It must be remembered, too, that these were river galleys and, on the whole, smaller than the galleys of Thassa. Too, the river galley, for those whom it might interest, is normally shorted masted than a Thassa galley, seldom has more than one mast, and seldom carried the varieties of sails, changed on the yard according to wind conditions, that are carried by a Thassa galley. River galleys, also, as would be expected, seldom carry more than twenty oars to a side, and are almost always single-banked.
Fifteen ships, mostly of Port Cos, were now at the piers, which, now, except for armed men, were mostly empty. I heard a battle horn sound, from the stern castle of the Tais. It was, I gathered, the recall. In orderly fashion, unchallenged, the numerous soldiers, guardsmen, armed oarsmen and such who had lined the inner side of the piers, facing the inner harbor, withdrew to the fifteen waiting ships. Many clambered over the sides. Others made use of various planks and gangplanks.
On some of the ships now there was scarcely room for the oarsmen to ply their levers. Water lapped high on the hulls; the rams were now at least a yard under the water; even the lower tips of their shearing blades were submerged. Mariners of some ships freed the mooring lines of others, and then their own, and then boarded, some of them using the lines themselves to regain the decks. Several of the ships then departed from the piers, pushing off with the three traditional poles. Among these was the ship called the Tina.
I looked out into the harbor. I saw some of the ships there drawing up their anchors, generally two, one at the bow, one at the stern, and putting about, those that had faced the piers. The huge, painted eyes of these ships were then turning north, toward the mighty Vosk. The eyes of the other ships out in the harbor, those which had had the task of ferrying out passengers, already faced north. Such eyes are common on Gorean ships. How else, some mariners inquire, could she see her way? To the Gorean mariner, as to many who have followed the ways of the sea, learning her, fearing her, loving her, the ship is more than an engineered structure of iron and wood. It is more than tackle and blocks, beams and planks, canvas and calking. There is an indefinability and preciousness about her, a mystique which informs her, an exceeding of what is seen, a nature and wondrous mystery, like that of a companion and lover, a creature and friend. Though I have seldom heard them speak explicitly of this, particularly when landsmen are present, many Gorean mariners seem to believe that the ship is in some way alive. This is supposed to occur when the eyes have been painted. It is then, some say, that she comes alive, when she can see. I suppose this may be regarded as superstition; on the other hand, it may also be regarded as love.
The ships in the outer harbor which had been facing north now, too, drew up their anchors.
I looked back toward the landing and the citadel in the distance, across the inner harbor. I could see the remains of walkway from where I was. The citadel was burning.
I looked back to the harbor.
The first of the ships was now moving toward the river. others were following her, in line.
Once again I looked back toward the citadel.
Smoke drifted out to the piers, too, from the city itself. Those fires, I supposed, might burn for two or three days yet.
I looked at the walkway. It had been a good fight, the fight that had been fought here. I did not think that those of either Cos or Ar's Station had cause to regret what had been done there. Glory is its own victory.
The last ships at the piers, one by one, began to depart their wharfage. I could see the water fall from the lifted oar blades into the harbor. Only the Tais, then, remained at the wharf. "Captain?" said a voice. It was that of the young crossbowman. His friend was with him.
They cast off the mooring lines and then followed me aboard. After our boarding the plank was drawn back, over the rail. Three mariners, managing the long poles, thrust the Tais from the pier.
"Out oars!" I heard the oar master call.
21 The River
"Let the first of the two females be fetched," said Aemilianus. It was now the middle of the morning, following yesterday's late-afternoon action at the piers.
The Tais moved with the current west on the Vosk. She led the main body of the flotilla westward. Ahead of us, in oblique formation, barely discernible, were four smaller galleys. These formed, as it were, an advance guard. Similarly, behind the main body of the flotilla, bringing up the rear, back a pasang or so, flying no colors, their markings concealed, were two galleys. One of these was the ship to whose captain I had spoken earlier, the Tina.
"Yes, Commander," said a man.
Aemilianus sat on the deck, rather before the steps leading up to the helm deck and, above that, to the height of the stern castle, leading against a backrest of canvas and rope. Calliodorus of Port Cos, his friend, stood near him. beside him, too, stood his aide, Surilius. Marsias, too, and the fellows whom I had encountered in the cell earlier, and who had fought with us on the walkway, were there, too. The grizzled fellow, too, had asked to be present. These were wounded. Marsias and one other fellow were lying on pallets. The others of the wounded sat on the deck. The young man, Marcus, was there, too. It was he who had made it through to Port Cos and returned with the ships which had made possible the evacuation from the piers. Now, in spite of his youth, he stood high in these councils, those of the survivors of Ar's Station. Many others were there, too, several of whom had fought with me on the wall and elsewhere. Among them were the two young fellows who had served me so well on the wall, as my messengers, and had served well later, too, on the landing. Those who stood with us here, I gathered, stood high among the survivors of Ar's Station.
I looked about myself.
It was remarkable to see the difference in the fellows from Ar's Station, now that they had had some food and a decent night's sleep, though only stretched out on the crowded deck of a galley. It had been perhaps the first night's sleep many of them had had in weeks, not disrupted by watches or alarms.
The "first of the two females" had not yet been fetched. They were arranging a special chaining for her. This would be the one in the improvised hood. I had had her hood pushed up yesterday evening and early this morning, though at neither time in such a way as to uncover her eyes, and, after having had her warned to silence, had had her gag removed, and had had her fed and watered. Though she would know that she was on a galley and moving with the current on the Vosk, thus west, she had no real idea as to where she was or what was to be done with her. She was being kept with other women, also ordered to silence, who, with one exception, were slaves. The voices she had heard about her, for the most part, naturally enough, given the crew of the Tais, would have had Cosians accents, or accents akin to them.
Yesterday afternoon, shortly after we had cleared the harbor at Ar's Station, I had drawn the mask of Marsias from my features, and had shaken my head, glad to feel the air of the Vosk about me, so fresh and clear.
"I thought it was you," had said Aemilianus, weakly. "It had to be you. your escape and that of the heinous traitress, Lady Claudia, became generally known after the recall of the troops from the citadel, in the retreat to the landing. We were informed of it by the good Marsias, and his fellow guardsmen. Too, there was no sword like yours in Ar's Station."