The Arrows of Hercules

Six – UTICA

Cape Utica ended in a wedge of sea cliffs—buff, umber, and tanbark in the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. Above the cliffs, the land, sparsely covered with thorny bush, rolled away to southward. Scarcely any green was to be seen. The dun-colored scrub forest looked as dead as Darius the Great.

Actually, as Zopyros knew, the land was only sleeping. It was lying low, like a leopard snoozing away the noonday heat in the shade of a gum tree. With the first rains of autumn it would spring again into vigorous life.

Overhead, piles of clouds, winging in from the west, now and then obscured the sun. At the base of the cliffs, a choppy surf hammered at shiny black, sea-washed rocks. The sea, too, was awakening from its summer sleep. Soon would come overcasts, gales, downpours, whitecapped swells, and the end of sea travel.

Hoping that he had remembered his directions aright, Zopyros jogged out to the end of the point. Then he turned the mule and ambled a bowshot back along the eastern side of the point. He slid off Yaphê and tied the reins to a branch of a gnarled cork oak.

"Stay on the mule," he told Ahiram. "I shall be back."

"Waits Mother down yonder?" asked Ahiram.

"Nay. I've told you: We must needs take ship."

"I have been on a ship. But I thirst! When eat we?"

Zopyros turned away to scout along the top of the cliff. At first he failed to find a path. He had a horrid feeling that he had been hoaxed or had made some basic mistake. What in Hades should he do if there were no Saphanbaal, or if she could not be found?

Then he saw the path, snaking steeply down the cliffside. It was partly natural but had been improved by the hand of man. Zopyros walked down the slope, cautiously feeling the cliff with his shoreward hand. More than halfway down to the water, the path leveled out. Then it widened to form a ledge, on which yawned the mouths of several caves.

"O Saphanbaal!" he called.

"Who calls?" came a woman's voice, reverberating hollowly out of one of the caves. "Zopyros the Tarentine, with a token."

"Oh?" The woman appeared at the entrance of the middle cave. She was a large woman, fat and saggy, wearing a simple dress of coarse brown stuff. Little piggy eyes looked out from a fat, round face. Most of her straggly hair had turned from brown to gray. Zopyros guessed her age at about fifty.

"I know about you, darling boy," she said, "but show me the token natheless. Show it me."

A little taken aback, Zopyros wordlessly pulled the broken shin-bone from his belt and handed it to her. As he came close, sight and smell told him that Saphanbaal had not bathed in a long, long time.

She took the bone and waddled back into the cave. Presently she reappeared, holding a second piece of bone in her left hand. She fitted their broken ends together.

"See?" she said. "A perfect fit. A perfect fit. The spirits told me, when erst I saw you, that you were a man of honor and virtue. But is there not a little lad with you?"

"Aye; I'll fetch him. I was fain to be sure. But how knew you all this? We left Carthage but last night, around twelve Egyptian hours ago."

She gave a simpering giggle that would have better become a girl of fourteen. "Now, darling Zopyros, were I not a sorry sort of witch, an I could not divine such matters? I have ways, and ways, and ways. But go fetch the boy. The poor little wight must be half dead of hunger and thirst. Go fetch him."

Zopyros went back up the path, unsaddled the mule, and moved it to a spot where it could graze on plenty of dried grass. Then, carrying his bag and holding Ahiram's hand, he returned down the path.

On the ledge he found Saphanbaal crouched over a little pile of tinder. In one hand she held a glass disk, two digits in diameter. The rays of the sun, striking through the glass, were concentrated in one glowing, rainbow-colored spot on the tinder. With the other hand she made passes over the tinder, intoning:

"Death take this wind!" she exclaimed. "There it goes!"

A plume of smoke whipped up from the tinder, and a small flame burst into being. The witch put twigs on the fire and soon had a blaze.

"Is that a magical fire?" said Ahiram.

"It certainly is, boy," said Saphanbaal. "It certainly is. Would you be a witch when you grow up? I could use an apprentice."

"Nay. I would be a builder like my father. But magic must be fun. Show me some more!"

"You shall see more soon enough, Master Ahiram; for tonight is the night of a big sitting. With the help of you two, I can give my truth-seekers an evening they shall long remember. Long shall they remember it. Know that I was once a beauty. I'm still a good figure of a woman, am I not?"

"It is not open to question, madam," said Zopyros, a little puzzled by the change of subject. "Live you here all alone?"

"Certes. I had a girl apprentice, but she ran away with a goatherd. 'Tis lonesome after the bustle of Utica."

"Why moved you?"

"You know how people talk and gossip about a woman who lives alone, be she never so virtuous! I had a colleague, a man witch named Shaddiel, with whom I undertook all-night conjurations. Such lengthy invocations are needed to command the mightiest spirits.

The talk of the neighbors was bad enough; but what really burnt the roast was that my favorite daemon, little old Gulgoleth, became jealous of Shaddiel! Imagine, a daemon becoming jealous of a mortal! So much so that, one night, when Shaddiel by some mischance had left off his most powerful amulet, Gulgoleth sprang upon him and devoured him. Actually ate him! If you have never seen a man consumed alive by an invisible spirit, you know not what a gruesome sight is.

"Of course, the tongues wagged even more freely, and there was even talk of the magistrate's charging me with murder. And how could I have warded myself? The evidence of daemons is not accepted in court, even if I could summon the monster and compel him to confess. So, what with one thing and another, I removed to this lorn spot and have dwelt here ever since. My clients bring me the things I need from Utica. From Utica they bring them.

"But 'tis sad, sometimes, to sit by oneself and listen to the play of the waves and the cries of the wild beasts. And of course, there's the hazard"—she rolled her eyes at Zopyros and tittered—"that some strong man like you will take advantage of me. An you did, I could no nought, nought whatever, to stay you." With downcast eyes and a shy smirk, she quivered all over, like a vast mass of jelly.

Zopyros nervously cleared his throat. "Madam, no true Pythagorean would so abuse the hospitality of a virtuous woman. What's for dinner?"

Dinner was a simple repast of fish, bread, cheese, and olives. Nevertheless, after his long ride, Zopyros found it delicious. He felt he could have eaten the witch's pet daemon Gulgoleth, assuming that daemons were edible. He looked up to see the witch, who had eaten more than Zopyros and Ahiram put together, staring intently at him.

"What is it?" he said.

"I was looking at your soul, he-he!" said Saphanbaal.

