“I have the herbs,” she said in greeting, holding up a small sack in triumph. “I don’t actually know how to do anything with them, but perhaps they have a knowledgeable cook.” Her voice was back to normal, but he felt the need to ask regardless.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Alexis said shortly. “Did the camels fetch a good price?”
He pressed the small bundle of coins into her hand. “Judge for yourself,” he said. “My Persian is still pretty miserable,” he admitted. “So it was accomplished with lots of gesturing.”
“You are rather good at that,” she said, with a smirk. There was still something in her eyes that concerned him, but as she looked up at the ship, it was eclipsed by apprehension.
He felt the same dread in the pit of his stomach; it was why he had yet to walk up the gangplank and join the sailors. He could easily have waited for Alexis on board but wanted to avoid leaving dry land for as long as possible.
“It might not be so bad,” Stone said, very aware of how unconvincing he sounded. His only experience with ships had been his last, incredibly horrendous voyage, and even without the chains and the lingering threat of being beaten or killed, he wasn’t sure this would be much better. Sick as he was last time, he was skeptical that the tea would make a difference.
Alexis nodded. “It will be better,” she said. She managed to sound more upbeat than he did, but only barely. “Come,” she said. Her hand curled around his arm, leading him fearlessly onto the gangplank, heedless of how thin and unreliable it felt beneath their combined weight, and onto the ship.
A ship about to set sail was a chaotic thing, and as he and Alexis weren’t yet sure of the roles they were supposed to play, they stood about uselessly for a moment, doing little aside from inadvertently getting in the way. At last, he managed to catch the eye of a passing sailor.
“The Captain’s granted us passage,” Stone said. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
“You could help us carry these below deck,” the sailor said, nodding at a rather significant stack of sacks and crates, which must have been the cargo that would be traded in Greece.
Stone tried to thank the man, but he disappeared in a blink, continuing with his duties. He turned to Alexis. “Well,” he said, “shall we?”
They each took two of the heavy sacks, filled with what he guessed to be dried beans or grain, and began carrying them toward the hold, following the line of others completing similar tasks. As they walked, they passed sailors completing various other tasks, unfurling the sails and climbing up the rigging. At the top of the stairs, he could not help but hesitate. The last time he’d walked down into such a place, he’d had no choice but to acquiesce. He’d known that he was walking toward something inescapable, and that knowing had almost been correct.
“Stone?” Alexis questioned. She was behind him, also looking down. Others were storing cargo and soon it would be apparent that he was blocking the doorway. Her hands were too full to reach him, but he felt a slight nudge as she pressed the toe of her boot into his calf from behind. When he did not move immediately, she spoke again, more softly. “Solomon?”
Stone breathed in and stepped forward. This was a cargo ship, bound for Alexis’s home. There were no chains awaiting them in the dark.
❖❖❖
They watched the launch from the upper deck. It was different when viewed and felt from above instead of below. Were it not for the swooping in his stomach as the ship dropped off into deeper waters and the violent rocking motions that followed, he might have even called it enjoyable. Alexis, by contrast, was smiling widely. She hung half over the prow, watching the waves lap at the ship.
“Considering another swim?” he asked, peering down with her.
“No,” she said seriously. “I believe once was enough.”
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll jinx us.”
It was another word she did know. Stone was in the middle of explaining it, the rhythm of his own speech taking his mind off the motion of the ship, when a throat cleared behind them.
“Name’s Ambrus. I’m the quartermaster” the man said. He was better dressed than most of the sailors and wore a brown coat that looked to be made from leather. He had deep wrinkles around his eyes that came from squinting into the sun. “The Captain’s in his cabin,” the man went on. “Said he can see you about payment whenever you like.”
When the man had left them to see about the netting hanging from a mast, Stone turned to Alexis. “We should be careful,” he said. “We don’t have the best history with quartermasters.”
He may have imagined it, but her answering smile was sharper than usual.
Captain Kyrios’s cabin was far less impressive than the captain’s cabin aboard the slave ship. There were no stolen treasures from the furthest corners of the earth placed upon the table and no colorful tapestries nailed to the wall. It was simple, and the only things there that might be called decorative were the rug in front of the door and the quilt on the bed.
Kyrios sat at a tall table, facing the door. As he had in the tavern, he didn’t look up until Stone spoke.
“We have the coin,” he said, sliding the bag across the table. “If it’s not sufficient, we’d appreciate it if you didn’t toss us overboard.”
His words won a stifled snort from Kyrios and a chuckle from Alexis, who stood to his right. She did not stand behind him, as perhaps would have been more proper, and he would never have wanted her to.
“I will try to refrain from that,” Kyrios said, shaking the contents of the bag out into his hand. He did not count the coins in front of them but seemed satisfied enough with the results. “They fetched a good price, I see. This is even enough for you to eat for the duration of the journey. Had it not been, you would have been forced to fish for your supper.”
