"Olivia?" Captain Vlamos said, looking at her with sadness. "There is nothing more I can do."
She made him a reverence. "You have done more than you know, Captain Vlamos; this last is more generous than—"
He turned on his heel and walked away, unable to remain any longer.
The two soldiers who had served as escort exchanged looks that the pale brilliance of moonlight rendered inscrutable. "We might as well get to it," one said to the other.
"She goes in this cart," the naval officer said, indicating a rickety contraption pulled by a weary donkey. "There will be six men on the boat. She'll be over the side before the monks start to sing for the souls of the dead." He indicated a heap of rough cloth in the cart. "There's the sack. Do you put her in or do I?"
The Guards did the work quickly, their hands clumsy but not unkind. "We're sorry, great lady. None of us thought it would come to this."
"We'll say prayers for you," the other promised.
"I will certainly need them," said Olivia as she felt them adjust the drawstring around her neck, tightening it enough to make it uncomfortable for her to struggle or move too quickly.
"When you get to the place where you do it, loosen this and draw it tight over her head," the taller Guard told the naval officer.
The sack fitted tightly and Olivia could not easily move her arms to discover if the little dagger was still in place. She told herself to bide her time, that she would have enough opportunity for that later, when the boat was under way. One thing encouraged her; since her head was left uncovered, it was not likely she would be left in a hold or put under a deck. So long as she was not too closely watched she would be able to get to the dagger before she was dropped into the water. Her only difficulty would be resisting the intense seasickness she invariably felt aboard a boat.
The streets were almost deserted and the donkey cart was incongruously protected by an escort of six well-armed soldiers. As the decrepit cart rattled down to the Bucolean Harbor, Olivia rolled in the back of it, unable to keep her balance or to brace herself against jolts and turns.
Another contingent of soldiers was waiting at the docks, and they unloaded Olivia from the back without speaking. Two of them carried her aboard a dorkon, its angled lanteen sail still furled.
"There she is, boatmaster," said the shorter Guard. "Handle her gently. She's a great Roman lady, this one, and we're sorry she came to this."
The boatmaster hitched up one shoulder. "They warned us she was a sorceress and that she might try to work her wiles on our boat. Some of the men were for having a last go at the lady, but I said that we'd take no chances with the likes of her." He spat copiously and called on several Saints to protect him. "For it is a bad business, having such a creature aboard."
"You won't have me aboard for long, boatmaster," Olivia reminded him, and resigned herself to rough handling.
"Take her aft," the boatmaster ordered. "There's some chickens in crates. We're bound for Rhodes when we've finished this job."
The soldier obeyed promptly and none too gently. When one of them swung Olivia around so that her shoulders struck two of the crates, he only grunted and shifted his grip on her.
Olivia was starting to experience the vertigo that being on water gave her which not even the Roman earth in her shoes could entirely counteract. She struggled in her bonds to face the front of the boat, knowing the hypnotic effect the sea would have on her. She was oddly pleased to see that there were several small fishing boats out, torches in their sterns, wide nets flung across the sea like the mottled pattern of moonlight. At least, she thought, they will have to get beyond the fishermen before they drop me overboard. The notion was comforting in its silliness, and she discovered that she was almost smiling.
She knew that this levity could be dangerous, but for the moment she welcomed it.
The sailors cast off with a minimum of fuss, and the sail opened like a night-blooming lily as the boat moved away from the wharf. The sailors made it evident that they were not going to pay any attention to Olivia, taking care not to get too near her as the boat edged out into the Sea of Marmara.
Silently the dorkon moved away from Konstantinoupolis, going slowly in order to maneuver through the fishing boats. Even the luff of the sail was muted; the bow whispered through the water as if wanting to keep its passage secret. No calls, no signals from the fishermen disturbed the dorkon as she began to pick up speed, leaving the fishing boats bobbing like fireflies over the moon-flecked water.
They were moving at a good pace when the boatmaster resigned the tiller to his next-in-command and brought two men aft with him.
"We might as well do it now," the boatmaster said as he approached Olivia.
She froze, her hand almost on the dagger hidden in her belt. "Now?"
The boatmaster went on as if she had not spoken. "We'll slack off, slow down and make sure she's in the water. No telling what a sorceress like this might do."
"Boatmaster," Olivia said, speaking forcefully. "I wonder if I might make a request?"
He struck her across the face with the back of his hard, thick hand. "You're not to talk. We were warned about that."
Already slightly dizzy from being on the boat, Olivia fought nausea as she tried to steady herself. Then she fell to the deck and her fingers closed on the dagger.
The boat was slowing down, and it began to rock more as she was brought around, wallowing in the rise and fall of the waves.
"Get her up and over," the boatmaster ordered. "Now. Before she can do anything."
"But we're supposed to tie the sack again, over her head," one of the sailors protested.
"If you want to take that kind of chance, you're free to, but I wouldn't open that sack. She might conjure anything out of it, and who knows what would become of us all. I say throw her in now. The Censor won't know or care unless someone tells him." There was a threat in this last, and two of the sailors made signs against the Evil Eye.
Olivia's brief rush of elation was lost before it had begun; she was wrenched to her feet, then hoisted into the air and flung away from the side of the boat to a host of blasphemous oaths. She struck the water, and for a short time was so disoriented that she dared not move. Eventually her head broke water and she caught a glimpse of the dorkon drawing away from her. She tried not to stare after it, knowing that would only serve to sap her fading spirits to no purpose. The dorkon's wake was froth in the moonlight, then drifted and was lost.
With a terrible effort, Olivia worked her knife out of her belt, trying not to thrash with the struggle. Part of the time she was able to breathe air, occasionally she was under the water, and it stung her nose and lungs, adding to the discomfort and confusion that was gradually overwhelming her. She fumbled with the knife and it dropped to the bottom of her sack; it took her far too long to retrieve it, and when she did, her whole body was lethargic, so that any movement at all was a grueling ordeal.
She brought the knife up to the cord around her neck, but could not cut it. Disheartened, she let herself drift for a little time, then resolved to make another attempt. This time she tried to cut the sack itself. One, two, three times she poked at the rough fabric without success. On the fourth jab, which she noticed was weaker than the others had been, the tip of the knife snagged on a heavy slub in the weave, and as she tried to pull it free, a large tear opened like the mouth of an exotic sea creature. Sobbing, choking, Olivia renewed her efforts, and at last she had ripped away all but the small section of the sack that held the cord around her neck like a bizarre wreath.
She was out of the sack, but her body was exhausted; the earth in the soles of her shoes was wet, steadily losing its potency. Only the power of the night gave her any resistance to the insidious somnolence that tempted her. It would be so easy to stop fighting, to yield to the seductive lure of the water, to drift away from all the turmoil and the pain and the strife.