"I do," said the girl. Her eyes--you didn't see violet eyes very often, and especially not with such long sooty lashes; really, it was her best feature--were hollow from weariness and wide from anxiety, but she looked on him without wavering. "What ship is this, and who are you?" "What a way for fugitive slaves to address a Pontine noble!" exclaimed Arpad lightly. "Down on your knees and beg for your lives; that would be more in keeping." "These men are not slaves," she said. "They are chieftains returning home." "And you? Come, now, do not anger me. When a ship is found with only three slaves aboard, I can guess the tale for myself. Tell me your names and how it all came to be." She said with a pride at which her exhaustion dragged: "I am merely Phryne, but I stand between Eodan of Cimberland and Tjorr of the Rukh-Ansa." "I know _them_!" said Arpad. "It is a long story. They were war prisoners, who regained their freedom by conquering the Roman crew--and even I have heard the King of Pontus is no friend to Rome, so is he not a friend to Rome's enemies? But the upshot was that we three alone remained on this vessel. We could do little more than set sail and run before the wind, hoping to strike a land, Crete or Cyprus or wherever the gods willed, whence we might make our way to Cimmeria. But we found two men and one woman cannot even keep a ship bailed out in such weather." She smiled tiredly. "We were debating whether to try and make landfall on that island ahead, risking shipwreck and capture if it is Roman-held, or steer past--if we could. Now you have changed the situation, Master Captain, and we throw ourselves upon your hospitality." "What slave may claim hospitality?" asked Arpad. "And when he has mutinied, probably murdered, as well.... Would you feel bound to consider a wolf your guest?" He stroked his chin. The ship, he calculated, would surely be considered salvaged by him; the Rhodesian authorities had to have their share, but he would get something. If he did not dispute possession of the two men--the port governor could put them to work, or kill them, or give them to the Romans, whatever the law said--then the governor in turn would doubtless ignore the girl. There was a good mind under that tip-tilted face, and a hot spirit in that small thin body; she would make the rest of this voyage most interesting to Captain Arpad, and he could get a fair price at home after he had fattened her up enough for the Oriental taste. Her pale, wet cheeks had darkened as he spoke, more with anger than fear. She rattled off a few harsh Latin words. The Alan growled and looked about. A guard's sword pricked his hairy flank; he would never cross the two yards to Arpad's throat. He said something to the tall blank-faced man, who shrugged. Mithras! Didn't that one care at all? Well, men did go crazy sometimes when the fetters were clinched. Arpad listened more closely, interested. He heard the redbeard: "But Eodan, _disa_, they'll flay us!"