scrubbed the bilge, recaulked the seams, and Vasileos wandered around her hull on the beach with a heavy mallet, driving pegs back into the hull and examining every inch with a professional eye.
I brought him a cup of wine. ‘Good ship,’ I said.
He beamed. ‘She is, isn’t she?’ he said.
By the morning of the third day, Sittonax had his bearings, and he drew me a chart in the sand while the oarsmen scrubbed the hull clean.
‘We came through the Pillars of Heracles,’ he said, an eyebrow raised, ‘as you call them, here.’
I nodded.
He drew a box. ‘Iberia. As I understand it from Tertikles.’
I shrugged. No one at Marsala had ever been able to draw us even the vaguest chart of the world outside the Pillars.
‘We’re in this deep bay,’ he said, drawing me the point where the north-western edge of the box intersected a long line he’d drawn with his stick that ran north to south. ‘Somehow we ran all the way down this bay.’ He shrugged.
Not a sailor. I knew exactly how it had happened. I just kept sailing east, expecting to find the coast of Iberia, and it kept escaping us.
‘Those mountains,’ he pointed to the long line in the south, ‘are northern Iberia.’
‘We sailed all the way round Iberia?’ I asked. I’m a scientific sailor, but sometimes you just have to believe that Poseidon sends you where he wants you to go.
He shrugged again. ‘Tertikles says that there is a Phoenician trading post — south and west, four days’ rowing.’
I grunted. ‘You think we could just sail in and trade for tin?’ I asked. Sittonax shrugged. ‘No idea. But Tertikles wants to know if you’d like to join him in attacking it.’
‘Attacking it?’ I must have looked foolish.
Now, let’s remember, my young friends — I had been a pirate. But by this time, I’d lived for years — years — on my own work and my own production and trade. It makes me smile, but at the time, I believe I thought myself too mature to engage in such foolishness.
‘Oh, I don’t recommend it, but he insisted I ask you,’ the Kelt said. ‘For my part, the Venetiae are farther up this coast — maybe six days’ rowing. They’ll have tin.’
‘Are they your people?’ I asked.
He rolled his eyes. ‘No,’ he said.
‘Do you know them?’ I asked.
‘We trade with them, everyone does. They have the ships. They go to Alba. They control all the tin.’ He looked the way a man does trapped in an argument with a small child.
‘Will they want our copper or our wine?’ I asked.
Sittonax shrugged. ‘How would I know?’ he answered.
That night, we sat down to dinner in the lord’s hall. I met his sister, who was a year or two older than he — perhaps thirty. She was not beautiful, but rather strong-featured — a long, horsey face, strong teeth, a marvellous laugh. She had heavy bones like an athlete, and she was as tall as I am and perhaps as strong, too. I’d never seen a Greek woman who looked like her.
And yet I find I do her injustice. She was slim-waisted and wide-hipped and had deep breasts — just in a larger, stronger way than Greek women. She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her. And her face looked… ungentle. When she laughed, which was often, she laughed with the abandon with which men laugh.
But the longer I watched her, and the other Keltoi, the more I saw how different their women were. By the second night, their boldness had become proverbial with my crew — both for their straightforward propositions, and for forceful management when displeased. Thugater, that’s a nice way of saying that when a Kelt woman didn’t like the way you treated her, she had a way of punching you in the head.
And the gentlewomen — the aristocrats — all wore knives. They used them to eat, but they were not eating knives. Or so it appeared to me.
At any rate, her name was Tara, or close enough. She was far from beautiful, I suppose, but I wanted her the moment my eyes fell on her, and I suspected that the feeling was mutual. But she was the lord’s sister, and that meant I needed to be careful.
Still, I taught her to play knucklebones our way, which was rather different from theirs. And she caught me peering down her marvellous cleavage, and she laughed. A Greek girl might have blushed, might have simpered; might have met my eyes for a moment and glanced away. Might have fled the room or gone stony cold, too. But she met my eye and roared.
When her brother came and sat with us, and Sittonax joined us, we could converse a little.
I have no idea what we talked about, but Sittonax became bored very quickly. Who wants to interpret for someone else’s flirting? I mean, really.
Tertikles leaned in, then, and spoke vehemently — so strongly that I thought I was getting the ‘this is my sister’ lecture.
But she looked at me, licked her lips and nodded enthusiastically.
So I met her eye. She had wonderful, lively, expressive eyes. She was a person for whom the world was a fine place.
Sittonax looked at me. ‘The lord just made a speech, and I’ll say that he proposes — formally, and with a vow — that we go and attack the trading post.’ Sittonax sat back. ‘He’s very serious.’
I’d had all day to think about it. I knew that Doola would be against it, but the rest of my people would probably go along with it. Especially the six ‘marines’ I’d picked up from Demetrios of Phocaea. And we had nothing to show for our adventures so far but bruises and welts. Nor were we well-found enough to trade; I’d learned that. It was a bitter lesson.
‘What do they have in the way of defences?’ I asked.
Sittonax raised an eyebrow at me. Again, I have to note that none of these people, except my marines, knew me as Arimnestos, Killer of Men. They knew me as Arimnestos, sometime merchant-captain and bronze-smith.
Tertikles grinned. He made a short speech, his arms moving dramatically.
Sittonax looked at me. ‘He says that nothing will stand before his sword.’
About that time, Tara punched her brother in the arm.
They glared at each other.
I cleared my throat. ‘Tell him that I’d be happy to join him, but I’m a greasy, wily Greek and I require things like scouting, surprise and a plan — as well as an agreement on division of the spoils — before I’d think of risking my ship. And what ship does he have?’
After some further discussion, Sittonax sat back, disgusted. ‘He thought we could all ride in our ship,’ he said. ‘He said many interesting things. The Phoenicians have raided this place twice in the last ten years, for slaves. Their father died fighting the Phoenicians. So he has every reason.’
I nodded. I was looking at the crowd of my men and the locals who were eating communally, all intermixed. I was trying to catch Doola’s eye, but he was gazing into the eyes of a blond Kelt woman and didn’t seem to know I existed. Seckla watched him with undisguised jealousy.
Well, other people have complex lives, too.
Tertikles spoke again, waving his arms.
Tara watched him when he spoke, and then went back to watching me.
‘How many warriors does he have?’ I asked.
Sittonax nodded. He asked.
After a heated conversation, Sittonax turned back to me, his face flushed.
‘He claims a thousand.’ He shrugged. ‘I think a hundred would be more like it. He’s a hothead.’
This from you? I remember thinking. Sittonax had never had a practical thought in his life. He lived to eat, drink, fight and make love.
I caught Vasileos’s eye, and he came up to the head of the hall. He looked embarrassed. It’s funny what you remember. I never found out why. Who knows what the Kelt girl asked him? Or did. Hah! They were forward, and I saw them do things that I’d put weals on your back for, thugater. No, I won’t tell you.
Fine. I’ll tell you one. Kelt girls would, ahem, measure a man. With a stick. And then giggle.