"Well, it is some comfort to know I have one. What saw you?"

"Your fate."

Zopyros shifted uneasily. "What is my fate?"

"Yours will be a long life, with much joy and much grief." The witch's voice boomed, as if she were speaking from one of her caves.

"Some of your ardently sought goals you shall achieve—and then either have them slip from your grasp, or find that they were not worth the striving. You will be hindered by one grave fault and upheld by one great virtue."

"And those are?"

"The fault is that you are not as other men. You feel not as they do. Matters that overjoy them delight you not, whereas you rejoice in things that are of little worth to them. Therefore, they find you cold and lacking in oneness with themselves. You will have but few true friends.

"The virtue is that yours is a hard, tough soul. You can not only endure solitude, but even take pleasure in it, for your own thoughts are company enow. When things seem at their worst, you console yourself with the thought that better men have suffered worse, that the things that grieve you will seem of little moment ten years hence, and that you may do better in that other life, whereof your philosophy teaches." She shook herself as if coming out of a trance. "Why give I such a priceless reading gratis? Some god must have put the words into my mouth. Hate you not the latter part of summer's drouth? My daemons tell me that 'twill soon be broken. Come on, both of you, and help me prepare for my clients. Now, have a care lest you tread on the toes of a spirit!"

She led them into the largest cave. Ledges had been chiseled out of the walls. On these ledges, heaped in disorder, were boxes, bags, jars, phials, rolls of parchment and papyrus, herbs, skulls and other bones, a small stuffed crocodile, tortoise shells, ostrich eggs, feathers, odd-shaped stones, and other magical accessories. Other objects hung from the ceiling: lamps, bird cages, masks, and in the center of the cave a jar. The jar hung by two strings, forming a V. Directly over it a polished circular plate of yellow metal, a foot in diameter, was set in the ceiling. The roof of the cavern seemed to sparkle with little points of light scattered over its rocky surface. Saphanbaal, following Zopyros' gaze, explained:

"That is the metal they call mountain copper."

"Oh." Zopyros had heard of oreichalkos but had never seen any. He had long wanted to get his hands on a piece to test its feel under tools, its melting point, and its other qualities. "Would you sell it?"

"And lose my moon? My very Tanith? Nay!"

"Moon, madam?"

"Let me explain the needs of my profession. Let me explain. I am a true witch, an authentic sorceress. I command spirits of fell power, utter mighty spells to work weal or woe, and see into hidden things far away or in the misty future. But"—she gave that repulsive giggle— "even the mightiest wizard knows times when his spells are countermanded by the influence of the stars, or his rebellious daemons shirk their duties to him, or his second sight wavers and blurs. Therefore must we of the magical craft impress our clients by base material means, lest they desert us for practitioners of lesser power and probity.

"This apparatus on the ceiling—the plate of mountain copper and the fish scales glued to the rock—are the moon and the stars. Ere the sitting begin, I light an Etruscan candle in this jar and cover the jar with a cloth. A string leads from the cloth back to yonder curtained niche. You, Master Ahiram, shall hold the other end of the thread. When I cry: 'Aroint you, rocks! Let the heavens be revealed!' you shall pull the cloth from off the jar and draw it back into your hiding place. The light of the candle, reflected from the plate and scales, will convince the boobies that they verily behold the moon and stars above them.

"You, Master Zopyros ..." Thrusting a hand into her bosom to scratch, she gave further directions for producing thaumaturgical effects.

"You trust us far," said Zopyros. "How know you we shall not give away your secrets?"

"Ah, well, as to that, you have a secret or two yourselves, have you not? Have you not, in sooth? So we must needs trust each other, willy-nilly." She giggled. "And sure am I that no such big, beautiful man as yourself would wrong a poor lone woman! Know you that I was once beautiful, too?"

A small charcoal fire glowed on the floor of the cave. Saphanbaal, wrapped in a vast black cloak, which hid all but her face, sat cross-legged facing the entrance. Around the tiny fire six other persons, four men and two women, sat on mats on the earthen floor. All had ridden for hours, on asses, mules, and traveling carts, from Utica four leagues away. All sat silently, their faces dim in the faint, ruddy glow. The smell of incense filled the cave. Beside the witch stood a pail full of lumps of charcoal, with a small scoop resting on top of it.

Zopyros and Ahiram crouched at the back of the cave, where a sharp bend in the cavity and a jutting wall of rock provided a lair for the witch's confederates. A greasy, dirt-colored curtain divided this recess from the principal part of the cavern, and Zopyros and Ahiram now peered through the crack in this curtain. Within the recess, the only illumination was a faint blue glow from a rushlight, thrust into a cleft in the rock. The man and the boy each wore a dark cloth tied over the lower part of his face, lest his visage reflect the firelight and draw the attention of the sitters. In addition, the mask helped to remind the talkative child to keep silence.

Fidgeting, Zopyros wondered if they were going to sit there all night. Then a stir at the mouth of the cave announced the last arrival, a man of mature years and dignified bearing, albeit Zopyros could see little of him beside his long white beard and the black cloak that covered him from head to foot. This, he understood, was a visitor of no common degree. The man was one of the two suphetes or chief magistrates of Utica.

The suphete murmured a brief greeting; Saphanbaal handed a cushion to the sitter next to her, who passed it on around to the magistrate. As the suphete sat down with the rest, Zopyros thought that Saphanbaal must be no ordinary adventuress, to draw to her sittings a man from the haughty Punic merchant aristocracy, and moreover compel him to sit with rag, tag, and bobtail of her regular circle of clients.

Still the witch sat silently. At last, when Zopyros was ready to jump out of his skin with impatience, her deep voice boomed through the cavern. She intoned:

"Friends, we are gathered together here to pierce the veil that hides matters of moment from mortal sight. To this end I have spent the day in prayer and fasting." (Zopyros, smiling in the dark, recalled that she had eaten a dinner big enough for a hungry lion.) "I have cast a mighty conjuration to summon a host of fell spirits across the black gulfs of space and time. My spell went forth through all the corners of the universe, rousing the winged daemons of the lofty aether and the scaly monsters of the bottomless pits, as the twitch of a trapped fly in a spider's web arouses the spider. In mystic caverns in the cragged mountains beyond the desert, bats flew squeaking in circles to warn the black wizards who dwell therein. On ancient battlefields, the ghosts of the unburied dead stirred restlessly. The night wind whispered the spell as it flew, and were-leopard and were-hyena slunk to their lairs, whimpering with fear. The serpent under the rock knew; and the owl on its bough knew. They knew. The very gods in their jeweled heavenly palaces"—she touched breast, lips, and forehead—"looked at one another and said: 'Saphanbaal conjures again. Well, let her conjure, for she is beloved of the gods!' "

Saphanbaal picked up the scoop, dug a small quantity of charcoal out of the pail, and sprinkled this fuel on the fire. She did this a second time. After another wait, she spoke again:

"Now my attendant spirits draw nigh. I feel the magical wind of their coming. From the blue-green depths of the sea, from the jungle-lost ruins of ancient temples, from the icy caves of the Mountains of the Moon they come. If any have arrived, let them signify their presence!"

