The days passed quickly. Pandion suddenly realized that three months and a half had passed, and that the time appointed for the arrival of the Sons of the Wind had also passed. Pandion experienced mixed feelings of anxiety and relief — anxiety because the Sons of the Wind might never come at all, and relief because the inevitable parting with Kidogo was being postponed. In his wearying anxiety Pandion often left his work — it was, incidentally, almost completed. The Hellene again began making frequent trips to the sea, always hurrying back so as not to be long away from his friends.
One day Pandion was making ready to go for his usual bathe in the sea. He got up and called his friends, but they refused; they were engaged in a heated argument on the best way to prepare leaves for ‘chewing. In the distance they suddenly heard the sounds of numerous voices, shouts and screams of ecstasy, such as Kidogo’s excitable people gave vent to on every occasion of importance. Kidogo jumped up, his face turned ash-grey, the pallor even spreading to his mighty chest. Staggering slightly, Kidogo ran to his own house, shouting over his shoulder to his astonished friends:
“That must be the Sons of the Wind!”
The blood rushed to the heads of the Etruscan and the Hellene, and they, too, set off at a run along a short path to the sea known to Pandion. On the crest of a hill Pandion and Cavius stood still.
“The Sons of the Wind!”
The dark purple shadow of the huge mountain lay on the shore and stretched far out to sea, dulling the sparkle of the waves and giving the water the gloomy tones of the forest thickets. Black ships, in shape like those of the Hellenes, with curved swanlike breasts and high prows, were already drawn up on the greying sands. There were five of them. With their unstepped masts they looked like black ducks asleep on the beach.
Bearded warriors in rough grey cloaks walked up and down in front of the ships, the bronze of their shields flashing; in their hands they carried broad battle-axes on long handles. The chiefs, the merchants and all those who were not on guard duty must have gone to Kidogo’s village. The Etruscan and the Hellene turned back.
Kidogo awaited them impatiently at their house.
“The Sons of the Wind are with the chiefs,” the Negro informed them. “I’ve asked my uncle to talk to the big chief, and he himself will talk to them about you. It will be safer that way. The Sons of the Wind will not dare to quarrel with him and will bring you safely home.” And in the Negro’s wan smile there was no joy.
Hundreds of people gathered on the shore to bid farewell to the parting ships. The Sons of the Wind were in a great hurry; the sun was already setting, and for some reason of their own they were determined to set out that day. The loaded ships were slowly rocking on the swell beyond the reefs. Amongst the other goods lay the gift of Kidogo’s people — payment for the return of the former slaves to their own countries. To reach the ships they had to wade breast-high through the water that covered a sand-bank. The chiefs of the Sons of the Wind held back to talk with the Negro chiefs, asking them to prepare a greater number of goods for the next year, swearing that they would arrive at the appointed time.
Cavius stood beside Kidogo, holding in one hand the huge bundle that contained the skin and skull of the terrible gishu. As a parting gift Kidogo gave Cavius and Pandion two big throwing-knives. This implement of war, invented by the Tengrela people, consisted of a large sheet of bronze divided into five fingers, four of them crescent-shaped with sharpened edges and the fifth long and thin with a horn handle on it. This weapon, when hurled by able hands, whistled through the air and killed its victim at twenty cubits distance.
With a heavy heart Pandion looked round him, examining his new fellow-travellers and masters. Their harsh, wind-burned faces were the colour of dark brick; their undipped beards were tangled on their cheeks; in their heavy gait, in the grim folds of their foreheads and lips there was none of the kind-heartedness that was typical of Kidogo’s people. Nevertheless Pandion trusted them, perhaps because the Sons of the Wind, like he, were loyal to the sea, lived in concord with it and loved it. Or perhaps it was because he and Cavius met familiar words in their speech.
The Sons of the Wind willingly consented to take the former slaves with them for the payment offered. Kidogo’s uncle, Yorumefu, even bargained for a reduction of six tusks and two baskets of medicinal nuts, which were loaded on to the ships as the property of Cavius, Pandion and the Libyans. The Sons of the Wind separated their passengers against their will — six Libyans on one ship, Pandion, Cavius and the other three Libyans on another.
The harbour of the Sons of the Wind was near the Gates of the Mists, a tremendous distance from Kidogo’s country, no less than two months sailing in the most favourable weather. Cavius and Pandion were dismayed at this; they had had no conception of the enormous distance and realized that the Sons of the Wind were men as skilled in their battle against the sea as were the Elephant People in their battle against the plains of Africa. Pandion still had to sail almost the whole length of the Green Sea from the harbour of the Sons of the Wind to his own country; but this was a distance that was little more than a third of that from Kidogo’s village to the harbour of the Sons of the Wind. The Sons of the Wind pacified Pandion and Cavius with the assurance that Phoenician ships often came to them from Tyre, Crete, Cyprus and the Gulf of Sidra.
As Pandion stood on the shore, however, he was not thinking of that. In his confusion he stared at the sea as though he were trying to measure the long journey before him and then turned to Kidogo. The commander of the fleet of ships, a man with a circlet of solid gold in his curly hair, shouted loudly, ordering them to get aboard.
Kidogo seized Pandion and Cavius by their hands, making no effort to hide his tears.
“Good-bye for ever, Pandion, and you, Cavius,” whispered the Negro. “When you are there, — in your distant country, remember Kidogo who truly loves you both. Re: member our days of slavery in Tha-Quem, when our friendship was our mainstay; remember the days of the insurrection, the flight and the great march to the sea…I shall always be with you in my thoughts. You are leaving me for ever, you who have become dearer to me than life itself.” The Negro’s voice grew stronger. “I shall believe that the time will come when people will learn not to be afraid of the expanses of the sea. The sea will unite them… But I shall never see you again… Oh, great is my grief…” Bitter sobs shook Kidogo’s huge body.
The friends joined hands for the last time as the Sons of the Wind called to them from the ships.