The Arrows of Hercules
- Автор: Де Камп Лайон Спрэг
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Arrows of Hercules». Краткое содержание книги:
“Exciting and quite believable adventures.”—Classical World
“Rousing piece of fiction...pace is rapid and unrelenting.” —The Arizona Republic
Meanwhile, he must think of some means of escape. What would happen if he simply drew his sword and started dashing about the ship, killing every man he came to? He might get a few, but the rest would gang together with knives, oars, and boathooks. In addition, Bostar probably had a chest of weapons stowed away against pirates. In the long run, they would probably kill or capture him. Even if he did slay all the scoundrels, the ship was much too large for one man to sail, even if that man were a sailor, which Zopyros was not ...
"Master Zopyros!" said Ahiram. "That thing the witch gave you—" Zopyros spoke slowly and softly in Greek: "You forget, Ahiram, that I don't speak Punic."
"Oh." The hoy frowned, then tried in stumbling Greek: "That —that thing—make fire—you know—"
"Oh, you want to see it make fire? Then fetch me some scraps of oakum and stuff for tinder."
Presently the boy had gathered a handful of litter. Zopyros placed it on the deck at the stern, next to the bulwark, where the rising sun shone upon it. To make the performance more impressive, he waved his free hand and murmured the chant that Saphanbaal had used:
"Ye spirits of fire, come to my aid! ..."
A curl of smoke arose from the litter, to be whisked away by the wind. When a shadow fell athwart his fire, he looked up to see the mate and a couple of sailors staring at him. The captain shouldered past them, crying:
"What do you, Master Zopyros? Try to set my ship afire? Stop it at once!"
Bostar pushed Zopyros brusquely aside, stamped on the smoldering tinder, then kicked the litter so that the wind snatched away the fragments.
"I was only showing off this magical crystal to the boy," said Zopyros with a weak smile. "Pm terribly sorry, but I never thought of the risk of fire."
"Well, well, no harm is done," said the captain. "Pray forgive my rudeness, most excellent lord; but the safety of his ship is the foremost thought of every good captain." Bostar bowed, rubbing his hands together and smiling unctuously. "You have pardoned me, I hope? I'm only a poor rough mariner, unused to intercourse with such fine gentlemen as yourself. I beg you, do me the honor of stepping into my wretched little cabin and sharing the morning repast with me!"
Two plates were set on the little table. Zopyros' plate was heaped with enough food for two, and the captain pressed wine upon him. Zopyros nibbled and sipped sparingly, rolling each mouthful carefully over his tongue before swallowing it lest it be charged with some drug.
Afterwards he went out on deck. He watched the sea and played with Ahiram, conscious of the sidelong glances of the sailors. They hoped he would go to sleep; he would disappoint them. Once during the long, disagreeable day he asked the mate: "When shall we reach Akragas?"
"If the wind holds, before dawn tomorrow. The big risk in this passage is that an overcast will come up so you cannot tell direction. Then the wind backs or veers, and you hit Libya or Sardinia when you were aiming for Sicily."
"Like that Samian who started for Egypt and ended up at the Pillars of Herakles," said Zopyros.
"I can understand a Hellene captain's making such a mistake," said the mate, "but no Canaanitish mariner ever went so far astray!"
"I'm sure your navigation is expert," said Zopyros.
Late in the afternoon, the captain invited Zopyros to dine with him. This meal repeated the earlier one, with the captain hospitably urging him to overeat and overdrink. As the dinner ended, Zopyros said:
"Captain, do you play Sacred Way?"
"A little, my lord. Have you a set with you?"
"Yes. How about a game after it gets dark?"
"Whatever pleases you will delight me, sir."
When the stars came out, Zopyros went back to the cabin, carrying his game set in one hand and leading Ahiram with the other. He said:
"If you don't mind, Captain, I should like to put the little fellow to sleep on the floor here, where I can keep an eye on him while we play."
"Harkening and obedience!" The captain bowed and smirked. "Place him on my bunk yonder."
The evening wore on. Game followed game, while the yellow-plumed lamp swayed back and forth over the little table. From time to time the mate or a sailor appeared at the door of the cabin. Sometimes they exchanged looks with the captain.
At last, Zopyros thought, the time for action had come. He threw the die, made his move, and rose abruptly, cracking his skull against the overhead.
"Oimoi!" he groaned, clutching at his head.
"Are you hurt, generous sir?" said Bostar.
"No; just a little bump. I deserve it for being stupid. Go on with your play while I look at the boy."
Stooping, with pounding heart, he stepped behind Captain Bostar, who was throwing the die. Zopyros quietly reached under his tunic and got his hand on the hilt of his sword. Then with one quick blur of motion he whirled, drew, reached around with his left hand, and caught a fistful of Bostar's beard. Jerking it up, he touched the edge of his sword to Bostar's throat.
"Be still!" he whispered in Punic. "One move and off goes your head!"
"What—what means this outrage?" gasped Bostar, tensely gripping the sides of his chair.
"You know well enough. Call the mate. Call him at once, I say!" Zopyros increased the pressure on the Phoenician's throat.
"Softly, pray! You're cutting me! I bleed!"
Zopyros, leaning over, saw that he had indeed made a slight cut in Bostar's flesh. "Well then, call the mate!"
"Milko!" cried the captain hoarsely.
"Aye?" said the mate, putting his head in the door. When he saw what was going on, he took a step forward. Zopyros shouted:
"Stand back, if you would not see your captain's throat cut!"
"He means it, too!" said Bostar in a quavery, tearful voice. "Stand back, Milko!"
The faces of sailors appeared over the mate's shoulders. Zopyros said: "I have just made it clear to your captain that I am fain not to be sold in Tyre. So we shall disembark at Akragas as planned."
Milko said to the captain in an accusing voice: "You said he knew no Canaanitish!"
"How was I to know?" said the captain. "The lying Greek deceived me!" To Zopyros he added: "You cozened us, you unprincipled scoundrel!"
Zopyros grinned. "Oh, Pm a terrible fellow, so to befool a gang of honest kidnappers! But we have business. Milko, fetch me a length —say, fifteen feet—of light rope. Hurry up!" He pushed the sword edge into the captain's flesh.
"Do as he says!" wailed Bostar as Zopyros increased the pressure of the blade.
When he had his rope, Zopyros said to the sailors: "Now get out on deck and stay away from the cabin. If there be any attempt at rushing us, be sure your gallant captain shall be the first to die. Go!"
Zopyros made Bostar extend his arms behind him with the wrists together. Taking one end of the rope in his teeth and manipulating it with his free hand, he took several turns around Bostar's wrists. Then he risked driving the point of his sword into the planking long enough to tie a hard knot with both hands. He passed the rope under the seat of the chair to the front and tied Bostar's ankles to the chair legs. He prowled around the chair, testing the firmness of the knots. They he set the sword again against Bostar's throat and called:
"Milko!"
"Aye, sir?" said the mate in a hushed voice, as he appeared again in the doorway.
"Forget not to set your course for Akragas. We should reach it ere dawn, remember? So, if broad day burst upon us with no Sicily in sight ..." He pointed at Bostar and drew a finger across his throat. "See you to it."
Before the mate had time to depart on his errand, there came a disturbance. Ahiram, awakened by the loud voices, sat up, rubbed his eyes, stood up, and started for the door of the cabin.