There was a long pause. Then the charcoal fire hissed. The coals moved and seethed as if something alive were under them. The sitters gasped with awe. Zopyros, watching from his side chamber, would have gasped, too, had he not helped to prepare the fuel. Mixed with the first scoopful of coals were a number of lumps of alum coated with wax. When the wax melted, the alum bubbled, stirring the coals.

"They are here!" cried Saphanbaal. "They have come! Now for the sacrifice!"

Her hands came out from under her cloak. In her left hand she held one of the little birds from the cages, securely trussed. The bird uttered one cheep of protest. Then the witch cut its throat and let its blood trickle into the coals, making them hiss more loudly.

"Let us all sing the invocation to the moon!" she said. In an unmusical mixture of voices and keys, they sang:

"Aroint you, rocks, and let the moon appear!" shouted Saphanbaal.

Zopyros nudged Ahiram, who crouched beside him in the dark. The boy, suppressing a giggle, pulled a cord and drew the cloth off the jar. Saphanbaal, glancing up, screamed:

"Behold! The heavens are above you!"

Although both man and boy had moved back into the recess for better concealment, Zopyros could well imagine what the sitters saw. The light in the jar, reflected dimly on the metal disk and the fish scales glued to the black rock above, looked to the bewildered sitters for all the world like the moon and stars as seen through a murky glass. Saphanbaal's awe-struck clients gazed up at this artificial heaven with cries of wonder. The witch boomed:

"Resheph, lord of thunder, cast thy mantle of dark cloud about us! Extend unto us thy good will! Lend us thy might!"

This was Zopyros' cue to take out a packet of powder, shake a handful into his palm, and put the packet back on the shelf. While Ahiram, flattened against the rocks lest he be seen, opened the curtain wider, Zopyros tossed the powder into the flame of the rushlight. The powder ignited with a faint floomp; the bright flash was followed by a cloud of smoke, which billowed out into the main cave. Zopyros instantly picked up a basket of stones weighing several pounds apiece and poured the stones out upon a sheet of hammered bronze, which lay on the floor of the recess. The stones struck the metal with a magnificent crash.

When the reverberations of this clangor had died away, Zopyros ventured another peek through the curtain. Half the sitters lay prone with their faces covered in an ecstasy of terror. Even the suphete, whose dignity forbade him to sink to the floor of the cave like the others, had his hands pressed to his face.

"The gods and spirits are present!" said Saphanbaal. "They are all around us! One flits about yonder! See! See! Another peers over the shoulder of my lord the suphete!"

The suphete shifted nervously on his cushion and glanced over his shoulder.

"Ask your questions!" said the witch. "Ask, and it shall be answered unto you!"

"Who—who will win the next election of suphetes?" said the suphete in an unsteady voice.

"My gracious lord, the gods have ordained that one of the twain shall be a man of most rigorous probity, a man of pure motives and actions; whereas the other shall be a rogue of a demagogue who, while charming the citizens with flattery and promises, meaneth to enrich himself and his friends from the public till. Next."

"How can I make my wife conceive?" said a man.

"I can furnish thee with a phial of genuine water of the mighty Nile, which as all wise men know is most efficacious in causing conception. 'Tis cheap at a shekel. Next."

"Who stole the brooch from my dressing table?" said one of the women in belligerent tones.

Saphanbaal held her hands before her eyes. "I see night and darkness. I see a house, whose owners lie wrapped in tranquil slumber. I see a shadowy form flitting through the door and peering about for any loose thing to steal."

"What looks he like?" asked the woman.

" 'Tis too dark to see clearly, but from his height and swarthiness I take him for some vagabond of a Numidian. Now he snatcheth up the brooch, where it lieth on the woman's dressing table, and silently goeth out. I see him, mounted upon his ass, jogging down the road towards Carthage. I doubt not thou wilt find thy brooch at the thieves' market in the great city."

The other woman said: "Can I speak with the spirit of my dead child once more?"

Saphanbaal gasped, trembled, mumbled, and then burst into childish tones: "Hail, Mama ..."

The sitting went on and on. Saphanbaal spoke in the voices of several people. The sitters swore they recognized these voices as those of persons dear to them in life. She answered more questions with artful ambiguity. More hymns were sung. The witch uttered a small sermon on the power of spirits and the wonders of magical science. At last she said:

"The spirits wax restless. I must needs dismiss them, lest they wreak harm upon the living; especially Gulgoleth, whom I employ only for the most baleful tasks." She went into a stream of gibberish, waving her arms and crying at the last: "In the name of the god who must not be named, begone! Begone! Begone!"

Meanwhile Zopyros, acting upon his instructions, had tied a bunch of tow by a string to the leg of another bird. Holding the bird firmly in one hand, with the other he touched the tow to the rushlight. When the tow blazed up, he opened the curtain and tossed the bird and its flaming burden out into the cave. The bird took wing at once, trailing the blazing tow behind it. In the darkness, only a fiery streak could be seen. As the sitters cowered shrieking, the bird circled thrice around their heads and raced out into the night.

"That was Gulgoleth," said the witch in ordinary conversational tones. "The vain creature would fain make a show of his departure. Good night, my friends; the gods be with you on your long road homeward."

When the seekers had gone, Zopyros and Ahiram came out of hiding. Zopyros felt a belated pity for the bird whose throat had been cut, since the divine Pythagoras had forbidden blood sacrifice and unnecessary harm to animals. But the Tarentine salved his conscience with the thought that the other bird, now freed, would probably survive its fiery flight.

"Splendid, splendid!" said Saphanbaal, shaking the bowl in which the sitters had placed their offerings, until the coins clinked. "I would you could go into partnership with me. We could make a fine thing of this, my dear apprentice witches!"

