understand such as you. Come. Let us go back to the ship."
Gradually her heart stilled, the trembling stopped, and she felt cold and alone. She began to cry. He said gently, "Walk. You will feel better."
Now clouds obscured the moon, but a little light filtered through. She walked at his side in a gusty wind along the sand toward the milky loom of the Rock.
"Where did you meet your husband?" Pendril asked.
"In Carthage," she said, sniffling. "I was seven when Jerusalem was sacked. His father lived close to my uncle, and they were rich. They are of the tribe of Zebulon but do not keep the Law. We grew up together...
"And married—how long?" he asked.
"Three years."
"And you are—twenty-one?"
"Twenty."
A flash of lightning lit the Rock, thunder boomed around the bay, and he broke into a trot. The lightning grew more frequent, more thunder rolled in through the strait. Pendril gabbled prayers under his breath as they passed under the sacred grove and the magic cavern of Hercules, and Tamar felt better, even smiling to herself at his superstition. As the first huge drops of rain began to fall, they reached the western beach.
"Up into the cave," Pendril said. "They will never hear me calling in this."
They sat down deep inside the cave while the rain poured down outside and lightning flashes momentarily painted the Kedesha a more livid blue against the greenish sea.
Pendril said, "I was going to say, before the thunder began, stay in Carteia, Tamar. Tell your husband you do not want to go to the Tin Islands. He will be pleased and relieved. I know it."
"But I do want to go," she said. "I am weary of staying at home, caged like a pet bird alone. We have no child. I insisted that I come on this journey, and I shall go to the end."
"There is nothing to see in the Tin Islands," he said. "The savages there eat pigs! Their temples are nothing but circles of great stones. There is always fog and rain. The sea between here and there is always rough."
"I go!" she said.
"Very well," he said. "So be it. It will rain all night. All on the Kedesha are below and asleep. Take this—" He gave her his cloak. "Sleep there. Have no fear of me."
She thought she would lie awake all night with the thunder and lightning, memories of the rites, consciousness of what she had said and so nearly done. It was not her own will or virtue that had saved her from adultery but this man, strange, brutal, sometimes gentle, practical but filled with visions and dreams of this magical Rock, brave but superstitious, ignorant but skillful. And he was lying there so close to her that...
His hand was on her shoulder. "Wake up. They have seen me. The sun is rising, it has stopped raining, and the wind is in the east."
She stood up, yawning and stretching and put her hands to her hair. Then she straightened her robe, but when she tried to refasten it, she found that the little bronze brooch was gone.
"I have lost my brooch," she said. "It must be here, though, because I remember feeling it when we reached the foot of the path last night."
"Look quickly, then," Pendril said. "They are launching the hippos and making ready to up-anchor."
She hurried about the cave, down to the beach, back up, but saw nothing. She began to dig with her fingers where she had slept.
He said, "The hippos is here. And they are hoisting the sail. Idiots!"
She touched something hard and cried, "I have it! No, this is not it."
"Come," he said, this time as a command. She pulled the hard thing out of the earth and followed. She held in her hand a fang, six inches long, with a hole bored through the thick end. She held it out to Pendril. "What animal is this from?"
He turned it over curiously. "None that I know. It might be a boar's, but they are more curved than this. It is much too small for those great beasts I have seen in Egypt. It has been used, worn around a woman's neck perhaps?"
The hippos danced and sidled to the galley, the sun warmed her, the rut and shame of
Gradually her heart stilled, the trembling stopped, and she felt cold and alone. She began to cry. He said gently, "Walk. You will feel better."
Now clouds obscured the moon, but a little light filtered through. She walked at his side in a gusty wind along the sand toward the milky loom of the Rock.
"Where did you meet your husband?" Pendril asked.
"In Carthage," she said, sniffling. "I was seven when Jerusalem was sacked. His father lived close to my uncle, and they were rich. They are of the tribe of Zebulon but do not keep the Law. We grew up together...
"And married—how long?" he asked.
"Three years."
"And you are—twenty-one?"
"Twenty."
A flash of lightning lit the Rock, thunder boomed around the bay, and he broke into a trot. The lightning grew more frequent, more thunder rolled in through the strait. Pendril gabbled prayers under his breath as they passed under the sacred grove and the magic cavern of Hercules, and Tamar felt better, even smiling to herself at his superstition. As the first huge drops of rain began to fall, they reached the western beach.
"Up into the cave," Pendril said. "They will never hear me calling in this."
They sat down deep inside the cave while the rain poured down outside and lightning flashes momentarily painted the Kedesha a more livid blue against the greenish sea.
Pendril said, "I was going to say, before the thunder began, stay in Carteia, Tamar. Tell your husband you do not want to go to the Tin Islands. He will be pleased and relieved. I know it."
"But I do want to go," she said. "I am weary of staying at home, caged like a pet bird alone. We have no child. I insisted that I come on this journey, and I shall go to the end."
"There is nothing to see in the Tin Islands," he said. "The savages there eat pigs! Their temples are nothing but circles of great stones. There is always fog and rain. The sea between here and there is always rough."
"I go!" she said.
"Very well," he said. "So be it. It will rain all night. All on the Kedesha are below and asleep. Take this—" He gave her his cloak. "Sleep there. Have no fear of me."
She thought she would lie awake all night with the thunder and lightning, memories of the rites, consciousness of what she had said and so nearly done. It was not her own will or virtue that had saved her from adultery but this man, strange, brutal, sometimes gentle, practical but filled with visions and dreams of this magical Rock, brave but superstitious, ignorant but skillful. And he was lying there so close to her that...
His hand was on her shoulder. "Wake up. They have seen me. The sun is rising, it has stopped raining, and the wind is in the east."
She stood up, yawning and stretching and put her hands to her hair. Then she straightened her robe, but when she tried to refasten it, she found that the little bronze brooch was gone.
"I have lost my brooch," she said. "It must be here, though, because I remember feeling it when we reached the foot of the path last night."
"Look quickly, then," Pendril said. "They are launching the hippos and making ready to up-anchor."
She hurried about the cave, down to the beach, back up, but saw nothing. She began to dig with her fingers where she had slept.
He said, "The hippos is here. And they are hoisting the sail. Idiots!"
She touched something hard and cried, "I have it! No, this is not it."
"Come," he said, this time as a command. She pulled the hard thing out of the earth and followed. She held in her hand a fang, six inches long, with a hole bored through the thick end. She held it out to Pendril. "What animal is this from?"
He turned it over curiously. "None that I know. It might be a boar's, but they are more curved than this. It is much too small for those great beasts I have seen in Egypt. It has been used, worn around a woman's neck perhaps?"
The hippos danced and sidled to the galley, the sun warmed her, the rut and shame of
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