay for the trip to the market.
Caroline looked back for a last glance at the Lion of Ba’al. Ahinadab stood at the port freeboard and called to Xin, who was in charge of taking them for auction.
“Ahinadab tells Xin to insist on the best price and to not get drunk,” Praxus said. Xin jerked the boy’s rope collar at the mention of his name.
Caroline wasn’t sure which was worse as they were led like animals through the market crowd: the ones who ignored them as if they did not exist, or the ones who took an interest in them as though they were livestock. They followed Xin down lanes crowded with stalls filled with cloth, pottery, fresh fish, and meat.
Animal carcasses hung alongside cheeses and all surrounded by clouds of flies shooed away by boys apathetically waving rattan flails. There were merchants with beads, oil, sandals, weaponry, wood carvings, ivory carvings, dishware, brassware, wine, and cakes. One stall had a fire going under a broad iron grill where a sweating man flipped patties of ground meat.
There’s your McDonald’s, Dwayne, Caroline thought.
They were elbowed, kicked, and pawed as they made their way through the crush at the center of the twisting lane. They were less than nothing and targets of derision, scorn, indifference and, in some cases, lust. A grunting man in Arab dress took Praxus by the arm and openly rubbed a hand on the boy’s crotch while humming to himself. Xin strode back and whipped the pervert with the end of the lead rope, more angered at being delayed than having his