"Nay; I have other plans, alas," said Zopyros. "Now, with your permission, madam, we'll withdraw to our quarters. It is far too late for such small fry as my charge, here, to be up and about."

"If it wax cold in that little side cave—" began Saphanbaal with a giggle. Zopyros picked up the sleepy child and hurried out, pretending not to hear.

At breakfast next morning, Saphanbaal swatted a fly on her dirty arm and said: " 'Twas cool in the night, was it not? Say not that I failed to warn you. Master Zopyros, I dreamt a dreadful dream last night, concerning you. Concerning you."

"Indeed?" said Zopyros. A slight chill made him shudder, even though he knew the woman for a charlatan. "What was it?"

"I dreamt of a great shining city, and war raged about that city. Then you came, tall as a cork oak tree, bearing a mighty bow. You set to this bow a fiery arrow, as long as a ship's mast. To the point of this arrow a bunch of tow had been tied. Another man—him I saw not clearly, but meseems he was as short and stout as you are tall and bony—kindled this bunch of tow with a torch. You let fly your arrow. It soared up into the heavens and swooped down upon the city. The flaming tow set fire to the nearby houses. Soon the entire metropolis was blazing fiercely. When the fire had burnt out, nought was left for the besiegers to loot—nought but one vast field of gray ash, stirred by the passing breezes."

"And then?" said Zopyros intently.

"That is all. Then I awoke."

Zopyros frowned. "I had a like message from the Sibyl of Cumae. Could you interpret such an oracle?"

She shook her head, as Phoenicians did to indicate the negative. "You've seen how a poor lone woman must sometimes cozen her clients when her spirits fail to furnish the wonders they demand. Mark you: I could easily concoct an interpretation to salve your soul. But it were not the true one. The true one, I do confess, I know not. But this dream frights me. It frights me, so vivid it was."

They finished their breakfast in uneasy silence. The morning was passed in chopping wood for Saphanbaal, watering the mule, and playing hide-and-seek with Ahiram. As he finished a meager lunch, Zopyros asked:

"Will there be another sitting tonight?"

"Nay, not for seven more. For we Canaanites hold the number seven sacred. Hence sittings are held at intervals of seven nights: on the nights of the full, half, and new moons."

"We Pythagoreans hold ten in equal honor," said Zopyros.

"Be that as it may, Captain Bostar comes tonight, if all go well and he see my signal, to snatch away you and the lad."

"How shall we get out to his ship, without any landing place?"

"I have a little skiff, hidden in yonder small cave. You shall row to the ship in it."

"How, then, will you get your boat back?"

"A cord is coiled within the skiff. I shall hold the end of this cord and, when you are safely aboard the Sudech, shall pull the boat back to me. You are not the first to be thus whisked away, he-he! The old boat leaks a mite, wherefore you must needs ply the dipper you'll find with the oars."

Zopyros entered the cave she had indicated and confirmed her statements about the boat. When he returned to the ledge, she said:

"It grieves me that you'll not be here long enough to learn more of the secrets of magic; for my occult powers detect a rare sympathy betwixt you and myself." She fluttered her eyelids at Zopyros and giggled, so that her double chin and mountainous breasts quivered. "I could teach you other arts, too, my fair young lord! For I have seen much in my life. Said I that I was once a dancing girl?"

"Nay."

"I have danced before many great ones—the suphetes of Carthage and the Persian governor of Egypt. Was I lithe and graceful then! Although hateful age has brushed me with its bony fingers, once I was fair indeed. Really beautiful!"

"I'm sure—" began Zopyros, but she rushed on:

"Why, the governor offered half a talent for me! In those days half a talent went farther than it does today. That Persian was a lordly, manly man. Wiry, seven tricks a night might scarce abate his ardor! You resemble him in feature, dear Zopyros, but whether you'd surpass his prowess in lectual matters remains to be seen.

"Would you were here in spring, when the flowers bloom! Then is this dusty corner of New Canaan a fair land to see. Where was I? Oh, yes, a dancing girl was I ere I sought the higher wisdom and perforce forswore the pleasures of the flesh. When I danced before the king of Tyre, he said: 'By all the baals, her breasts are fairer than the moon at its full.

Saphanbaal went on and on. Zopyros, embarrassed, did not know how much to believe. At least half, he thought, was surely fiction. He started a quiet game of tic-tac-toe with Ahiram to keep the boy occupied and, he hoped, to keep the child's attention off Saphanbaal's vulgarities.

Saphanbaal kept right on, tirelessly boasting of her former beauty and of the havoc she had wrought among the men who saw her. Her garrulity, her lies, her sudden changes of subject, her irritating giggle, her coy flirtatious winks, her elephantine attempts at seduction, her trick of repeating sentences, and her self-absorption combined with her personal uncleanliness to make her one of the most repellent human beings Zopyros had ever known. On the other hand, he dared not treat her brusquely lest she betray him.

There were people, he reflected, who, deciding they did not like Saphanbaal, would simply cut her throat, board the ship, and leave her body to the vultures. But, as a Pythagorean, he could not consider such a ruthless course. Moreover, he did not know the signal that would fetch Bostar in to shore.

At last, to stop the inane flow of chatter, he suggested a game of Sacred Way with her. Saphanbaal had never played the game but seemed to learn it readily enough. Soon she suggested a small stake. Nevertheless, she made foolish moves, no matter how often Zopyros pointed them out and tried to teach her better. Finding herself losing, she loudly insisted upon larger stakes and called upon her stable of daemons to aid her.

The daemons, however, seemed to have taken the day off. The pile of shekels, drachmai, and smaller coins in front of Zopyros grew. At last she cried:

"Recreant knave! By Bes's beard, at this rate, you'll not leave me enough to eat on for the next month!" She angrily knocked the board aside, so that the die and the men flew hither and thither about the ledge. "Even though I eat no more than a bird!"

"Ea!" said Zopyros. "You need not destroy my set, just because you've been losing! As for the bird, no doubt you are right if you mean the ostrich of the African desert." He picked up the pieces and counted them. "Harken, madam; I have no wish to impoverish you. I'll return my winnings if you will give me my pick of your magical gear."

"Oh, forgive a foolish old woman! Forgive me, dear, sweet boy!" she cooed. "Those terms were just enow, specially since you've promised me the mule. Ask what you will."

