“Abandon the Cuckoo’s Gang?” said Ujeb. “On the day of our greatest adventure? That would be like walking out of a mime show just before the dancing girls come on! Ha!”
In the sea of faces around me, I saw a few men who looked as if they might be pondering Artemon’s offer to leave the gang, but the vast majority shared Ujeb’s enthusiasm.
“And then what, Artemon?” I shouted. “Where do we go after Alexandria?”
“I can’t reveal that now, Pecunius, for obvious reasons. What if some among us choose to leave? What if one of us is captured? No man here would willingly betray his comrades, but we can’t take the chance. Until the raid is over, our destination must remain a secret.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. But won’t the king’s ships follow us? And what makes you think they’ll allow a ship full of bandits to enter the harbor in the first place?”
“Like the rest of Alexandria, the harbor is virtually unmanned. It’s all the king can do to keep the Pharos Lighthouse operating. We’ll be given permission to enter and to dock. Arrangements have been made.”
“Bribes have been paid, you mean!” Ujeb laughed.
Artemon smiled. “And further arrangements have been made to ensure that no one pursues us when we leave.”
“More bribes!” said Ujeb.
“What if some reckless captain of the royal fleet decides to pursue us anyway?” I said.
Artemon crossed his arms. “If that happens, we’ll simply have to outrun them, all the way to-”
He drew a sharp breath and bit his tongue, but he was only pretending to make a near-slip, teasing us with the mystery of our destination. For now, the men could let their imaginations run wild.
That night, I tossed and turned on the deck, unable to sleep. Many of the others were also wakeful. I overheard their whispers all around me. No one spoke of all that might go wrong. Instead they talked about what would happen after the raid, when we sailed out of Alexandria and into legend.
This was one version of a possible future: with a fortune in gold and a company of loyal men, Artemon would make himself king of lawless Crete, then sail with an army of pirates and outlaws to Cyrene, drive out the Romans, and put himself on the throne that should rightfully have been his. And then, master of Crete and Cyrene, the Cuckoo’s Child would take Egypt as well, and then ally himself with that other audacious leader, King Mithridates of Pontus, and the two of them together would drive the Romans back to Italy and split the world between them.
Hearing such ideas spoken aloud, I bit my tongue and kept silent, thinking there is no notion so outrageous that men will not embrace it.
I found myself staring at the cabin at the stern. Was Bethesda inside, and with her Ismene? Was she asleep or awake? Did she know I was near? Had she been able to hear Artemon’s speech? Did she know we would be in Alexandria tomorrow?
I saw a shadow approach the door of the cabin. By the shape and size, I knew it must be Artemon.
For a long time he stood at the door with his hand on the latch. Why did he hesitate? I couldn’t see his face, which was hidden in darkness. At last he pulled the door open and stepped inside.
My heart pounded. My mind raced. What was happening inside that room? I rose to my feet and was about to make my way across the crowded deck when the cabin door quietly opened and Artemon stepped out, closing it behind him.
He saw me standing amid the sea of blanket-covered men, and gave me a vague wave of acknowledgment. I settled back onto the deck beside Djet.
What if I decided to take no part in the raid the next day, and stayed on the ship instead? Artemon had offered that choice. Might I find a way to rescue Bethesda, and escape with her? It seemed unlikely. Men would be left on board to guard the vessel, and to guard Bethesda, as well. When the raiding party returned, I would be ejected from the ship, cast out of the Cuckoo’s Gang. Off they would sail to an unknown destination, taking Bethesda with them.
The possibility that I might come full circle, all the way back to Alexandria, only to lose Bethesda again, and forever, was intolerable.
What would happen if I did take part in the raid? Presuming I survived and returned to the ship, what opportunity would I have to rescue Bethesda? I envisioned a mad scenario: just as the Medusa sailed out of the harbor, past the Pharos Lighthouse, I would rush to the cabin, seize Bethesda, and pull her onto the deck. Holding her tight, I would leap into the water. While Artemon shook his fist and the Medusa sailed away, Bethesda and I would head for shore.
There was one problem: I could not swim. Would Bethesda be able to get the two of us to the Pharos Island alive? I imagined us dragging ourselves ashore, gasping and bedraggled but free at last.
And if that far-fetched scenario proved impossible, what then? Bethesda and I would sail off with the others, more completely in the power of Artemon than ever. That prospect, too, was intolerable.
It seemed to me that my only hope was Ismene. She had shown sympathy for my plight. She had helped me to survive the initiation. What plans did she have for herself? What plans, if any, did she have for Bethesda, and for me?
I stared at the starry sky above, and uttered a prayer to Fortuna that a witch might save me.
XXXIII
Just before sunrise, I was awakened by a woman’s scream.
I thought of Bethesda and was on my feet in a heartbeat.
But the scream did not come from Bethesda. It came from Ismene. By the faint predawn light, I saw her atop the cabin at the stern, in the place where Artemon had stood to address us. Her eyes were closed. She held her hands above her head, palms pressed together and pointed skyward, like those of a diver, and then she began to whirl around, faster and faster. The loose cloth and tassels of her cloak whipped through the air.
Those who were awake roused those who slept, and soon we were all staring at Ismene as she whirled. It hardly seemed possible that a mortal could move in such a manner of her own volition. Some outside force seemed to control her, spinning her as a child might spin a doll.
As she whirled faster and faster, Ismene produced weird ululations that raised hackles on my neck.
“Some demon’s taken hold of her,” said Djet. He clutched the blanket to his face and peered above it.
“Stupid boy!” snapped Ujeb. “This is what happens when a prophecy grips her. When she comes to her senses, she’ll tell us what the dark powers have shown her.”
The ululations ceased. The whirling slowed and finally stopped. Ismene staggered but did not fall. She opened her eyes.
“Ananke has lifted the veil! Moira has blown away the mists! Egyptian Ufer of the Mighty Name has shown me the book of what is to be!”
The men cried out. “Tell us what you saw, Metrodora!”
“Metrodora, what will happen today?”
“Metrodora-”
“All of you, be silent!” she wailed.
Some of the men lurched back, as if she had struck them.
“There must be a sacrifice! For all to go well, a blood-red sacrifice is demanded!”
The men glanced at each other anxiously. Some of them looked at Djet in a way that made me uneasy. I pulled him close beside me.
Artemon appeared on the steps leading to the cabin’s roof, but he stopped short of joining Ismene. He looked vexed and bewildered. “What are you saying, Metrodora?” he asked. “What do the dark forces want from us?”
“Blood-red sacrifice!”
Artemon turned pale. “Someone must die?” he whispered.