"I'm after having a bit of trouble at home, and I thought the wise woman could tell me where to find a good job as a hired soldier. I did it before in these lands, years ago, so I will not be finding it strange."
"Is that how you learned Greek?"
"It is that; and Oscan and Punic, too. The fairy that watched over my birth gave me the gift of tongues. Maybe you could—Valetudo preserve us, but look at all the people!"
A crowd had appeared on the road from Cumae. Among them were the servants who had watched the beasts of burden at the foot of the path to the Sibyl's cave, the priests of the Sibyl, the women and old men among the pilgrims, and a swarm of peasants and townsmen who, hearing of the victory, had come out to celebrate. Among them was the red-cloaked landowner, Trebatius, crying:
"This is an outrage! My beautiful chariot, all hacked and spattered with mud and blood! Who told you you might make free with my property, you stinking barbarian?"
The Celt looked up. "Is your honor addressing me, now?" he said softly, his hand stealing to his hilt. "Because if it is a fight you want to make of it—"
"Shut up and let me handle this," barked the Roman. "You, my good Trebatius, cower in the Sibyl's cave while the rest of us fight, and then you have the insolence to complain because somebody put your car to good use in your absence?"
"How was I to know what was going on?" said Trebatius. "When I came out from my hearing, everybody had gone. But this temple-robbing lout—"
"He is a better man than you." Others in the crowd took up the cry: "To the crows with Trebatius!" "Trebatius is a coward!" "Trebatius hides in a cave while the heroes are fighting!" "Let's give Trebatius a ducking!"
"You wouldn't dare!" screamed Trebatius, leaping into his chariot and turning the horses. "Out of my way, scum!" He lashed his horses furiously and rode at reckless speed through the scattering crowd.
The young woman from Messana was sobbing over the bloody body of her uncle. An elderly man with a wreath on his head stepped forward.
"Hail!" he said. "I am Aulas Gellius Mutilus, president of Cumae. This splendid victory has saved the shrine from the most unholy and tragic pollution. By the Heavenly Twins, how did you ever do it? You are not a trained army, but a mixed crowd of men of many nations, speaking different tongues, brought together by chance at the shrine. Yet you defeated a gang of well-armed, hard-fighting robbers, more numerous than yourselves."
Cornelius Arvina shrugged. "The Tarentines here dissuaded them from running away, and I told them what to do. After all, I am a Roman knight."
"You make it sound miraculously simple, best one. As chief magistrate of Cumae, I invite all our saviors—all those who took part in the battle—to a banquet this evening at the town hall. It is a small return, but the best we can do."
"I thank you," said the Roman gravely. "Meanwhile, did anyone think to bring us some wine? Fighting is a thirsty trade ... Ah, that is better!"
Zopyros noted with surprise that the sun was halfway down the western sky. At least two or three hours had passed since their audience with the Sibyl. The young woman still wept. Three men stood around her: two slaves, and a burly bodyguard who had fought against the pirates. Bashfully, Zopyros said:
"Young lady, can I do anything for you? I understand this man was your uncle."
She raised a tear-stained face. "I thank you, stranger. I don't know what to do. How shall I ever get Uncle Nestor's body home?"
"You don't want it buried here?"
"By the two goddesses, no! That would be terrible. His spirit would never be happy anywhere but in the family plot at Messana, and he would haunt us forever. But now ..."
"Well, the first step is to take it back to Cumae. How did you get here?"
"I rode an ass; the others walked."
"I'll lend you my mule, because it's a long walk for a little girl."
The girl looked doubtful. "I don't know ..."
"You have nothing to fear. I am Zopyros of Taras, a humble follower of the divine Pythagoras, and this is Archon Bryson of our city. Assure the young lady she can trust us, O Archon."
"My dear young lady," began the Archon. "I don't know your name ..."
"Korinna daughter of Xanthos. If these young men are with you, Archon, I'm sure they are honorable."
The Cumaeans stripped the bodies of the pirates and piled the naked corpses in a heap. Others cut brush to burn the bodies. As the three Tarentines, together with Korinna and her servitors, started south along the coastal road, a crackling orange fire, a pillar of dark smoke, and a smell of burnt meat arose from the pyre.
Plodding back to Cumae, Zopyros walked beside Korinna's ass. Ahead, the bodyguard led Zopyros' mule, on whose back the corpse joggled and swayed.
"I don't know how I shall ever get back to Messana," said Korinna in worried tones. "It is hard, very hard, for a woman to travel alone. Uncle Nestor arranged everything."
"What about the three with you?"
"Sophron"—she nodded towards the bodyguard—"seems a good fellow. I don't think he'd try to dishonor me; but the big Cyprian ox is too stupid to manage anything. As for the slaves, you know what they're like. You saw how all three stood helplessly by until you told them what to do."
"How did you come from Messana?"
"In Captain Strabon's ship. He plans to sail for home tomorrow."
"We came overland, by way of Venusia and Aquilonia."
"How was the journey?"
"Smooth enough, save for a close escape from robbers near Malienta, and a snowstorm on Mount Tifata. Of course these Italian roads, so called, are mere goat tracks. I wonder how you, a young girl, came to make this voyage with your uncle?"
"I, not my uncle, was the inquirer."
"Oh?" Zopyros raised his bushy eyebrows.
"I ... I wanted to find out how to get my child back. You needn't look startled. I am a respectable twice-widowed woman, once by death and once by divorce."
"By Mother Earth, you don't look old enough to have been married even once!"
"Nonsense! That's your sly Tarentine gallantry. I'm nearly twenty —practically* an old woman."
"Then my eyesight must be failing. Where is the child?"
"After my first husband died, I returned to my father's house and asked Father to find me a more interesting husband. Poor Aristeas had been sweet but terribly dull, you know."
"Many men are, I fear," said Zopyros. He added with a malicious little smile: "You found his successor quickly enough, didn't you? Hid he prove more fascinating?"
"I once thought so. But love is like looking in a mirror; when yon turn around, everything is on the opposite side."
Korinna fell silent. Zopyros, striding beside her, felt awkward and ineffectual. Thinking that, if he could get her to talk, it might lift some of the sadness from her small pale face, he groped for words:
"Who—what was he like, your second husband?"
"Elazar was a Phoenician building contractor and a childless widower. Father dealt with him while building a market in town. I saw them together once, standing in our courtyard, studying the plans. Elazar fascinated me—a big, strong man with a touch of gray in his beard, widely traveled and worldly wise—so different from Aristeas. Of course, Father didn't want me to marry a foreigner; but to please me he agreed."
"I take it that Elazar proved less fascinating when you came to know him better?"
"Oh, Elazar is quite a man in his way; and being a Phoenician's wife has its advantages. Did you know they give their women much more freedom and responsibility than we Hellenes do?"
"I know them well; I lived three years in Tyre. What happened then?"
"Elazar took me back to Motya, his home town, where he had a contract to rebuild part of the city wall."