"I want that metal plate you use for a moon."

"Ai! I am shent! Anything but that! The man-made heaven is one of my best stocks in trade! In the name of your Greek gods, I beg you! Deprive not a poor old witch, who holds you in warmest esteem, of her means of livelihood!"

"Well," said Zopyros, disappointed, "what else could you offer?"

She clawed in her billowy bosom and brought out the burning glass. "How about this? For a traveling man, it is ofttimes quicker than flint and steel; and certes 'tis better far than rubbing sticks together."

"Will that not leave you as badly off as the loss of the plate?"

"Nay; I have another. Here, take it!"

Zopyros, who had heard of such lenses but had never seen one, happily slipped over his head the cord from which the object hung. Then he said:

"My dear Saphanbaal, to leave Yaphê in good condition, I must needs exercise him. Come, Ahiram; we go for a muleback ride."

When a blocky black shape showed clear against the moonlit waters, Saphanbaal kindled a torch and, standing on the edge of the ledge, waved it thrice up and down. A spark appeared against the blackness of the ship, moving likewise. The ship grew larger as Captain Bostar crept in towards shore. Zopyros inched the little dugout down the rough rocks from the ledge to the water's edge.

" 'Twill be some moments ere he comes within rowing distance," said Saphanbaal. "Darling Zopyros, could you not—ah—leave me with a fond memory of your stay? ..."

"I am honored, madam," grunted Zopyros, looking up from his struggle with the boat, "but I am much too nervous now." He slid the hull into the water, hoping that he had not aggravated the leaks. Then he carried his bag down to the water, climbed to the ledge again, and said:

"Come here, Ahiram."

Zopyros picked up the child, hugged him, and swung him astride one hip, saying: "Hold tight, now!" As Ahiram grasped Zopyros around the neck, Saphanbaal muttered something about boy-loving Greeks. Ignoring her, Zopyros groped his way down to the water, clutching Ahiram with one arm and steadying himself with the other. At the boat, he lowered Ahiram into the stern, saying:

"Now sit there and, whatever you do, do not stand up!" He placed his traveling bag in the bow, so that it would serve as a back to the thwart. Then he gingerly lowered his own weight into the craft, sat. down facing aft on the thwart, put out the oars, and pushed off. Somewhere in the distance a hyena laughed.

"Ahiram!" said Zopyros. "Take that dipper." He indicated the dipper of wood and leather in front of Ahiram's feet. "Now scoop up the water in the bottom and throw it over the side—phy!—I did not say to throw it at me!"

Zopyros wiped his arm across his face, from which a dipperful of water ran down. On his second try, Ahiram got most of the water in the dipper overboard.

"That's right; keep on bailing!" said Zopyros, bending his back to the oars.

A light but strong cord, fastened to the stern of the boat, curved up to the ledge where Saphanbaal stood. As Zopyros rowed out from shore, Saphanbaal paid out the cord. The boat bounced perilously in the slight swell, and water began to come aboard—some over the gunwales, some through the leaks in the bottom.

"Bail, Ahiram, bail!" said Zopyros. Then he called across the water: "Farewell, O Saphanbaal! Many thanks for your kindness! The gods of Canaan prosper you!"

He could afford to be cordial, now, because he was out of her reach. (Unless, the horrid thought struck him, she decided to haul the boat shoreward by its cord!) He rowed faster, glancing over his shoulder at the dark shape of the merchantman. Ahiram, bailing, asked:

"Is Mother on the ship?"

"Nay, lad. We have a way to go yet."

"I liked Saphanbaal. Are all witches like her?"

"I hope not. Keep bailing, or we shall find ourselves in the sea!"

For some minutes Zopyros rowed and Ahiram bailed. But, every time the talkative infant spoke, he forgot to bail, and Zopyros had to bark at him. At last, feeling the water rise around his ankles, Zopyros snatched the dipper from the boy and, with a score of rapid scoops, got the water back down to a less ominous level. While he bailed, the boat drifted, bobbing and rocking.

Zopyros handed the dipper back to Ahiram, saying earnestly: "Keep bailing, son, no matter what!"

"I tire of bailing."

"There's no help for it, unless you would swim the rest of the way."

"But I wax sleepy!"

"We cannot have you going to sleep, because I can't bail and row at the same time. Wake up!"

The water was rising again. As it rose, the boat moved more sluggishly. Casting about for some means of keeping Ahiram awake, Zopyros said: "Let's play a game. Let's pretend we have forgotten Punic and speak nothing but Greek. How would you say: Tm sleepy' in that tongue?"

"Eimai—eimai hypnôdês."

"Good! Keep bailing! Faster!"

Despite Zopyros' efforts to hold Ahiram to his task, the water gained again. Again Zopyros had to stop rowing and take the dipper himself. By the time he had beaten the water level back to within a digit of the bottom, Ahiram had fallen quietly asleep. From then on, it was a nightmare struggle to row the waterlogged craft a few strokes, bail frantically, then row some more. Each time the water seemed to gain more between bailings, and the ship appeared to come no closer ...

At last they reached the ship. Zopyros had to risk capsizing by standing up in the wretched skiff to grasp the gunwale of the merchantman. With his free hand he boosted Ahiram up into the waiting arms of the sailors, tossed his wet bag after, and climbed over the rail himself. The half-filled boat wallowed shoreward as Saphanbaal reeled in her line.

A stout figure, standing before Zopyros on the moonlit deck, bowed and said in Punic-accented Greek: "Rejoice, my lord Zopyros! I am Captain Bostar of the Sudech, and your humble servant. How can I serve you?"

"Be in good health," said Zopyros in the same language. "We must find a place for the boy to sleep—"

"Harkening and obedience! But he seems to have found a place for himself/' said the captain, pointing.

Ahiram had curled up on the deck and fallen asleep again, with his head on his arm. In obedience to the mate's orders, the sailors hurried about, letting out the sail and swinging the ship's bow eastward. Zopyros wrapped Ahiram in a blanket and moved him to a safer place. Then he followed Captain Bostar into the cabin aft. Although this cabin was larger than that on the Muttumalein, Zopyros still had to stoop to enter the tiny room. A chair, a stool, a small three-legged table, and the captain's bunk took up most of the space.

