"Go we not a great way from shore?"
"Fear not," said Asto. "Belike the wind will turn shoreward by even. At worst, you might have to pass the night on deck. What we truly fear is a mighty onshore gale against a rocky coast. Then, if your sail be new, perchance you can claw off; but, if it be old and baggy like ours, the crabs will pick your bones."
Most of the passengers were feeling better than the day before. Hippomedon the singer marked off a section of deck into small squares with a piece of charcoal and played robbers with Sophron the bodyguard, using black and white beans for pieces. The weather warmed so much that Zopyros put away his laced Thracian boots and donned a pair of sandals. In rummaging through his belongings, he came upon a little portable game set for playing Sacred Way. He undertook to teach Segovax the game. The Celt proved an apt pupil but a reckless plunger. After a few games, Segovax said:
"Zopyros darling, wouldn't it make the game livelier, now, to put up a small stake?"
This, thought Zopyros, will be easy. "All right; I'll bet you a penny on the next game." And he rolled the die.
However, sudden reversals of fortune were characteristic of Sacred Way. Zopyros had gotten one of his men home and had taken three of Segovax's men prisoner when, with his remaining man, the Celt took one of Zopyros' men, then another, and soon had swept the rest of Zopyros' men from the board.
The next two games followed the same pattern. Out of pocket threepence, Zopyros began to worry. Half an obolos might make the difference between eating a decent dinner and going hungry someday. He was just as glad when the Celt, looking up, said:
"Praise the gods, 'tis headed back towards land that we are! I had begun to fear we would sail on until we fell over the edge of the world."
"According to the latest theories, the world hasn't any edge. It's round, like a ball."
"Oh, come now! If it was round, all the water would run off at the bottom."
"No, it wouldn't, because 'down' is the direction towards the center of the earth. So, if you were on the opposite side of the earth from me, your 'down' would be my 'up' and vice versa."
"You wouldn't be having a bit of a joke with a poor simple Celt, now would you? Everybody knows that up is up and down is down, and how can the one be the other?"
"Why, it's as if we were on opposite sides of the mast. Then it might be south of you, but north of me. So, if somebody asked us which way the mast was, we should each give a different answer; but we should both be right."
Segovax shook his head. "With all respect to your honor, I still don't believe you. The next thing, you clever Greeks will be telling folk that spirits don't cause sickness, or that men are descended from monkeys."
"We might at that. One philosopher has already suggested that we come from fish."
"Ara! A man can't ever be easy with you people around. Just when he thinks he knows something, along comes a spalpeen like you and upsets him by saying 'tis not so at all." He yawned and stretched. "I'll be taking a bit of a nap, before all them theories have addled my wits for fair."
As the mate had predicted, the wind had backed to northwest. The setting sun saw the Muttumalein drop anchor in one of Velia's two splendid harbors—that at the mouth of the Hales. Around the margins of the harbor, fishing vessels and coastal merchantmen rode at anchor or lay canted on the beach. Several were still being refitted after their winter lay-up. Men climbed over them, caulking and painting hulls and repairing rigging.
As the people from the Muttumalein plodded towards the city, they saw before them a broad plain, covered with houses and girt with frowning walls. Above the walls, temples gleamed on the acropolis. Zopyros said:
"I didn't know Velia was such a great city."
"Oh, but it is," said Korinna. "It ranks with Taras and Neapolis. The Velians call it the Athens of the West, because of its philosophers."
"We should at least find decent lodgings. By the way, has anyone seen Captain Ethbaal's fabulous wife yet?"
Hippomedon the singer said: "Not I. I begin to think the woman's dead, and he has a mania for keeping her body with him."
Segovax, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, added: "If the poor lady is a dead corp, you will be knowing it soon."
"Unless she's packed in salt," said Hippomedon, "like the lady Korinna's uncle. I once knew a man who so loved a corpse that he—"
The musician broke off as Ethbaal jogged by on a rented ass, his head bowed and his face bearing its usual preoccupied frown.
"He goes to town to find a merchant with a stock of salted fish," said one of the sailors.
This time the inn was good, with private rooms for the women. In the tavern below, Hippomedon unlimbered his lyre and sang in a clear tenor:
As the singer was passing his cap, Captain Ethbaal appeared in the doorway and said in his harsh voice: "My people may sleep late tomorrow. I shall be loading fish until market time; but then we shall sail promptly. Don't be late!"
The morning sun warmed the agora of Velia, where sellers of cakes and blood sausage were unpacking their wares, sellers of roasted nuts and hot scented water were building their little fires, other hawkers were setting up their displays, orators were tuning up their voices, and beggars had begun to whine. A fortuneteller laid out a battered skull and other magical paraphernalia; a juggler tossed a few balls to limber his muscles; and the owner of a trained bear shared a loaf with his pet.
In the center of an admiring circle, three philosophers argued vehemently about the difference between Being and Becoming, and whether the Real Existent were basically One or Many. Among the crowd stood Segovax the Celt, in his checkered coat and trousers, with his mouth open. Zopyros, Korinna, and the latter's two servants approached from the acropolis, where they had made a brief tour of the temples. Several small boys, sensing foreigners, rushed up and began shouting for money with their hands out.
"Go away," said Zopyros, then to Korinna: "My dear, why are you crying?"
"They made me think of my little Ahiram. Isn't there anything I can do to persuade you to undertake his rescue?"
"Don't torture me, please! I'd do anything for you—but you know what I promised."
"Promises are made to be broken."
"To you as well as to other people? I'm not that kind of fellow ... E, Master Segovax, hadn't we better be getting back to the ship?"
The Celt roused himself like a man coming out of a dream. "So we had, young sir, so we had. The talk of the wise men was so beautiful I could have stood all day listening, and me not understanding a word of it. Tell me, does all that grand talk really mean something, or is it after listening to a lot of madmen that I am?"
"That's what they were arguing about; whether or not their subject of discussion is real. But I'll tell you a secret. It's a put-on job, like a make-believe sword duel in which nobody gets hurt."