His voice held the tone of a joke, though his stern face showed no sign of it. Stone wasn’t sure whether laughter was the right response and settled for holding it back. You shouldn’t laugh at someone with more power than you unless they had given you permission by laughing themselves.
“I was on deck during the launch,” the captain went on. “Some of the men are already beginning to talk about having a woman on board. I’m sure you know it’s bad luck. Luck to a sailor is more powerful than any god.” He looked to Alexis. “I know I said that any work you could do would be helpful, but it might be best if you stayed out from underfoot for a while.”
Alexis took half a step forward. “I won’t shut myself away to cater to their sensibilities. If there is a way for me to pull my weight, alongside my husband,” she added, with care. “I will do so.”
She left the cabin, closing the door behind her, without allowing any space for argument. A grin formed on Stone’s face far too quickly for him to smooth it away. Kyrios caught sight of it and smiled himself, albeit in a more reserved fashion.
“I know you aren’t truly married,” he said.
It was the absolute last thing Stone had expected him to say. He did his best to hide his shock; Alexis was always telling him that his face was too easy to read, but he was confident that she merely possessed an impressive ability to decipher expressions—or maybe just his expressions.
He wasn’t sure how to respond. Denying it vehemently didn’t seem like the best reaction, and so he simply said, calmly: “What makes you think so?”
“You have a strange way, the two of you. You move around each other as though you’ve been together for many years, but the way you speak to each other, look at each other, speaks of something newer.” As he spoke, he straightened some of the papers sprawled across his desk, made a new mark here and there in his ledger. “The misfortune you spoke of was slavery, was it not?”
Stone raised a brow. “How could you guess that?”
“Your wrists,” he answered. “Your woman doesn’t have the same marks, but I would guess her skin is tougher than yours.”
If the captain wasn’t sure of his s
uspicions, Stone knew, he wouldn’t have voiced them in the first place. “You’re right on both counts,” he said. “We bonded on the ship and escaped together. We thought there would be less trouble if people believed us to be married, fewer obstacles.” If the captain saw him fumbling with a sword, Stone had no doubt that any intimidation factor he held based on size and bulk would be lost. But he stood tall just then and kept his face stoic. “Will any of this cause problems?”
“I don’t expect so,” Kyrios said, his answer immediate. “But I’d like you to understand that I dislike secrets. If I unearth anymore, you may find yourself without a ship beneath you.”
Stone nodded and held out his hand. It was not a gesture he’d seen often since traveling backwards through time, but it was instinctive on his part. Just as he was about to think better of it and pull the hand back, the captain caught on and clasped it firmly.
No secrets seemed like a fair rule, and he only had one left to keep.
❖❖❖
He should not have been shocked that they were given their own cabin. It would not have been proper in this time for a woman to sleep in a room filled with men, whether she was married or not. The captain had said he would keep their secret in confidence, and Stone found that he believed him. Alexis was less generous.
“I like him somewhat,” she admitted. “But I do not trust him.”
“Really?” Stone asked. “He seems rather taken with you.”
Stone’s eyes flitted around the cabin as they spoke. It was cramped, with room enough for little more than a bed—a sort of hanging mattress that was not quite so irritating as a hammock—a bucket, and a basin. The room had no window, and he suspected that if the door was closed, it would be stuffy in addition to pitch black.
She scoffed. “He is Spartan. Most Spartan men are taken with Spartan women. I do not think that we should give our trust to him so freely. You should have lied.”
“I tried that, remember? He saw right through it.”
“You should have insisted,” she said. “But it is too late for that now. Next time, lie better.”
“Perhaps you can coach me.”
“I could,” she said. “But I am already teaching you so very many things.”
Her eyes were bright enough that he forgot for a moment that he was below deck and his stomach should be churning. Darkness had fallen some time ago, and they’d eaten dinner in a galley surrounded by skeptical sailors. No one had gone out of their way to speak to them, but Stone found that he did not mind. There was a week or more of travel between now and their arrival—plenty of time for he and Alexis to prove their worth. Even if the men did not warm to them, it would be enough to be respected and left alone.
Given the association his brain had formed with ships, it seemed odd that he felt so safe, tucked away in this small cabin with Alexis by his side. Around them, there was already nothing but water for miles.
During their weeks in the desert, they had each grown comfortable with the other’s body, with the closeness between them. They had touched each other often, with no permission given or expected, and Stone did so now. The door was cracked only enough to let in a touch of light. Her lips were responsive against his, and her grip on his arms was sudden and vice-like. His own hand crept around the back of her head, fingers twining in her thick, wavy hair—now made even curlier by the comparative humidity of the coast.
The touch of her fingers set his skin aflame, and their clothing was missing in short order, Stone’s shirt and trousers both tossed aside. Alexis stopped him, laughing, when her dress was hanging off one bronze shoulder.
“The door—“she said.
Stone heaved a put-upon sigh. “If you insist.”
“I’m afraid I must,” she said. “A good husband would not want other men gazing upon his wife’s nakedness.” Her eyes shone with mischief. “Unless you wish to incite jealousy, of course.”