They sat across from each other at the little table. Over the table a small bronze lamp, suspended from the ceiling, swung back and forth with the motion of the ship. In the dim yellow lamplight, Captain Bostar was seen to be a man of medium height, powerfully built, with a large curly black beard. Besides the usual rings in his ears and on his fingers, he wore a costly-looking necklace of amulets alternating with semiprecious stones. On his head sat a cylindrical cap with a scarf wound turbanwise around it. Below the turban, pouchy black eyes peered out on either side of a large, fleshy nose.

"Will my lord deign to sip a drop of wretched Byblian?" said Bostar, pouring from a small jar into a beaker.

"Thank you," said Zopyros. "You seem to run an efficient ship."

"Your lordship is much too kind! May the gods of Hellas requite your courtesy! By the way"—he suddenly changed his language to Punic—"speak you the Canaanitish tongue?"

"No, alas," said Zopyros. He had remembered Evnos' warning that Bostar was not the most trustworthy of sea captains. Besides, the man's excessive politeness made him wary. "Have you a regular arrangement with the witch?"

Bostar shrugged, spreading his hands. "In my trade one must have contacts with people of many kinds, in many lands. Else, how should I learn of profitable deals before my competitors do? How long was your excellent self in New Phoenicia?"

"Not so long as I should have liked." Two could play at the game of evasion. "I found Carthage a most impressive city. Will this be your last voyage of the season?"

"That is as the gods of the weather decide ..."

The conversation became a dull repetition of polite phrases. Zopyros finished his wine, excused himself, and went out on deck. He found a sheltered place near the child, wrapped himself in his cloak, pillowed his head on his duffel bag, and fell into uneasy slumber. The gentle roll of the ship, the groan and creak of timbers, the song of the wind in the rigging, and the rhythmic splash, splash of the blunt stem smiting the waves were woven into his dreams.

The sun was up when the sound of voices awakened Zopyros. The captain, the mate, and two sailors were standing in a group, arguing in Punic. As he opened his eyes and saw that they were watching him, he caught the tail of a sentence:

"... I told you not to speak so loudly; now he wakens!"

This, thought Zopyros, was interesting. He smiled, yawned, stretched, said "Rejoice!" and pretended to go back to sleep.

"No harm is done," said Bostar's voice. "He knows not the Punic tongue."

"But the boy does!" said another voice.

"The boy's gone aft, out of earshot." Zopyros recognized the voice as that of the mate. " 'Tis not too late to seize them now—"

"Nay," came Bostar's voice again. "He wears a sword beneath his raiment. He's a big, strong youth and no man's fool. In the cabin, he turned my questions aside as neatly as you please. Did we not succeed at the first grab, by Milkarth's iron yard, he'd have a head or an arm off one of us ere we secured him! Tonight were better."

The mate said: "When he slumbers tonight, we'll bind and gag him and the lad and hide them below deck, lest they cry a rescue whilst we stop at Akragas."

A sailor said: "Feed him well and ply him with wine and he'll sleep during the day."

"Aye," said another. "The sooner he's trussed the better. What think you he'll fetch On the block at Tyre, sir?"

Bostar: "With his wit and education, he should bring at least eight or ten pounds of silver. And the boy will fetch at least the half of that when he's been to the castrator's."

The mate said: "Won't this queer future deals with Evnos, Captain?"

"Bugger Evnos! I'll not reject the gifts of the gods for any mealy-mouthed ransomer in the Inner Sea ..."

Speech sank to murmurs as the group moved off. Zopyros cast off his pretense of sleep and got up. He was shaking with rage and fear, although he tried to hide the fact by staring stonily seaward. Seize him and his protégé to sell in the Persian Empire—the boy as a eunuch—would they? He'd see about that.

For a time he stood at the rail, so filled with fury that he could hardly think. Little by little his mind cleared. It was lucky, he thought, that he had awakened when he did and frightened them off. A few heartbeats more and they might have nerved themselves to throw themselves upon him right then ...

Dirty, treacherous, murderous, baby-burning, moneygrubbing, Phoenician swine! It served him right for ever trusting one of them ...

He checked himself. That was no way for a Pythagorean to think. Pythagoras had stressed the worth, or lack of it, of the individual man, regardless of his tribe or nation. One of his closest friends had been a barbarian from Scythia; another had been a Thracian. Zopyros had found Canaanites good, bad, or indifferent like other men. At the moment he was having a run of bad Phoenicians, just as the die of his game set might turn up a three several throws in a row.

Meanwhile, he must think of some means of escape. What would happen if he simply drew his sword and started dashing about the ship, killing every man he came to? He might get a few, but the rest would gang together with knives, oars, and boathooks. In addition, Bostar probably had a chest of weapons stowed away against pirates. In the long run, they would probably kill or capture him. Even if he did slay all the scoundrels, the ship was much too large for one man to sail, even if that man were a sailor, which Zopyros was not ...

"Master Zopyros!" said Ahiram. "That thing the witch gave you—" Zopyros spoke slowly and softly in Greek: "You forget, Ahiram, that I don't speak Punic."

"Oh." The hoy frowned, then tried in stumbling Greek: "That —that thing—make fire—you know—"

"Oh, you want to see it make fire? Then fetch me some scraps of oakum and stuff for tinder."

Presently the boy had gathered a handful of litter. Zopyros placed it on the deck at the stern, next to the bulwark, where the rising sun shone upon it. To make the performance more impressive, he waved his free hand and murmured the chant that Saphanbaal had used:

"Ye spirits of fire, come to my aid! ..."

A curl of smoke arose from the litter, to be whisked away by the wind. When a shadow fell athwart his fire, he looked up to see the mate and a couple of sailors staring at him. The captain shouldered past them, crying:

"What do you, Master Zopyros? Try to set my ship afire? Stop it at once!"

Bostar pushed Zopyros brusquely aside, stamped on the smoldering tinder, then kicked the litter so that the wind snatched away the fragments.

"I was only showing off this magical crystal to the boy," said Zopyros with a weak smile. "Pm terribly sorry, but I never thought of the risk of fire."

"Well, well, no harm is done," said the captain. "Pray forgive my rudeness, most excellent lord; but the safety of his ship is the foremost thought of every good captain." Bostar bowed, rubbing his hands together and smiling unctuously. "You have pardoned me, I hope? I'm only a poor rough mariner, unused to intercourse with such fine gentlemen as yourself. I beg you, do me the honor of stepping into my wretched little cabin and sharing the morning repast with me!"

