Flavius shrugged gracefully. Phryne closed her eyes. Beneath the booming and the voices on deck, there was silence. Finally Eodan turned to his wife. She would not meet his look. When he took her hand, it lay slack on his palm. "Hwicca," he said, burred Cimbric low and unsure in his throat. "Pay him no heed. We shall be free." "Yes," she said, so he could scarcely hear it. "That 'yes' was not meant," he told her. His heart lay a lump in his breast. She said in a torn voice: "There is no freedom from that which was." "Little Othrik," said Eodan. He looked at his wife's hand and remembered how his son's baby fingers had curled about his thumb. He shook his head and smiled. "No--him we shall always mourn.... But it would be worse if we sailed off leaving him to grow up a Roman's beaten beast. You could not have done otherwise. There will come more children to us, and some of them will die of this or that; so it has ever been. But some will live, Hwicca." She shook her head, still averting herself. "I am dishonored." "Not so!" he said harshly. "If you would--" He glanced at Flavius, who raised brows and smiled. Then he put his lips by Hwicca's ear to breathe: "I gave him no true oath. We can sacrifice him in Gaul; that will remove all stain from you." "_No!_" She cried it aloud, pulling free of him. The face he looked upon was filled with terror. "As you like," he floundered. "Whatever you wish. But remember, I am your husband. It is for me to say if you are guilty, and I say you are not." "Let me alone," she pleaded. "Let me alone." Eodan sat listening to her dry sobs. He hefted his sword, dully thinking about its use. He had never fought with such a weapon; the Cimbrian blades were for hewing, and this was for stabbing.... Phryne crept over the narrow space and touched his arm. "Wait," she whispered. He saw a helpless look in her eyes, as if she sat watching a child being burned out by fever. "Give her time, Eodan. I know not what the Cimbrian law is--I suppose your women were chaste--it means more to her, what has happened, than you can know." "I do not understand," he said. "There is some witchcraft here. I do not understand her any longer." "Wait, Eodan. Only wait." He squatted into his own corner, under the low roof, and looked across to Flavius. The Roman had closed his eyes and stretched out; could he really sleep now? At last the noise ended. Eodan saw Hwicca fall asleep herself, curled like a child. There was that much to thank the dark Powers for. Phryne and he seemed too weary to rest, or too taut. Yet no thoughts ran in his head; it felt hollowed out, and time did not flow for him. When a new clamor began, and he felt the ship move, it was a jarring surprise. Already!