“The thing is, there aren’t very many bandit troops with forty or fifty men in them.” Teleutas spoke before Sostratos could answer. “A troop like that is more like an army than your usual pack of robbers. It needs a village of its own, pretty much, on account of keeping that many men fed isn’t easy. And it’s the big bands that soldiers move against, too. Most bandits turn back into farmers when soldiers come sniffing after ‘em. A big troop can’t do that, or not easily, anyhow-too many people know who they are and where they roost. It either splits up into a bunch of little bands or else it stands and fights.”
Aristeidas thought it over, then dipped his head. “Makes sense,” he said.
It did indeed make sense. It made so much sense, Sostratos sent Teleutas a very thoughtful look. How had the sailor acquired such intimate knowledge of the way robber bands worked? Had he been part of one, or more than one, himself? That wouldn’t have surprised Sostratos, not a bit. There were technical treatises on things like cookery and how to build catapults, but he’d never heard of, never imagined, a technical treatise on how to become a successful bandit. Even if such a monster of a book existed, he didn’t think Teleutas could read.
Moskhion must have been thinking along with him. “I got out of sponge diving because pulling an oar was a better job,” he said. “What did you get out of to turn sailor, Teleutas?”
“Oh, this and that,” Teleutas answered, and gave no details.
The Hellenes took a more westerly route up to Sidon than they had on their way down to Jerusalem. They spent the night in a village called Gamzo. The place was so small it didn’t even have an inn. Having got permission from the locals, Sostratos built a fire in the middle of the market square. He bought bread and oil and wine and, feeling extravagant, a duck. He and the other men from the Aphrodite roasted the meat over the fire and feasted.
Children-and more than a few adults-came out of their houses to stare at the Rhodians. As elsewhere in Ioudaia, Sostratos wondered if these people had ever seen a Hellene before. He got to his feet, bowed in all directions, and spoke in Aramaic: “Peace be unto you all.”
Even though he’d already dickered with them for food, some of them seemed surprised he spoke their language. By their expressions, some seemed surprised he spoke any human language. But three or four men answered, “And to you also peace.” That was the right response.
Even though it was, it didn’t feel hearty enough to satisfy Sostratos. He bowed again. This time, he said, “May your one god bless Gamzo and all its people.”
That did the trick. Broad smiles gleamed on the faces of the Ioudaioi. All the men bowed to Sostratos. “May the one god bless you as well, stranger, and your friends,” a graybeard said. The rest of the villagers nodded.
“Stand up,” Sostratos hissed in Greek to the other Rhodians. “Bow to them. Be friendly.”
One after another, the sailors did. Aristeidas even proved able to say, “Peace be unto you,” in Aramaic. That made the people of Gamzo smile. Moskhion refrained from trotting out his frightful Aramaic obscenity. That made Sostratos smile.
Another gray-bearded man, this one wearing a robe of fine wool, said, “You are Ionians, not so?” Sostratos remembered to nod. The Ioudaian said, “We have heard evil things of Ionians, but you seem to be good enough men, even if you are foreigners. May the one god bless you and keep you. May he lift up his countenance unto you and give you peace.”
“Thank you,” Sostratos said, and bowed once more. A little more slowly than they should have, the sailors bowed again, too. Sostratos added, “And we thank you for your generous hospitality.”
“You are welcome in Gamzo,” the Ioudaian-plainly a village leader- declared. He strode up, clasped Sostratos’ hand, and kissed him on both cheeks. Then he did the same with the rest of the Rhodians. The men in the crowd came up after him. They greeted Sostratos and his companions the same way. Even the women drew near, though the Hellenes got no handclasps or kisses from them. Remembering the kisses he’d had from Zilpah in Jerusalem, Sostratos sighed. Somehow he’d pleased her and made her desperately unhappy all at the same time.
Deciding the Rhodians were safe enough, the folk of Gamzo withdrew back into their homes. Even so, Sostratos said, “We’ll divide the night into four watches. Everybody will take one. You never know.” The sailors didn’t argue with him. He’d half expected that they, or at least Teleutas, would, on the grounds that one sentry couldn’t keep the locals from doing whatever they were going to do. Maybe they’re starting to take me seriously, Sostratos thought with no small pride.
When morning came, Teleutas was all for an early departure. Sostratos’ pride only grew. Even the sometimes difficult sailor was acting responsible. Sostratos wondered if Teleutas was following his example.
It was about the third hour of the day when Sostratos noticed Teleutas was wearing a golden bracelet he didn’t recall seeing before. “Where did you get that?” he asked.
The sailor grinned a sly grin. “Back in that miserable little dump where we stayed last night.”
That was likely to mean only one thing. Sostratos clapped a hand to his forehead. “Papai! You stole it?” So much for responsibility!
“Nothing to get upset about,” Teleutas said soothingly. “We’ll never see that place again in all our days.”
“They made us guest-friends, and that’s how you paid them back?” Sostratos said. Teleutas only shrugged; the ritual duties of guest-friends plainly meant nothing to him. Sostratos tried another tack: “What if all the men in Gamzo come after us and want to cut our livers out?”
Teleutas looked back toward the south and shrugged again. “I’ve been watching. No sign of a dust cloud or anything like that. We’re far enough ahead of ‘em by now that they can’t catch us. By Hermes, the fool I lifted it from probably still hasn’t figured out it’s gone missing.”
“No wonder you swear by the god of thieves,” Sostratos said. Teleutas grinned again, singularly unrepentant. Sostratos might have said a good deal more, but decided the road in a foreign land was no place to do it. He also decided that if the men of Gamzo came after the bracelet and Teleutas he would hand them the ornament and the sailor without a qualm.
He kept that to himself. He didn’t know how Aristeidas and Moskhion would react, and he didn’t want to risk destroying his ability to lead unless he had to. But he vowed he would talk with Menedemos about leaving Teleutas behind when he got back to Sidon. A man who would steal from barbarians he was unlikely to see again might not try stealing from his own shipmates. Then again, he might.
For the rest of the day, Sostratos kept looking back over his shoulder. He saw no sign of the villagers. In a way, that relieved him. In another way, it disappointed him. He might have used them as an excuse to be rid of Teleutas.
Farmers tended vineyards and olive groves. Shepherds and goatherds followed their flocks through the hills. Hawks circled overhead, looking for the mice and other small animals frightened out of cover when the flocks went by. Sostratos saw one swoop down and rise with something struggling in its talons. The struggle didn’t last long.
As the sun sank toward the Inner Sea, another band of young Ioudaioi came toward the Rhodians. There were eight of them. Sostratos saw they were all armed. He didn’t like the way their heads came up when they spotted his comrades and him: it put him in mind of a pack of dogs spotting a sick sheep they hoped to be able to pull down.
“Let’s get off the road and let them go by,” he said. “Look-there’s a clump of boulders where we can make a stand if we have to.”
He hoped the sailors would laugh at him and tell him he was starting at shadows. Instead, they all dipped their heads. Teleutas said, “Good idea. They look like a nasty bunch, and I’ll be glad to see their backs.” If he thought the Ioudaioi looked dangerous, they were only too likely to mean trouble.