Two plates were set on the little table. Zopyros' plate was heaped with enough food for two, and the captain pressed wine upon him. Zopyros nibbled and sipped sparingly, rolling each mouthful carefully over his tongue before swallowing it lest it be charged with some drug.

Afterwards he went out on deck. He watched the sea and played with Ahiram, conscious of the sidelong glances of the sailors. They hoped he would go to sleep; he would disappoint them. Once during the long, disagreeable day he asked the mate: "When shall we reach Akragas?"

"If the wind holds, before dawn tomorrow. The big risk in this passage is that an overcast will come up so you cannot tell direction. Then the wind backs or veers, and you hit Libya or Sardinia when you were aiming for Sicily."

"Like that Samian who started for Egypt and ended up at the Pillars of Herakles," said Zopyros.

"I can understand a Hellene captain's making such a mistake," said the mate, "but no Canaanitish mariner ever went so far astray!"

"I'm sure your navigation is expert," said Zopyros.

Late in the afternoon, the captain invited Zopyros to dine with him. This meal repeated the earlier one, with the captain hospitably urging him to overeat and overdrink. As the dinner ended, Zopyros said:

"Captain, do you play Sacred Way?"

"A little, my lord. Have you a set with you?"

"Yes. How about a game after it gets dark?"

"Whatever pleases you will delight me, sir."

When the stars came out, Zopyros went back to the cabin, carrying his game set in one hand and leading Ahiram with the other. He said:

"If you don't mind, Captain, I should like to put the little fellow to sleep on the floor here, where I can keep an eye on him while we play."

"Harkening and obedience!" The captain bowed and smirked. "Place him on my bunk yonder."

The evening wore on. Game followed game, while the yellow-plumed lamp swayed back and forth over the little table. From time to time the mate or a sailor appeared at the door of the cabin. Sometimes they exchanged looks with the captain.

At last, Zopyros thought, the time for action had come. He threw the die, made his move, and rose abruptly, cracking his skull against the overhead.

"Oimoi!" he groaned, clutching at his head.

"Are you hurt, generous sir?" said Bostar.

"No; just a little bump. I deserve it for being stupid. Go on with your play while I look at the boy."

Stooping, with pounding heart, he stepped behind Captain Bostar, who was throwing the die. Zopyros quietly reached under his tunic and got his hand on the hilt of his sword. Then with one quick blur of motion he whirled, drew, reached around with his left hand, and caught a fistful of Bostar's beard. Jerking it up, he touched the edge of his sword to Bostar's throat.

"Be still!" he whispered in Punic. "One move and off goes your head!"

"What—what means this outrage?" gasped Bostar, tensely gripping the sides of his chair.

"You know well enough. Call the mate. Call him at once, I say!" Zopyros increased the pressure on the Phoenician's throat.

"Softly, pray! You're cutting me! I bleed!"

Zopyros, leaning over, saw that he had indeed made a slight cut in Bostar's flesh. "Well then, call the mate!"

"Milko!" cried the captain hoarsely.

"Aye?" said the mate, putting his head in the door. When he saw what was going on, he took a step forward. Zopyros shouted:

"Stand back, if you would not see your captain's throat cut!"

"He means it, too!" said Bostar in a quavery, tearful voice. "Stand back, Milko!"

The faces of sailors appeared over the mate's shoulders. Zopyros said: "I have just made it clear to your captain that I am fain not to be sold in Tyre. So we shall disembark at Akragas as planned."

Milko said to the captain in an accusing voice: "You said he knew no Canaanitish!"

"How was I to know?" said the captain. "The lying Greek deceived me!" To Zopyros he added: "You cozened us, you unprincipled scoundrel!"

Zopyros grinned. "Oh, Pm a terrible fellow, so to befool a gang of honest kidnappers! But we have business. Milko, fetch me a length —say, fifteen feet—of light rope. Hurry up!" He pushed the sword edge into the captain's flesh.

"Do as he says!" wailed Bostar as Zopyros increased the pressure of the blade.

When he had his rope, Zopyros said to the sailors: "Now get out on deck and stay away from the cabin. If there be any attempt at rushing us, be sure your gallant captain shall be the first to die. Go!"

Zopyros made Bostar extend his arms behind him with the wrists together. Taking one end of the rope in his teeth and manipulating it with his free hand, he took several turns around Bostar's wrists. Then he risked driving the point of his sword into the planking long enough to tie a hard knot with both hands. He passed the rope under the seat of the chair to the front and tied Bostar's ankles to the chair legs. He prowled around the chair, testing the firmness of the knots. They he set the sword again against Bostar's throat and called:

"Milko!"

"Aye, sir?" said the mate in a hushed voice, as he appeared again in the doorway.

"Forget not to set your course for Akragas. We should reach it ere dawn, remember? So, if broad day burst upon us with no Sicily in sight ..." He pointed at Bostar and drew a finger across his throat. "See you to it."

Before the mate had time to depart on his errand, there came a disturbance. Ahiram, awakened by the loud voices, sat up, rubbed his eyes, stood up, and started for the door of the cabin.

"Come back, Ahiram!" yelled Zopyros, too late. Quick as the strike of a snake, Milko caught the boy's arm, swept him against his body, and touched the point of his dagger to the boy's throat.

The mate's narrow face split in a grin. "Now, good my lord, an you slay our captain, we'll do likewise with your brat!"

Zopyros silently cursed himself for his stupidity. For several heartbeats he and the mate confronted each other over the bodies of their respective hostages. Ahiram wailed:

"But, Zopyros, I had to go!"

Zopyros gathered his thoughts. He wondered if he could regain the upper hand by beginning slowly to saw off Bostar's head. Then another idea struck him. With his left hand, he felt inside his tunic and brought out the burning glass, which hung from a string around his neck. "Know you this?"

The mate gave back a trifle. "Aye—it—'tis that magical crystal wherewith you started the fire this morn."

"Now," said Zopyros with a sinister grin, "belike you think that, even if I slay your captain and you kill the lad, you and the sailors can still overpower me, so you'll come out with whole skins. But I have tidings for you: namely, that by this little device I can make certain that all of us shall perish."

"How so?" said the mate, an anxious note in his voice. Behind him the sailors exchanged uneasy glances. Ahiram noisily wept.

"By burning a hole in the bottom of the ship. Can you swim ashore across half the Inner Sea?"

"I cannot swim at all," muttered a sailor.

"But you would die also!" said Milko. "I believe it not! You are shamming!"

