Andromache grabbed the rail as the vehicle
thundered toward the beach.
And there, in the distance, she saw the mighty Xanthos. Twice the size
of any ship on the King’s Beach, the Xanthos lay half-in, half-out of the
water, resting slightly to one side. Despite the great bulk, the warship had
grace and beauty. As the chariot clattered down to the beach, drawing up close
to the Xanthos, the first rays of the rising sun speared over the
horizon, turning the polished oak timbers to gold.
The Xanthos, still and serene, was surrounded by people: crewmen
shinnying up ropes to the top deck, beachmasters and their workers loading
cargo, early-rising fishermen and home-going whores lingering to watch the
launch.
As she got down from the chariot, Andromache wondered for a moment how they
were going to get on board, but as they neared the ship, a sturdy wooden ladder
was passed down to the sand at the stern. At the top she could see the
reassuring figure of Gershom leaning down over the rail. He waved and called out
a greeting.
Then curly-haired Oniacus trudged across the sand. “Can you manage, lady? You
can sit in a sling if you prefer.”
“To be hauled up like livestock, Oniacus? My sister and I can manage a
ladder.” She softened the sharp words with a smile, remembering that the man
only recently had lost his family at Dardanos.
“The rest of your belongings are already aboard,” he said. “They are stored
at the rear of the lower deck.”
“And the ebony box?” she asked.
Oniacus nodded. “Safe, lady, alongside your luggage. Your bow is there also,
and two fine quivers. Let us hope you do not find use for them—beyond practice,
I mean.”
Andromache saw that Kassandra was about to speak and cut across her. “Thank
you, Oniacus,” she said. “We also took your advice and brought extra warm
clothing. Oiled woolen cloaks and leggings.”
“That is good. The weather may be savagely cold and wet.”
Andromache took Kassandra by the arm and led her to the ladder. “You go up
first,” she told her. “I will follow and steady your foot if you slip.”
Kassandra laughed. “You think I am some drooling defective who has never
climbed a ladder?” Lifting the hem of her dark ankle-length tunic, she almost
ran up the ladder, taking Gershom’s hand and leaping over the rail. Andromache
followed her.
Safely on the aft deck by the carved steering oar, Andromache immediately
glanced around for sight of Helikaon. He was not yet aboard, and she felt a pang
of disappointment. The crewmen amidships were hauling aboard cargo: bales of
embroidered cloth, sturdy wooden chests, nets full of bread and fruit, and
hundreds of small amphorae strung together with twine and padded with straw.
Other crewmen then lowered the goods to the hold.
Oniacus vaulted over the deck rail and opened a hatch in the deck by
Andromache’s feet. Climbing down to the second oar deck, he called out greetings
to the men below. The buzz of conversation continued as the oarsmen began to
swap stories and catch up on news of their comrades. All of them seemed cheerful
at the prospect of getting under way.
Andromache felt it, too, the exhilaration running through the golden ship.
She glanced at Kassandra. The girl’s eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and
she gazed around with wonder. Because of her strangeness it was easy to forget
that Kassandra was little more than a child—and a child about to embark on a
great adventure.
“Let us get you both settled,” Gershom said. “We are sailing soon.” He stared
hard at Kassandra as if he knew her. “Come,” he said, then led the two women
along the central aisle.
Andromache could see some of the Xanthos ’ battle scars. There were
fire-blackened rows of decking that needed renewal, and part of the starboard
rail had been repaired roughly with planks. Three carpenters were busy replacing
a section of rail on the port side. They were hammering feverishly.
As she
thundered toward the beach.
And there, in the distance, she saw the mighty Xanthos. Twice the size
of any ship on the King’s Beach, the Xanthos lay half-in, half-out of the
water, resting slightly to one side. Despite the great bulk, the warship had
grace and beauty. As the chariot clattered down to the beach, drawing up close
to the Xanthos, the first rays of the rising sun speared over the
horizon, turning the polished oak timbers to gold.
The Xanthos, still and serene, was surrounded by people: crewmen
shinnying up ropes to the top deck, beachmasters and their workers loading
cargo, early-rising fishermen and home-going whores lingering to watch the
launch.
As she got down from the chariot, Andromache wondered for a moment how they
were going to get on board, but as they neared the ship, a sturdy wooden ladder
was passed down to the sand at the stern. At the top she could see the
reassuring figure of Gershom leaning down over the rail. He waved and called out
a greeting.
Then curly-haired Oniacus trudged across the sand. “Can you manage, lady? You
can sit in a sling if you prefer.”
“To be hauled up like livestock, Oniacus? My sister and I can manage a
ladder.” She softened the sharp words with a smile, remembering that the man
only recently had lost his family at Dardanos.
“The rest of your belongings are already aboard,” he said. “They are stored
at the rear of the lower deck.”
“And the ebony box?” she asked.
Oniacus nodded. “Safe, lady, alongside your luggage. Your bow is there also,
and two fine quivers. Let us hope you do not find use for them—beyond practice,
I mean.”
Andromache saw that Kassandra was about to speak and cut across her. “Thank
you, Oniacus,” she said. “We also took your advice and brought extra warm
clothing. Oiled woolen cloaks and leggings.”
“That is good. The weather may be savagely cold and wet.”
Andromache took Kassandra by the arm and led her to the ladder. “You go up
first,” she told her. “I will follow and steady your foot if you slip.”
Kassandra laughed. “You think I am some drooling defective who has never
climbed a ladder?” Lifting the hem of her dark ankle-length tunic, she almost
ran up the ladder, taking Gershom’s hand and leaping over the rail. Andromache
followed her.
Safely on the aft deck by the carved steering oar, Andromache immediately
glanced around for sight of Helikaon. He was not yet aboard, and she felt a pang
of disappointment. The crewmen amidships were hauling aboard cargo: bales of
embroidered cloth, sturdy wooden chests, nets full of bread and fruit, and
hundreds of small amphorae strung together with twine and padded with straw.
Other crewmen then lowered the goods to the hold.
Oniacus vaulted over the deck rail and opened a hatch in the deck by
Andromache’s feet. Climbing down to the second oar deck, he called out greetings
to the men below. The buzz of conversation continued as the oarsmen began to
swap stories and catch up on news of their comrades. All of them seemed cheerful
at the prospect of getting under way.
Andromache felt it, too, the exhilaration running through the golden ship.
She glanced at Kassandra. The girl’s eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and
she gazed around with wonder. Because of her strangeness it was easy to forget
that Kassandra was little more than a child—and a child about to embark on a
great adventure.
“Let us get you both settled,” Gershom said. “We are sailing soon.” He stared
hard at Kassandra as if he knew her. “Come,” he said, then led the two women
along the central aisle.
Andromache could see some of the Xanthos ’ battle scars. There were
fire-blackened rows of decking that needed renewal, and part of the starboard
rail had been repaired roughly with planks. Three carpenters were busy replacing
a section of rail on the port side. They were hammering feverishly.
As she
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