Chapter Two

On a hard surface I awoke, a living, moving thing.  My body ached and throbbed from head to toe, and  I could barely open my eyes.  The lids felt heavy, crusted and sticky.  Coating my body was the dried residue of the sea.  I ordered my hand to move, told it to wipe my face, clear my sight.  I coughed, then retched, and choked, feeling  fluid in my lungs.  When I moaned and rolled to my right, warm, viscous liquid drooled from my mouth onto wood. 

 

Wood.  I was on a ship again.  My ears were clearing now to noise, all around.  People were here.  They were speaking.  But they were not Greek.  No, no Greeks.  No Athenians.

 

I endeavored to raise my head, rolling onto my back again.  The noise grew sharper.

 

"He lives,"  said the noise.

 

But it was strange, this noise.  I knew what it said.  I could understand.

 

It continued. "Put him there, against the mast.  Let me speak to him."

 

I felt hands on me lifting, dragging, propping me up.  Then they let go.  I raised my arm to wipe my eyes again, and again, until they opened.  I was on the gangway of a trireme in a day still light, but fading.  On either side, rowers swung together.  They moved in rhythm but without enthusiasm.

 

A man was looking at me.  A huge man.  He knelt on the deck, arms crossed on his enormous knees and the dark, thick beard on his chin thrust forward.  His arms were like twisted tree trunks, laced with cuts but thickly muscled.  He wore a purple tunic on his chest and dark trousers on his legs, and crowning his head was a purple felt cap, filigreed around the narrow brim with fine gold thread.  On his belt hung an axe- glistening, sharp, and deadly.

 

"You fought well, barbarian scum," he said steadily.  "As did your friend."

 

I held my gaze, though my throat felt dry, constricted.

 

"He can't understand you," said a voice from behind me.  "The barbarians cannot speak a civilized tongue."

 

The big man stood up. "I'm not so sure," he said, looking over my shoulder.  "Demaratus can."

 

"Only because we taught him!" replied the other, irritated.  "Besides, he's a Spartan, not like these Athenian animals."

 

Big Man looked amused.  "Remember," he said, "I was on the plains of Marathon.  It was no easier then.  Those ‘animals,'" he continued, "dealt us a heavy blow today.  Perhaps we can learn something from them."

 

I heard the derisive snort. "There's nothing they have to teach us," said the man behind me. "They were lucky today."

 

Big Man shrugged.  "As you wish," he said.