"Oh, think you so? I fear not death, because the Pythagorean philosophy teaches that I shall live again in another body. I shall now begin the spell." Holding the lens with its axis vertical, he slowly chanted:

"Smell you not something burning?" said a sailor in a loud whisper.

"Stop him!" cried Captain Bostar. "Let the boy go! Death I fear no more than most men, but I will not see my beautiful ship destroyed! 'Tis not worth the paltry price they'd bring!"

"Stop!" screamed Bostar. "Release the child! I command it!"

Milko reluctantly loosened his grasp on the weeping Ahiram, who scuttled around the cabin to clutch one of Zopyros' legs.

"Now," said Zopyros, "be so good as to set the course for Akragas. Let us have no more nonsense. And you, Ahiram, stay behind me. Go piddle in the corner if you must."

The mate and the sailors went away. Zopyros remained standing behind Bostar. He took his sword from the captain's throat but held it ready in case of surprise. Bostar cocked his head to look back over his shoulder.

"Ha, ha!" said he with false heartiness. "You are the world's wonder, my lord Zopyros! By the gods, a more daring rascal than I, myself! 'Tis a pity we should quarrel, when together we might achieve great deeds. Why not throw in with me? No matter that you're not a sailor. I'll make you supercargo, to be my man of business ashore to arrange kidnappings, ransoms, illicit cargoes, and other delicate matters. In time, when you have learned enough lore of the sea, belike you may have a ship of your own."

"Nay," said Zopyros. "That is not my trade."

"But think of the adventure and the profit! I know where a sunken treasure ship lies hid ..."

For hours Bostar talked. He wheedled, blustered, and made promises ever more fantastic, if only Zopyros would put away his sword and unbind him. Zopyros encouraged the captain to ramble on, if only because it helped him to stave off sleepiness.

At last a faint light appeared in the doorway. Yawning, Zopyros stepped to where Ahiram lay curled in a small heap and shook the boy awake.

"Go to the door," he said, "and put your head out. Beware lest someone grab you. See if land be in sight."

Ahiram reported land on the port side. An hour later, Milko appeared.

"We near Akragas," he said.

"Good," said Zopyros. He yawned and stretched. "Tell me when the wharf is nigh."

Some time later the mate reappeared, saying: "The wharf is crowded, my lord Zopyros. We shall have to anchor in the harbor."

"Run the ship up against one of those already tied up to the wharf!"

"But my paint!" cried Captain Bostar. "You'll mar the side, if you crack not the timbers with the impact!"

Zopyros put the sword edge to Bostar's throat. At the touch of the steel, the captain moaned: "Do as he says, Milko. But if you, sir, harm my ship, I'll—I'll ..."

"You'll write me a letter of complaint, care of President Dionysios, Syracuse, Sicily."

The motion of the ship eased as it slid into the harbor at the mouth of the Akragas River. Sounds of harbor work, human voices, the braying of asses and mules took the place of wind and wave. Zopyros stooped and cut the rope where it bound Bostar's ankles.

"Stand up!" he said.

With his hands still bound behind him and the blade of Zopyros' sword against his neck, Captain Bostar walked—hobbling stiffly from being tied up—out of the cabin, followed closely by Zopyros and Ahiram. Far above and fifteen furlongs away, the ruins of Akragas' magnificent temples, sacked by the Carthaginians seven years before, gleamed like a pale golden crown at the top of the long slope. The mate and the sailors, watching like a ring of wolves, moved forward a little.

"Keep back!" barked Zopyros, with a suggestive motion of his sword. He pointed. "Bring the ship in there!"

Milko took the tiller bars from a sailor and, snapping commands, guided the ship slowly towards the line of merchantmen moored along the wharf. The sailors took in sail until there was barely enough to keep the ship under way. Two sailors grunted at the sweeps.

The captain of one of the moored vessels, seeing the Sudech drifting towards him, rushed to the rail of his ship and began shouting in Greek: "Keep off, you dung-eating temple robber! Touch my ship, and by Herakles I'll have the law on you!" A couple of his sailors stepped to the rail of the Greek ship with boathooks.

"Keep on!" commanded Zopyros.

When the ships were less than two cubits apart and the Greek captain was dancing and waving his fists over his head, Zopyros called to a Punic sailor: "You there! You with the squint! Throw my duffel bag across to the other ship, and Baal Hammon help you if you drop it in the water!"

The sailor addressed picked up the bag and tossed it to the deck of the farther ship. The Greek sailors with the boathooks strained at their poles to keep the ships from touching. Two Punic sailors picked up oars from the deck to help in holding the ships apart.

"Ahiram!" said Zopyros. "Go to the rail!"

"I fear that angry man on the other ship—"

"Never mind him! Go, or Zopyros will spank!"

The boy went. Zopyros spun Bostar around and, with a mighty shove, sent him staggering into the midst of his own men. Then he tossed his sword across the gap, swept up Ahiram in both hands and, with a muscle-cracking effort, hurled the child across the rails of the two ships.

Seeing Zopyros unarmed, Bostar's sailors sprang at him. Just ahead of their clutching hands, Zopyros vaulted to the rail of the Sudech and with one long stride reached the rail of the Greek ship. His foot slipped on the second rail, so that he fell heavily and sprawled on the Hellene's deck.

When Zopyros scrambled up, the Greek captain had already planted a foot on the sword. On the Sudech, a rattle of commands sent the Phoenician sailors to their posts. They pushed off with their oars, and their ship began to draw away from the Greek merchantman.

"What in the name of the Dog goes on?" shouted the Greek captain. "What kind of vagabonds are you, to come leaping aboard my ship like sea daemons?"

"Merely a couple of good Hellenes escaping from a Punic slaver," said Zopyros. "I'm Zopyros the Tarentine, presently of Syracuse."

"Oh, so you're Hellenes," said the captain. "That's different." Cupping his hands, he shouted across to the other ship: "You there! Drop anchor so a port officer can board you!"

But the crew of the Sudech, pulling hard on their oars, ignored the command. The Greek captain turned back to Zopyros. "Shall we take those rascals into custody?"

The Sudech was swinging about towards the mouth of the harbor. Moving briskly, the sailors hauled her yard around and shook out her sail. She heeled to the morning breeze and started for the open sea.

"Let them go," said Zopyros. "Those rogues would be hard to catch and harder to convict, and I have my own business to attend to. I got off at the cost of a game set and a night's sleep, which is not bad considering."