He opened the door and looked out. The deckhands had cast loose, the oars were walking, he heard rowlocks creak and the muffled gonging of the stroke-setter beneath his shoes. They slipped through a channel between many hulls still one dark mysterious mass. Ostia and Italy behind her lay misty under the first saffron clouds; ahead, the Tyrrhenian Sea caught a few wan gleams. There were stars in the west. The sailors, shivering in tunics or mere loincloths, scurried over the deck doing things unknown to Eodan. They were a ruffianly-looking lot, swept from many ports of the Midworld Sea--a hairy Pamphylian, a brown Libyan, a big-nosed Thracian, a brawny red-faced Gaul, another two or three whom Eodan could only guess about. Captain Demetrios walked among them, a sword at his waist, a light whip in his hand. He saw Eodan and came over, beaming snag-toothed in his beard. "Good morning," he said. "You had a--hah!--pleasant night with your woman and your boy?" Eodan grunted. "How long to Massilia?" "Oh, perhaps five days, maybe more, maybe less. Much depends on the wind. I've a fear it will turn against us." Demetrios cocked his head. "Where are you from? I thought I'd seen 'em all, till you turned up." Eodan said in Cimbric, "You Southland swine!" "And where's that?" asked Demetrios. But Eodan had closed the door again. The cabin was smoky and foul after the deck. He wondered if he could really smell the human agony that seeped up from the rowers' pit. Flavius opened an eye. "Have you foreseen you might get sick from the waves?" he asked amiably. "I have foreseen kicking your ribs in!" grated Eodan. Flavius nodded at Hwicca, who had also awakened. She sat up with chin on knees and shivered. "Do you see, my dear, it is too much to expect that I should be released if we ever get into Aquitania," he murmured. "It would be asking more of your husband than one may even ask of a god." Hwicca gave Eodan a forlorn glance. He laid himself upon a mattress near her. "You will swear he shall have his life, will you not?" she asked fearfully. He said, out of his bitterness: "You are loyal to your owner, Hwicca!" She shrank back with a little whimper. "No more of that," said Phryne sharply. "We are certain not to outlive this trip if we quarrel among ourselves." She regarded Hwicca closely. "You look strong," she said, "and I daresay you have some knowledge of weapons." The Cimbrian girl nodded, wordless. "Well, then," said Phryne, "Eodan and I can do no more without rest. You have slept a while, now watch Flavius for us. It is simple enough. Hold this sword. Stay out of his reach. If he makes a suspicious move, call us. If it looks as if he might escape, stab!" Hwicca took the heavy blade. "That much ... yes," she said in the Cimbric. Eodan laughed, without mirth, but not uncomforted. He curled on his side to face her. The last sight he had, before sleep smote, was the unsure smile with which she looked at him.... Her scream wakened Eodan.