terrible storm. All the slaves screamed in terror and begged to be released, because they knew if the ship sank, the weight of their chains would surely drown them. The overseers refused to release them, fearing revolt.
“The ship ran aground on a reef. Huge waves washed over it, breaking it up. The man prayed, thought of his wife, and hung onto his oar. He believed the oar might just be enough to keep him afloat when the time came, even though he was still in chains.
“He was right. The next morning, he awoke on a strange beach. He was still wearing his shackles, and beside him was the huge oar he’d rowed for over two years. There was no sign of anyone else from the ship. He went down on his knees and thanked God, certain he was on his way home at last.
“Picking up his shackles, he walked along the beach until he found a stream. He drank his fill of sweet, fresh water, and then set out to find out where he was.
“There was no sign of any houses nearby, so he climbed the range of hills behind the beach. He was so weak, it took him many hours. When he reached the top he looked around him. His heart sank. He was on an island, and there was no sign of a larger land mass in any direction.
“For a moment he thought of giving up, but he remembered the promise he’d made to himself, to return to his wife. At that moment, he spotted a thin spiral of smoke coming from the other side of the island. He was not alone.
“It took the best part of the rest of the day to reach the place where he guessed the smoke came from. It was a cottage, built into the side of the hill. There lived and old woman and even older man. When he convinced them he meant no harm, the old man took out his blacksmithing tools, and struck off his chains.
“He knew little of the language the old couple spoke, but over the months he spent on the island, they taught him their tongue, which was Greek. Eventually they were able to tell him ships passed rarely. He was trapped there, as surely as he’d been trapped on the galley.
“Once again, he had to choose whether to live, or to give up and die. Once again, he decided to live.
“The man came to love the old people dearly, and they him. He made himself useful doing the many tasks the old man could no longer manage. They fed him from their meager store, and he grew strong and well again, although he would never again be the man he was before his time as a galley slave.
“To add to their meager food, he trapped wild goats in the hills. One day, when he looked back to the cottage, he saw the old woman frantically waving her white apron in his direction.
“He hurried back down the slope, but he was too late. The old man had fallen. His back was broken, and he died during the night. The next morning, they buried him not far from the cottage, and life continued more or less as it had before.
“The man began to wonder what would happen if a ship ever did come to the island. He couldn’t leave the old woman here on her own, and she wouldn’t think of leaving. The problem was solved for him, but not in a way he would have wished for.
“Some months later, he was away from home again. He’d spent the night on the other side of the island, and as he crested the ridge, not far from the spot where he’d climbed that first day, he could see a ship moored in the bay near the cottage. Excited, but cautious, he made his way down the hill. As he drew closer to the cottage, he could hear voices. Men were sitting on the bench before the door, drinking the wine the old lady kept for festivals. The old people’s possessions were strewn around them. The woman, who’d been like a grandmother to him, lay on the ground. He could see, even from the bushes where he hid, she was dead.
“Did he kill the men? Did he avenge the death of the grandmother he loved?” demanded Berenice.
“No,” Gareth answered.
“Why not? The
“The ship ran aground on a reef. Huge waves washed over it, breaking it up. The man prayed, thought of his wife, and hung onto his oar. He believed the oar might just be enough to keep him afloat when the time came, even though he was still in chains.
“He was right. The next morning, he awoke on a strange beach. He was still wearing his shackles, and beside him was the huge oar he’d rowed for over two years. There was no sign of anyone else from the ship. He went down on his knees and thanked God, certain he was on his way home at last.
“Picking up his shackles, he walked along the beach until he found a stream. He drank his fill of sweet, fresh water, and then set out to find out where he was.
“There was no sign of any houses nearby, so he climbed the range of hills behind the beach. He was so weak, it took him many hours. When he reached the top he looked around him. His heart sank. He was on an island, and there was no sign of a larger land mass in any direction.
“For a moment he thought of giving up, but he remembered the promise he’d made to himself, to return to his wife. At that moment, he spotted a thin spiral of smoke coming from the other side of the island. He was not alone.
“It took the best part of the rest of the day to reach the place where he guessed the smoke came from. It was a cottage, built into the side of the hill. There lived and old woman and even older man. When he convinced them he meant no harm, the old man took out his blacksmithing tools, and struck off his chains.
“He knew little of the language the old couple spoke, but over the months he spent on the island, they taught him their tongue, which was Greek. Eventually they were able to tell him ships passed rarely. He was trapped there, as surely as he’d been trapped on the galley.
“Once again, he had to choose whether to live, or to give up and die. Once again, he decided to live.
“The man came to love the old people dearly, and they him. He made himself useful doing the many tasks the old man could no longer manage. They fed him from their meager store, and he grew strong and well again, although he would never again be the man he was before his time as a galley slave.
“To add to their meager food, he trapped wild goats in the hills. One day, when he looked back to the cottage, he saw the old woman frantically waving her white apron in his direction.
“He hurried back down the slope, but he was too late. The old man had fallen. His back was broken, and he died during the night. The next morning, they buried him not far from the cottage, and life continued more or less as it had before.
“The man began to wonder what would happen if a ship ever did come to the island. He couldn’t leave the old woman here on her own, and she wouldn’t think of leaving. The problem was solved for him, but not in a way he would have wished for.
“Some months later, he was away from home again. He’d spent the night on the other side of the island, and as he crested the ridge, not far from the spot where he’d climbed that first day, he could see a ship moored in the bay near the cottage. Excited, but cautious, he made his way down the hill. As he drew closer to the cottage, he could hear voices. Men were sitting on the bench before the door, drinking the wine the old lady kept for festivals. The old people’s possessions were strewn around them. The woman, who’d been like a grandmother to him, lay on the ground. He could see, even from the bushes where he hid, she was dead.
“Did he kill the men? Did he avenge the death of the grandmother he loved?” demanded Berenice.
“No,” Gareth answered.
“Why not? The
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