He very nearly said it then, that dangerous phrase that could not be taken back. It was on the tip of his tongue, ready to escape and become airborne, infectious. He could not say such a thing, he realized, without telling her the truth—the last truth she did not know—about where he came from, about who he was.
“Stone?” Alexis said, laughter still strong in her voice.
He’d paused too long. Stone kicked the door closed and turned back to Alexis, who was not his wife and never would be if she knew how different they truly were. Her arms twined once again around him, and they set to work on the arduous task of making love on a bed that hung from the ceiling.
He would tell her. Not yet, but soon.
Alexis
The sea reminded her a bit of the desert, being the only thing afloat within sight, and the vastness of it threw her off balance. She missed the thick forests and rocky mountains of her home; the knowledge that she would soon be arriving there did little to lessen the pain of being away.
“You know,” Stone said. “I’ve decided I like sailing. I may even prefer it.” He stood beside her at the railing, looking out at the distant, white-capped waves. The sun had only just risen, and it painted the horizon a golden hue that someone else might have called beautiful. He held a cup of tea between his hands, letting it warm him through as he sipped.
The cook was a gruff fellow, but when she’d presented him with the herbs she’d gathered and mentioned a tea for her husband, she’d been pleasantly surprised to see that the man already had a few bundles of the stuff in stock. Apparently, she and Stone weren’t the only guests unused to sailing who’d been ferried across the sea.
“This is an improvement over our previous voyage,” she admitted. “But it’s not my favorite way to travel. Give me a good horse any day.”
Stone chuckled. It couldn’t have been a surprising statement. Alexis was well aware of how much she’d complained about the camels. “There’s nothing wrong with having preferences,” she went on.
“You breed horses,” Stone said. “I think you’re biased.”
She was completely biased and very aware of it.
At their backs, the ship was beginning to wake up around them. Three days had passed since their departure from Persia, and she’d been more or less pleasantly surprised by their reception from their sailors. The first full day they had tiptoed around her, speaking to Stone if they spoke to anyone at all, afraid that the bad luck inherent in being a woman was somehow catching. They’d warmed to her a bit since after seeing her caring for the goats and chickens penned up being transported. Stone had won them over and surprised her, for that matter, with his knowledge of woodwork; he had been busy repairing doors, stairs, stools, and even making recommendations on the carpentry.
“I thought you were a scholar,” she said.
He tossed a grin in her direction, still wielding a hammer, holding a metal nail in the corner of his mouth. “Part-time,” he replied. And when he was finished, they made good use of their cabin once more.
The look on his face now was more pensive. He was thinking on something, and try as she might, she couldn’t guess what.
“I find it hard,” he said at last. “To imagine you sitting around a farm all day.”
“I assure you, there’s not much sitting involved.”
“I know, I know. But did you ever get bored?”
It wasn’t a question she had ever been asked. Stone was doing that more and more lately, asking her things that she often wasn’t sure how to answer. She was even less sure of his motives in asking them, but perhaps they were the sort of details one wanted to know about someone they had come to care for. At the very least, she and Stone were lovers and partners; she should have been more content with that than she was. There should not have been, growing within her, a desire to have him call her his wife and have it be true.
“Sometimes,” she said at last. “I always wished to travel as a child. I used to beg my father to take me with him to battle.” Her mouth pulled into a smile. “You can imagine how that went. I have seen many things sin
ce I left home. Some of them terrible. Others beautiful. I do not think I will feel boredom when I return. I think I will simply be happy.”
She let her head rest against his shoulder. Weeks before, she would not have allowed herself such luxuries.
“What about you,” she asked. “Were you happy being a scholar?”
A perplexed, unsure look passed over his face as she looked at him. She imagined her own expression had been similar seconds before, but it was only fair of her to turn his questions against him. He should not ask of others what he did not know for himself.
❖❖❖
Her appetite had been waning for the past days and she had a headache she could not quite shake, no matter what sort of tea she asked the cook to brew her. She ate regardless; the slave ship had taught her to eat food whenever it appeared, as one never knew when regular meals might be snatched away by fate. She bid the cook farewell, careful not to look at him too closely. The man’s name was Numa; he was rather fat with a kind, but serious manner. Stone was friendly enough with him, but Alexis disliked lingering in the galley long enough to make conversation. Looking at the familiar tools, inhaling the familiar smells, she couldn’t help but be reminded of the Persian cook from the slave ship, Marzban. The man had treated her with a modicum of respect, ignored her thievery, and was now being nibbled on by fish at the bottom of the sea.
Of all the death she had seen—and sometimes caused—since leaving home, this small thing somehow bothered her more than all the others.
It was easier to breathe in the open air of the deck. Her stomach was full and the early morning chores were done. Stone was waiting for her in the usual spot where they conducted their morning sparring lessons, and, as always, a few of the sailors had gathered to watch.
Solomon Stone- Survival Page 7
